Tag: dementia

What difference do women’s voices make?

Posted on by Shari Graydon

You know that old saying, “If you’re the smartest person in the room, you’re probably in the wrong room”? I looked up its origins today, and couldn’t find an attribution (which, as Virginia Woolf pointed out years ago, likely means the observation was first articulated by a woman!)

Although I’m pretty clear about the value of my skill set, in the work I do with Informed Opinions, I am NEVER the smartest person in the room. And that’s a source of enormous satisfaction for me. Because it means I’m getting to play a small role in exposing the world to the talents and insights of women whose comprehensive familiarity with vast arenas of knowledge can benefit us all.

The Right Honourable Kim Campbell, Canada’s first and, regrettably, only female Prime Minster, has been advocating for the increased representation of women for decades.

That’s why no arm-twisting was necessary to get her to agree to become one of the project’s honorary patrons. And on Friday of this week, she’ll be sitting down with me for an armchair discussion on the difference women’s voices make at a public event co-hosted by SFU and UBC in Vancouver. She’ll expand on her advocacy efforts to increase women’s participation in politics and talk about her own experiences with the media.

Having heard Ms. Campbell speak many times, I suspect she often IS the smartest person in the room. But her insights are invariably delivered with the kind of grace, humour and respect that reduce the intimidation factor. She’s entertaining and inspirational company.

In the meantime, Informed Opinions continues to precipitate and/or support the dissemination of hundreds of expert commentaries on diverse issues of critical importance not just to women, but to Canada as a whole. Each participant’s approach to engaging with media differs, depending on her field and circumstances.

You’ll apply the training when it makes most sense for you…

Joanne Cave, a Rhodes Scholar studying social policy at Oxford University, is a case in point. She says,

“After I attended the Informed Opinions workshop, the ideas and tools shared took a year to percolate. But in August my first op-ed was published in four newspapers across Canada, generating interest from politicians, non-profits and community members. I never imagined that commentary writing would be a way to make my voice matter, and I’m so grateful.”

In fact, six weeks after her first piece on the funding environment for charities was published, she submitted a second one on dementia policy and informal caregiving, the focus of her research. It also got picked up.

Where’s the line between professional discretion and a responsibility to advocate?

Three years ago, a significantly pregnant Martha Paynter organized and attended an Informed Opinions workshop in Halifax, recruiting more than a dozen other smart, educated, articulate activists and professors to invest a day and some professional development dollars into expanding their advocacy tool kits. Her employment context is very different from Joanne’s and as a result, she says, “I’ve struggled to balance professional discretion with my responsibility to advocate for health and reproductive justice. I both work for the Nova Scotia Department of Health and Wellness, and am an activist for equitable health access.”

How does she decide when it’s okay to speak up?

“I’m comfortable and feel safe commenting on the actions of other provincial governments and the federal government. Two recent examples included the New Brunswick government’s refusal to repeal a section of the Medical Act, which restricts public funding of abortion (limiting it to procedures authorized by two physicians and performed by an OBGYN, in hospital); and the federal government’s unwillingness to support refugee health care.”

Martha has also used her networks and the Informed Opinions training to encourage other friends and colleagues to take up media opportunities on which she’s unable to comment publicly, such as changes to Nova Scotia Public Health perinatal services.

“Since attending a workshop in 2011, I have become attuned to the exclusion of women’s voices in the media, and conscious of how infrequently I participate – and in particular, write – despite my ceaseless opining in my own head. I do hope to improve on this!”

When age is a valued credential

Posted on by Shari Graydon

The moment was both painful and telling. As the MC introduced me to the 250 teenagers assembled to engage in a discussion about the importance of media literacy in an image-dominated age, I watched every kid’s eyes glaze-over.

It wasn’t the reference to my two award-winning books for youth, or my ten years as president of Media Action. No, the offending piece of information was my status as a grandmother.

Sam, a source of pure unadulterated joy in the lives of everyone he meets.

I am delighted enough with this designation that the screensaver on my smart phone features a picture of Sam, a more adorable boy than you could possibly imagine. That’s how the MC came to learn of his existence. But by using the relationship as a descriptor during my introduction, she had inadvertently made me irrelevant to the kids in the hall.

I was reminded of this incident last week while participating in another panel convened by the Great Canadian Theatre Company. The occasion was a discussion on women and aging held in advance of a matinee performance of Mary Walsh’s Dancing With Rage. Considering the focus of the panel, and the 75 mostly-over-50 women assembled, my grandmother status might have been relevant. (In this context, the youthfulness of the other panelists – 32 and 27 – was striking.)

Royalties from book sales support Informed Opinions’s work amplifying women’s voices

However, my claim to legitimacy came from having had the wisdom to invite 40 other women of a certain age to contribute to the collection, I Feel Great About My Hands back in 2010. Shortly after the book came out, I was speaking with Marion, a scientist in her 80s. When I told her that the collection’s subtitle was “and other unexpected joys of aging”, there was a pause on her end of the line. And then Marion asked me, not unkindly,

“And what would you know about aging, Shari?”

I felt appropriately humbled. Relatively speaking, a 50-something year-old knows almost nothing about aging. And — having witnessed up close the plethora of health and mobility issues affecting my beloved former in-laws and own cherished parents — it’s not like I don’t appreciate the difference.

At the GCTC last week, I was also humbled by the observations and inspirations elicited from members of the audience, many of whom might have been even better choices for the panel than the three of us who had been invited to speak.

The voices missing in Canadian public discourse are not just those of women, but those of women of diverse ages and experiences, and of wider ranging ethnic and cultural backgrounds. Not to mention those who are living with disabilities, and/or battling unconscious discrimination based on a range of identities, including having entered the “m’am” stage of life.

As members of the audience pointed out, nothing quite prepares you for being rendered invisible at precisely the moment when you really have your act together. Or being spoken to as if you have already entered a state of catatonic dementia.  We laughed about the suggestion that substituting “vintage” for “old” might increase our appeal, but the cost to society of marginalizing an entire generation of people remains a serious one.

Aboriginal communities have many things to teach us, but appreciation for elders – the insights offered by lives lived and lessons learned – is certainly among them.

In my more optimistic moments, I fantasize that the combination of the baby boomers’ demographic bulge and the continuing need for skilled workers will help to transform individual and collective attitudes to grey hair and wrinkles when they come paired with a woman’s face.

The more willing we are to wear our age, and the more visible we remain, engaged in and commenting on the world around us, the easier it will for us to collectively counter the stereotypes perpetuated by a youth-obsessed culture.

Last weekend the GCTC lobby was overflowing with women whose experience and expertise could add enormous value to public discourse. I wish I’d had the forethought to have offered a copy of I Feel Great About My Hands as a door prize. If I’d passed a hat for business cards, I could have followed up with all those present, encouraging them to visit the Resources page on our website, or attend one of our workshops.

Their voices are needed.