Archives for Madeleine Shaw

By Madeleine Shaw

Time to let go. A prophetic moment, September 2017, Toronto

A new chapter

Time to let go. A prophetic moment, September 2017, Toronto
Time to let go. A prophetic moment, September 2017, Toronto

As I referenced briefly in a recent post about reflections on turning 50, my role at Lunapads has changed (to put it very simply, I have left my day job there) and I wanted to share about that decision at greater length.

As a brief recap, I started making Lunapads in 1993, wrote the first business plan to commercialize them in 1994 and have basically been working in some way, shape or form to support the company’s growth ever since. Given that I’ve just turned 50, you won’t need a calculator to reckon that it’s pretty much how I’ve spent half my life.

I love everything about Lunapads, from the pads and underwear themselves (still use ‘em, in fact!) to the company, its proudly feminist values and culture, and brilliant team. I could not be prouder of what we have created and want nothing more to see its potential fully expressed.  

Some of the finest, smartest, most ass-kicking people in the world: team Lunapads, Summer 2017
Some of the finest, smartest, most ass-kicking people in the world: team Lunapads, Summer 2017

Given this, I get that it may seem counterintuitive to be choosing to help less, especially at such a pivotal time in the company’s history. There is no doubt that I still have a great deal to offer and I fully intend to continue to bring value as an Advisor and Shareholder/Director.

The company is on the threshold of incredible growth, however rather than feeling like I need to “dig in”, I have the clearest feeling that what I actually need to do is let go. The company’s future is about a different perspective than what it has been in the past. What that vision needs in order to emerge is a blank slate, fresh eyes and creative breathing space for the team.

This change has been coming for several years, since 2013, as a matter of fact. It was at that time that Suzanne and I decided to change the company’s senior leadership from a shared model to one where she became the CEO with all staff reporting to her, and I stepped into the more amorphous role of Creative Director.

To be honest, it was a relief. I don’t love managing people – especially a double-digit team – and a large part of Lunapads operations had become about things about which I am either unskilled or uninterested (namely digital marketing, ecommerce and their associated processes and analytics).

At the time, even though I supported the decision 100%, I still struggled with some feelings of personal inadequacy. Should I have tried harder, even when it didn’t feel like I had the mojo? I remember working so hard to get the hang of social media with the help of tutors and consultants, however the more I tried, the more my disaffection for it grew (the day I finally closed my Twitter account was truly liberating).

One of thousands of adventures with one of my favourite people ever, Uganda, Spring 2012.
One of thousands of adventures with one of my favourite people ever, Uganda, Spring 2012.

There is of course also the fact that Suzanne is so awesome: it’s not like I have any worries about leadership at Lunapads ;-). And – to give myself some credit – it has often struck me as superfluous for us both to be putting our time and energy into the same thing. It’s time for her vision to emerge even more fully: get ready!

Speaking of Suzanne, the one thing that I always loved and felt great about as a leader at Lunapads (and is hands down the thing that I will miss the most) were our almost-daily conversations, which can essentially be summed up as ongoing strategic planning sessions, typically over lunch (it is strangely meaningful to me that I have had lunch with her more than anyone in my life).

Creative decisions, HR issues, media, events, key relationships, cash flow, random new ideas and opportunities: you name it. Personal stuff for sure as well: we are, after all, very close and part of our magic is seeing one another in a very holistic way, not just as business partners.

I have seldom enjoyed such a perfect mind-meld with anyone. The way that we work together has an almost physical sensation to it, a feeling of figuratively building ideas with different pieces or ingredients, stacking or modifying them as we go. The outcome was almost never the same as the original idea that one of us may have started with: it was better, more well-rounded and there was often some sort of unique twist or unexpected outcome.

I believe that this type of interaction is commonly known as creative friction which – with a solid base of trust, transparency and consciously keeping one’s ego in check – is one of the most enjoyable feelings I have had the good fortune to experience, in business or otherwise.

So why let it go, especially with this type of amazing relationship thrown into the bargain?

There are several reasons, however I’ll start with one of my favourite life adages: leave the party while you’re still having a good time. I will always share a profound bond with Suzanne and the company: plus who knows what other adventures the future may hold for us together? As this post’s title suggest, this is just a new chapter, not the end of the story.

I also want to see what happens when I’m not there all the time anymore: what and who will be drawn into the space? What new conversations, ideas and relationships will come of it? My belief is that it is exactly this space that will yield the different results that we seek. I’d wager that things will likely be even bigger, better and brighter than they are now.

I also strongly feel like it’s time for me to redefine myself. I love the idea that we all latently possess potent skills that we are simply not aware of yet due to the simple fact that we haven’t tried whatever it is yet. Being a Founder is a funny thing: it’s not just a job that you can take or leave, it’s not a transferable skill per se, and it only really happens once (in Lunapads case, twice) per company story. It can become very tied to one’s personal identity, something that I have definitely struggled with. 

Until G Day came along, I never thought that I would found anything else: I actually used to joke that I was a “monogamous” (as opposed to serial) entrepreneur! In fact, G Day is the fruit of the “crisis” of self-doubt in 2013 that I referred to earlier in the post. This beautiful thing, an idea that had literally been resident in me since I was a child, is what wanted to happen while I was trying to convince myself that I should be doing a better job at Twitter: argh!

What starting G Day showed me was that being a founder is actually a legitimate skill, a thing that I “do”, not just something that randomly happened once upon a time. But there needed to be space for that to emerge and I also needed to be willing to step into a new self-definition outside of Lunapads. Which – as I noted earlier – was scary and fraught with self-doubt and uncertainty.

So in a way the changes that I’m making now started a long time ago. Another aspect to the shift definitely has to do with age. Turning 50 is inspiring me far more deeply than I would have imagined, and I am keenly aware of – on the basest level – how lucky I am to be alive, let alone having the resources and imagination to see what else might be possible.

What else could I do with my experience and knowledge? Probably lots of things, but if I keep hanging onto the “tried and true” then I will never find out.

Last but not least, I have a new vision that – in addition to G Day – I want to pursue. Again, it’s another “old” idea: in this case observing that most people throughout history have always done two things: worked and had babies. Given their universality, you would think that we would have come up with more ways to facilitate, or even combine those activities. What I’m curious about now are the possibilities for reimagining work-life balance in the form of a new workplace concept called Nestworks.

Stay tuned and watch Lunapads – and everyone – rock.

 

 

Entering my 50s in Back to the Future 80s style!

Ahead by a (half) Century: thoughts on turning 50

Entering my 50s in Back to the Future 80s style!
Entering my 50s in Back to the Future 80s style!

I am normally skeptical of traditional milestones, preferring to believe that we each find our meaningful moments as they organically present themselves, as opposed to at a prescribed time. So the magnitude of turning 50 has taken me by surprise: it feels epic.

Some obvious observations that have been lurking in the back of my consciousness have suddenly taken on a fresh sense of urgency: Ageism is real! Experience is valuable! You are lucky to still be here! Grey hair is cool! 

In fact, I have managed to turn the big 5-0 into a rationale for essentially doing whatever I want for the past year: Move on from my job at the company I co-founded? Sure! Start a new venture? Let’s do this! The list goes on: attending favourite conferences, armloads of vacation time, giving my treasured garden a much-needed overhaul, and to top it off, throwing myself an extremely fun birthday party. If this is a mid-life crisis, then as it turns out I’m a fan, and not getting over it anytime soon.

In short, I have been shamelessly living it up. And I’m so glad and so grateful to have had the resources and good health to be able to do so. In many ways, a great deal of my indulgences have been while holding the memory of friends who have not been able to remain at this party of life for as long as I have.

If you told me 30 years ago that I would celebrate my 50th birthday by gleefully dancing to the same music that me and my University pals (not to mention with those same university pals!) did on weekend nights, I would have laughed at you. I could scarcely have imagined what a truly wonderful thing that would be.

Kim, Jackie, Andrea & Madeleine, Spring 1989
Kim, Jackie, Andrea & Madeleine, Spring 1989

As it happened, our regular bar band in Kingston, Ontario in the mid-late 80s was none other than The Tragically Hip. If I had known just how resonant the lyrics “No dress rehearsals, this is our life” would become to me – along with pretty much anyone who ever heard them – later in life, I wonder whether I would have – what, listened harder?

Reflecting on those days and nights, if I had known just how special and fleeting they were, I would definitely have danced way more. Not to mention been kinder, tolerated less personal insecurity and taken the treasure that was a higher education far more seriously.

Jackie, Andrea, Kim and the birthday girl, December 2017
Jackie, Andrea, Kim and the birthday girl, December 2017

The freedom that I had in hindsight is truly breathtaking. I hope that I made the best of it, and it leads me to consider what I might be taking for granted today.

If you had told me that my daughter would be wearing the same dress that I wore to my graduation ball in 1989 to my 50th party, I would have fallen over. And yet here we are. So much of life is so much more than we can imagine in the present moment. I am awestruck by how blessed I am.

With my husband Tom (ahem, I mean Tim!) and our daughter Gigi - recognize the dress she's wearing?
With my husband Tom (ahem, I mean Tim!) and our daughter Gigi – recognize the dress she’s wearing?

For all this, I still wrestle with a “dress rehearsal” mindset: When I achieve this future thing, I will be happy/satisfied/successful.

Here’s what I ask myself today when I start to fall into it: What if you already have a version of this thing that you believe that you need in order to feel a certain way? Or maybe you just need to relax into where you are right now and let it come to you in its own, sweet way and time?

I have also recognized a shift in my thinking around the entrepreneurial notion of making things happen, aka hustling, blowing sh*t up, moving fast and breaking things and so on. What has replaced what now seems like an overblown sense of personal agency is a feeling of deep curiosity: what wants to happen? A perception of things coming through me or around me, rather than exclusively of my own creation: more of a dance than the imposition of my will. It feels gentler, less stressful and more inclusive and respectful, not just of others, but of – for lack of a better term – the Universe.

In addition to expressing gratitude for a life so full of love and opportunity, I would like to offer an invitation.

To some of you, 50 may seem impossibly ancient, and to others wonderfully youthful. Whether you hold one of those perspectives or something different, I would like to take this opportunity to invite you to join me in celebrating ageing.

The older I get, the more I realize how cool it actually is. I am also embracing it as an opportunity to relinquish whatever lingering self-criticisms I have around my appearance and abilities. I feel wiser, more centred, and as fabulous as ever.

To revisit my earlier Tragically Hip reference, I encourage you to consider reframing the idea of being “older” rather as being Ahead by a CenturyIn other words, there is no magical, perfect future state that you have “rehearsed” for: you’re already there.

Be at peace with yourself. Keep the dress even when you think it’s gone out of style. Life is a mystery: let it reveal itself to you.

Special big ups to DJ Craig Siemens for his passion for 80s music and the willingness to share it so generously. 

In memory of Gordon Goodell, 1967-2016.

What does a feminist business look like?

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There has been a fair bit of criticism lately about “marketplace feminism” (New Republic, Huffington Post, In These Times, and even a hilarious spoof of the concept from the New York Times). Marketplace feminism in these cases can be loosely understood as the commodification of feminism and female empowerment for commercial gain.

The conversation has given those of us who count ourselves as both entrepreneurs and feminists pause for thought: what does it mean to deploy a political ideology – in this case feminism – in a business context? Is marketplace feminism an inherently exploitative phenomenon, or – if done well – something that can be a positive force?

As a longtime self-proclaimed feminist and career entrepreneur, I am clear on my bias and will come right out of the gate with it: I believe that feminism has a valid and even essential place in business – just like it does everywhere else.

For the record, however, I didn’t always feel this way.

Growing Consciousness And Raising Capital

When I first came to feminist consciousness in my late teens as a university student in the 1980s, unchecked corporate greed was an article of faith. Sure, there were rumblings about divestment in portfolios containing South African mining businesses, however for the most part the Bonfire of the Vanities was still burning bright. Profit was awesome, bigger was better and ideas like corporate social responsibility were barely on the horizon.

As an activist, and furthermore a person of such privilege that I had never been faced with the raw necessity of earning a real living for myself, I turned up my nose at the idea of pursuing a business career. It felt suspect, greedy, dirty to be a money-chaser. I naturally assumed that I would go off and save the world, I would never need to worry about profit or margins, and my income would come from… somewhere. (As an aside, there really is nothing quite like being 19. It feels so great to know everything, even if that time is short.)

When, edging into my mid-20s, the penny (ha!) finally dropped that my limited and condescending attitude towards business served no one, and was actually pretty troubling given my championing of gender equality across the board. I realized that business in fact had the potential to be an elegant and powerful tool to create the social change that I craved, and that meanwhile I had rent to pay and groceries to buy. In short, I got over it.

My entire rationale for commercializing Lunapads and Luna Undies (then known as Lunapanties) in 1994 was to promote feminist values. The company’s original mission statement was “To create more positive and informed relationships between women, their bodies and the Earth”. The first marketing tagline was “Your Body. Your World. Your Choice.” A feminist agenda was the why. Lunapads was the how.

Thanks in large part to the mentorship of my amazing business partner Suzanne, I’ve become a fierce proponent of entrepreneurship as a vehicle for gender equality. Done from a values-based place, it can bring creative freedom, financial independence and workplace flexibility, an aspect particularly critical for parents. Why fight the corporate patriarchy when you can have your own scene, on your own time and terms?

Meanwhile in the for-profit menstrual space, we have watched in recent years with mixed emotions how multiple firms of varying sizes have taken up the banner – or at least the voice – of feminism in the service of marketing their goods and services. Some have featured brilliant, relevant messages about, for example, the absurd double standard of throwing/running/fighting “like a girl” in the service of selling chemical-soaked disposable tampons. Great message. Products? Don’t get me started.

Buying and Selling Empowerment

It rankled us deeply to witness what had essentially been our philosophy since day one get doused in marketing dollars and co-opted by companies that sincerely don’t care about their customer’s health or the environment, let alone gender equality.

The phenomenon, recently explored at length by Bitch magazine founder and creative director Andi Zeisler in her recent book We Were Feminists Once: From Riot Grrrl to CoverGirl®, the Buying and Selling of a Political Movement, takes on the disconcerting fact that since feminism has in recent years become “cool”, it’s now essentially being sold back to us as consumers, erasing the movement’s all-too-real goals and challenges. To be sure, we wholeheartedly agree that buying “feminist” lip balm will not end gender-based violence or pay inequity, nor will it safeguard reproductive rights: it’s an insincere ploy that ultimately adds insult to injury.

As feminists, entrepreneurs and marketers, it leaves Lunapads in an interesting bind. On the one hand, Andi’s critique of the “empowertising” shill is bang-on. On the other, where does it leave “real” feminist businesses (whatever that might be, which begs yet another question) like ours? Do we check our politics at the door? It reminds me of how I think about women in the military, as in I really wish that this thing didn’t exist in the first place, however if things are ever going to change then we need to get in there.

For all practical intents and purposes, a market-based economy is all we’ve got for now. If we’re making useful, environmentally responsible products and thus supporting our employees and community – is profit so bad? How are people supposed to be able to earn a living otherwise?

The current vitriol towards marketplace feminism – almost entirely coming from non-entrepreneurs, I should add – leaves us with the feeling that there may be some babies getting thrown out with the bathwater. Limiting the meaning of marketplace feminism (or not offering a more nuanced take on it) to something inherently negative – as opposed to a practice that can range in quality from appalling to awesome – feels deeply unfair and risks discouraging entrepreneurial feminists from seeking to earn a living, grow the economy, create progressive jobs and generally be their awesome selves.

It bothered us to read, for example, Andi’s sweeping statement in a recent Bitch editorial that “...corporations do not exist to change collective minds, normalize diverse bodies, or promote real-life equality. They exist to profit, to satisfy investors and stockholders, to cut costs to maximize efficiency, to skirt labor laws where they can. The recent elevation of feminism from political movement to brand ideology doesn’t change those goals.”

Ouch. We are not disputing that there are some major assholes out there who take every advantage of the capitalist system in the name of profit at any cost (some even calling themselves feminists while doing it), but – hello, what about those of us who are trying to find a better way?

I can almost hear Andi in my head now saying “I didn’t mean you!”. (Full disclosure: we have had a warm, respectful and entirely successful business relationship with Bitch for a heap of years). But nevertheless there’s something here, something that I recognize because I’ve been there and thought that. And that something goes back to the stereotype that you can’t be a “good” feminist while trying to make a buck. Because then you’re a capitalist, which, as Sarah Jaffe so acridly spelled out in her New Republic article, doesn’t work because “… what is good for capitalism is not necessarily good for women.”

At the risk of getting mired into a potentially endless debate about what qualifies as a “real” feminist business or “good” or “bad” marketplace feminism, here are a few personal guidelines on how, as marketers and consumers who are committed to doing their best to live their politics both personally and professionally, we support our own decision making.

  1. Does a product or service offering meaningfully support feminist values, or is their “empowerment” message just a ploy to sell an otherwise unrelated, possibly dodgy, product? Does the message imply that you are personally deficient (disempowered) if you don’t use their products, or use crappy ingredients or labor practices?
  2. Does the company behind the offering practice what they preach in terms of their internal policies and practices? When I first heard about REI’s Force of Nature campaign, for example, the first thing I did was look up how many senior managers and directors the company employs. Same/same, or different?
  3. Look for consistency, thoughtfulness and tone sensitivity. It’s hard to quantify this one, however as a recent example we were stunned to spot another menstrual product company passing out business cards at the Women’s March in January 2017. Sorry, ladies: not cool.
  4. Is the company taking a stand or otherwise supporting relevant issues and organizations outside of marketing opportunities? Look for initiatives and donations that are not related to marketing. At Lunapads, for example, we donate time and money to organizations that we believe in (Planned Parenthood, and our local Sexual Health and LGBTQ2S activist nonprofits) that we don’t try to “leverage” – we just believe in what they do, support them to the extent that we can and leave it at that.
  5. Look for certifications like Fair Trade, Cruelty-free and Women-Owned and (big shout-out here) B Corp. In order to qualify for B Corp status, a company’s entire operation, specifically its social and environmental impact, is third-party assessed and quantified. Chances are, if a company is committed enough to commit to being transparent enough to participate in these types of programs, there is a good chance that the rest of their values will be a fit for you.

Finally, for those who remain sceptical of the possibility of the feminist reinvention of capitalism, or an authentic expression of feminist values in a business – or at least small business – context (responsible marketplace feminism?), we urge you to, at a minimum, cut us some slack while we rise to the challenge and – better yet – support us. But then again, there we go again using our politics to sell something 😉

PS: if you have read this far, here’s a bonus for you! There is a Canadian blog called Liisbeth that is dedicated to Feminists in Business. Don’t miss their interview with me if you’d like to hear more on how and why I think that feminism can actually save capitalism. Liisbeth’s founder Petra Kassun-Mutch, has even developed a Feminist Business Canvas: check it!

feminist-business-model-canvas

 

 

 

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5 insights from a Facebook-free month

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Me on Facebook – no airbrushing this time

I am admittedly a bit of an odd duck: I love new ideas, people and conversation and am part of a couple of organisations that rely heavily on digital marketing to build community and get the word out about our products and events. You would think that, given this, I would be a social media natural.

Not so much, as it turns out.

This has not always been the case: I have been an avid Facebooker for several years, and have often joked that it’s my version of TV (I don’t even watch Netflix – I just never get around to it), in that it provides me with a variety of news, stories, and education that is part informative and part (mostly) pleasant distraction.

I faffed around with Twitter for a while and, after trying to reinvent myself and follow the plot on a few occasions have finally admitted that, as useful as it can be, I just don’t get it. Instagram I have never gotten the hang of, despite several of my nearest-and-dearest’s entreaties and clear affection for it. As for the rest of it, I have little interest or capacity to learn a new platform, developing a following and so on.

Just over a month ago I spontaneously gifted myself with not checking Facebook during a week-long family holiday. Like, really not going there. At all. I did not make any kind of announcement about my decision, I just decided to let it go. A week soon turned into a month, and, while I felt mildly curious now and again about reconnecting, I felt even more curious about the feelings and insights that resisting the urge has surfaced.

Other than sharing a couple of posts last week to welcome a new G Day team member and share an article that featured my wonderful business partner Suzanne, I have been off for over a month until yesterday: here are a few insights based on the experience.

  1. Tick, tick, tick. I can easily lose track of an hour or more surfing from one thing to the next, on top of a day spent mostly with my face stuck in a screen. I feel a similar sense of regret about the hour-plus that I spend driving every day: what would you do with a extra hour or more a day? I often complain that I don’t have time for yoga or gardening, two of my favourite activities: Hey Madeleine, how about you do the math on where those “extra” hours might come from? See you at yoga 😉
  2. It’s not just about time, it’s also about attention. In addition to my regular work with Lunapads and G Day, for the past 6 months I have also been actively working on a new business case on the side. Sure, I have had to carve out time to spend on this new project, but I have also had to carve out precious mental and creative bandwidth. Perhaps others have more of this than I do, however I have become somewhat guarded about how I “spend” my creative and emotional capital. I am feeling a bit cocooned within myself at the moment in order to focus and feed this new idea: social feels noisy and distracting at a time when I need inward quiet.
  3. When it comes right down to it, it’s not about Facebook: it’s actually about me. I have a ton of insecurities, that if not checked prior to clicking the blue F icon, can have a big ol’ party. It’s often said that others mirror us, for better or for worse. I find this to be magnified in the case of social. If I am not feeling 100% grounded, emotionally healthy and otherwise cool with myself, the comparison impulse gets triggered and all of a sudden, rather than feeling proud and excited by others’ accomplishments and moments of joy, I am feeling like a loser. I can also be a judgy so-and-so, another aspect of myself that I am not proud of that loves to make a self-satisfied appearance at these times.
  4. Appearances can be deceiving. Full disclosure: I am as guilty as anyone of putting on a perpetually shiny-happy face in social (profile portraits included!). One of my pet peeves is when people assume that Lunapads is perpetually “killing it” (can we stop using this expression please?). For sure, we need to celebrate ourselves and our successes: absolutely. Where is the rest of the story, though? The story about hard work, dealing with uncertainty, bad luck, bad timing, mistakes and misunderstandings, overcoming challenges, coming to terms with failure? My fear is that our social “lens” makes it look deceptively easy to aspiring entrepreneurs, or like there is some magical point that we reached long ago where we “figured it out” and are now just counting our money and going to parties.
  5. I missed the “about you” part! I miss my friends and learning about all the cool things that they are thinking and doing! Assuming that I am well and balanced, there are few things more delightful than seeing images of my friends and colleagues’ exciting life events, travel and so on. If I was to reach out and line up a coffee date or phone call to catch up with everyone I know and love, it would basically take the rest of my life: not gonna happen. I feel a bit sad about the cool moments, provocative opinions and interesting events and news items that I have missed.

Yesterday I re-entered the world of Facebook and have since found timely posts related to my new project, a disturbing video about the impact that social/our phones can have on our self-esteem, discovered great local events and “liked” (even Loved – because I do!) so many of you and your cool news and opinions. And – truth be told – I also skirted a ton of stuff for fear of doing another demon dance. Thanks for reading and hope to see you soon in the virtual – or in-person – world.

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Lessons learned as a Roller Derby parent

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G Force jamming: it’s derby night in Canada!

When I found out that I was pregnant in the summer of 2004, one of my first concerns was about what I would teach my child: after all, how much did I really know? One of the more pleasant surprises of the actual experience of parenting is how much I am learning from her, including new life experiences that I would never otherwise have chosen or anticipated.

On the occasion of her 10th birthday, one of Gigi’s Godmothers gave her a fateful gift: Roller Girl, a graphic novel by Portland OR-based author and Rose City Rollers skater Victoria Jamieson. It’s a wonderful, humourous, touching story of friendship and overcoming challenges based around a girl who gets bitten by the derby bug. Gigi devoured it within hours and shortly thereafter we were googling whether this excellent activity existed in Vancouver. We quickly learned that indeed, there was a Junior league as well as a full-fledged adult league.

Never having been much of a sporty type myself, I have instead relied on deriving my personal sense of strength, accomplishment and teamwork in primarily non-physical ways. As a youth Gigi’s age, I tried a few of the more physical-contact oriented options out there (soccer, karate) and wound up feeling overwhelmed and intimidated. Without getting into the details, let’s just say that I am not a naturally physically imposing person and typically shy away from any form of sporting competition.

And yet as a feminist I was intrigued by the idea of Gigi trying it. What might I have missed out on by not having learned to fully express myself in this way? I have experienced my share of physical intimidation and even force imposed on me as a woman: how might things have been different if I had had the skills and attitude to literally stand up for myself? And yet: full contact? Was it safe?

Her Dad and I surprised Gigi a few weeks later with a field trip to see a Terminal City Rollergirls bout (derby match). We had actually told her that we were going to see an opera (an idea also inspired by Roller Girl, where the protagonist’s Mom takes her to tedious “cultural enlightenment” evenings, one of which turns out – fatefully – to be derby), a plan to which she was vehemently objecting until she spotted a “Roller Derby Today!” sandwich board outside the venue and the penny dropped.

Gigi was riveted, practically levitating with glee off the bench as we took in our first taste of derby. For anyone who has not yet had the pleasure, I often explain derby as rugby meets roller skating meets Red Rover, with a side of Halloween. It is fast, rough, complex and thrilling. I have yet to determine the finer points of scoring, however it basically rests on the lead players – Jammers – busting their way through the opposing team’s four Blockers.

Witnessing the awesome skill, raw strength and open fierceness of the skaters was unlike anything I have ever seen: urban amazon warriors in ripped stockings, fearsome makeup, emblazoned with edgy “derby names”. Derby names are the best: “Princess Slay Ya”, “Merry Chris My Ass”, “Brawl Flanders”, “Lady Trample”, and so on. I love the idea of skaters having a persona or alter ego, not just a number or position. The camaraderie between all of the players regardless of team affiliation was also palpable, and expressed itself with jokes and hugs even in the midst of intense play.

One of the things that struck us as we entered this new world is that it was unlike any sporting event that we had ever attended: we – particularly Gigi – felt distinctly welcomed. The crowd was full of piercings, body art and spooky makeup, but, as Gigi quickly observed, “everyone is so nice!”. Following the bout, the crowd surrounded the track to high five the players as they skated by, who then happily stuck around to autograph t-shirts. The kid was over the moon.

IMG_20161119_190142Come September, we signed up for the Junior league, got G Force (Gigi’s derby name) kitted out at a local derby specialist (conveniently located in a former dance hall, complete with a free, derby-themed pinball machine) and got her – well, rolling.

Again, not what I would have expected: while it was mostly girls, there were also a few boys, and the age range is immense: literally grades 1 to 12. I can think of few sports or physical activities that are as age and gender inclusive.

Including such a full spectrum lends itself naturally to mentorship, and it wasn’t long before an experienced Grade 11 skater generously offered to take Gigi for a spin around the seawall to work on her skills. Gigi was beyond thrilled and they had a great time. As it happens, Roller Girl protagonist Astrid is surreptitiously encouraged via an exchange of notes by Rainbow Bite, one of the more fearsome Rose City Rollers skaters whom she idolizes.

Now back for her second season, G Force is following her mentor’s lead and paying it forward herself, supporting and encouraging the new kids. She is confidently skating, jamming and blocking, and is eagerly anticipating becoming “combat cleared” (full contact) as soon as possible (the minimum age is 13, and requires passing a variety of skill and safety tests).

Physical confidence is one thing, but I am also noticing something else that I have not seen much of out there: the healthy expression of aggression. I hadn’t realized how even I – card-carrying “girls can do anything” type that I am – would not necessarily have sought out such an experience for my daughter: it’s rare that girls – or adult women for that matter – are taught how to literally fight their way through something, or to express these types of natural, inevitable feelings in a socially sanctioned way. And it is precisely this that is being done within a container of one of the most diverse, supportive, fiercely proud communities that I can imagine.

I know that there will come a day when she will take a big hit, and we will gasp and shudder from the side of the rink. But it feels worth the price to see our confident, joyful, connected tween blossoming in the meantime: may her derby days serve her well in all facets of her future.

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Dancing with the demons

DSC_0561“You ladies are killing it!”, “Congratulations: so well deserved!”, “Rock stars!”

There’s a odd thing coming up for me these happy, successful days. We are on a major winning streak – SheEO, New York, speaking gigs, awards and so on (you will love what’s coming up around the corner for that matter, but I digress ;-), and the above comments are just a few of the supportive sentiments that our community have shared. Feels great, am I right?

Having just shared some thoughts about failure, let’s talk about success. The good times, the parties, the spotlight: woo hoooo! Absolutely. We have worked our asses off and are deeply grateful for every bit of recognition that comes our way. And.

Here’s a story about a very recent success that actually conjured up some of my worst demons, what it took to have a dance with them and then let them go.

I don’t know about you, however I can find myself occasionally slipping into the old, yucky, comparison game, particularly in the social media milieu. You know: my inside vs. your outside. You always win, by the way: and you didn’t even know that you were playing!

OK, so, yeah, yuck. We all have them: the voices, gremlins, inner critics, whatever you want to call them. Like rats in the basement, the only way that you are going to get rid of them is to turn on the lights, admit that they’re there, and get down to business. I went with demons this time for their alliterative value, however that’s more credit than they deserve.

Several weeks ago Suzanne and I were invited to attend an event that was billed as “A Celebration of Women Entrepreneurs” by some treasured colleagues over at BMO Bank of Montreal. BMO is actually doing an extraordinary job at recognizing the value of women, and women entrepreneurs in particular these days, and have been putting their money where their mouth is in the form of supporting SheEO, among multiple other initiatives. Check it all out here.

Normally we have a practice of essentially taking turns attending the events that we are invited to that allows us to have personal downtime, family time and so on.  The event was on a Friday night, and happened to fall just under 24 hours after I was scheduled to return from Paris (pauvre moi!). Knowing that I might not be feeling 100% awesome (I wasn’t, as it turned out) and that Suzanne would attend, I took a pass.

Something different was going on though, and I kept getting emails encouraging me to come. I am a total sucker for enthusiasm (Lunapads and G Day job seekers, take note!), and agreed to attend on the condition that I could bring my Mom, who has been a customer of BMO’s for over 60 years, which of course was more than fine.

All good! Lovely reception, thought-provoking keynote, and then: awards! What awards? Something-something Innovation something Global something and then over the speakers comes our story, no names, delivered in the third person by the MC: we are the honourees and are invited up on the stage.

Wow, how wonderful! How exciting! Suzanne is closest to the mic and says some eloquent words about our work and expresses gratitude for the recognition. Would I care to add anything?

For reasons I am still trying to come to grips with (demon foreshadowing hint!): actually, no thanks: she nailed it, I’m good. Big smile, a wave and hand-over-heart gesture were all that I had in me. No “Thank you so much!”: nothing audible at all, in fact. It all passed by in an instant, and the next thing I knew, there I was back in my seat feeling like a spoiled child.

Enter THE DEMONS!!! Here are some of their soundbites: “That was the lamest performance ever”, “You looked like a total @$$hole”, “You let down Lunapads, your business partner, BMO and your esteemed colleagues who fixed this all up for you in the first place”, “Is that all you’ve got? Your Mom was there, for Pete’s sake!” We are talking demon fiesta, a demon freaking Christmas.

Nothing like feeling like a loser when you’ve just won an award: Score one for you, Demons!

As painful as it is for me to recall these feelings, writing this post in actually my way of shining the light into the dark basement and saying enough. I don’t know where these voices come from, and am uncertain that knowing would necessarily make then shut up and go away in any case.

As it happened, I was scheduled to connect with my wonderful SheEO coach MJ early the following week as I was still churning over the previously described scene, who clued me into the neurological fact that, thanks to the flight-or-flight response, our adult brains are “velcro for the negative and teflon for the positive” (as opposed to children, who track success, not failure). Good to know. But what to do about it?

Part of my unchecked baggage has to do with feeling ashamed of my privilege and wanting to shut things down when I feel like I am receiving “too much” or taking up too much space energetically. Like, say… “undeserved” awards, as a random example. Hmmm.

Processing things with a friend, skilled Coach or suchlike can go a very long way, but ultimately I knew that the work was up to me. I sat with MJ’s insights and my crap for a while, and then noticed the large, lovely crystal vase that I had made into an albatross – my award – sitting on the mantelpiece, sadly empty.

There are a bunch of posts about my enthusiasm for gardening over at the Lunapads blog; let’s just say that I enjoy growing things. There is something so wonderfully tangible about it, and also accounts for my predilection for in-person conversations, products and other more-physical, less-abstract pursuits.

Without thinking twice about what I was doing, I went into my garden, picked up my shears and helped myself to a brilliant, generous mass of some of my most treasured favourites: calla lilies, delphiniums, foxgloves, rose campion and even a late peony.

Putting those gorgeous flowers into the vase was total therapy: I had finally found the celebration, the landing, the rightness of the award by putting it so gloriously to its intended use.

Flowers may seem like an unusual weapon of choice with which to fight demons, however they gave me the permission that I needed to forgive myself and enjoy something that I was worthy of. Nature and its creations are a far more potent power than we normally credit it with, and for me at least, using the vase in such a deeply personal way was the perfect tonic for me.

Thank you BMO, Nature, Mom, Suzanne, and the amazing community that is and supports women entrepreneurs in their blooming, whatever shape it takes.

 

 

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A funny thing happened on the way to the Opera

IMG_3593What is it about the idea of opera that is so compelling, such a uniquely elegant and dramatic happening that one feels an irresistible frisson saying “When I was at the opera” that is planets away from, say, “When I was at the grocery store”?

As someone who has never in her life had any reason for the former phrase to exit her mouth until relatively recently, I have been savouring the past 18 months of frissons, as in “When I go to see Cecilia Bartoli at Versailles in May”, which I have been happily dropping like precious jewels into my regular conversations since the day that I bought tickets a year and a half ago.

How does such an utterly extravagant thing come to loom on one’s horizon? It has never been one of my most comfortable things to discuss, however let’s get it over with: I am the beneficiary of an considerable amount of privilege. I mostly pass this off as “luck”, however unearned benefit is more like it; it forms an important piece of the background to stories such as I am about to share with you.

So here’s what happened.

A couple of years ago my Mom graciously invited me to go to Paris with her. Here is the beautiful story of that journey. In anticipation of our trip, a francophile friend suggested that I look into special events at Versailles. I did, and saw that – OMGoddess! – Cecilia Bartoli was having a recital in the royal opera house while we were going to be there. My Mom loves opera, and so I bought tickets.

Parfait, am I right? A few days before our departure, my Dad became curious about the concert, looked it up and shortly thereafter gave me a call. Did I realize that the tickets were for May 31, 2016, not 2015? Not so much: argh. Math-challenged though I may be, I don’t normally have any issues with the whole 5/6 thing: it just never entered my mind in January of 2015 that the event might be taking place more than a year later.

As sad as I was to have to break the news to my Mom about my mistake, it presented me with an interesting conundrum: what was I going to do with the tickets? Selling them seemed like the obvious thing to do, however I had no idea what might be involved and decided to put off dealing with it until I returned.

We had an amazing time (blog post linked again in case you skipped it: there are some very precious memories here) and then I came home and was talking to one of my all-time dearest friends about the trip. Long story short, by the end of our conversation we had decided to go to Paris to attend the concert after all.

There are a million other background details here, however suffice to say that it was one of those YOLO moments where we decided to say yes to something extraordinary.

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Nothing like a sunny bike ride and picnic in the gardens of Versailles to make a for a sweet day.

And so here we are, my sweet, strong, amazing friend Mary and I, having the absolute best time. (As an aside, for those of you wondering why I did not come with my Mom this time around, again, a million details – however know that she is 100% fine and there is no tragic story on its way on that front.)

We have done a ton of the typical fabulous tourist things, plus a few other random surprises, and even had the opportunity to meet up with yet another all-time BFF. It has been beyond wonderful, precious and stunning; we have been savouring every moment.

We also spent some thoughtful moments at the Place de la Republique, which has become a de facto memorial for the terrorist attacks of 2015. In addition to the obvious sadness of the posters of murdered loved ones, faded flowers, poems and so on, we were struck by how defaced the statues were. Our takeaway was that there is no way to clean up such deep grief, nor should there be.

So… what about the opera?

We have been so excited: what to wear, planning our transportation and so on. Further to my previous 5/6 mixup, I have checked and double-checked everything. The whole “mistake” part of this story has become an amusing dinner party anecdote where I get to have the pleasure outlined earlier of repeatedly saying “opera” in a personal context: I would not be at all surprised if even those who love me most dearly have heard enough.

Due to Vancouver-style pounding rain, we splurged on a cab back from the stunning Fondation Louis Vuitton (more on this place in a later post) and I took the opportunity to have a chat with our driver. I adore speaking French and have been gifted with a not-bad accent and total fearlessness when it comes to making mistakes, which seems to do the trick when it comes to engaging Parisians in casual conversations.

I learned that our driver was originally from Haiti; he had a great deal to say about how wonderful Canadians are (everyone I meet while travelling seems to have a relative in Edmonton: what is up with that?) and expounded, “We are all one, and yet we are nothing. We are but specks of dust in the wind. All that matters is good health.”

Wonderful sentiments at any time, however particularly so when one checks one’s email and learns that, desolee, Ms. Bartoli is not well and the concert has been rescheduled to October.

I look up from my phone to my friend and share the news, and – in case there was ever any doubt about what a positive attitude looks like – she starts laughing and says “Well, we’re healthy and we’re here.” Exactement, as our driver observed when we shared our sudden misfortune with him. This crazy dream had come to a sudden end, which makes me feel a bit sad, but also kind of amazed in a funny way at – well, la vie (as in “c’est la vie”, of “that’s life” fame).

Here’s what the lost opera reminds me of: that I have loving parents, incredible friends, a wonderful business (complete with ass-busting business partner who is holding the fort while I suffer this “misfortune”), an amazing daughter, extraordinary husband, beautiful garden, cosy house, and an able, healthy mind and body that are holding up just fine at the moment. Among a freaking multitude of other things.

It’s interesting to reflect that it’s the top-line item so readily identified by my friend and our driver as ultimately precious that is precisely what’s missing for Ms. Bartoli: I heartily wish her a speedy recovery, remain hopeful of one day enjoying her gifts in person, and in the meantime am grateful beyond measure.

 

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The hidden truths behind Success and Failure

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G Day Calgary: sad to let go, but still dreaming the dream until next year!

There’s a lot of talk these days about how awesome failure is: I have seen failure panels and even failure parties come into small business vogue in recent years. Which is fantastic: there is tons to be learned in every effort that we make, and it’s good to see it validated alongside its traditionally shinier sister, success.

The funny thing about this conversation is that it seems totally true and hip and cool when we are talking about other people’s or businesses’ failures, and a very different story when it comes to one’s own: we are still freaking terrified of disappointing, letting others down, looking foolish, losing money and so on.

So: I have this sweet little legacy project that I have been working on for a couple of years called G Day. It’s a secular rite of passage celebration series for tween girls and their parents and other caregivers and so far it has been going great. The longer story is quite magical, and to say that it’s near and dear to me doesn’t even begin to tell the story: it’s an idea that I have been carrying in my heart since I was an adolescent girl myself, and I have loved sharing it with my own freshly 11 year old daughter.

We have enjoyed a pretty wonderful ride so far, complete with angel sponsors, incredible volunteers and supporters, sold-out events in multiple cities and wonderful feedback from almost everyone. Has it been perfect? Absolutely not: we have on occasion overwhelmed, underwhelmed, miscommunicated, disappointed and even been a little boring and confusing.

Our latest dose of imperfection came yesterday when we decided to pull the plug on our next event in our newest city: Calgary, Alberta. Slated to take place in just a few short weeks and meticulously crafted by one of our most dedicated supporters (our Calgary Community Leader Madeline Ell is singlehandedly responsible for our gorgeous videos: here’s the first one that she ever did – I challenge you not to shed a tear!), a patch of tough timing (a terrible fire situation in Alberta coincided precisely with our media launch) in an already economically depressed city made it hard to even get people’s attention in the first place.

Which all makes sense and is an easy soundbite: it was a timing thing. What comes up for me, though, when I read this neat explanation is how much I want to comfort myself that it wasn’t my fault as a leader: there was an external situation that was out of our hands, or something else that wasn’t me.

Maybe this is true and maybe it’s not the point: the thing that I go back to from a leadership perspective is 1) what can I learn from this? and 2) how can I best honour and support everyone who I brought along for the ride with me to this point? Oh: and not to get so caught up in the explanation part that I forget to let myself simply mourn it, without the analytic noise.

The other thing that this type of explanation does is obscure the larger story of the countless hours spent by Madeline and her team putting it all together: the venue, the speakers, the marketing outreach: it’s a truly massive undertaking. I can let go of what this all means to me personally, however what will take me longer is coming to terms with the investment of their time and energy. What feels key to me at this point is to find the story that will honour the truth of everything that has gone into this, not only to do the team justice, but also to keep the door open for the next chapter. The concept of failure is so final, so done. And we are so not done.

The thinking at this point is to reschedule the event to sometime in 2017, at which point we will harvest this long-growing crop of awesome. In the meantime, we have enjoyed a huge outpouring of support from everyone involved. Here’s one example: “Madeline’s hard work so far will only help G Day Calgary to be bigger, badder, and stronger in 2017!”

Cheers to failure, success and acknowledging the vast complexity of everything else. See you in Calgary 😉

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Sisterhood in Business

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An inspiring place setting!

As un-fond I am of this classic cliche, I have found myself thinking a fair bit lately that there are two types of women in the world: ones who have your back (aka Sisters) and ones who – let’s be gentle – are playing by different rules (the ones that Madeleine Albright famously said “have a special place in Hell”).

As reductionist as this turn of phrase may be, it’s a topic that has been on my mind for some time (in a not-good way) and came up this morning (in a super-duper, blog post-inspiring kind of way), so let’s save the latter for another time and share the good vibes of the former.

As anyone who has ever spent 5 seconds with either me or Suzanne knows, we are massive champions of women entrepreneurs, with a particular soft spot for those in the social impact space. The breakfast meeting that I attended this morning was a veritable cornucopia of such people, aligned as it was with the Canadian Health Food Association‘s (CHFA) West trade show.

Generously hosted by Annalea Krebs (Social Nature) and Katharine Herringer (Vista magazine and Multibird branding), the event was elegant and welcoming, complete with fresh-pressed juice blends on offer, Danielle LaPorte‘s Truthbomb cards spread around the tables, personalized place cards, and herbal floral displays. Read more

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Lessons learned from our SheEO Sisters

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Our fabulous cohort: Suzanne, Magnusmode’s Nadia Hamilton, Abeego’s Toni Desrosiers, Skipper Otto’s Sonia Strobel, Twenty-One Toys’ Ilana Ben-Ari, Madeleine.

It’s no secret that we are longtime champions of women entrepreneurs in general, with a special fondness for those who find their inspiration in the social impact realm.

We were especially touched and impressed by our SheEO Radical Generosity cohort, who, chosen from among 230 companies across Canada based on their overall business merits, also happened to all have a powerful social impact, as well as incredible lessons and role modelling for us. Here are our impressions of four rockstar entrepreneurs and their amazing initiatives.

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Sonia and Suzanne get their Empathy groove on playing with Twenty One Toys.

Twenty One Toys teach empathy, failure and non-visual communication skills to children and adults alike. Developed by industrial designer Ilana Ben-Ari originally to facilitate play between blind and sighted children, she discovered that they also had novel, universal applications for basically anyone who would benefit from enhancing their communication and relational skills (hello, most of us, am I right?).

It was amazing to watch Suzanne and Sonia Strobel (more about her in a minute) find their way through explaining how to arrange the pieces while blindfolded: it was a moment that beautifully demonstrated the toys’ power, as well as the human capacity to reach beyond our limitations, imagined or otherwise.

Ilana is one of the bravest, most resilient people that we have ever met. While Suzanne and I often rely on one another for support, Ilana has traveled on her own to China with precious few resources, spent her last pennies on manufacturing and even wore a borrowed dress to the Purple Carpet gala. Whether for your team, your kids or whatever people you could use better communication with, check out Twenty One Toys: they’re revolutionary.

So: back to Sonia. We like to think that we’re fairly up on sustainable business, however when it comes to essential, non-urban industries like agriculture and fisheries, we know that they are vital and yet have to confess to being in need of education: Sonia to the rescue!

Did you know, for example, that over half of the seafood available at stores or restaurants is mis-labeled? Or that most of our local BC catch travels as far as China (not swimming) for processing, changing hands up to 20 times, losing freshness and costing more at every step? Sonia created Skipper Otto’s Community Supported Fishery (CSF) to support family-owned Fishermen (Fishers of all genders apparently agree on this name) and provide consumers with fresh, sustainably-caught seafood.

One of the things that struck us most powerfully about Sonia is her remarkable ability to speak her truth. It’s one of those things that I catch myself on sometimes: wanting to please others, or sacrificing my needs for the sake of perceived efficiency. Not this lady: maybe it’s the fresh seafood that gives her the courage?

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(L-R) Nadia, Toni, Ilana, Sonia, Suzanne, Madeleine and Coach Loren Walsh.

One of the most powerful questions asked by Magnusmode founder Nadia Hamilton was “Have you ever been lost?” Fur sure, however consider what this might be like as a daily experience: this is the need that Nadia is solving for. Inspired by her autistic brother Troy, Magnus cards help people with autism and other cognitive disabilities navigate life.

When I think of Nadia, the phrase “the fierce face of love” comes to mind. She is – for real – a fighter: trained as a boxer and uniquely compelling in how her love for her brother has motivated her business – do not even consider resisting her. Know anyone with autism or other cognitive challenges?

Some of us are fighters, and some of us are lovers: which brings me to Abeego founder Toni Desrosiers. There is a lot of talk out there about vulnerability these days, however we have rarely witnessed it as powerfully as in Toni’s presence.

Her innovative products are born from her experience as a Holistic Nutritionist, and were frankly not what I expected. Whereas I had been seeing their value proposition more from an environmental perspective (reusable beeswax wrap replacing plastic wrap and containers), what I ended up learning was the value of keeping food fresher (and ergo healthier) for longer through the lesson of biomimicry: think of the breathable skin of a lemon or avocado – you get the idea.

As the famous E Myth tells us, it’s one thing to be an original thinker and come up with new products or services, however entirely another to run a business selling those things. The ability to do both is extraordinary, and these ladies are it.

Thank you Ilana, Sonia, Nadia and Toni for sharing your brave, smart, strong selves so fully: we are beyond grateful for your leadership and lessons!