Reclaiming My Voice
As I step away from full-time association management, I’ve been reflecting not so much on roles held or achievements and failures, but on something more personal: voice.
I began my career in the 1980s as an assistant to André Ouellet, then the Liberal Transport critic. I was green, fresh out of graduate school, and suddenly entrusted with words that would live on in the official records of the House of Commons for a thousand years.
From the beginning, I learned the discipline of writing in someone else’s voice. I’m confident that I never wrote a word I didn’t believe in, but the cadence, tone, and framing were never mine alone. That discipline – which at times felt like a straitjacket – stayed with me for decades.
Over the years, I ghost-wrote speeches and op-eds for ministers and chief executives. Even when I moved into senior leadership roles myself, the need for compromise persisted. Language was softened. Edges were rounded. Strong views were tempered in the name of prudence and brand management.
Compromise is essential in politics and public affairs. You cannot lead institutions, build coalitions, or advance public policy without it. Words must be chosen carefully; things sometimes left unsaid.
But constant compromise can be corrosive. Over time, it can erode one’s genuine self, alongside the ability to speak plainly, truthfully and with courage. When every sentence you write and every word you utter is parsed to avoid discomfort or to cater to one interest or another, there is a danger of losing not only your ability to communicate effectively, but more importantly, losing yourself.
Now, I find myself in a different place. For the first time in many years, I am no longer bound by the obligation to rhetorical moderation on issues that matter deeply to me. I can choose the questions I want to engage with. I can name problems plainly. I can write and speak in my own voice.
That is not a step back, but a step forward into something long deferred.
I am grateful for the leaders I’ve worked alongside, the lessons they taught me and the confidence they showed in my ability to find their voice. But I am equally grateful, at this stage, for the opportunity to reclaim my own voice — one shaped by experience, informed by empathy and unafraid of complexity.
In the months ahead, I plan to write and speak about the issues I care most about: mental health, governance, public policy, the human consequences of how we design our institutions.
Over the years, I’ve left many things unsaid. Now feels like a good time to speak up and speak out.