Paige’s Journey

I didn’t want to spend another Christmas drugged with some stranger choosing what happened to me. I couldn’t do it again. Not knowing Niagara well, I was lucky one of the girls had slipped me a YW card. “If you can make it, they can help you.”

It was December 3rd. That’s the day I finally made it to the YW’s emergency shelter. I was terrified. I knew I had to ask for help if I wanted to live past 25. I’d been trying to get out of that horrible hotel room for months and months. It smelled like sweat, cheap perfume, and tears. Every time I tried, they stopped me. They hurt me. So I stayed.

The shelter immediately felt warm for my shivering, barely-clothed body. My sad eyes looking around for comfort landed on the women’s advocate. It didn’t take long before I’d told her almost everything. My worst times. How at 16 years-old, I had been hanging out with this guy, Derek, who was so good to me. He took care of me. Bought me things. He was my escape from my abusive step-father. I was going to meet Derek at the park, that’s where we always met. He smiled at me and I was excited. Seconds later I was being shoved into a trunk in Timmins and wound up in Niagara Falls. It didn’t take long before I was forced into sex work, addicted to drugs, emotionally and physically abused. I had almost given up.

It took everything I had but I made it to the YW. I was safe. I spent this year living in the emergency shelter’s on-site transitional housing. With the support of the advocates, I have been able to finish school. They provided me with an addictions worker to help me get through the withdrawal and stay sober. The best gift this year is that I get to move into the YW’s supported transitional housing, I can’t wait! This year, I get to spend Christmas in my own apartment still surrounded by YW supports and women who care about me. It hasn’t been the easiest year in the shelter, but my worst days are behind me and that wouldn’t have happened without you.

I am writing to you because I am not the only one. I just got lucky. There are other girls out there, who are lost and scared and they need YOU.
This holiday season, please consider making a donation to the YWCA Niagara Region.

 

Every little bit helps. The services they provide all throughout the region save lives.
I know they saved mine.

I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you and your support.

Yours, forever grateful to the YW – and donors like you,

Paige

Supporting Human Trafficking Victims

Over the course of our 90 years in Niagara, it has always been at the heart of our work to stay close to the needs of the community. They have changed over the decades from the need for recreational opportunities for women to supporting Canada’s efforts during World War II to helping women find employment. One of the challenges Niagara is facing today is an ever-growing industry of human trafficking.

Since we first started running our Sex Trade On My Terms program, more and more women have shared with our Outreach Workers that they have experienced exploitation.
Thanks to your advocacy and support, we have been able to educate the community and other service providers. Under the leadership of our Program Manager Krystal Snider, we developed a region-wide Emergency Response Protocol. Our support for survivors does not end there. Krystal has been training local firefighters and police officers to help them recognize signs of human trafficking. “The successes have been immediate,” explains Krystal. “Last week, we got a call from a firefighter within days of the training we provided. They were able to identify and report a suspicious motel room.”

Thank you for your continued support for our anti-human trafficking work.
Thanks to your donations and advocacy, we are able to provide education to the community and find solutions together.

Lessons I Learned From My Toddler

As I was sitting next to my toddler’s bed the other night, waiting for her to decide that she is done playing with my hair and ready to go to sleep, I realized that for someone who is not even two yet, there are a lot of things she has to teach. I am not talking about the obvious ones that children at any age will teach you:

It’s not diamonds, it’s coffee that is a girl’s best friend.

Sleep is overrated.

Your house will never be clean again. Deal with it.

The lessons I am talking about are the kinds of lessons you only start thinking about when you’re trapped in a dark room with nothing to do but wait for your child to go to sleep. I’m talking about the deep stuff.

1. Celebrate Your Successes

“I peed in the potty!!!” Both my husband and I rush up the stairs, opening the champagne bottle on our way, confetti in hand, and there she is, beaming as if the Wiggles had entered the building. “I peed in the potty,” she continues to yell and proudly points to the tiny puddle in her Froggy Potty. We are now jumping up and down in excitement, we yell down to our only semi-interested teenager to share the good news, we exchange high fives and praises. “SHE PEED IN THE POTTY!!!! Good job, sweetie, that’s amazing! Oh my gosh, you are going to help us empty the potty and flush, too? What a good helper!” My daughter will probably still need months until she’s actually housebroken. Until then, we will celebrate each and every day, about three times a day.

Because of this, on occasion, when I came out of the washroom, she waits outside the door for me (creepy, right!) and exclaims to everyone else in the house: “Mommy peed in the potty!!” “Yes I did, baby-girl! High five!”

So my question is: when and why do we stop doing that? What happens from here to there? Even with our teenagers the best I can manage most of the time is something along the lines of: “Oh, so you do know where the dishwasher is, good news!”

This year’s Niagara Leadership Summit for Women was all about owning our strengths. My toddler reminds me every day that we probably started out that way; that most or at least some of us started out with someone cheering us on. We, too, used to stand tall, proud of every accomplishment, no matter how small. If we all stayed a little bit more in that mindset of both, owning our own strengths and celebrating those of the people around us, I am convinced this world would be a better place.

2. No Means No

“Do you want some milk, sweetie?” “No.” It’s 7:30pm, this is what is next in her night routine. At around this time, every day, she has her milk. She loves it. “Mom has some warm milk for you, would you like some?” “No, Mama.” She is just saying ‘no’ because that’s the first thing they learn when they move from the infant to the toddler room, the word NO becomes a tool, a weapon, the ultimate crisis communication plan. Surely, she’s just saying it to be funny. “Here is your milk, sweetheart,” I say, coming at her with her favourite evening beverage. Armageddon is what follows. And I don’t mean the Bruce Willis kind. She flings herself onto the ground, within seconds there is a screaming and kicking mess where there was a peaceful child only moments ago. “NOOOOOO! NO MILK!!!!!” It is dawning on me that she may not have been joking after all. That kid does not want milk.

When I go over those lovely moments in my head at the end of the day, I find myself asking again: When, and more importantly, WHY do we stop doing that? Why don’t I start kicking and screaming when the boss adds something to my already overflowing plate? When do we start making up excuses instead of yelling: “NO! I DON’T WANT TO GO OUT FOR DINNER TONIGHT, I WANT TO EAT ICE CREAM AND BINGE WATCH GREY’S ANATOMY.” What do we as parents, teachers, role models, faith communities, as society do to our children that might make this very same girl think one day that she can’t say no when her soccer coach corners her in the change room?

no means no

Take it from my toddler, no means no. It is not always easy, especially for us as women, but practice it. Get better at it, one NO at a time. No, I cannot attend this meeting today. No, I cannot contribute to the bake sale. No, I don’t want to watch Sharknado tonight. No, not tomorrow either. And please! Don’t make excuses, don’t feel like you have to offer an explanation. The story didn’t go: And then the toddler said “no, mommy, I am still very full from dinner, I would rather skip the milk tonight.” She said NO. Period.

3. Feel The Feels

When our toddler is angry, she gives it her all. When she did not want that milk, she did not try to be polite about it. She didn’t force it down to then complain to her older sister later about the time I forced her to drink the milk. She just unleashed the anger. In the same way, there is no holding her back in her excitement over jumping around in a puddle. When she is sad, she lets herself sob and cry until she can’t catch her breath anymore. When she is happy, she giggles and snorts and laughs without thinking twice about it. She doesn’t need mindfulness training, this is just how she came out. This is a human before a lifetime of being shushed and distracted and shaped into what we have decided is right and proper and appropriate. One of my favourite chapters of  the book Tuesdays With Morrie is the one where he speaks about emotions.

“Turn on the faucet. Wash yourself with the emotion. It won’t hurt you. It will only help. If you let the fear inside, if you pull it on like a familiar shirt, then you can say to yourself, “All right, it’s just fear, I don’t have to let it control me. I see it for what it is”.”

Be scared, be happy, be nervous, be sad… be what you please but be it all the way.

emotions

Franziska Emslie is our Community and Public Relations Coordinator

Who Gets Mentored?

Recently, a good friend told me of a mentoring experience her daughter had at work. She’s a young lawyer in her first year at a big-city firm. When she returned from her post-articling break, she and some female colleagues were sat down for an informal meeting with some senior female lawyers. The first item on the agenda was a question: “so, what’s your debt?” As I was told this, I thought “now that’s direct.” But also important and thoughtful. The mentors were attempting to make a bridge and value the real-life situation of their newer colleagues who had come through eight years of schooling—many of them with debts ranging from the price of a new car to the price of a new condo.  They listened to them narrate their tales of navigation—some had families to support, others had families that supported them—and then offered suggestions, advice, and resources based on their own experience and knowledge of handling the first years out of law school.

Uncritical and Critical Mentoring

I was impressed by this story of women who, with knowledge of how it was for them—what supports were there, and what was missing—had stepped up to help their sisters with their experience. I was also a little covetous of the guidance. I have no idea if this is a common thing amongst women lawyers, but if it is I’d say it’s a good model. I wished that I had that sort of aid and nourishment when I started my career—or even throughout it. I don’t think I even understood what mentoring was when I was new to the regular work world. I had supportive co-workers, and even occasionally some who went the extra mile or gave (mostly unsolicited) advice. In one job, one of my older colleagues was selected to pull me aside and advise me on how best to deal with the boss’s drinking problem. I don’t think you could call it a mentorship, but it was helpful. When I mentioned advice here, I said “mostly unsolicited” because for most of my life, I didn’t even know I could ask for career or work life guidance. And I still feel that way, despite my age (don’t ask), and having navigated through different aspects of my career. I mean, I think for most of my life I saw mentoring as an exercise of the privileged over their younger (or less privileged) selves. To be honest, I still think that is what uncritical mentoring is: a one-way street where people who possess knowledge and the means set themselves up as pseudo TED talkers with clever words and deeds that gratify themselves, instead of the listeners.

Learning From the Mentored

Over the past decade, I’ve taken to following the teachings and suggestions of the younger women in my life (and yeah, most are millennials). I don’t know if they could be called mentors outright, but they use the tools of critical mentoring. They are inventive, smart, and enthusiastic. They listen and provide a platform when possible. And they don’t assume that a query or a question means I am a complete dullard who needs to be schooled. They encourage intergenerational dialogue but don’t idol worship what an older person says just because they are older. Maybe it’s because many millennials see how tenuous work is, and how we all need to share resources, Or, perhaps it is because they understand power but are not interested in wielding it like a weapon. I get such constructive dialogue from younger people who have an interest in mutual benefit—even if that benefit isn’t readily quantifiable.

Finding Your Place

When I was forced to think of words that describe my “work” self, I often got stuck on things like amenable, adaptable and accommodating.

Those words, in my opinion, can make one feel as if they are thought of as weak, malleable, controllable.

 When I first started my volunteer front desk position at the YW it wasn’t out of a burning desire to help, or to be a part of the bigger picture. I wasn’t passionate about the organization because in truth I really had no idea what the organization was about. I came and sat my first shift at the front desk because I was floundering. I was lost. I was in need of something to focus on aside from the mess I was in as a single mom who had just been fired from her job.

Passion… came later.

Being amenable

I wasn’t satisfied just sitting there answering phones when I could see so many staff run off their feet trying to get their days work accomplished. And so, I made myself amenable to them, offering any sort of assistance they could use. I looked around the space I was in, and saw that the one thing my perfectionism and OCD had going for me, I could use here. When I was offered a part-time front desk position, I leapt at the chance.

Being adaptable

In an organization this size, there are often gaps that need to be filled- quickly. Over the years, I found myself needing to be adaptable to all those changes, and often found myself in new positions trying to fill a void. I just felt this need and drive to mold myself to the place they needed me to be at the time. Though to be sure— I struggled with this. As my positions changed, as my work load increased because I was so accommodating I kept asking myself… is this what you want?? Are you happy?

Finding passion

I have never been a “career” oriented person, nor did I have an insatiable drive to run myself up the chain of command and be a “leader”. I was so much happier sitting on the sidelines—surviving, but with peace of mind. I desperately wanted to keep a place for myself within the organization as by then, through all the changes, the ups and downs, watching friends and even family go, I had found a passion for the work the organization was doing even though I hadn’t quite yet found a passion for what I was doing.

My professional journey with the YW has to date been over 10 years. I have watched this organization stand amendable, adaptable and accommodating to our community in so many different ways. As an organization we have changed and grown with the needs in this community for over 90 years, becoming more fluid, more elastic over time to address the considerable amount of need. We are constantly stretching at the seams, but yet we stay resilient because we have the power of so many dedicated amenable, adaptable and accommodating people driving for change, for a just and equitable future.

I was recently offered a position that I leapt at again. This time, with excitement and certainty that this was my place. One that empowered me. This is what I want. This is what makes me happy. I am now in a position that I can own and evolve with—that I can offer the piece of myself that is truly passionate.

As the YW is entering into yet another new strategic plan, with a re-vamped Mission, Vision and Values that I am incredibly proud to have been a part of, I find myself incredibly invigorated and excited about the new breath that is about to be blown into our organization. As I look back over my journey, I am able to be proud of those “work-self“ words and take ownership of them as I have come to realize that I stand amenable because I am determined. I stand adaptable because I am strong. And I stand accommodating because I am passionate about what we do.

Daisy

Daisy’s journey began when she entered the Court Street Transitional Housing Program, after what she describes as a long walk of feeling alone and faced with many hardships. She felt completely supported from the day she moved into the YW’s supported housing. “I finally was where I needed to be,” explains Daisy. Having her Transitional Housing Worker just down the stairs from her to access when she needed support, was a relief and gave her a feeling she had not felt in a long time -that of safety.

Skills Development

While Daisy stayed with us at our Court Street building, she loved participating in our Skills Development workshops. At a time of her life when she thought of herself as someone who had lost all of her skills, it meant the world to be in a group that was all about celebrating your own strengths and beauty and all that you have overcome.

Moving on to Off-Site

Daisy successfully completed the Court Street Transitional Housing program, and then transitioned into the Off-Site Transitional Housing Program. During her time in the Off-Site program, she felt empowered by her Support Worker, who never judged, and felt she was met where she was at. Her Support Worker was able to focus on her needs and help her reach her goals. This month, Daisy completed the transitional housing program and has moved on to a place that she can now call her home.

Aftercare

Our support does not end there. One of the things that often make all of the difference for the women and families we serve, is that we are still there for them even when they have left our programs. For Daisy, knowing that the support is still there for her if and when she needs it, gives her the strength and the trust she needs to continue on on her path.

Daisy’s message for you?

“I’m just one of many individuals in the Niagara Region who are in need of this type of Transitional Housing opportunity and supports. Please keep in mind when you pass someone in public that you just never know their story. The YWCA is an organization that goes above and beyond for the individuals they support, and I would like to encourage the community to take the time to get involved or to learn more about what the YWCA has to offer the community.” For Daisy, the YW is the place where she felt empowered and supported every step of the way.

My Experience as a Woman

Today, we are sharing a post with you that was written by an incredible woman and YW supporter who would rather not share her name.
It’s a post about being a woman, it’s about growing, it’s about believing that you can.

Sometimes women’s greatest strengths are also their greatest weaknesses.

My story is personal; my experience is not universal. I acknowledge my privilege. White. Able-bodied. Cis-gendered. Well-spoken. But perhaps it will still resonate with others.

I was raised to do it all. Not intentionally – but as an oldest child, product of strong mother and abusive father. Divorced parents. Amazing support in childhood from mother, family, and especially female role models. There was no doubt in my mind that the future was female. That women could do anything. It seemed that the head of every household in my family was female. If it wasn’t – if there was a power imbalance not in our favour – it was righted and, once more, women came out on top.

It was never an externally applied expectation, but one ingrained on my heart from so early on.

“You can do anything you put your mind to.”

I have given it all in every arena of my life that has involved others. The term loyal to a fault fell on my shoulders, the phrase only discovered later. What fault is loving another? Providing? Offering friendship, advice, and all-consuming loyalty?

It is a tragic-flaw not to provide those things for yourself first.

“You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

One constant in my life has been the renewable resource of friendship and companionship of like-minded individuals. These have always been strong, brilliant women. Never ones to be intimidated by each other, but the ones that consistently strived to build that community. They built community that was intent on support, communion, love, building bridges, acknowledging strength and, of course, continual encouragement. There were shoulders to cry on, arms to be wrapped in, and the greatest of minds to mingle with.

“Surround yourself with the people that make you want to be the best version of yourself.”

The world is not always like that. Women are not always like that. The greatest lessons I’ve ever learned were from people who taught me what not to do, who not to be. Older women. Misogynistic women. Threatened and tired women. But while those trials felt soul-sucking and brutally difficult, the sharing, communion and strength of my community would always build me up again.

Sometimes it can feel like your only purpose in this world is to serve others. Especially as a woman. Even when you are taught strength, you are taught to give of yourself. And continue to give of yourself. Even when you refill your cup, is it just so you can continue to pour it into another’s?

“Find yourself before you find another.”

I have found life extremely difficult to navigate. Maybe I’m overthinking. I think we do a lot of that now that we don’t grow our own food, nor milk our own cows (mind the dairy allergies), nor build our own homes nor hunt nor gather.

I have felt a failure in my relationships. I swing between complete and utter independence and being utterly needy and withdrawn. I have pushed away when I meant to pull. I have so much anger that is hard not to turn inward. I have moved from providing for my family as a child, to providing in my relationships like my partner was a child. A result of my personal history and experience as a woman.

“Learn from your mistakes.”

I wanted to write a blog post. I wanted to heal myself. I love reading, writing, words. I love meaning. I love this moment in time when I am alive and focused and purposeful.

The great thing about purpose – that most people don’t tell you – is that you get to choose your own. There may be a divine spirit, a plan, mysterious forces at work. But you get to answer that question yourself. You choose your purpose; your purpose doesn’t choose you. You can look for signs. But in the end, it is one thing you decide for yourself and whether or not you will live it.

For the longest time, and still sometimes, it felt like my purpose was to help others. I’ll be in the driver’s seat until they’re ready to take over. Then I’ll move to the passenger seat. Pretty soon, I’m kicked out of the car. Hope you enjoyed the ride! You’re welcome! No thank yous in return. I felt empty. Hollow. Lack of personal purpose of my own.

It’s not the reality. We, as women, must ensure we name our purpose and put ourselves first.  I have so much brilliance and talent, and I love sharing it with others. I used to love the spotlight. Now I love being on a team with a shared cause even more. Women are amazing. Learning is exhilarating. I want to continue to learn and grow and love. Maybe that is my purpose? I still have not named it.

“You have to travel outside of this moment to find a problem.”

People always have a choice. We can be lousy. We can harm the environment. We can get caught up with selfies and self-absorption and the kind of shallow self-love that still seeks external validation. Or we can be purposeful. We can see that all our actions have a reaction that impacts our mental, physical, creative and spiritual health, and the ripple effect of those actions touches living things across the globe.

Don’t bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’re not responsible for anyone but yourself. Treating  yourself right, breaking old patterns – or just recognizing them – will bring you a new perspective, and perhaps purpose, that isn’t going to seek you out without your hard work. Be brave. Be bold. Be proud to be a woman. Find a community that helps you navigate the difficulties of this life, for there are so many.

Each year, I met so many amazing women at the Niagara Leadership Summit. I have also met so many amazing women walking the halls of the YWCA shelters. Women with varied stories, challenges, backgrounds. We were all different. And we were all the same.

“Claim. Illustrate. Analyze.”

I always struggled with the “so what” in my essays. This post is no different. I wanted to share a little of my story. I wanted to encourage others to name their purpose. Most of all, I want you to see the strength it takes to be a person in today’s world and encourage you to celebrate that with those women you love. Maybe you know them. Maybe you haven’t met them yet. There is a community waiting for you with open arms.

 

 

Surviving the Storm: Representing the Journey

An exciting new partnership initiative has taken place between Rodman Hall Art Centre and YWCA Niagara Region. Guests of the YWCA Niagara Region were invited to work with artist Leona Skye to create a piece of art that represents their individual journeys. A celebration of the final product took place July 25th, 2018, at the YWCA’s Culp St. Emergency Shelter.

“The painting  was created by an amazing group of women,” says YWCA Skills Development Worker Noella Iradukunda, “They worked together to create a beautiful art piece that promotes the journey that they have been through.”

The piece, titled Surviving the Storm, immediately captures the eye when viewed for the first time. A flurry of colour and shapes, it’s immediately clear to the viewer that a considerable amount of thought and emotion went into the painting. One of the artists describes how they were each given a piece of the canvas to represent the journey that has brought them to where they are today. Words like “Empower”,  “Heal”,  “Freedom” and “Justice” stretch across the canvas, capturing the essence of the women’s emotional journeys and their feelings now that they are at the YWCA.

The guests of the YWCA, along with Elizabeth Chitty, Program Officer of the Rodman Hall Art Centre, and artist Leona Skye, gathered around the painting to sign their names on their work. There was a noticeable sense of pride in the room as the women looked upon what they had created. The artwork can be seen in the front foyer of the Culp St. Shelter.

Experiencing Discomfort: No Fixed Address 2018

The discomfort hit almost as soon as I lay my head down on my fluffy pillow. In a tent, with a small yoga type mattress, I could still feel every single bump in the ground. The roots digging into my bones made me continually adjust myself into a position that seemed tolerable. Tossing and turning most of the night, hearing sounds in the distance, I couldn’t help but think about the homeless people sleeping on a park bench. How exposed they must feel. How uncomfortable, terrified, and lonely they must feel. Shuffling to try to avoid those thoughts, I fell into a rough sleep. Well into the night, the cold crept upon me. Wrapping myself deeper into my warm comforter, putting my hood up, I fell into a light sleep.

The sun came up quickly and early. Groggy, I woke up so sore. Almost every part of me was aching. I struggled to pull myself together and get out of the tent. My goodness, I was exhausted. It felt like I didn’t even sleep. And yet, there are so many people in our community that sleep on park benches, in cars, on floors night after night. They’re waking up feeling awful, going to work, and going back “home” to any of those positions and doing it all over again. Can you imagine?

The thing that kept me up in the morning was knowing that in a couple of hours, I’d take a long hot shower. Id’ be able to brush my teeth and clean my face in my sink without any inconveniences. That evening I’d be able to crawl into my comfortable queen-sized bed in nice sheets and a clean comforter. The night prior’s discomforts would be all but a distant memory unlike the reality it is for so many people. And let me tell you from my experience that a tent is much more spacious than a car and it allows you to be in a better position. So I really had no reason to even have a slight negative thought about it.

One night was uncomfortable. Being sore for the entire day was awful. Every single person that participated in the 24 hours sleep in your car-a-thon was grateful to go back to the comfort of their home. But so many people in our community don’t have that luxury. They don’t have a home or any comfort.

That’s why we take 24 hours out of our lives each year to help the YW help our homeless. Because what’s one day compared to all of the people who do it for days, weeks, months, and sometimes years.

When Reality Hits – No Fixed Address

In 2016, YW Staff Franziska shared her experience at No Fixed Address with us. Our signature fundraiser is coming up again on June 8/9 at General Motors.

Please consider participating. Please consider donating.

More than 700 women stayed in our shelters last year, and almost 200 children.

Help today!

I can feel raindrops on my face. It could be 2am or 4am – I have no idea and, frankly, I don’t care. What I do know is that it is the middle of the night. The sky is dark and the parking lot is surrounded by an orange glow from the street lights all around. It looks dark and grey and orange all at once outside of my window. It’s raining again. Great. I scramble to find the car keys, turn the ignition and a high “ding ding” sound comes from the car – probably because it picks up on me not being buckled in. Thanks to the turned key, I can finally close the window. I can see my husband stirring in the backseat to do the same. We shoot each other a tired look and share a brief, slightly desperate smile that says “oh well, this night will have to be over eventually.” Mark is not an overly tall guy, but he looks so very uncomfortable rolled up on the backseat like that. I glance over to our other car and notice that the kids still have their windows open. My tired brain tries to decide what would be worse: for them to be woken up by me turning the key to close the windows, or for them to be rained on. With a deep sigh, I decide that it probably wouldn’t be healthy for them to lie in wet sleeping bags, so I grab the keys, get out into the rain and close their windows. As I get back into our car with the intention of going back to sleep, the humidity is already unbearable. But for now, it is raining too hard and the windows will need to stay closed.
It is only one night, morning will come soon enough, and I will just have to suck it up, deal with it.

One thing we all have in common is that we will be going home in the morning.

I wonder what the other 140 participants around me might be doing or thinking right now. There are always those who can’t catch a wink of sleep and those who sleep like a baby all night long. But most of us are somewhere in between. Regardless of which category you fall under, one thing we all have in common is that we will be going home in the morning.
Since 2012, No Fixed Address  has raised more than $300,000 for those women and families for whom not having a home is the harsh reality – every single day. It allows the YW to provide nutritious food, safe shelter and Skills Development programming to hundreds of women and families. Every dollar raised is part of the women’s, men’s and children’s path back to independence and self-sufficiency. We thank all of the participants, the donors who support them, the sponsors and the volunteers who help us to once again raise much needed funds and awareness for hidden homelessness in Niagara.

For my family and I, the uncomfortable night came and went quickly and was soon forgotten after a swim in the pool and a good night’s sleep in our beds. The horror, however, that came over me at the mere thought of what it must be like to truly have to live like this, will stay with me forever. The thought of not having a home but only a car to go back to, or a friend’s couch, or a motel room, the thought of being constantly scared and worried and stressed while still doing the best you can to make your kids feel safe and happy in spite of it all… that thought will fuel me and ignite me because we cannot and must not stop until there is not a single woman, man or child left who has to go through this here in Niagara, in our own backyards.

Sponsor Franziska’s team Nevertheless, She Persisted or find a participant near you!