As International Women’s Day approached this year, I found myself wishing – not for the first time – that we didn’t need it anymore or, at least, that it could be some kind of celebratory event because women had achieved substantive equity and we had eradicated gender-based violence. An IWD in which our grandchildren could tell their children about the bad old days when women earned less money than men, were under-represented in politics and business, faced sexual harassment at work and sexual violence in their communities and were vulnerable to physical, sexual and coercively controlling abuse by their partners.
Unfortunately, we are not there yet and – given the present political climate – I’d say we’re not likely to get there anytime soon. In fact, this must be one of the gloomiest of times.
The disastrous impacts of the actions of Donald Trump, Elon Musk and their yes men are being felt around the world in ways too numerous and overwhelming to list.
Closer to home, it looks like we may be headed to a federal election, perhaps even to be called in the next week or two. At best, projections say we might see an outcome in which the Liberal Party, under its newly elected leader, might be able to scrape together enough seats to stop Pierre Poilevre’s Conservatives from getting the majority government they want – and that, until recently, they assumed was theirs for the taking.
Ontario’s recent provincial election has left us with a government that is, really, just more of the same old/same old. For that, we paid close to $200 million – an increase of about 30% over the cost of the 2022 election.
All of this has and will continue to make things more difficult for those who are living with or trying to escape situations of gender-based violence as well as for those who work to support them. In short — not a lot to celebrate on IWD 2025.
Looking for hope
It’s hard not to feel discouraged. There have been more than a few mornings in the past couple of weeks when I have wanted to just roll over, fluff up my pillow, pull up the blankets, burrow in as deeply as I could and, in the always calming presence of my cat, pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
But that’s not who I am. So, I’ve climbed out of bed, restocked my tequila supply and found a reliable source of Moroccan grapefruit so I can make palomas to my heart’s content. I’ve also gone looking for hope in what I hope are all the right places.
In February, I spent a couple of weeks in Whitehorse, continuing the work I have been doing for the past several years. We hosted a day-long symposium for women’s organizations and community lawyers to talk about supporting survivors of intimate partner violence who are dealing with family law issues. The response to the invitation to join us for this discussion was overwhelming, and we set the room up to hold about 50 people. However, well before the start time, we had to bring out additional tables and chairs because so many people showed up who had not registered. We had a day of rich conversations and eventually had to shoo participants out the door so we could go home. That, and the other work we did while I was there, were excellent reminders that there is a lot of commitment in the snowy, cold and dark north to ensuring that IPV survivors and their families get the supports they need.
I also had time to take in the beauty of the mountains outside Whitehorse, drink the best cocktail I have ever had (a smoked old fashioned, which may replace the paloma in my home-made cocktail repertoire, once I figure out how to create the smoke), made an elk stew and did another glass-blowing workshop.
Crowded tables
After I returned home, my partner and I brought together some of our political activist friends for a meal and conversation about what our activism might look like in the upcoming months and years. The sense of community and solidarity with others, along with the ideas we generated, have kept me feeling warm and hopeful ever since.
Last week, I spoke in North Bay and Parry Sound at IWD events. In North Bay, the room was nearly full — despite freezing rain that turned to icy roads and blowing snow – with Nipissing University students as well as community activists and advocates; all of whom had much to contribute to the conversation. In Parry Sound, every chair at the Friendship Centre was occupied, and our time together was framed by the music of the Nibo-Kwe Wag women drummers.
In both places, I was inspired by people’s desire to engage in activism, even if all we can hope for right now is to stop the rollback of progress we have already made.
“[T]he truth is that most of us are brave, generous, altruistic, creative as we rise to meet the demands of a sudden disaster. . . . . Remember who we are. Remember that underneath what we’re furious about is what we care about, that our deepest feeling in this moment isn’t necessarily anger, but protectiveness for what we love . . . . And that love is very, very powerful.”
