1968. Ring a bell? It was the year Pierre Trudeau first ran in a federal election, having succeeded Lester B. Pearson as leader of the Liberal Party of Canada. By this point, I was twelve and I’d been following politics and current events for a while. I regularly watched the news with my dad, as he was adamant that I pay attention to what was happening in the world. (This was a man who, despite leaving school at an early age, read three newspapers a day.) I remember he and I had even watched the many rounds of the Liberal leadership convention on television over a weekend in April 1968. Whether it was inherited or through youthful exposure, or both, the political bug took root in me early.
That June my teacher, Don Drone, announced we would be having a mock election and I was thrilled when chosen as one of three students who would be candidates. But I was supremely annoyed when it was announced I would be representing the NDP. After losing an argument with Mr. Drone (if you can call it an argument—I was insistent I just had to be the Liberal), I went home and complained loudly to my dad. How could I be the NDP candidate when I was a Liberal, just like him?
My dad believed in doing the best you could with the hand you were dealt. He inherited that from his mother. My parents urged me and my four sisters to excel at whatever we did. Actually, we were given little choice. As far as my parents were concerned, hard work and discipline could tackle any issue. School mattered and if you were in trouble at school, you were in twice the trouble at home. When a report card in elementary school noted my handwriting needed work, I argued the teacher picked on my handwriting because they had little else negative to mention. It was an arrogant comment and it got the slap-down it deserved. For weeks after that report card, I was made to sit in front of the television balancing a large blackboard on the arms of my chair, writing out my alphabet. To this day people still comment that my handwriting is lovely.
Dad also believed in the absolute authority of the teacher. He reminded me that my NDP candidacy was a school assignment and like any other assignment I was given, I was to follow instructions and complete it to the best of my ability. In the end, the assignment turned into an excellent adventure. More than that, it deeply impacted my outlook as a young girl venturing forth in the real world of male-dominated politics. I was terrified and excited by the opportunity.
In the spirit of encouraging me to do my best, my dad made sure I understood the assignment beyond books and reading the news. Every few days throughout the campaign, he took me to the NDP campaign office. At that time, NDP campaigns were almost always run out of the local union office. Dad was a well-known and respected member of the plumbers and steamfitters’ union, and union organizers readily embraced his request that they help me prepare for the school campaign. It was a world of important men, but they patiently explained their views to me, along with why they believed the Liberal and Conservative policies weren’t working. I had to work hard to not be intimidated and to ask my questions with confidence. I felt accepted and looked forward to every visit.
Then something magical happened. NDP leader Tommy Douglas was coming to the area and the union leaders asked me to present flowers to Tommy’s wife, Irma. I vividly remember the thrill of that moment. There was my new sage green and gold brocade, sleeveless dress, which in and of itself was unusual. As the third of five girls, almost all of my dresses were hand-me-downs. In semi-darkness, I stepped carefully over wires and cables backstage at the rally and made my way to face the large audience. There was the joy of presenting the flowers to Mrs. Douglas, then to proudly shake the hand of Tommy Douglas and hear him speak about Canada, aware of the impact he’d already had on our country. It was formational and foundational in its impact; to me as a young girl, it represented aspiration, and all that was right about politics.
Back at school, I ran a substantive campaign, making a strong, compelling speech to my classmates. However, it was impossible to overtake Trudeaumania and the strong Liberal support found in the local Italian community. The moment my loss to the Liberal candidate was announced, I reached over and snatched the button from my classmate’s lapel, placing it on my own jacket and stating, “Now I can be a Liberal and I always will be.” Truer words were never spoken.
I’m grateful to Mr. Drone for forcing me to look at politics from outside of my comfort zone. He has always believed in me and in that year, due to his encouragement, I gained a lot of confidence in myself.
It may have been fifty years ago but that exposure to real-world politics was such a moment for me. Although I did not fully realize it at the time, essentially my political career began in those first backrooms, hanging out with the tough guys in the union office and being rewarded for my earnest attempt at being the best NDP candidate I could be. I was given the opportunity to meet a Canadian political icon. I felt comfortable, I loved the intrigue and the nature of the political debate. I enjoyed hearing my dad banter with the NDP about their policies. I never looked back.
Of course, I had no idea of the barriers that existed for women generally, or in politics. I don’t remember meeting a woman working in that campaign, other than the ones who got the coffee for Dad when we arrived at the union office. I know now it would have been those same women doing all the real work behind the scenes.
Lesson: Earn your stripes. There is always a campaign, a local organization, a candidate to support. Don’t try to start at the top. The view from the bottom is just as riveting and the chance to make your mark is limitless.
In grade eight, at age fourteen, I won an election for the first time. I ran for president of the student council at St. James Catholic School, which was a middle school at the time. (My main competitor was my best friend, Rosemary Danielli. I often remark it was through that grade eight competition that we found our paths—mine into politics and Rosemary’s into a medical career that demanded the highest academic achievement.)
By high school I was called upon regularly to organize whatever task needed attention. I was over-invested in many clubs and projects while managing to keep up on my academics. My parents began to hear the word “leader” when teachers talked about me, and I started to understand the pressure of being counted on to get things done.
I went to a Catholic high school at a time we were fighting the provincial government for funding equal to that of the public school system. Standing with thousands of students on the front lawn of Queen’s Park, demanding justice from the Bill Davis Conservative government of the day, was a formative moment on my political journey. It was the first time I’d felt the power of the many demanding action on an issue that mattered deeply to them. It was an important side of politics to experience.
After graduation, I attended the University of Guelph. I didn’t know anyone but I knew politics. I joined the Politics Club and the Liberal Club. I added a second major in political studies (along with my major in psychology and a minor in history) because I wanted to learn as much about the theory of politics as I was learning about the political ground game. I met a lot of people from all parties, including my future husband, Jim Whitechurch.
Studies were important but as there was always some campaign calling my name, I found a way to do both. I stuffed envelopes, canvassed door-to-door and by phone, and helped to organize the student vote. Sometimes I got to sit in on meetings to talk about the state of a campaign. I readily accepted any responsibility the campaign office workers were prepared to give me, whether it was making a chart or organizing a group of people. For several years I held the position of president of the local Liberal riding association in Wellington South (in those days it was a combined federal and provincial entity). I was earning my stripes.
Lesson: Look for role models who believe in you and are willing to let you learn.
There is a saying I like and use often: “You cannot be what you cannot see.” It usually references a “first” for a woman—as in the first woman astronaut, first woman scientist to work at NASA, first woman director to win an Oscar, a woman candidate, a woman leading a major political party, a woman cabinet minister, a woman premier, a woman prime minister… More generally, it speaks to the breakthrough moment experienced by any woman making her way in a world dominated by men.
My formative years as an organizer were in Guelph. The Liberal organization there was run by strong,