Little progress on the prairie

Over half of union members in Canada are women, but the people in charge of unions are overwhelmingly men. Despite making up the majority of members, the number of women presidents of national unions in Canada can be “counted on one hand,” write labour experts Stephanie Ross and Larry Savage, and the number of racialized women in national union leadership roles is much smaller. While the first white woman was elected union president in 1975, it was not until 2019 that the first Black woman, Jan Simpson, was elected to lead a national union in Canada.” 

“Women face far more barriers in leadership,” says Tracy Zambory, president of the Saskatchewan Union of Nurses (SUN) and a practising registered nurse (RN) for 35 years. For example, when SUN supported COVID-19 mask and vaccine mandates, the backlash her male counterparts faced paled in comparison to the onslaught of gender-based harassment hurled at her, simply for supporting government-backed scientific health mandates. “[I]t was a different tone for female leaders, wanting my address, calling me the most horrific names. It took a toll that I never imagined being the president of the nurses’ union would ever take.” 

“As a woman of colour, I have to work twice as hard to prove that I have the capacity to be in this role … After 10 years I finally got respect – why did it take that long?” 

The atmosphere for people who are not cis men tends to be, if not hostile, exclusionary: “The old boys’ club is alive and well,” says Shobna Radons, president of the Regina & District Labour Council. Radons spent years in the military before working her way up the union ranks, now entering her 24th year in union work. She is quick-witted, thick skinned, and tough as nails, but it still took a decade for her to feel respected in her union: “As a woman of colour, I have to work twice as hard to prove that I have the capacity to be in this role … After 10 years I finally got respect – why did it take that long?” 

Radons describes the Saskatchewan social backdrop in a way that maybe only other prairie-dwellers can grasp. Like our minus 20 winters, “it’s hard to describe if you’ve never lived here.” In Saskatchewan, you might attend a house party and discover boxes of MAGA-embroidered hats in the garage; you might stumble upon a KKK membership registry dating back to the 1920s, casually passed around by farmhands. Social progression in the Prairies is far from linear, and Radons has noticed a substantial backward slide in social thinking since the Trump presidency, observing that “MAGA [Make America Great Again] filters into our union culture.” However, Radons also remarks that waves of immigration have forced employers to hire from a more diverse pool and that this has moved diversity forward in leadership: “when I first came to this country, I was one face in thousands, where now the demographic has changed so that it’s shifted the other way and I feel right at home now because people think like me.” For the first time, Radons’ vice-president and alternate are both women of colour. “I am seeing that it is hopeful and it can work,” she says, even if the change is slow: “one person at a time, one organization at a time, one event at a time.” 

She celebrates the growing cultural mosaic of union membership, which is in her view not only progressive but also necessary.

Muna De Ciman, grounded and calm with a warmth palpable even over Zoom, agrees that unions in Saskatchewan are increasingly diverse. Through her many roles in the Saskatchewan Government and General Employees’ Union (SGEU) and as a board member for several regional committees, her union experience is broad. She celebrates the growing cultural mosaic of union membership, which is in her view not only progressive but also necessary. “Union longevity is going to depend on newcomers” predicts De Ciman, not only because the workforce is increasingly made up of immigrants and refugees, but because these international workers “know what activism means.” De Ciman, who is originally from Sierra Leone, explains that “the activism work here is all paper, but in back-home activism, you are ready to die.” 

Zambory says SUN constantly struggles internally with racism and representation, and a large part of her work is to help every member feel safe, valued, and represented. She shares an anecdote about an anonymous public complaint made to a local news source, disparagingly and inaccurately claiming that nurses from the Philippines require more resources and time to train than local hires. In reality, says Zambory, “We could not be without our Filipino nurses. They are a gigantic asset, and we could not run without them … they punch way above their weight when it comes to making sure health care goes forward in Saskatchewan.” 

“I have sisters within the labour movement that are equally pushing the patriarchal agenda and when sisters still do not check their privilege, that is an issue."

Radons and De Ciman agree that although union membership is diverse, there is not enough diversity in leadership. Radons asks, “When you see most union leadership across the board, what do you see?” The answer is white people. De Ciman, Zambory, and Radons weave anti-racism and feminism together in their reflections on union leadership. Radons points out that many white women contribute to racism and sexism: “I have sisters within the labour movement that are equally pushing the patriarchal agenda and when sisters still do not check their privilege, that is an issue. Leadership within these organizations need a way to check themselves.” For Radons and De Ciman, tearing down the sexism and racism in unions comes from diversifying leadership. From these conversations with leading union women in Saskatchewan, four paths emerge toward more inclusive representation – toward feminist, anti-racist unions. 

1) Affirmative inclusion 

“Inclusivity,” says De Ciman. “That’s the key word: inclusivity.” At the negotiation table, De Ciman is thinking about “Muslim holidays, Jewish holidays, time off from work for [cultural festival] pavilions.” In the workplace, De Ciman asks, “how many of us have a quiet place for Muslim people to pray?” She celebrates that at one electrical plant in Saskatchewan, lower sinks have been installed to facilitate the Muslim practice of wudu, or ablutions before prayers. This has also been done at the University of Regina, and makes a significant difference in the daily lives of Muslim workers. 

The goal is not only diverse membership and inclusive daily operations, but structural inclusion of diverse members in decision-making processes. While some unions have proposed measures like proportional representation to make elections more accessible and leadership more diverse, Radons reflects that “the democratic structure itself can be a barrier.” When asked about consensus-based decision making or proportional representation, De Ciman responds, “both of those processes will not work for my people: we have been so bitten, we have given up on the system.” Other racialized union members have similarly reflected that the executive structure of the union fundamentally mimics patriarchal and colonial decision-making processes. Verda Cook, a negotiator and classification officer at Public Service Alliance of Canada (PSAC), shared with Briarpatch in May 2022 an alternative vision of more fluid leadership models, including non-hierarchical structures.

"We have been so bitten, we have given up on the system."

De Ciman has thought about this topic extensively and makes a strong case for making meaningful appointments to union leadership positions, rather than electing all positions. “What about making sure your executives, your committees, they are representative?” Running for elections, De Ciman says, is more difficult for women of colour: “People will fight to make sure that people vote for the white woman, but who organizes for me?” And if only one person of colour wins a place on the executive, it can be an isolating experience. If the white people at the same table don’t have strong anti-racist convictions, will they support their racialized colleague’s efforts? “If I’m in the workplace and I’m the only manager there and everybody’s white, I follow them. I don’t want to be seen as a troublemaker. And then my people view me as a traitor. I’m in the middle.” De Ciman explains how delegations can solve this problem: “Don’t only have one [marginalized person] on the team. When you look at your management team, ask yourself: do we have a youth on this team? Do we have a visible minority on this team? Do we have an LGBTQ person on this team? Do we have someone Indigenous?” Ayesha Khan, interviewed alongside Verda Cook for Briarpatch in 2022, said that some staff positions should be designated specifically to people of colour, Indigenous people, and others whose lived experience might not be reflected in union leadership.

“I need to fully participate in the process. Give me the opportunity to grow. I need to find my rightful place within the union.”

Meaningful non-democratic appointments specifically for underrepresented communities are supported by a report from York University on advancing equity and racial justice in Canadian unions. According to the report, “Racialized and Indigenous members should be recruited and equipped to succeed in bids for union leadership roles and committees” and must receive mentorship, training, and experience within and beyond the workplace to build their capacity to take on leadership and organizing roles within the union. For De Ciman, the role of training is critical. She is adamant that appointments cannot be tokenizing: “I need to fully participate in the process. Give me the opportunity to grow. I need to find my rightful place within the union.” 

2) Meaningful education

Diversity and inclusion trainings have become a go-to strategy for organizations, a kind of checklist item so commonplace that training content has developed into a lucrative industry, with more profit to show for itself than actual meaningful workplace change. Done well, however, education is powerful. Anti-oppression training designed to help white people really understand how societal oppression creates barriers for marginalized people can be especially impactful. Reflecting on one such event, Radons said she could actually see a change in people around her. “It’s a paradigm shift, even if it isn’t a complete 180 – it can be subtle, but it’s still enough to make a change.” Zambory says training and education have been critical in shifting her views about her own privilege and structural power. 

De Ciman emphasizes that effective education must be based on a combination of research, lived experience, and strategies for conflict resolution. This applies to all research-focused work, she thinks: “If you put together a focus group to examine an issue, for example, then think of solutions and put them into action.” 

3) Hyper self-reflexivity 

bell hooks writes that when white people who consider themselves anti-racist don’t consider how they can support white supremacy even without explicitly espousing those values, “they cannot recognize the ways their actions support and affirm the very structure of racist domination and oppression that they profess to wish to see eradicated.”

It is likely not a coincidence that Zambory is both deeply self-reflective and widely respected. She is deeply thoughtful and regularly situates herself in a global power structure. When asked about this practice of self-reflection that appears to spill into everyday conversation for her, Zambory says that she has “made a point in the last few years to really do a deep dive into myself” and has been building relationships with marginalized individuals and communities from a place of humility – readily accepting teachings and incorporating them into her daily actions. There is a certain energy around anti-racist feminist solidarity, and it comes through in Zambory’s perspective: an understanding that the work will never be complete, and it will often be uncomfortable, but it must be done, and it must be done well.

4) Grassroots mobilization

De Ciman’s union work is inextricably tied to her activism. She has been building up her Regina community for more than two decades, now working as a youth facility worker and community activist with Black in Sask. She serves in several union roles including as a steward, chair of her local, and member of a number of committees, both within SGEU, and at the Saskatchewan Federation of Labour (SFL). De Ciman moves fluidly from the topic of union work to grassroots work, blurring the line between the two, making clear that anti-racism is not a talk: it’s a walk. Aside from learning, reflecting, and tackling executive structures of democracy, an anti-racist union also shows up and supports people where they are, with the struggles they face outside the workplace. 

“You sit with them, you eat their food, and you give them hope,” De Ciman says. In her eyes, grassroots action is missing from the labour movement’s anti-racist efforts. “Sometimes addressing racism does not cost money. That’s what some labour leaders are missing. We use people’s power.” 

Aside from learning, reflecting, and tackling executive structures of democracy, an anti-racist union also shows up and supports people where they are, with the struggles they face outside the workplace. 

From 2012 to 2014, De Ciman mobilized her union to support two Nigerian university students who faced deportation because they did not realize that working part-time off-campus violated their student visas. SGEU helped keep the two women in sanctuary for a year, and lobbied the Saskatchewan government to change the law regarding student visa work permits. In the end, these efforts were successful: the law was changed to allow off-campus part-time jobs for international students, and the two students were welcomed back to the University of Regina to finish their degrees after returning to Canada. Unions must continue to support grassroots efforts like this one in addition to focusing on workplace inclusion and representation, in De Ciman’s perspective. 

“We need to make time for marginalized people,” she says. “You show up with dignity, hope, and respect. You show up and make good trouble.” Back home, De Ciman concludes, they don’t say “brothers and sisters,” they say comrades.