2-2 When we begin to listen to women's stories, what do we hear about ourselves?

In an east coast community centre, three paid literacy instructors, a literacy student and the program co-ordinator have got together over coffee and doughnuts to talk with me about women's experience and literacy programs. We're not sure how long we'll go on-there's about three hours left before lunch. The program itself is finished for the summer and everyone has just come in to chat.

Four of the women live in the immediate community. One has lived there in the past, but now lives further out. Two of the instructors were once students in the program. The third instructor was a volunteer before she came on as paid staff. The co-ordinator has been an instructor as well as one of the founding mothers.

We told each other a lot of stories as children played downstairs and other community workers drifted in and out. I had my "interview schedule," a list of topics that I like to cover during each time together. But the conversation kept coming back to what it means to be women listening to other women, hearing stories of poverty, violence, isolation and sexual abuse.

We obviously knew what the issues were. We knew about women who came to the program saying, "I can either get the bus to this program, or I can send my children to school with a lunch. That's my choice. I don't have money for both."

We talked together about what it meant to want not only to listen, but to have enough money to give her the bus fare, to feed her children. We also talked about not wanting to give advice, to give easy answers, as "experts," to incredibly difficult questions. Finally we started to look at the photo albums that highlighted the good times of partying, travelling, showing off the learning. It became clear that, as women we have a lot of respect for ourselves and for others. But also it was clear that respect can be hard to hold on to in the face of trying to actually make a difference, in the face of poverty, violence, isolation and sexual abuse.

We can't keep talking if we feel so bad, like we can't get on ...

  • But [group] got to be too much for us after a while. I got to the point that I couldn't -because I didn't know what to do with it.
  • They were taking the hurt home with them. And they were sat down at home with this good meal, wondering if [the others] had a meal at all.
  • It really gets to be ...
  • You can't save the world.
  • ...I know that but it doesn't help.
  • I mean how much can you take in and then let it go. A lot of people can leave at five and forget it. I'm not one of those. And then when you have an outside life besides, it's like too much. And you need someone to tell you things so that you can learn how to let that go when you leave. So someone like that would be really good. Because someone like me...
  • Yes, me too. You can't let it go. You bring it home with you.
  • They tell you things that are really mindboggling. Things that you read about and you don't tend to believe and then all of a sudden you're sitting with a person that's living that lifestyle and it's really hard
  • even to feel comfortable with your response
  • because you can make an awful big mistake. They can walk out through the door and you might never see them again or they took you wrong...


Back Contents Next