March has become a very significant month for me. On the 5th my mother, who died in 2009 following a 16-month battle with ovarian cancer, would have had her 61st birthday. March 8 marks International Women’s Day. Both of these occasions provoke reflection on who my mother was and the ideals she spent her too short life fighting to uphold.
Growing up, I remember a running joke. She would ask me to take out the garbage or mow the lawn. I would say “why don’t you do it?” to which she replied “because that’s men’s work.” I would tease by declaring her a “fairweather feminist.” The characterization could not be further from the truth.
As a fiercely proud registered nurse, my mother had openly battled a patriarchal system up until the day of her death. In her last profession she was a medical adjudicator, a position held by a predominately female group of nurses who work with medical advisors, a predominately male group of doctors, to evaluate applications for the CPP Disability Benefit Program. Since the position’s creation, the adjudicators (nurses) have been categorized as program administrators, whereas the advisors (doctors) are categorized as medical officers despite the overlap of duties between the two positions and the need for adjudicators to utilize their medical science expertise.
The group launched a complaint with the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal which gave its initial liability ruling in 2007 in favor of the nurses, declaring the job categorization a form of sexual discrimination carried out by the federal government. In 2009, a remedy was rendered requiring the government to create a new job category recognizing the position as a nurse practitioner (no recuperation of lost wages, only legal fees). The federal government has since appealed.
As judicial proceedings inched forward while my mother was sick, I remember her lamenting that she would not live to see its resolution and unfortunately she was right. Active in the second wave feminist movement in 1970s (and well beyond) which saw a number of women’s rights victories, my mother was denied the satisfaction of witnessing the righting of that last wrong. Beyond that isolated case, she was lucidly aware of the larger struggle which still persists.
Days before my mother died I told her I had bought an engagement ring and planned to propose to my girlfriend. Although their personalities sometimes clashed, I know she was deeply content with my choice of partner. Like my mother, my wife is an unapologetic feminist filled with an unimaginable inner strength which I am in awe of daily. Her life experience is a constant reminder of the brutishly unfair society in which we live and requires challenging.
March is a month that feels bittersweet. I appreciate the positive sentiments of strong women in my life which seem that much more prominent, while the remaining work can be overly daunting.
Fortunately neither my mother nor my wife have ever held a defeatist attitude despite the challenges both have faced. This has served as a remarkable source of personal strength.
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Nick Seebruch, editor
