Ottawa, Monday, March 20, 2006

My friends,

I use this word deliberately because I come to you as a friend. As I stand before you, I feel a kinship with you, with women of all backgrounds. I am particularly moved to be here with you today.

As I recently stated at a luncheon organized in Victoria to celebrate International Women’s Day, between what you see and what is invisible to the eye; between what you hear and what remains silent; between what you believe to be and what is; between the path behind you and the road stretched out ahead, there is sometimes a gap, a gulf, a world.

Yes, women have made undeniable progress. For example, here in this room, we are all independent women, women of ideas, of compassion, women of action and conviction, women who don’t back down from a fight.

You know this as well as I do—you, who represent organizations that reach out to battered women, to poor women, to women who are disadvantaged in many ways.

Though we can proudly celebrate all that has been accomplished, it is important to see the other side of the coin, to speak on behalf of those women who dare not or cannot, to deconstruct prejudice and bring to light the lingering disparities between women and men.

What strikes me as I meet with women from across this country is their ability to create networks. Support networks, friendship networks, networks built on sharing and fellowship that go beyond differences and further empower women. Their strength lies in partnership, and the partnership you have built here in Ottawa is a shining example.

I know this because in the early years of my career, I helped to establish a network of women that today is a network of shelters for battered women in Quebec.

For nearly ten years, I listened to and supported battered women and their children. I helped them when they had to face prejudice and the anguish of solitude as they started over from nothing and rebuilt their lives.

Can we ever forget that immigrant women who are living with violence and abuse, particularly those who do not speak English or French, those who may not yet have an official status or who are being sponsored, are especially vulnerable? The fear and shame they feel are amplified many times over by their language and cultural isolation. Many of these women feel “blind and deaf.” They feel as though others see them as inferior, as though they were invisible.

The solitude that closes in around them is the worst kind of prison. It drives women who are already so very fragile to silence and suffering. I know full well the effort it takes for them to keep from giving in to despair. These women are survivors. They have extraordinary courage and endurance. And today, I want to pay tribute to them.

Because every day, women from near and far who have chosen to build a life here in Canada enrich our understanding of the world and everything in it. They bring to this country their insights, their opinions, their ideas about freedom, and their own struggles to overcome the obstacles that keep them from achieving autonomy and reaching their full potential.

And what of Aboriginal women, whose situation is especially dire? Compared to other Canadian women, Aboriginal women are three times as likely to be subjected to some form of violence at the hands of their spouse and eight times as likely to be killed by their spouse after separation.

So many Aboriginal women live in fear, in isolation, with absolutely no chance of making the choices that are so vital to their survival, choices like a decent job, health and acceptable living conditions. Their situation is the same situation faced by many immigrant women. And their stories of suffering, which they have shared with me as I have travelled this country, pain me deeply.

We must acknowledge that the number of women—from all backgrounds—who are victims of violence, the number of deaths, is staggering. We cannot ignore these numbers or pretend not to know.

Let us break down the wall of silence; let us break down solitudes, as the motto I have chosen states. By solitudes, I mean those that confine certain people, or certain segments of the population, because of their age, origins, language, beliefs, sex or ability. This motto sums up what I aspire to as a human being and as governor general. It represents the Canada that I want for generations to come. During my mandate, I have every intention of working to ensure that those who have had no voice may at last be heard. This is my priority. I want to meet your concerns head‑on, troubling though they may be. I want Canadians to recognize the contribution that immigrant and Aboriginal women have made to the building of today’s Canada. I am here to listen to you.

I want to create a space where the voices of citizens will ring out loud and clear. Because I firmly believe that violence in our homes, our schools, our communities, our society is the result of words that were never shared, dialogues that never took place and never-launched debates about ideas. In the words of Québécois singer and poet Gilles Vigneault, [translation] “violence is the absence of words.” It stems from a feeling of powerlessness, an inability to express oneself and a certainty of never being heard. Fists or weapons then take the place of the missing words to express suffering.

I dream of the day when our country comes to represent for each and every one of us, women and men, young and old from all backgrounds, an unmatched land of freedom, a place where anything is possible, where each person can flourish.

You may see me as idealistic, but I am convinced that nothing is ever over for us, women, for our children, here at home or around the world. Every word counts, every action matters. The presence here today of so many organizations and volunteers who speak out on behalf of women and defend their basic rights strengthens my belief that the sum of our actions gives rise to new possibilities and makes a difference. The presence also of so many women who have broken the vicious cycle of isolation and have regained control of their lives is a promise for the future.

The road to equality is long, it’s true. But those of you working to ensure that women and men, who have inherited our world, work side by side to make it a better place, give hope to us all. You give us the courage to continue moving forward, with passion and resolve, toward a more fair, more human society.

Thank you for welcoming me here this evening. Thank you for giving a voice to women who want nothing more than to be heard and respected. Thank you for defending the rights of those who make up half of our population and who ask simply to be treated as equals and to contribute to the society in which they live. Now more than ever, we must strengthen the bonds of fellowship between women from all backgrounds and all walks of life. Let us never forget that as citizens of this great country, we must all defend the values that we hold so dear.

Thank you.