Thank you.
I wrestled with what to say here today, given this rare opportunity. I know that many of you, either through other testimony or through the media, have heard stories about assault, abuse and other mistreatment at the hands of a system that was not ready for women in 1988, but still is not ready today, in 2023. Do I talk about my first few years—I joined at 17—assaulted and harassed, culminating in one of my instructors, who eventually rose to the rank of colonel, trying to order me to give him a blow job; how the men broke the lights in the hotel room where we had our course party after basic training, so we wouldn't know who was touching us and were trapped in the dark; my first night at my unit, unsure and anxious, when I was pulled aside and handed a love letter from my course officer from basic training; or how I tried to gut it out because the military would pay for my future even after I was first diagnosed with PTSD, on meds to help me sleep, and raped by my then boyfriend, a higher-ranked unit member?
I will tell a story that until a few months ago was under a publication ban.
When I was 21, I went on the last course I would ever take as an NCM. It was in Kingston, and Kingston had just introduced co-ed barracks. From day one, I did not feel good about this course. The first morning, at PT, my sergeant, who was in the position of course warrant, ordered me to run up front with him.
Linemen were scaling the outside of the building to get into our room when we were sleeping at night. I had to buy new underwear about halfway through the first week, because somebody had stolen all of mine out of the dryer.
I was struggling. The previous year, I had been in a car accident. A friend of mine died in my arms. The first time my new boyfriend at that point and I had sex, I was so drunk I couldn't stand, let alone consent.
I went to the MIR and requested to be RTU'd. They gave me a day of bedrest and told me to come back the next day. My sergeant came to my room to talk to me about going home. I told him everything: all my struggles, my PTSD, the meds that I hated taking—all of it. He was kind and compassionate and encouraged me to finish the training. He said that it was important to my career. I was comforted to know he cared.
My roommates came in after dismissal that day, all excited, and said that the sergeant had ordered them to take me out that night to help me relax. I thought, what's the harm? The whole course came out. We all drank a lot. It was a good time. My sergeant even showed up at the end of the night and told everybody that he would see me back safely. I don't remember the reason he gave for having to go to his room first; I just remember wanting to sleep as he took off some of my clothes. I was so tired, and I kept closing my eyes. I said I wanted to leave and he just held me down.
Again, this was somebody who not only had my career in his hands, but many times, my life. I was so tired and I said I wanted to leave. I was half naked when I told him that I couldn't do this anyway; I was on my period. He said he didn't believe me but he would check, and if I was, he would let me go. I squeezed my eyes shut so that he could put his fingers inside of me—tampon and blood. He let me go.
The next day I realized that I couldn't claim to be too stressed to leave. I was trapped. I had to explain that I was staying, to that very sergeant. He smiled at me and said that I looked under the weather, reminded me to eat a well-balanced breakfast, and then he winked at me. I had another three weeks on course with that person.
When I got home, I asked for a leave of absence. I needed to process.... I knew that I couldn't come in to work anymore and see everybody in uniform; it was just too hard. I was told by my chief clerk to come in to sign the paperwork. My chief clerk was a female. She took me aside and told me that I was a slut, a whore and an administrative burden, and I needed to get out before they threw me out. I quit the CAF that January, in 1997.
I came back in April 2006. I had a few great years, and then more assaults, harassment and abuse. Not a day passes when I haven't seen the faces of men and women who used my kindness, my compassion and often my own pain to abuse and harm me.
What can we change about that? Since 2014, I've changed my focus to training and education around supporting survivors of sexual assault.
The single biggest indicator that somebody will suffer long-term effects is the support they receive at first disclosure of the incident. It's not who did it, and it's not the injuries they receive. It's the first time they have the courage to say that something terrible happened to them. How they are responded to will set the stage for how they recover.
In 2014, there was no mandatory training on how to support somebody disclosing military sexual trauma. There still isn't. Being raped should not cost you your career.
My daughter and I left her abusive dad, finally, in 2017. She carries scars on her soul that I would have been able to prevent if I wasn't so hobbled by my own pain. One of the last times I saw him, he said I should have told him I had been raped, because he never would have married me if he'd known I was broken.
In spring 2021, four female survivors got together and created a group. We call ourselves the Survivor Perspectives Consulting Group. In my final year in uniform, I trained almost 2,000 members of the CAF on how to support those who are victimized and how to recognize the earlier roots of that behaviour.
We've taught brand new recruits up to three-star generals. In our post-training survey, 83% of those trained say that they now know how to support someone. So far, 98% have said that this should be CAF-wide.
In my last year in uniform, I received a CDS commendation for creating this program, and I got a letter from Lieutenant-General Carignan, saying that the CAF leadership sees no value in institutionalizing this training. None of the leadership from CPCC or the CDS's office has taken this training.
I was medically released due to PTSD from MST on March 30, 2022.
Our group has grown and continues to bring this training package to everyone we can, using our education, our skills and, yes, our pain to hopefully bring change to the CAF. We have met obstacle after obstacle. We don't understand why the leadership would not be interested in a solution that is obviously resonating. To date we have trained over 3,000 members, and we continue to grow. Looking ahead, we have applied for the veterans wellness grant and are hopeful.
What is the ask? We need more women-centred programming. OSISS, Soldier On and Wounded Warriors are not yet made for us. They occasionally try to host bolt-on programs and pop-ups, but they don't have retreats or treatment dedicated to women veterans. Even small things like a benefit to join a facility that offers female-only areas for working out would be a huge stride. Leadership in all areas also must stop working with service providers with no qualifications or expertise to work in these areas, because people are being hurt.
As a service provider, I'd also say that the RFP process should prioritize veteran-owned enterprises. Right now, when you're medically released from the CAF, there are two avenues that you are encouraged to take. One is to be employed as soon as possible. I was told flat out when I was released that I was heavily employable. I have 16 years as a public affairs officer in the CAF, but I don't want to go back to the career in which I was assaulted and abused. My only other option, really, is to go for education and training for about two years and hopefully go into something else.
I would like to see some of that money that's earmarked for training to also be allowed to be accessed by people who have started their own businesses as entrepreneurs. The money is already there. It's just a matter of changing the way we can access it. In the U.S. a certain percentage of contracts each year are required to go to veteran-owned businesses.
Our group is trying very hard to have an empowering and validating career after the uniform. We have built a powerful tool. Our training changes minds. We've seen it over 3,000 times. We're determined to make the CAF, the RCMP, the government and Canada stronger and more inclusive places. We don't understand why the CAF seems so intent on quashing our efforts, but we persist, because standing up to them is not new to us. We have looked into the eyes of men and women who have raped us, harassed us and beat us down. We're bent but not broken, and we're not going anywhere.
Thank you.
