The "Amazing" (Feminist) Race...

While the Amazing Race racked up record-high ratings in Canada. I was doing a trek of my own. I've had little time to reflect, but I wrote this to share with the many woman I met on my journey.

My Amazing (Feminist) Race

I began my amazing feminist race without any surefooted balance. For me, this was a race that had been going for decades, prior to my arrival onto this earth. Seeing others running with me and behind suddenly conjured up feelings of inadequacy: My shoes were untied. I didn’t train long enough. I should have stretched more. I should have brought an extra handkerchief, bottle of water, wristband, pain reliever... something. I didn’t feel ready to run this race and yet, there I was far from home in an unfamiliar place being driven to the starting line- Vancouver.

First stop, Vancouver. It was fitting that my race began at the same time as the Vancouver marathon. It could have been a weird coincidence, but I took it as a sign: I’m not running this race alone. There were others. Some I knew, but most I didn’t. Still, we all had a race to run, and I needed to get laced up.

Driving to the Seattle border on May 1st, I overcame my nerves by preoccupying myself with conversation. Michèle Asselin from the FFQ, Marie Clark Walker from the CLC, “Femme Bleu” (she goes by another name by her peers) Christina from Rape Relief Shelter, Diane Matte as well as some others. Through this I began to understand a little more about this feminist race. While the facts and figures were important, I had a philosophical epiphany. This amazing feminist race was bigger than me, my politics or the politics of the fantastic trailblazers that surrounded me; this was a movement to inspire others in the race who didn’t have the luxury of time, education, and basic human rights. This was a race for globally unified solidarity for and with oppressed women.

We picked up the charter from two women in the US who had the quilt spread over their car. While some had hoped that the car was clean, others marvelled at the intricate and ornately decorated representations of justice, solidarity, freedom, equality and peace on a patchwork quilt. Running our hands over the quilt was almost therapeutic and could have been had it not been for the media presence that was also there to document this historic and monumental moment. Standing under the Peace Arch at the border, the American women handed the Charter, an eight foot long piece of canvas, over to us. We posed for pictures, hugged, hopped back in the van and parted ways. The race had begun.

Back in Vancouver at the Public Library there was a rally where activists joined together to welcome the arrival of the Charter and the quilt. Led by a stilt walker in red and yellow we stopped traffic and made our grand entrance. The speeches began with me sharing the preamble of the Charter and were then followed by speeches by a group of extraordinary women including Lee Lakeman, Lynda Gherty, Michèle Asselin, Diane Matte, and Marie Clark Walker among others. The message was simple: Another world is possible and this march is evidence of it. A few celebration songs, solidarity chants, and May Day pamphlets later it was over. The first event was successful and full of a kind of fresh energy and inspiration that was better than I could have ever imagined.

My subsequent stops in Yellowknife, Winnipeg, Ottawa, and Moncton all provided a renewed sense of movement, feminist cohesion, and inspiration. The issues of poverty, childcare, pay equity and violence against women were heard loud and clear in each of the respective provinces. With activists, service providers, brothers and sisters in the movement, we pushed the government to take action on eradicating poverty, following through on recent childcare agreements, moving on the issue of pay equity and supporting organizations that help women leave violent situations. We also urged them to join us in the global movement of justice, equality, solidarity, peace, and freedom.

My final stop was in Quebec City. If Canada didn’t hear the message in Vancouver, Yellowknife, Winnipeg, Ottawa or Moncton, then they were sure to hear it in Quebec City. There, 15,000 women, men and children marched chanting with a message: “So So So... Solidarite avec les femmes du monde entier!” Our march was proof that the movement had not died down, and that it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Overwhelmed by the moment, I cried and smiled realizing what I had first found out in Vancouver. I was not alone.

We marched through the narrow streets of Quebec City and finished at the Legislature building. We were guided by chalk messages in blue, pink and yellow along the street: “Solidarite” (solidarity), “Paix” (peace), “Egalite” (equality), etc. We handed off the quilt to Aboriginal and First Nations women, and carried the quilt. People shook their banners, protest signs, and streamers shouting our unified message: “So So So... Solidarite avec les femmes du monde entier!”. I addressed 15,000 people in French and English, as the Charter Bearer and as someone who has been extremely humbled by such a remarkable occasion. I could have cried, but I was too focused my French pronounciation. In the end, the event went off without a hitch and I left with more energy, better French, and a first-hand account of what it was like to be a part of making history.

On the plane back to Toronto, I reflected on the entire trip. I realized that while I was recognized as the “official charter bearer”, there were hundreds, thousands, and even millions of other people running this great feminist race. Some were running for their lives, as women are being persecuted for speaking out around the world, while others ran in solidarity with those persecuted women. Some of us were running for our children, while others were running for the children of the world who have the misfortune of being destitute without access to many of life’s luxuries that I often take for granted. The relay of the Women’s Global Charter for Humanity, “this amazing feminist race “, has showed me that we are all connected, and that regardless of where I’m from, my work, my voice and my action is never done in isolation.