SAFE Blog

The Justice System Was Never Built with Survivors in Mind

Mon, 30 Mar 2026 19:44:04 GMT

The Justice System Was Never Built with Survivors in Mind

For many survivors, the violence does not end when the harm itself ends.

It continues in the silence that follows. In the fear of whether anyone will believe you. In the decision of whether it is even “worth it” to report. In the forms, the statements, the waiting, the explaining, the repeating. In the way a system that is supposed to protect you can leave you feeling exposed, dismissed, and retraumatized.

For years, survivors have been saying the same thing: the criminal justice system is not working for us.

Now, a major federal investigation has confirmed what survivors, advocates, and frontline organizations have known all along. The Office of the Federal Ombudsperson for Victims of Crime released a report following an 18-month systemic investigation into the experiences of survivors of sexual violence in Canada’s criminal justice system. The findings are deeply validating, but they are not surprising.

At SAFE, we know this reality is not theoretical.

It is lived.

It shows up in the stories survivors carry. It shows up in the fear, the exhaustion, the self doubt, and the impossible choices people are forced to make after trauma. It shows up in the question so many survivors quietly ask themselves: Will this hurt me even more if I speak up?

Too often, the honest answer is yes.

And that should never be acceptable.

Survivors Have Been Telling the Truth

One of the most painful things about this report is that none of it is new.

Survivors have been saying for decades that reporting sexual violence can come at an enormous cost. Not just emotionally, but practically, financially, mentally, and physically. The report makes clear that many survivors fear being disbelieved, blamed, retraumatized, or further harmed if they report.

That fear does not come from nowhere.

It comes from what survivors have seen happen to others. 

It comes from what many have already experienced firsthand. 

It comes from systems that still treat trauma responses like inconsistencies and still confuse pain with unreliability.

The truth is, survivors are often expected to tell the “perfect” story in order to be taken seriously.

But trauma does not show up perfectly.

It can look like freezing. 

It can look like delayed reporting. 

It can look like fragmented memory. 

It can look like emotional numbness, shame, confusion, or maintaining contact with the person who caused harm.

These are not signs that someone is lying. 

These are signs that someone has experienced trauma.

And yet, survivors continue to be assessed through a lens of suspicion instead of understanding.

That is not justice. 

That is institutional harm.

Reporting Should Not Feel Like a Risk to Your Safety

The report states plainly that reporting sexual violence should not open the door to suspicion, delay, or further harm.

But for many survivors, that is exactly what it does.

Coming forward is often framed as the “right” thing to do, but very little is said about what survivors are expected to endure after they disclose. Reporting can mean recounting deeply painful details to strangers. It can mean having your words questioned, your choices dissected, and your behaviour judged. It can mean waiting months or years with little clarity about what is happening. It can mean trying to hold down a job, care for children, stay mentally afloat, and survive daily life while a case moves painfully slowly through a system you never asked to be part of.

For some survivors, reporting is not just difficult. It is destabilizing.

And for many, the decision not to report is not about weakness or indifference. It is about survival.

That matters.

Survivors should not have to choose between personal safety and seeking accountability. They should not have to choose between peace and being heard. And they should never be made to feel like their reluctance to engage with the system somehow makes their harm less real.

The System Still Rewards Harm and Calls It Procedure

One of the most devastating parts of the report is the reality of what survivors experience during court processes, especially cross-examination.

Some survivors shared that cross-examination was worse than the assault itself.

Sit with that.

A process that is supposed to move toward justice is, for some, more violating than the original harm.

That should stop all of us in our tracks.

And yet, this is often treated as collateral damage. An unfortunate but necessary part of the process. Something survivors are expected to tolerate in the name of fairness.

But fairness for whom?

Survivors are often expected to withstand deeply invasive questioning, attacks on their credibility, and legal strategies rooted in myths and stereotypes that should have been left behind long ago. The report highlights that despite important legal reforms, harmful assumptions still shape how survivors are treated in sexual violence cases.

This is especially dangerous because trauma rarely presents in the neat, linear, emotionally consistent way people expect.

Survivors should not have to perform pain in a way that feels digestible to the court. 

They should not have to sound calm enough, upset enough, detailed enough, or believable enough. And they should not have to leave a courtroom feeling like the system itself became another source of violence.

Healing Should Never Jeopardize Justice

One of the most disturbing realities raised in the report is the issue of therapeutic records.

For many survivors, therapy is one of the few places where they can begin to process what happened safely. It can be a place of truth, privacy, and healing. But survivors in this investigation described the terror of knowing those deeply personal records could potentially be accessed and used within legal proceedings.

That means some survivors are forced into an impossible choice:

Do I get support? 

Or do I try to pursue justice?

No survivor should ever have to choose between healing and accountability.

And yet many do.

That is one of the clearest examples of how disconnected the system remains from the realities of trauma. The very supports survivors need to survive and rebuild can become something they are later punished for accessing.

It is cruel. 

It is harmful. 

And it sends a devastating message to survivors: your pain can be used against you.

Delays Do Not Just Waste Time. They Cause Harm.

Another major issue raised in the report is the impact of delay in sexual violence cases, particularly under R v. Jordan . Survivors described the devastation of seeing serious charges stayed because the case took too long to proceed. In some cases, this happened after survivors had already endured disclosure, testimony, and retraumatization.

That kind of outcome does not just feel disappointing.

It can feel shattering.

Because by that point, survivors have often already paid the emotional price of participating. They have opened wounds. They have prepared themselves to be scrutinized. They have often rearranged their lives around court dates, legal processes, and uncertainty.

And then, after all of that, the case may never even be heard.

The harm of delay is not abstract. It is deeply human.

It is the months or years a survivor spends suspended in fear. 

It is the inability to move forward. 

It is the anxiety of not knowing if the person who harmed you will face any accountability at all. 

It is the message that your case, your safety, and your life can simply be lost in the backlog.

This is not just a system delay. It is a form of harm in itself.

That is a trauma issue.

Survivors Need More Than a Process. They Need Support.

One of the clearest truths in this report is that support changes everything.

Survivors repeatedly spoke about the value of service providers who sat beside them, explained things, advocated for them, and treated them with dignity. Some survivors said these supports saved their lives.

That matters deeply.

Because while systems often fail survivors, people can still make the difference between further harm and genuine care.

At SAFE, we know this firsthand.

We know how much it matters when someone believes you without making you prove your pain. 

We know how much it matters when someone helps you understand your options. 

We know how much it matters when support is rooted in compassion, not control.

Survivors do not just need services in name. 

They need services that are accessible, trauma informed, survivor centred, culturally responsive, and actually available when they are needed.

And they need to know they should not have to navigate all of this alone.

Support should not be a privilege. 

It should be standard.

Some Survivors Face Even Greater Barriers

While the justice system fails many survivors, it does not fail all survivors equally.

The report makes clear that Indigenous, Black, 2SLGBTQIA+, disabled, rural, remote, and northern survivors often face additional and layered barriers when trying to access justice and support.

This is critical.

Because when we talk about “the system,” we need to be honest about who it was designed to protect and who it continues to leave behind.

A survivor who is Indigenous may face racism and colonial violence on top of sexual violence. 

A survivor with a disability may face communication barriers and assumptions about credibility. 

A 2SLGBTQIA+ survivor may fear being misunderstood, invalidated, or outed. 

A survivor in a rural or remote community may have nowhere nearby to turn.

There is no one survivor experience.

And there cannot be one size fits all responses.

If justice is not accessible to all survivors, it is not justice.

What Survivors Have Been Asking for Is Not Radical

The report outlines 43 recommendations and highlights 10 key areas for reform, including fully investigating sexual violence, humanizing cross-examination, better protecting therapeutic records, automatically offering testimonial aids, improving access to services, strengthening rights, and allowing restorative justice options where appropriate.

None of this is extreme.

Survivors are not asking for special treatment. 

We are asking for dignity. 

We are asking to be heard. 

We are asking not to be harmed by the very systems that claim to help us.

We are asking for processes that understand trauma. 

For responses that recognize power and control. 

For options that allow survivors to make informed choices. 

For a justice system that does not require us to be broken open in order to be taken seriously.

That is not too much to ask.

It is the bare minimum.

We Need More Than Recognition. We Need Change.

There is something deeply painful about seeing your reality validated in a national report.

Because validation matters. 

But it also raises a harder question:

Now what?

How many more reports do survivors need to inspire? 

How many more recommendations need to be written? 

How many more people need to be retraumatized before meaningful reform is treated like an urgent priority instead of a future goal?

Survivors should not have to keep bleeding into systems just to prove they need to change.

At SAFE, we believe survivors should not have to become experts in policy, law, trauma, or advocacy just to be treated with basic humanity.

We believe support should be easier to access than harm. 

We believe healing should not come with punishment. 

We believe being believed should not be rare. 

And we believe that justice cannot exist in any meaningful way if survivors continue to be harmed in the process of seeking it.

This report is important. 

It is validating. 

It is overdue.

But most of all, it is a reminder of something survivors have known all along:

The problem was never that survivors were not speaking.

The problem is that systems were not listening.

And if Canada is serious about addressing sexual violence, that has to change.

Not later. 

Not eventually. 

Now.

Sources

This blog is informed by the Office of the Federal Ombudsperson for Victims of Crime’s November 2025 statement and report: Rethinking Justice for Survivors of Sexual Violence: A systemic investigation.

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

You don’t need to be ready to leave. You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to know you’re not alone. Serving the Halton region, Peel region and surrounding areas in Ontario

Survivor-led. Peer-supported. Compassionate. Non-judgemental. Always safe.

Let’s change the narrative. Let’s amplify survivor voices—on and off the big screen.

#ForSurvivorsBySurvivors

#AlwaysBelieve

#SAFEHalton

#GenderBasedViolence

SAFE honours the courage of Jessica Baker and all survivors who carry their truth with them every day. We see you. We believe you. We are here for you.

My Name is Jessica Baker: Sexually Assaulted by Jacob Hoggard

Sun, 08 Mar 2026 19:00:15 GMT

My Name is Jessica Baker: Sexually Assaulted by Jacob Hoggard

When survivors of sexual violence come forward, their stories often move through multiple systems at once: media, public opinion, and the legal process. Each stage brings its own pressures, expectations, and scrutiny.

The case involving Canadian musician Jacob Hoggard, former lead singer of the band Hedley, became one of the most widely discussed sexual assault trials involving a public figure in Canada. For many people watching the events unfold, the case became not only about the allegations themselves but also about how survivors experience the justice system when they decide to speak.

Understanding how the story unfolded, from the first disclosures to the courtroom and beyond, helps illustrate the path many survivors navigate when their experiences enter the public and legal arenas.

Jacob Hoggard rose to national prominence in the early 2000s after appearing on the television competition Canadian Idol. Following the show, Hedley quickly became one of Canada’s most recognizable pop-rock bands. The group released multiple successful albums, toured internationally, and maintained a strong presence on radio and television.

For years, Hoggard’s public image was closely tied to that success. That visibility would later shape how allegations against him were reported, discussed, and examined.

In 2018, investigative reporting began to surface allegations from women who described encounters with Hoggard after meeting him through social media or following concerts. Their accounts described interactions that began with online communication and eventually led to in-person meetings.

Among the women who later spoke publicly about their experiences was Jessica. Her decision to come forward was not only about the legal process but also about how survivors are often expected to present themselves in order to be believed.

“I didn’t get therapy because I wanted to tell the story like as an unhealed person. For people to believe you, they have to see you as a victim.”

Jessica’s statement reflected a reality many survivors describe: the perception that credibility is often tied to how closely a person’s behaviour matches expectations of how a victim should appear or respond. It also underscores a tragic dimension of that pressure—her decision not to seek therapy for her own wellbeing because she believed that healing might make her story seem less credible to a court or the public.

As the allegations began receiving media attention, more women shared accounts with journalists and investigators. The reporting quickly expanded, prompting broader conversations across Canada about power dynamics in the music industry and the experiences of fans who interact with performers.

Soon after the allegations became public, the situation began shifting from media reporting and public discussion into the formal legal process. As attention around the allegations grew, law enforcement began investigating the claims, eventually leading to criminal charges and a trial.

The transition from media reporting to courtroom proceedings marked a significant shift. In the legal system, the focus turns to evidence, testimony, and cross-examination. Survivors who participate in trials are often required to recount their experiences in detail, sometimes multiple times, while facing questioning from defence lawyers whose role is to challenge their credibility and recollection.

Jessica later described the emotional intensity of that experience in court.

“Going to court was like a second assault, and worse, because you are sitting in front of the person that did the worst thing possible to you. And their defence lawyer, he is hired to make you feel like you are nothing.”

The courtroom environment can be highly structured and formal. Witnesses testify under oath while lawyers examine the details of their statements, timelines, and actions before and after the alleged events.

Jessica later reflected on the experience of testifying, describing the sense of being unable to leave the room and how the feeling mirrored what she experienced during the actual assault.

“I couldn’t leave, and I was just thinking, like, you just have to get through it, and then it’ll be over. It’s the exact same feeling, amplified…in front of a room full of strangers, and him and his wife.”

Throughout the trial, the women who came forward faced scrutiny that extended beyond the courtroom. Their credibility, choices, memories, and personal lives were widely discussed in both legal arguments and public commentary.

The trial highlighted how difficult it can be for survivors to participate in legal proceedings involving sexual violence.

Sexual violence scholar and activist Dr. Caroline Heldman reflected on the broader implications of watching the process unfold.

“I don’t think anyone watching the Hoggard trial would want to come forward after that, frankly, because of what the survivors face. It’s really hard to come forward as a survivor and get any form of justice.”

“Sexual violence is the only crime where we put the survivor on trial. Defence attorneys really go after them in dehumanizing ways, motivated to attack survivors’ credibility.”

The verdict was delivered. Jacob Hoggard was found guilty of sexual assault, a moment that Jessica had been waiting for, and had put her life on hold to pursue. However, for survivors, the moment a verdict is read does not close the experience of going through the justice process. The months or years leading up to that point — reporting, investigations, preparation for testimony, and the trial itself — often shape how survivors carry the experience forward. As with many sexual assault cases, the public conversation focused heavily on the result, while survivors continued to process what it meant to have their experiences examined in such a public and demanding setting.

Data from Statistics Canada, frequently cited by legal scholars and advocates, shows that only a small fraction of sexual assaults are ever reported to police. Of those that are reported, roughly four in ten result in charges, and just over half of the cases that proceed to court end in a guilty verdict. The numbers illustrate how rare it is for a sexual assault incident to result in a conviction, a reality that often shapes how survivors think about reporting and participating in the justice process. Jessica offers the following insight:

“A not-guilty verdict is not an innocent verdict.”

In Canada’s criminal justice system, a not-guilty verdict indicates that the prosecution did not prove the charges beyond a reasonable doubt. It does not necessarily determine how individuals involved interpret or process their experiences.

In the months and years following the trial, Jessica began speaking publicly about the broader realities survivors face during and after legal proceedings. Those conversations eventually led Jessica to establish Beyond the Verdict, together with Keely Favro and Kristi Lee.

The organization focuses on what happens after the courtroom process ends. Rather than centering solely on legal outcomes, it examines the experiences of survivors navigating investigations, trials, and the aftermath of highly public cases.

Through interviews, discussions, and shared stories, the initiative highlights the gap that can exist between a legal decision and the lived realities of those involved.

The conversation surrounding the Hoggard case continues to raise questions about the sequence of events that unfold when survivors come forward. Observers have reflected on the roles played by media coverage, public debate, police investigations, and courtroom procedures.

Those conversations are continuing through projects like Beyond the Verdict, which seek to examine not only what happens inside the courtroom but also what happens before it—and long after it ends.

See full CBC documentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJsvxLQWnxo

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

You don’t need to be ready to leave. You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to know you’re not alone. Serving the Halton region, Peel region and surrounding areas in Ontario

Survivor-led. Peer-supported. Compassionate. Non-judgemental. Always safe.

Let’s change the narrative. Let’s amplify survivor voices—on and off the big screen.

#ForSurvivorsBySurvivors

#AlwaysBelieve

#SAFEHalton

#GenderBasedViolence

SAFE honours the courage of Jessica Baker and all survivors who carry their truth with them every day. We see you. We believe you. We are here for you.

Gisèle Pelicot and the Fight to End Victim-Blaming - BBC Newsnight

Sat, 21 Feb 2026 17:14:24 GMT

Gisèle Pelicot and the Fight to End Victim-Blaming - BBC Newsnight

Watching Gisèle Pelicot speak in her recent BBC Newsnight interview is both gut-wrenching and profoundly inspiring. There is no spectacle in her voice. No dramatics. Just steady resolve. The kind that can only come from surviving something unimaginable — and deciding that silence will not protect anyone.

And she is rejecting it, not only for herself, but for every survivor who has ever been made to feel responsible for their own violation.

See the full BBC Interview here .

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

You don’t need to be ready to leave. You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to know you’re not alone. Serving the Halton region, Peel region and surrounding areas in Ontario

Survivor-led. Peer-supported. Compassionate. Non-judgemental. Always safe.

Let’s change the narrative. Let’s amplify survivor voices—on and off the big screen.

#ForSurvivorsBySurvivors

#AlwaysBelieve

#SAFEHalton

#GenderBasedViolence

SAFE honours the courage of Gisèle Pelicot and all survivors who carry their truth with them every day. We see you. We believe you. We are here for you.

Sangeeta's Survivor Story

Mon, 24 Nov 2025 14:00:01 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Sangeeta

My Story: From Silence to Strength

I came to Canada as a newly married graduate student, full of hope and ready to begin my Masters at Queen’s University. Everything around me was new — the culture, the people, even the winter — but I tried my best to adjust. During my program, I became pregnant and later welcomed my beautiful son. Even with the joy of becoming a mother, I constantly felt demotivated, sad, and weighed down, as if something was wrong with me. I kept telling myself, “I need to fix my marriage. It’s my responsibility.”

One day, a counsellor from the Ban Righ Centre at Queen’s noticed that something in me was not okay. She gently suggested that I see a women’s psychologist on campus. I booked the appointment.

When I arrived, the psychologist handed me a questionnaire. Most of my answers were “yes.” She looked at me and asked softly, “Do you know what this means?”

And then came December 26th, 2023 early in the morning.

I still remember the deep snow outside at 3 AM. While everyone else was celebrating the holidays with their families, I was forced to make the hardest decision of my life. I left my marriage with my little son in my arms.

We arrived at a women’s shelter. I felt shattered. Broken. Like a failure.

But my struggle didn’t end there. I had to rebuild everything from the ground up — find a job, earn money, make sure my son had food, and try to be a good mother while surviving my own trauma.

One day, a volunteer gifted me a candle.

She said, “This might help you heal.”

That candle became the start of my self-care journey. Slowly, day by day, healing became possible. I began to understand that I was not broken — I was always enough.

As the years passed, I rebuilt my life. I found a great job, earned my engineering license, bought a condo, and raised my son into a healthy, happy, confident child.

How Iti Saaram Was Born

About 11 years after leaving the shelter, I felt a deep calling to do something meaningful with my healing journey. I wanted to help other women — survivors, mothers, and busy women who struggle to care for themselves.

That is when I started Iti Saaram — a brand built on healing, mindfulness, and self-care.

Through my candles and content, I help women slow down, breathe, and reconnect with themselves — the same way a single candle helped me during my darkest days.

As my way of giving back, I donate a portion from every purchase to Halton Women’s Place women’s shelter — the kind of shelter that once gave me safety when I had nowhere else to go.

Giving back through Iti Saaram feels like closing a circle and keeping hope alive for someone else.

A New Beginning

And after 13 years of being a single mother, life surprised me in the most beautiful way.

Last year, I married again — to the kindest, most caring man I have ever met.

Abuse Knows No Boundaries: Charlize Theron’s Story Is a Reminder That Gender-Based Violence Touches Everyone

Tue, 11 Nov 2025 12:05:37 GMT

Abuse Knows No Boundaries: Charlize Theron’s Story Is a Reminder That Gender-Based Violence Touches Everyone

The Reality Behind Closed Doors

In the interview, Charlize recalls being just 15 years old when the incident occurred. Her father, whom she describes as "a very sick man," had been drinking heavily and returned home with a loaded gun. As he threatened to kill her and her mother, her mom did what many women in similar positions have had to do: she defended her child and herself.

Theron has described this as a defining trauma in her life—one she didn’t talk about for many years. And that’s understandable. Survivors of gender-based violence are often silenced—by shame, by stigma, by fear of not being believed.

The difference here is that Charlize had the platform to eventually tell her truth—and we applaud her for doing so. Because each time someone like Charlize speaks up, it opens the door for others to feel less alone. At SAFE, we honour her courage.

But we also honour the courage of every survivor who is still waiting for justice. Every survivor who is still afraid to tell their story. Every survivor who didn’t survive.

The Hidden Epidemic

Gender-based violence is one of the most widespread human rights violations globally. According to the Canadian Women’s Foundation , one woman or girl is violently killed primarily by men every 48 hours. The United Nations Women report that approximately one in three women experiences physical or sexual violence in her lifetime.

These numbers are not just statistics—they are names, lives, families shattered.

Unlike movies, these stories rarely have tidy endings. For many survivors, the violence doesn’t end when the relationship ends. It follows them—in courtrooms, in custody battles, in stalking, in financial abuse. Some never see justice served.

Many of our members at SAFE describe years of being disbelieved or dismissed by the very systems meant to protect them. Some are still fighting for their day in court. Some are still finding the words to name what happened to them.

And yes—some didn’t live to tell their story.

When Survival Becomes a Performance

When we hear Charlize Theron’s story, it’s tempting to frame her survival as something extraordinary. But here’s the hard truth: survival is an everyday act for many. And if awards were given for strength, strategy, and courage in the face of life-threatening danger, we’d be handing out Oscars to survivors in every community.

We’d recognize the mother who packs a go-bag in secret for weeks.

The teenager who sleeps with their phone under the pillow, ready to call 911.

The immigrant woman who risks everything to flee an abuser, despite language barriers and fear of deportation.

The man in a same-sex relationship who feels too ashamed to speak out because "men don't get abused."

The child who grows up fast because no one else is keeping them safe.

Survivors deserve recognition—not just in headlines, but in healthcare, justice, housing, and support systems.

Everyone Knows Someone

The truth is: we all know someone affected by intimate partner violence, whether we realize it or not. It could be your friend. Your colleague. Your neighbour. Your child’s teacher. Your favourite actor.

At SAFE, we remind our community that abuse hides in plain sight. It’s not always bruises and black eyes. It can be manipulation, control, isolation, threats, gaslighting, sexual coercion, financial control, or digital surveillance.

And it thrives in silence.

That’s why voices like Charlize’s matter. They break the silence. They force us to look beyond the red carpet and into the real lives behind the roles. But we must also listen just as carefully to the voices in our own communities. The women sitting in shelters. The ones calling distress lines. The ones who can’t speak—yet.

From Surviving to Thriving

SAFE is a survivor-led organization rooted in the belief that healing and empowerment are possible—but only when survivors are heard, believed, and supported.

We are a peer-run nonprofit based in Halton, Ontario, and we walk alongside survivors—wherever they are in their journey. We don’t ask “Why didn’t you leave?” We ask, “How can we help you stay safe today?”

We believe:

Every survivor deserves to be believed.
No one should be turned away.
Healing is not linear, and that's okay.
You don’t need to be a celebrity to deserve dignity and support.

We also collaborate with agencies, law enforcement, housing partners, and health professionals to push for systems that work with survivors, not against them.

We Honour All Stories

Charlize Theron’s story isn’t just a Hollywood tragedy—it’s a reminder. A call to action. A mirror reflecting a global epidemic. We thank her for her vulnerability, and for using her platform to say, “This happened to me.”

But we also honour the everyday stories. The ones whispered in support groups. Shared anonymously online. Carried silently in the hearts of those still too afraid to speak.

At SAFE, we hold all of these stories sacred. Because every survivor's story matters. Whether it’s told from a red carpet or a shelter bed, every truth shared chips away at the wall of silence that protects abusers.

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

You don’t need to be ready to leave. You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to know you’re not alone.

Serving the Halton region and surrounding areas in Ontario

Survivor-led. Peer-supported. Compassionate. Non-judgemental. Always safe.

Let’s change the narrative. Let’s amplify survivor voices—on and off the big screen.

#ForSurvivorsBySurvivors

#AlwaysBelieve

#SAFEHalton

#GenderBasedViolence

SAFE honours the courage of Charlize Theron and all survivors who carry their truth with them every day. We see you. We believe you. We are here for you.

Chelsie's Survivor Story

Fri, 17 Oct 2025 02:46:35 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Chelsie

On April 2nd, 2023 I sent the text message that would change my life forever..."Call 911"

It is difficult to truly describe the events leading up to that fateful morning in a way that captures the reality of our lives during that time. After 4 years of escalating violence I finally broke, though truthfully, I had been broken much longer. What I once described as my fairytale had quickly become my nightmare, intensified by the extreme isolation of the pandemic. My life had become a vicious cycle of verbal, physical and sexual abuse.

I have vivid flashbacks of nights spent wedging myself between our couch and the wall at night, praying he wouldnt find me in his drunken rage. The cold feeling in the pit of my stomach when I heard the slamming door and heavy steps coming down the stairs, where I was forced to sleep on the living room floor with my infant son. I remember the moment when blinking through tears I made out the vision of my daughter woken from her sleep only to see her mother's head split open and the wound gushing blood all over the floor. The fear in her eyes as the man she lovingly called "Dad" hovered over me, forcing me to beg for mercy. I remember the mornings I went to wake my son for school only to find him huddled on the floor by his door, where he had fallen asleep listening through the crack to the intense screams across the hall. The smashed TVs and phones, doors slammed right off their hinges, this became the soundtrack of our lives. Every meal became a war zone, every holiday a minefield we delicately navigated while waiting for the next moment he would explode. We lived in fear and moved through our lives like ghosts - I had accepted that one day this man would kill me.

SAFE and Partners Brief Ontario Minister on GBV Program Impact and Community Needs

Tue, 07 Oct 2025 14:19:23 GMT

SAFE and Partners Brief Ontario Minister on GBV Program Impact and Community Needs

Lorraine Rollo, Chair of the SAFE Committee, and SAFE Board President Liza Rodrigues had the honour of meeting with Associate Minister Charmaine Williams, Ontario’s Minister of Women’s Social and Economic Opportunity, during a recent engagement hosted by Achēv , the organization behind the Stronger Together: Gender-Based Violence Prevention and Support initiative. Achēv is a community-based organization that delivers a wide range of employment, newcomer settlement, youth, and gender-based violence support services across the Greater Toronto Area.

Stronger Together is an Achēv-led initiative designed to provide trauma-informed counselling, prevention training, and wraparound supports to women, girls, and gender-diverse individuals who have experienced or are at risk of gender-based violence. SAFE – Survivor Advocates for Empowerment – is a proud partner in this work, alongside Pride at Work Canada , which champions 2SLGBTQIA+ inclusion in workplaces through education, training, and thought leadership.

SAFE Partners with Achēv to Provide Survivor Peer Support

Sat, 04 Oct 2025 19:56:40 GMT

SAFE Partners with Achēv to Support Survivors of Gender-Based Violence

SL Hunter Speechworks Sponsors Specialized Therapy for SAFE Survivors

Tue, 23 Sep 2025 14:29:02 GMT

SL Hunter Speechworks Sponsors Specialized Therapy for SAFE Survivors

SAFE is deeply grateful to SL Hunter Speechworks , a leading Burlington-based speech therapy clinic, for generously sponsoring limited therapy services for two survivors in our community. Their support offers a meaningful opportunity for individuals affected by gender-based violence and traumatic brain injuries (TBIs) to access specialized communication services that are often financially out of reach.

SL Hunter Speechworks is a team of experienced Speech-Language Pathologists who provide trauma-informed, functionally focused therapy across the lifespan. Their clinicians are skilled in supporting individuals with TBIs, centering personally meaningful goals through informal assessments and collaborative goal-setting. This approach ensures that therapy is tailored to each client’s unique communication needs and everyday realities.

The clinic has extensive experience working with diverse populations, including Indigenous Peoples and gender-diverse clients, and is committed to creating culturally safe and inclusive therapy spaces. Services can be provided virtually via Zoom Healthcare or in person at their Burlington office, conveniently located across from the Appleby GO Station.

Crystal's Survivor Story

Tue, 23 Sep 2025 12:31:39 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Crystal

After ten years of living through various safety plans, I was left with no other choice but to leave my home. Instead of instituting safeguards available under the law, the involvement of the family court system, child protection services, and law enforcement only worked to increase the danger my children and I faced. In many ways, these systems persecuted and ridiculed me for even trying to get help. I was not believed. My children were not believed. Even in the face of irrefutable evidence, we were not protected. There were moments of despair when I questioned my own sanity, because surely these things could not really be happening to us. We did not matter.

Nothing prepares you for the moment in life when you are left with two very clear choices: stay and die or leave and live. My threshold moment came when I saw my ex-husband on my home security camera with a gun. After all the years of telling me the various ways he thought about killing me, I knew those thoughts were going to become actions. After all the years of threatening my children with killing me, I knew he was going to do it. I was going to become another story on the news report, another statistic of intimate partner homicide. I knew if I stayed in my home, I would die. My only hope was to leave.

The day I drove away changed the course of my life forever. I loaded up my kids and their pets, put my car in drive, and pressed the gas pedal. I remember thinking to myself, “Is this what it’s like to never go home again? Am I really never going home again?” Every mile I continued to drive, those thoughts played on a loop in my head. I remember feeling so incredibly overwhelmed and scared.

When I left, I drove away from:

My home
My family and friends
My career
My graduate school work
All of my worldly possessions

I left my home with only what could fit in my car. One could say that my children and I lost “everything” the day we left our home, but that would not be true. We left behind our material possessions, but we kept our lives. We kept our hope of having a real life, one that was not defined by constant threat.

At 41 years old with two kids in tow, the instant I put the car in drive started a new life of hope, but in the face of incredible fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of continuing to not be believed. Fear of no one helping. Fear of no one making him stop. Fear of eventual permanent separation from my children, just like I had been threatened with for years.

Leaving was hard and incredibly terrifying, but staying was not an option. Now that we are more than one year in our new home, our new life, I know beyond a reasonable doubt that leaving was not only the right choice, but it was truly our only choice. Thankfully, we found people and systems in our new home that have given us protection. I am happy to say that we have found a life of freedom, safety, and stability. My children are thriving and healing, and I am slowly but surely building a new life.

I am blessed to now live in a place with the opportunity to use my voice in the pursuit of freedom and safety for others. I am free to tell my story and use my experiences to encourage others. I refuse to let the sadness and trauma of the past consume me today. Looking forward to the future, I am planning to devote my life to securing freedom, safety, and stability for other mothers and children with similar experiences – everyone has the right to these basic elements of life. My goal is to help every mother know that there is always hope on the other side of the threshold .

WhiteEagle's Survivor's Story

Tue, 12 Aug 2025 13:15:05 GMT

A Survivor's Story: WhiteEagle

WhiteEagle was one of five children whose parents were survivors of the residential school system. At only 18 months old, WhiteEagle was removed from her home as a result of the "Sixties Scoop" and was placed into Children's Aid until she was released at age 18. All the children (but WhiteEagle) were adopted - despite her Mother following all the rules of the Children's Aid. It would be almost 18 years before WhiteEagle and her Mother were reunited again.

"The “Sixties Scoop” refers to the large-scale removal or “scooping” of indigenous children from their homes, communities and families of birth through the 1960s, and their subsequent adoption into predominantly non-Indigenous, middle-class families across the United States and Canada. This experience left many adoptees with a lost sense of cultural identity. The physical and emotional separation from their birth families continues to affect adult adoptees and Indigenous communities to this day."

https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/sixties-scoop

In WhiteEagle's own words:

"My childhood led me into adulthood with many challenges and dysfunction. Abusive relationships with men and women. My understanding of life was limited to the fact that I am on the Autism spectrum, and did not know it. Couple that with PTSD and of course you will have someone who is very confused and lost. But my Spirit is strong and determined for a better life.

I remember who I am because of my blood memory. You see, we just don't carry our ancestors' wisdom, we carry the suffering too. This is why I can (and do) heal - not just myself but others too.

At 18 I did manage to reconnect with my Mother. I went to Indian Affairs in London, Ontario and they hooked me up with my Mom. I was very nervous, but still went to her home. As my Mom opened the door it was like looking in the mirror. We look so much alike".

With all the hardship WhiteEagle has endured in her life she has committed herself to healing. She connects with her ancestral bloodline and uses her gifts to connect with spirit and provides healing not only for herself but others. She is a pillar in our community and SAFE is so proud WhiteEagle is an honorary member of The SAFE Committee.

Standing Stronger Together: SAFE Partners with Achēv to Support Survivors of Gender-Based Violence

Mon, 04 Aug 2025 18:58:21 GMT

From Lived Experience to Peer Support: Why Shared Stories Save Lives

At SAFE (Survivor Advocates for Empowerment), everything we do is rooted in lived experience. We are survivors supporting survivors, walking alongside those impacted by gender-based violence (GBV) as they reclaim their voices and their power.

That’s why we are so proud to join Achēv and other community partners in Stronger Together, an initiative led by Achēv and funded by the Government of Canada. This program was created to wrap survivors and their families in the kind of care, support, and resources that can make all the difference during healing.

Stronger Together is more than a program—it’s a network of connection, education, and empowerment. Through workshops, peer support, and community engagement, it helps survivors and their support networks navigate the complex journey of healing, while also increasing awareness across our communities about GBV and how to prevent it.

SAFE’s Role in Stronger Together

At SAFE, we believe that support feels different when it comes from someone who truly understands. Our team of trained survivor advocates brings this perspective to Stronger Together in several ways:

Offering one-on-one peer support—a safe, validating space to talk, process, and feel heard.
Hosting discussion groups and workshops to share tools for healing and to spark connection with others who “get it.”
Partnering in community outreach, including initiatives to engage men and boys in prevention and awareness.
Sharing our lived experience to shape resources and program materials, ensuring they are trauma-informed, inclusive, and survivor-centered.

Our involvement ensures that survivors’ voices are at the heart of this program—not just as participants, but as leaders and guides.

Why This Partnership Matters

We know that healing isn’t linear, and no one should have to walk it alone. Partnering with Achēv on Stronger Together allows SAFE to reach more people with the kind of peer-driven support that changes lives. Together, with the backing of government funding, we are creating spaces where survivors can feel safe, believed, and empowered.

We are truly grateful for this opportunity to collaborate and to continue building communities where survivors are seen, supported, and celebrated.

Learn More & Join Us

If you want to learn more about Stronger Together, visit Achēv’s website: https://achev.ca/service/strongertogether/

If you or someone you know could benefit from this program, you can register here : Click here to register

From Lived Experience to Peer Support: Why Shared Stories Save Lives

Thu, 01 May 2025 14:26:01 GMT

From Lived Experience to Peer Support: Why Shared Stories Save Lives

Understanding the Power of Lived Experience

When it comes to healing from gender-based violence, there's something uniquely powerful about hearing, “I’ve been there too.” For survivors, knowing they’re not alone can be the first step toward reclaiming their lives. Lived experience is not just a story—it’s a form of wisdom. Those who have faced abuse, assault, or trauma carry with them an insight that professional training alone cannot provide.

Lived experience, as shared by panelists at Voice of Lived Experience Workshop, organized by Community Development Halton , becomes transformative when used in peer support settings. Survivors who have walked the same paths can offer empathy, hope, and validation in ways that no textbook ever could. Whether it’s supporting someone navigating the aftermath of a crisis or simply being present, these shared experiences have the potential to make healing feel possible.

Peer Support: Walking Alongside, Not Ahead

Peer support in the context of mental health and gender-based violence is more than emotional support—it’s about creating a space where individuals feel seen and heard without judgment. A peer support worker, as defined in the workshop, is someone who offers a hand not from a place of authority but from a place of companionship.

Lorraine Rollo, SAFE Committee Chair, described her work simply and beautifully: “I am holding a peer’s hope and walking alongside them until they are able to take that hope back from me.” This reflects the deeply relational nature of peer support—its strength lies not in fixing someone, but in walking beside them until they’re ready to take their next step.

Peer supporters can also guide individuals through systemic hurdles—whether it’s finding housing, accessing food, or just filling out a form. Their support goes beyond emotional encouragement; it’s practical and rooted in lived knowledge of the systems survivors encounter.

Mental Health Support: A Bridge to Recovery

Mental health support within peer-led environments offers survivors an alternative to traditional clinical care. For many, mental health services feel impersonal or intimidating. Peer-led groups like those run by SAFE throughout the Greater Toronto and Hamilton Area create a more accessible path to support—one that includes vulnerability, honesty, and understanding.

Sandra Halton, a peer mentor at CMHA Halton, shared that attending peer support groups changed her perception of her own mental health. “I checked out the groups at TEACH, and I just couldn’t believe the vulnerability, the courage, the sharing. It inspired me to expand my thinking around my diagnosis.” For Sandra and many others, peer support is not just an add-on to mental health—it’s foundational.

These stories remind us that mental health recovery is non-linear. Sometimes, the most therapeutic thing is not a diagnosis, but a conversation with someone who genuinely understands.

From Peer Support to Co-Production

Co-production takes peer support a step further. It invites survivors into decision-making spaces—not as guests, but as equals. Instead of professionals creating services for survivors, co-production is about building services with them. This shift demands that survivors’ voices are not only heard but are treated as crucial expertise.

But this is not without challenges. As Betty-Lou Kristy, Director of the Centre for Innovation in Peer Support, CMHA Halton , explained, “You don’t just yank somebody off the street who has lived experience and throw them at a systems table. That’s going to cause harm.” Authentic co-production requires trauma-informed environments, clear processes, proper training, and above all—respect.

Lorraine echoed the importance of meaningful participation, warning against tokenism: “I have recognized that I’m a token voice at the table. My voice is not valued.” To truly work, co-production must value survivors not just for their story but for their insight, leadership, and future-facing ideas.

The Challenge of Power and Equity

For peer work and co-production to thrive, systemic imbalances must be addressed. Survivor involvement should never be exploitative or symbolic. Honorariums, safe spaces, and appropriate timing are not optional—they are foundational. As Lorraine shared, taking part in panel discussions often means losing a day’s income. If survivors are being asked to shape programs, they should be compensated fairly.

Chanay Dallas, Peer Outreach Worker, Elizabeth Fry Toronto, pointed out that diversity is essential. “If it’s just multiple white women at the top, how can they connect and learn from communities that are different?” Diverse voices must be present, especially in decision-making spaces. Only then can we begin to design systems that reflect real communities.

Building Trust Through Relational Work

The work of peer support and co-production hinges on trust. This trust doesn’t happen overnight—it must be nurtured. Survivors often come into systems where their trust has already been broken. It’s not enough to offer a seat at the table; organizations must also prove that the seat holds value.

Trust is built through transparency, accountability, and the willingness to listen—even when it’s uncomfortable. As Ruby Atesoglu, Peer Support Lead, WomenatthecentrE . emphasized, co-production must be an intentional and active practice, not just an invitation.

Survivor-Led Spaces Save Lives

SAFE exists as a living example of how survivor-led organizations transform communities. Based in the Halton region and serving Hamilton and the GTA, their principles—always believe, never turn anyone away, follow the survivor’s lead—are simple, yet revolutionary. They do not seek to control survivors’ paths. They walk alongside.

When we allow survivors to lead, to support each other, and to shape the systems meant to help them, we move closer to healing—not just for individuals but for entire communities. We move toward justice.

The work is not easy. It asks us to listen when we would rather defend, to share power when it feels risky, and to recognize lived experience as expertise. But in doing so, we create spaces where healing is real, change is possible, and no one has to survive alone.

Frequently Asked Questions

Peer Support vs. Advocacy: Why Language and Roles Matter

Mon, 28 Apr 2025 14:26:59 GMT

Peer Support vs. Advocacy: Why Language and Roles Matter

At the Voice of Lived Experience Workshop, organized by Community Development Halton , a group of survivors and peer leaders gathered to talk about what support really means—and what it doesn’t. One theme came through clearly: language matters. When we talk about peer support and advocacy, the words we use shape expectations, boundaries, and the way people show up for each other. Representing SAFE was Committee Chair Lorraine Rollo, who joined Betty-Lou Kristy, Director of the Centre for Innovation in Peer Support at CMHA Halton ; Sandra Halton, Peer Mentor at CMHA Halton; Ruby Atesoglu, Peer Support Lead at WomenatthecentrE ; and Chanay Dallas, Peer Outreach Worker at Elizabeth Fry Toronto Together, they shared what happens when survivors are respected as both participants and leaders.

What Is Peer Support?

Peer support is built on shared experience. It happens when someone who has been through similar trauma offers emotional support, connection, and understanding. It isn’t therapy. It isn’t advice. It isn’t about “fixing” someone.

It’s being there. Sitting beside someone in silence. Listening without judgment. Offering hope because you’ve lived through it too.

What makes peer support powerful is that it isn’t about telling someone what to do. It’s about walking with them while they figure it out. For many survivors, especially those who don’t trust traditional systems, this can be the first time they feel truly seen and heard.

And What About Advocacy?

Advocacy works at a different level. It focuses on systems, policies, and social change. It means speaking up when services fail survivors. It challenges the way institutions respond to trauma. Advocacy might include public education, policy recommendations, or pushing for better access to housing, safety, or justice.

Unlike peer support, which is relational and often quiet, advocacy is public and strategic. It has goals. It demands change. And it often requires survivors to share their stories not just for connection, but to shift attitudes and structures.

Why the Distinction Matters

Sometimes the line between peer support and advocacy gets blurry. People who offer peer support are often invited to take part in advocacy work. That’s not a bad thing. But it can become problematic when expectations aren’t clear.

A survivor might think they’re joining a support group, only to find themselves asked to share their story at a public forum. Or someone might be invited to sit on a committee, not realizing they’re expected to speak on behalf of all survivors.

When that happens without preparation, without consent, or without support, it can cause harm.

Respecting Roles and Boundaries

Survivor-led work only works when survivors are respected—not just as voices, but as people with limits, needs, and choices. That means making roles clear. Is someone here to offer support? Are they being asked to shape policy? Are they sharing their story, or guiding someone else through theirs?

Clear boundaries protect both survivors and the integrity of the work.

This also includes fair compensation, trauma-informed spaces, and recognizing when someone is ready or not ready for certain kinds of engagement. Workshops and lived experience panels are one way SAFE supports this preparation and care. Sharing a lived experience doesn’t mean you owe it to anyone. It’s a choice, not an obligation.

How Peer Support and Advocacy Work Together

These two approaches aren’t in conflict. In fact, they can strengthen each other.

Peer support helps someone feel grounded, heard, and less alone. Advocacy works to shift the systems and conditions that may have failed them. One focuses on connection. The other pushes for change.

Not every survivor wants to be an advocate. Not every advocate is comfortable offering personal support. That’s completely okay. These roles require different skills, energy, and levels of readiness. The important thing is that each is respected and clearly understood.

Here’s how they typically differ:

Peer Support

Focuses on emotional connection, trust, and shared experience.
Happens in small, safe, survivor-centered spaces.
Offers validation and presence without pressure to act.

Advocacy

Focuses on systems, structures, and social change.
Can involve public speaking, organizing, or policy work.
Requires preparation, support, and consent to share lived experience.

Some people begin by sharing in a peer setting and later choose to use their experience to help improve services. Others may find comfort in community but prefer to focus on their own healing. Both choices are valid.

What matters most is that people are given clear options and are never pressured into a role they didn’t choose.

Moving Forward with Intention

If you’re part of a survivor-led space, a service provider, or just someone who wants to help, take time to learn the difference between support and advocacy. Use the right language. Ask before you invite someone into a role. Make space for survivors to choose what’s right for them.

The language we use can open doors. It can also close them. Let’s make sure we’re building spaces where survivors feel safe, seen, and supported on their own terms. If you’d like to get involved or support SAFE’s mission, there are many ways to show up with care and intention.

The Power of Co-Production: Survivors at the Decision-Making Table

Sun, 20 Apr 2025 14:27:43 GMT

The Power of Co-Production: Survivors at the Decision-Making Table

At the Voice of Lived Experience panel organized by Community Development Halton , survivors and peer leaders gathered to talk about what happens when lived experience is treated as real expertise. The conversation focused on co-production—what it is, what it isn’t, and why it matters. Representing SAFE was Committee Chair Lorraine Rollo, alongside powerful voices from across the peer support and gender-based violence sector. Together, they shared powerful insights about the realities of participating in decision-making spaces, the harm of tokenism, and what’s needed to make survivor involvement meaningful, respectful, and lasting. Their message was clear: survivor leadership isn’t just possible—it’s essential.

What Is Co-Production?

Co-production is a collaborative process where people with lived experience, such as survivors of gender-based violence, work alongside service providers and decision-makers to create, evaluate, or improve services. It is not about collecting feedback after a program is launched. It is about being involved from the beginning.

For survivors, this may include joining advisory panels, participating in policy development, co-creating training content, or having a voice in hiring decisions. For this to be successful, the environment must feel safe, supportive, and respectful.

Why It Matters

Survivors understand where services fall short because they have lived through those experiences. They know what it feels like to face long waitlists, unclear systems, and interactions that can retraumatize. Including survivors in decision-making helps ensure those barriers are addressed.

Sandra Halton, Peer Mentor at CMHA Halton , shared how powerful it was to see survivors shaping their own paths. “I never thought my story had any value. But being in a space where my experience helped shape something for someone else? That shifted everything for me.”

Co-production does more than surface problems. It makes solutions stronger. It brings honesty to program design and helps reframe services through the eyes of those who use them.

Avoiding the Mistakes People Often Make

Co-production is not tokenism. It is not a checkbox for community engagement. It is not asking survivors to share their trauma without clear purpose, support, or fair compensation.

Lorraine Rollo, SAFE Committee Chair, reflected on being asked to sit at decision-making tables without any real influence. “I’ve recognized that I’m just a token voice. I’m invited to show up, not to shape anything. And when my feedback isn’t used, it feels like I’m being re-exploited.”

True co-production is different. It requires that survivors are included early, respected throughout the process, and recognized for their time and contributions.

What Makes It Work

For co-production to be meaningful, several things must be in place:

Clear Roles and Expectations
Survivors should know what they are being asked to do, which decisions they will be involved in, and how their contributions will be used.

Support and Preparation
Sharing lived experience in institutional spaces can be emotionally difficult. Survivors need space, debriefing, and trauma-informed facilitators who know how to hold it.
Betty-Lou Kristy, Director at the Centre for Innovation in Peer Support (CMHA Halton), put it bluntly: “You don’t just yank someone off the street who has lived experience and throw them at a systems table. That’s going to cause harm.”
Her point was clear: preparation and support must be baked in from the start.

Fair Compensation
When survivors contribute time, experience, and insight, they should be paid. Unpaid participation can feel extractive, especially when others in the room are being compensated.
Lorraine shared that she often has to take unpaid time off work to contribute her voice. “Speaking on a panel means giving up a day’s income. That’s not nothing.”

Inclusive Representation
Co-production must reflect the communities it serves. That includes racialized, LGBTQ2S+, disabled, and low-income survivors.
Chanay Dallas, Peer Outreach Worker at Elizabeth Fry Toronto , emphasized this clearly. “If it’s just white women at the top, how can they connect to communities that are different? We need the people making decisions to look like the people they’re serving.”

Ongoing Engagement
Co-production is not a one-time meeting. It is a long-term relationship built on listening, adjusting, and creating space for feedback.

Survivors as Experts

Survivors hold knowledge that cannot be taught in a classroom. They see gaps in service that professionals may overlook. They know what it feels like to fall through the cracks, and what changes would have made a difference.

Lived experience is not just a story. It is a form of expertise. That expertise should be treated with the same respect as formal training or credentials.

Ruby Atesoglu, Peer Support Lead at WomenatthecentrE , stressed that co-production has to be a real commitment, not just an idea. “If you’re going to invite us to the table, make sure our voices are actually shaping the outcome. Don’t just take our trauma and leave us out of the decisions.”

Recognizing survivors as experts does not mean placing all the responsibility on them. It means inviting their perspective into spaces where it can guide positive change.

The Power of Shared Leadership

When survivors are involved in shaping programs and policies, the results are more compassionate, more responsive, and more effective. Programs begin to reflect the realities of those who use them. Language changes. Priorities shift. Trust grows.

Shared leadership is not just good for survivors. It strengthens entire systems by building services that actually meet people’s needs.

What You Can Do Right Now

Co-production is not a trend or a buzzword. It is a way to create real, lasting change. It asks us to share decision-making power with the people who are most affected by the outcomes.

If you are part of an organization or service, ask yourself who is shaping your programs. If survivors are not involved from the start, there is work to do.

If you are a survivor, know that your insight is powerful. You deserve more than a seat at the table. You deserve to help shape it.

How Economic Hardship Increases Gender-Based Violence

Tue, 15 Apr 2025 17:27:52 GMT

How Economic Hardship Increases Gender-Based Violence

This is paragraph text. Click it or hit the Manage Text button to change the font, color, size, format, and more. To set up site-wide paragraph and title styles, go to Site Theme.

We’re facing a tough time right now. If you’ve found your grocery bills spiking, your rent rising faster than your paycheque, or you’re watching friends and loved ones get laid off or downsized — you’re not alone.

Across Canada and globally, we’re heading into another period of economic hardship. Inflation remains stubbornly high. The cost of living outpaces wages. Interest rates are squeezing families, and economists are warning of an upcoming recession. Meanwhile, international trade tensions and tariffs are creating instability in global markets, which has ripple effects right here at home — from job security to household budgets.

These kinds of financial stresses affect everyone, but they don’t affect everyone equally.

One of the painful truths we must talk about — and why we do what we do at SAFE — is this: times of economic uncertainty often lead to increases in gender-based violence (GBV), domestic abuse, and intimate partner violence.

This isn’t fear-mongering. It’s what the data, history, and lived experiences tell us — over and over again.

Financial Stress and Abuse: The Hidden Connection

When money is tight, tensions rise. Stress becomes a daily companion in the home. For individuals already in vulnerable or abusive relationships, this can make a bad situation even more dangerous.

Research shows that domestic violence often increases during economic downturns. Job loss, housing instability, and rising costs can lead to increased conflict, emotional volatility, and loss of control — all risk factors for violence in the home. In some cases, financial dependence traps victims in abusive relationships, making it harder to leave.

Abuse is never caused by money problems — abusers choose to abuse. But economic hardship creates the perfect storm: it escalates risk, reduces options for escape, and adds additional barriers for survivors.

For women, girls, non-binary folks, and marginalised individuals already at higher risk of GBV, these financial realities can be life-threatening.

So What Can You Do?

If you’re reading this and you’re in a situation where you feel unsafe, scared, or unsure — first, know that you’re not alone. And it’s not your fault. Ever.

At SAFE, we believe in walking beside you. Not leading you. Not judging you. Just being here, survivor to survivor, every step of the way.

From our experience, here are a few things to consider if you're worried about your safety during these hard times:

If You’re in a Vulnerable Situation

Document things if it's safe to do so — texts, photos, journal entries. These can be useful if you ever need to seek help or protection.
Create a safety plan — this includes identifying safe rooms in the house, people you can trust, and knowing exits.
Pack a “go bag” with essentials: ID, keys, medications, important documents, phone numbers, some cash if possible.
Reach out to someone — a friend, a trusted colleague, or us. Even if you’re not ready to leave, you don’t have to carry this alone.
Keep some independence where you can — a private email, a small bank account, safe transportation options.

If You’re a Survivor Looking for Help:

SAFE’s peer support is survivor-led — we understand because we’ve been there. We offer confidential, non-judgemental companionship from people who get it.
You don’t need to explain or justify your choices — whether you’re still in the relationship, thinking about leaving, or long gone but still struggling with the trauma.
There are no conditions to our support — we never turn anyone away. Gender, race, background, or beliefs don’t matter. We are here for YOU.
We can help you connect with community resources — including housing help, legal aid, therapy referrals, food access, and more.

Visit our website for more information: www.survivor-advocates.org

Why SAFE Matters — Now More Than Ever

SAFE was built by survivors, for survivors. And while the systems around us may shift or struggle, our commitment doesn’t waver.

We are not bound by bureaucracy, red tape, or policy limitations. We are not led by fear of liability or optics. We are led by lived experience, compassion, and deep understanding.

In hard times, traditional support systems can become overwhelmed, underfunded, or difficult to access. Waitlists grow. Services shrink. Victims fall through the cracks.

That’s why SAFE is needed more than ever.

We step in where others can’t or won’t. Whether it’s peer support, help navigating the justice system, or simply someone to sit with you in the hard moments — we are here. Warm. Honest. Experienced. And present.

Our entire model is built on empowerment, not control. We believe you. We honour your story. And we walk beside you — at your pace, on your terms.

Final Thoughts

Economic challenges will come and go — but your safety, your life, and your voice matter always.

If you’re struggling right now — emotionally, financially, or physically — please reach out. You are not a burden. You are not alone. You are not invisible.

And if you’re someone who wants to help — we welcome you too. Join our community. Volunteer. Donate. Share our work. You don’t need to be a survivor to care.

At SAFE, we believe healing is possible. Change is possible. And no one should have to face this journey alone.

Let’s get through these hard times — together.

Some References

Canada

Economic Stress and Increased Domestic Violence Risk (2020) : During the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic — which caused widespread job losses and financial instability — Canadian shelters reported a sharp increase in demand for services, despite some victims being unable to physically leave their homes.
A survey by Women’s Shelters Canada found that 82% of shelters reported seeing more severe cases of violence, and 37% reported an increase in the number of clients.
https://endvaw.ca/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/WSC-Shelter-Voices-2020-1.pdf
Canadian Centre for Justice and Community Safety Statistics (2021) : Their data noted a correlation between household financial strain and risk of intimate partner violence (IPV). Financial dependence, economic control, and housing insecurity were listed as prominent barriers for survivors trying to leave abuse.
https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/85-002-x/2021001/article/00016-eng.htm

Ontario

WomanACT Submission to Ontario's Task Force on Women and the Economy (2021): Cited that financial insecurity is both a risk factor and a barrier for survivors of GBV. During periods of economic downturn, survivors often return to or stay with abusers due to lack of financial options.
https://womanact.ca/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/WomanACT-submission_Ontarios-Task-Force-on-Women-and-the-Economy_July-30-2021.pdf

Halton Region

While not a quantitative correlation, the report acknowledged that job loss and financial pressures during the pandemic were significant triggers for domestic violence escalations. Shelters saw changes in the severity and complexity of cases. - Halton Women’s Place (2020 Annual Report)
https://haltonwomensplace.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Halton-Womens-Place-Annual-Report-2020.pdf

These statistics highlight the intricate link between economic hardship and GBV, emphasizing the importance of sustained support and resources for survivors, particularly during financially challenging times.

Jane's Survivor Story

Mon, 14 Apr 2025 18:58:20 GMT

Jane's Survivor Story

Jane Doe is not her real name. But her story is real. Very real.

Jane is an Ontario survivor of three decades of sex abuse and trafficking. She is a brave survivor who shares her message * of hope to other victims.

Her experience and trauma led to the development of dissociative identity disorder (DID). Jane said a therapist determined she had the mental health condition, which is characterized by having separate identities. It has taken years for Jane to piece together the scope of what happened to her, which she compares to completing a jigsaw puzzle. She said DID led to periods of amnesia.

Now, years later, Jane is doing well in life and is focusing on healing and helping others.

"I have a nice steady job where I'm working and I work with kids a lot. And I have a wonderful wife, and we live a good life together," Jane said.

She's focused on raising awareness and advocacy, both about dissociative identity disorder in an effort to help others better understand the condition, as well as working with coalitions that help victims of human trafficking and child abuse.

Source: cbc.ca | Full article here

*CBC altered her voice and kept her identity confidential.

SAFE Joins Community Development Halton: A Partnership Rooted in Advocacy, Growth, and Shared Purpose

Sun, 06 Apr 2025 20:53:17 GMT

SAFE Joins Community Development Halton: A Partnership Rooted in Advocacy, Growth, and Shared Purpose

Survivor Advocates for Empowerment (SAFE) is proud to announce our official membership with Community Development Halton (CDH), a non-profit organization dedicated to promoting social welfare, community engagement, and overall development within the Halton region.

Who is Community Development Halton?

CDH is a longstanding organization in the Halton region, with a mission to “build a society that is inclusive, equitable, and just by strengthening communities through research, planning, education, and advocacy.” They are a key player in promoting social change and community well-being — especially for marginalized populations.

CDH focuses on supporting non-profits, grassroots initiatives, and community agencies through tools like data analysis, social planning, and collaborative projects. Their work ranges from poverty reduction strategies and volunteer development to community research and supporting equity-seeking groups. Simply put, CDH is a hub for connection, learning, and collective impact.

Why This Partnership Matters

SAFE’s membership in Community Development Halton is more than just a milestone — it’s a meaningful alignment of purpose. As a new and growing organization, SAFE is continually building our capacity, refining our systems, and expanding our reach across Halton. CDH offers us a powerful platform to do all of that and more.

Through our membership, SAFE gains:

Access to regional research and planning tools that can strengthen how we design, deliver, and evaluate our programs.
Opportunities for collaboration with other community agencies working toward social justice and inclusion.
Support in governance, strategy, and capacity building, which is vital as our organization grows in structure and complexity.
Amplification of our advocacy efforts, particularly around gender-based violence, human trafficking, and survivor-led initiatives.

Most importantly, CDH recognizes the value of peer-led organizations. They understand that communities know what they need, and that lived experience is not only valid — it’s essential to building effective, equitable systems of support.

Looking Ahead

We are honoured to stand alongside other CDH members who are committed to building a more just and compassionate Halton. As SAFE continues to grow, our connection with Community Development Halton will help us do so with integrity, community, and care.

We’re excited for what lies ahead — and we thank CDH for welcoming us into their community.

Sarah's Survivor's Story

Tue, 18 Mar 2025 23:59:34 GMT

Sarah's Survivor's Story

Sarah participates in a video interview using her own voice to let other victims of crime know that though each victim is unique, no victim is truly alone. Watch the 3:35 video here:

https://victimsweek.gc.ca/stories-experience/Video/sarah.html

Source: Government of Canada Voices of Victims of Crime

Billie Jo's Survivor's Story

Sun, 02 Mar 2025 02:46:10 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Billie Jo

Meet Billie Jo Barrett. She is a survivor of domestic violence and one of many advocates who want Ontario to join several other provinces and territories to declare such violence an epidemic.

None of us at SAFE know Billie Jo Barrett, personally; however, her story is one of many public stories on the internet that is worthy to share.

For myself, knowing how difficult it was to come forward, it concerns me that other women will be afraid to come forward as well, knowing that in most cases, these situations don't usually end up in court for whatever reasons.

Those are powerful words from a Thunder Bay, Ontario woman whose abuser (her former partner) was charged after being accused of trying to strangle her during three separate incidents in 2021.

In October 2021 he was charged with assault with a weapon or imitation weapon. He was also charged between November 2022 and January 2023 with spousal assault, two counts of assault causing bodily harm - choke, suffocate or strangle, two counts of forcible confinement, mischief under $5,000 and failure to comply with a probation order.

Due to a lack of evidence, the court case was stayed, meaning all the charges were effectively dropped.

Her story includes calls of action to help others seek justice. It can be watched/heard (4:49) here or click on the image of her and her canine companion below.

It was very difficult for me to come forward in the first place. I was full of shame, and if the justice system doesn't support me, then who does? Who supports the women who are also experiencing the same thing? Who supports the women that have been murdered? …. I believe in forgiveness, but forgiveness is not a cure for injustice. Justice is.

Source and full article: CBC.ca

Everyone involved with SAFE shares Billie Jo’s hope that by continuing to share survivor stories, other survivors will know they're not alone, and those in power will be reminded of the urgent need for change.

Colette's Survivor's Story

Mon, 13 Jan 2025 21:51:39 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Colette

“Here’s to living life with courage, love, and passion—free from fear and full of purpose.

Let’s cherish every moment, dream big, and never let anything hold us back. Keep shining, young hearts.

The world needs your light!”

Those are the words of Colette Martin, a survivor of intimate partner violence.

In 1997 she was almost murdered by a man she’d been in a relationship with.

He stabbed her 37 times.

The shame and stigma surrounding domestic violence can make it difficult to talk about, but this won’t change unless we have difficult conversations.

Listen to her story here (7:33).

Content warning: This documentary includes a discussion of domestic violence and femicide. Please take care of yourself and reach out for support if you need it.

Colette not only survived, she:

Shares her incredible story as a means to increase awareness and advocate for survivors.
Is changing the narrative surrounding domestic violence.
Was the subject in She Is Your Neighbour; an awareness project and storytelling series which explores the realities and complexities of domestic violence.
Watched Bill 17 become law in 2023; a bill she fought for! Bill 17 gives police forces the legal authority to tell someone in a relationship that their partner has a history of inflicting intimate partner violence. The legislation is based on a British statute known as Clare's Law, passed in 2014.

"My ex had a previous charge … He had broken the jaw of his ex-girlfriend, and he was from Montreal, so I had no way of knowing, and I didn't know his background. If this law would have been in then, I would have been able to get the information I would have needed to make an informed decision about my relationship."

Colette also encourages other survivors to:

“Tell your story. Shout it. Write it. Whisper it if you have to. But tell it. Some won't understand it. Some will outright reject it. But many will thank you for it. And then the most magical thing will happen. One by one, voices will start whispering, 'Me, too.'

And your tribe will gather. And you will never feel alone again.”

Visit Colette’s website Colette Martin Empowerment

Shining a Light on Stalking: Addressing the Crisis Facing Women in Canada

Tue, 31 Dec 2024 19:20:37 GMT

Shining a Light on Stalking: Addressing the Crisis Facing Women in Canada

Stalking remains a pervasive and distressing form of gender-based violence in Canada, disproportionately affecting women. Defined as repeated, unwanted attention that instills fear and unease, stalking often escalates to more serious forms of violence, leaving victims feeling isolated and unsafe. The COVID-19 pandemic has only intensified this issue, as lockdowns and social restrictions have limited survivors' access to support networks and resources.

The Scope of the Problem in Canada

In Canada, stalking is a significant yet often underreported crime. According to Statistics Canada, approximately 4.6 million women have experienced stalking or unwanted attention in their lifetime. Women are nearly twice as likely as men to be victims of stalking, with the majority of perpetrators being men. Many of these incidents involve a perpetrator known to the victim, such as a current or former intimate partner, making the situation even more complex and emotionally distressing.

The pandemic brought additional challenges, exacerbating existing vulnerabilities. Reports from shelters and support organizations across Canada revealed an increase in stalking and other forms of violence against women. Isolation, financial stress, and heightened tensions during lockdowns created an environment where abusive behaviors, including stalking, could flourish.

Challenges in Addressing Stalking

Despite its prevalence, stalking is often misunderstood or minimized, both by society and the justice system. Survivors face numerous barriers when seeking help:

Underreporting: Many women choose not to report stalking due to fear of not being believed or concerns about retaliation. This perpetuates a cycle of silence and invisibility around the issue.
Legal Gaps: While Canada has laws addressing criminal harassment (the legal term for stalking), enforcement can be inconsistent. Survivors may find it challenging to navigate the legal system or to prove the ongoing nature of harassment.
Stigma and Lack of Awareness: Stalking is often dismissed as an overreaction or romantic pursuit, downplaying its serious psychological and emotional impact.

The Role of Support Organizations in Canada

Canadian organizations play a critical role in supporting survivors and addressing stalking. Survivor Advocates for Empowerment (SAFE) is one such organization, offering a survivor-led approach to tackling gender-based violence, including stalking. SAFE focuses on:

Awareness and Education: Through outreach initiatives, SAFE raises awareness about the realities of stalking and the importance of recognizing its signs. Education helps dismantle misconceptions and equips communities with the tools to intervene early.
Empowering Survivors: SAFE’s programs provide survivors with guidance, resources, and support systems to navigate the challenges of stalking and regain control of their lives.
Advocacy for Change: SAFE works alongside other organizations and policymakers to strengthen laws and policies addressing stalking and gender-based violence, ensuring survivors have access to justice and protection.

Canada in a Global Context

While Canada has made strides in addressing gender-based violence, including stalking, the country still lags behind global leaders in some areas. For instance, countries like Australia have implemented comprehensive prevention strategies that include public education campaigns, stricter enforcement of anti-stalking laws, and expanded support services. Canada’s efforts must continue to grow, incorporating best practices from international initiatives to ensure comprehensive and effective responses to stalking.

How You Can Help

Addressing stalking requires a collective effort. Here are some ways individuals can make a difference:

Raise Awareness: Share information about stalking and its impact on survivors to help combat stigma and misinformation.
Support Organizations: Donate to or volunteer with organizations like SAFE that provide critical support and advocacy for survivors.
Advocate for Change: Contact local representatives to push for stronger laws and better enforcement around stalking and other forms of gender-based violence.

Stalking is a serious and growing issue in Canada, one that demands immediate attention and action. By raising awareness, supporting survivors, and advocating for stronger protections, we can create a society where women feel safe and empowered. Organizations like SAFE are at the forefront of this mission, working tirelessly to ensure survivors are heard, believed, and supported. Together, we can make a difference and take a stand against stalking and gender-based violence in all its forms.

--------------------

References

Statistics Canada. (2022). "Gender-based violence and unwanted behaviors in Canada, 2018: A focus on stalking."

UN Women. (2020). "The Shadow Pandemic: Violence against women during COVID-19."

Canadian Women’s Foundation. (2021). "Gender-based Violence in Canada."

CBC News. (2020). "Pandemic Isolation Leads to Increased Domestic Violence in Canada."

Government of Canada. (2021). "Federal Strategy to Prevent Gender-Based Violence."

Australia’s National Plan to Reduce Violence against Women and their Children. (2022).

Catherine's Survivor's Story

Tue, 31 Dec 2024 18:30:16 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Catherine

My close friends, people I trusted to protect me, were aware of the ongoing abuse. I

disclosed to them what he was doing to me and received little concern. In some cases, they were even in the next room while he abused me. At the time, I did not know what he was doing was wrong; I was unaware he was coercing me. I had never been educated on what sexually coercive situations looked like.

In September of 2019 I went to live in residence and attend University. There I was raped by a fellow student, on January 8th, 2020. This student was a friend of mine I had made earlier in the year, someone I trusted, who also lived in residence. I remember waking up in my own blood and not realizing what had happened to me. That morning, I ran to one of my close female friends at the time who took me to the campus health centre. I called my mother who arrived shortly after and took me to the hospital. My boyfriend at the time learned about the rape and told my mother he thought I had hallucinated the whole thing. That I was lying.

At the hospital, I received messages from him telling me to hurry up. Here I was, in emergency, being poked and prodded by staff and he was texting me, not to see if I was okay, just that this was inconvenient for him. At the hospital I was informed that this situation was common and happened quite often to female students. The nurse’s comments were so matter of fact, her lack of empathy was disarming. I chose not to charge the student who raped me. I was concerned that he lived in residence and I was terrified he may hurt me. I blamed myself for what happened to me as I had been drinking with friends that night and I was also on Prozac. The night after my rape, my partner messaged my mother, telling her I deserved it. Not only was I treated callously by professionals who were meant to help me, but also by my own partner. My fears about my abuser were confirmed. Shortly after returning to class, my rapist cornered me in the cafeteria, blocking the only exit in an attempt to speak with me.

I informed the University about the rape and his attempts at intimidation and they responded stating they could only “strongly encourage” me to not be on campus at certain times but could not do anything to limit his access to me. As I had not filed charges, the school felt they had little recourse and were uncomfortable speaking to him about the situation. To say I felt unsupported, and terrified is an understatement; I attempted to take my life in February of that year. I felt alone and directionless. Not wanting to live with this trauma and I feeling like I did not have a way out. When I made it to the hospital and was being admitted, a nurse asked me what I would do if he raped another girl, inferring it would be my fault if he abused another woman. At one of my lowest moments, yet another person felt it was okay to shame and humiliate me. Like I was a bad person for making the personal choice not to charge him.

Even when I finally felt brave enough to share my story with peers, I was met with victim blaming. Online, people stated I must have been drunk, and in a short dress. That I must have been asking for it. When I shared my pain and the conflict I felt about holding him accountable, people would say “well what about his life”. What about mine? What about the trauma that has impacted me so deeply?

With the start of COVID, students in residence, including myself, were sent home. I returned home and continued to struggle with the aftermath of my assault. In March I reached out to friends for support. These were the same friends I had before leaving for university. These friends indicated the individual I had escaped when I went to University had been struggling with a breakup and they encouraged me to speak with him to offer support. I felt he was someone I still cared about, despite our past, so I reached out to him.

We met up at the park near my house. I hoped he would be able to offer support for what I had experienced at university as I would support him with his struggles. He appeared to be sympathetic. I told him about what happened at the University, about the overdose and how I was struggling to process and deal with the trauma. I told him I was scared to charge this individual. He responded by saying how he was sorry that happened and invited me back to his house to speak more as it was cold.

This was someone I knew since finishing high school, who lived in the same neighbourhood as I did, shared the same friends. When we got to his room he began to pressure me, saying that me going to university “tore us apart”. He then blamed me for my trauma and the first rape saying “maybe I had wanted what happened to me” that “maybe I liked being raped”. He asked if I wanted him to rape me. I was in shock, disassociated, and begged to leave. I struggled to get up and he held me down, telling me that I “couldn’t leave like this”, that he would “feel bad”. I continued saying I wanted to leave, that I had to leave.

Despite my pleading, he raped me. After he had gotten what he wanted he let me go. I remember walking home, wishing I could crawl out of my own skin. I was in shock. The next day I found out through those same “friends” that had encouraged me to see him that my rapist fantasized about rape. Words cannot describe the betrayal I felt, that no one cared about me.

After prolonged deliberation and feelings of deep shame, I contacted the police and reported what had happened to me. When I named my rapist, the officer did not seem surprised, they knew him and his “reputation” in the community. He was charged, but as a juvenile offender, as he was considered a minor, a few months from turning 18.

After being charged and arrested, both he and his family quickly sold their home and fled to India. They stayed there, evading prosecution for almost a year before returning as I remained at home struggling to process this second unresolved rape. The decline in my mental health meant I had to drop out of my program and leave my university. Not only did I lose hope in continuing my education, I also lost my desire to create art—something I had relied upon in high school to cope with and process my anxiety, depression, and ADHD diagnoses. I relied on art as a safe place to cope and process previous childhood trauma, and bullying. Initially, after being raped by both of these individuals, my brain attempted to process this violation of my mind, body, and soul through creating art. But When I tried to create, my PTSD symptoms increased, resulting in severe panic attacks, flashbacks, and nightmares. Even art was no longer a safe space for me. I had to give up what I had loved to preserve my mental and physiological health, one more piece of me lost. I turned to alcohol in an attempt to avoid my symptoms and nightmares. I was diagnosed with PTSD and a substance use disorder by the time I was 19 and due to this prolonged, severe stress, I had what my physicians believe was a psychotic episode.

The one thing I would not give up was my education. I enrolled in a Psychology program, leaving my dream of an art degree behind. Early in my second year my abuser returned from India and sheltered with the so-called “friends” I had in high school while his family proceeded to rebuild their life in Canada. He was not caught by police until December and only as a result of another crime he committed. He remained in detention until the trial.

My day in court came at 21, over three years since my assault. What I received is not what I would describe as justice. I’m not sure what would be just in this situation. On the day of the trial, he plead to a lesser charge; even my own trauma was negotiable. He received probation, banishment, and registration in a DNA database for the two years of his probation, but was charged as a minor. While his crimes would disappear from his criminal record after two years, its effects on me will linger for a lifetime. He was charged with assault instead of sexual assault, but even at sentencing, the judge made it clear the truth of his crime.

These traumatic events have had long lasting effects on not just myself, but my immediate family. The trauma from the rape and an absence of support for my family made it difficult to heal. My family supported and protected me as I struggled to survive, enduring my night terrors and panic attacks. They endured my rage and overwhelming sadness. I do not believe words can express my level of gratitude. Throughout my recovery I have been met with victim blaming. Comments ranging from “this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t pretty”, and “if you getting assaulted while drunk teaches you not to drink again then that’s a good thing”; to nurses implying it was my responsibility if he abused another woman. I experienced negligent professionals, psychiatrists that after I have overdosed had asked me “did you really think that was going to work?” or those that attributed my inability to sleep to alcohol withdrawal.

This was not the journey I would have chosen for myself, nor the way I would have hoped to be treated by others. The lack of respect, kindness and empathy I received has extended the time I needed to heal. Those who were meant to help, often hurt me with their callousness. This is why it is critically important to approach survivors with compassion and empathy.

These experiences are one of the reasons I want to help others; why I joined SAFE.

After I was raped I could not begin to comprehend what my life would look like in the months and years that had followed, only that I wanted the deep pain and horror to end. I felt isolated and alone, that no one understood what I was going through. I am grateful I have found my voice at SAFE and hope to continue speaking about my experiences to let others know they are not alone. I am currently in the final year of my program, and I hope to become a psychotherapist like my mother to provide support to other survivors within the community.

Our stories are messages of hope; even in the darkest, deepest places we go when we are in pain, there is healing, even when we don’t think it is happening. I believe this is the most important message we can share as fellow survivors.

Women’s social and economic opportunity

Wed, 04 Dec 2024 04:58:21 GMT

Women’s social and economic opportunity

Ontario is helping women across the province thrive everywhere – at home, at work, and in their communities.

Ontario is removing barriers so more women can excel as entrepreneurs, in business, leadership roles, skilled trades and in sectors where the need is greatest.

The contribution of women is critical to our province at every level – whether serving as high-profile executives, running their own businesses, working in the skilled trades, or supporting vital sectors such as nursing, early childhood education, or personal support work.

Ontario is increasing women’s participation in the workforce by:

making workplaces safer for women
supporting affordable childcare options
offering targeted employment, skills development, and training opportunities
providing programs that help all women overcome barriers and achieve financial independence – including Indigenous and racialized women, new Canadians, and people with disabilities.

Sexual assault survivor says ‘there’s always a way out’

Wed, 04 Dec 2024 04:53:49 GMT

Sexual assault survivor says ‘there’s always a way out’

October 28, 2021: A new resource in Halton Region is hoping to empower sexual assault victims and survivors to know there are options for help.

CHCH News’ Kelly Botelho spoke with a survivor who said she was in a sexually and mentally abusive relationship back in 2015. She often thought her boyfriend may kill her one day.

Now, she wants other victims and survivors to know it’s not your fault and there’s always a way out. Kelly Botelho reports.

The Town of Milton has declared intimate partner violence an epidemic

Wed, 04 Dec 2024 04:50:04 GMT

The Town of Milton has declared intimate partner violence an epidemic

October 29, 2023: Council members unanimously voted in support of a motion moved by Coun. Sameera Ali on Monday to shine a light on the growing issue.

There were more than 3,500 intimate partner violence calls to Halton Regional Police Service in 2022, leading to 2,100 charges and 949 arrests. Halton Women’s Place receives 2,500 calls every year to its crisis information and support line.

Zahraa Syeda, a Milton shelter manager with Sakeenah Canada — a national charity organization that provides transitional housing with wraparound services for Muslim women — told council, “women from all walks of life are vulnerable. The recognition of this becoming an epidemic is certainly a step forward.”

Members of survivor advocacy group SAFE — Survivor Advocate for Empowerment — also delegated at the meeting, with one woman sharing her experience being in an abusive relationship.

Sian's Survivor Story

Tue, 26 Nov 2024 03:15:50 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Sian

It’s survivor stories that serve as lessons for others who have experienced gender-based and/or intimate partner violence.

“I am very happy and deeply grateful for my wonderful new life and for my family and friends who helped me achieve it.”

Those are today’s words from [her]. She tried to find the words a few years ago.

In 2023, on December 6th, after another episode where her husband randomly walks up to her and tells her she’s disgusting, she called his cousin who knows she will be going to an event to remember the women killed at the polytechnic in Montreal in 1989. She met his cousin in Milton that night and heard a survivor named Krystal speak. She is frozen to her chair as she listened to her. In the words Krystal used to describe her story, [she] knew she was talking about her own story. She knew then she could no longer deny this was abuse. She told ‘his’ cousin what was happening and they made a plan. She is HER cousin now.

HER name is Sian.

His nickname for me was dog. He thinks it’s funny. I asked him to stop, but he didn’t. When he did it in front of other people I laughed it off even though it hurt and was embarrassed. By now he has a repertoire of names for me that include useless, stupid, pathetic, ugly, fat, crater face when my acne breaks out, fool, disgusting and repulsive.

He told me that I shouldn’t train as a teacher because it meant I would never make any money and I would never amount to anything, but school was the place where I was valued and my paycheques were all we had during his periods of unemployment.

After eight years of marriage we decide to have kids and I believed that he wouldn’t take after his abusive dad because he always said how he’d do things differently. When I was 6 months pregnant, even though the the bump was quite small, in front of friends he called me “the Burlington Beluga.” He thought it was funny. I didn’t. When I was pregnant with our second - during an argument - he tells me I can keep this one and he’ll take our 23 month old daughter and we can split up.

I couldn’t let him take her. We reconcile. I reconcile.

After another row he tells me if we split up he will make sure I never see the kids. I believed him.

He was always frustrated by the kids. In public he enjoyed the image of a loving dad; very proud. Behind closed doors, it was a different story.

I couldn’t bring him to teacher - parent interviews because he was so critical of the kids. He asked for more math homework which they didn’t need. Once we get home he tells the kids they are not good enough. Even when his son gets a 93 in math he says it’s not enough.

He decides himself to give the kids extra math homework which has nothing to do with the curriculum. He sits with his son, ridiculing and terrorizing him. I try to do it with him instead, anything to stop this.

We had huge rows where he yelled right in my face. The kids fled to their rooms. He followed them and hits them. I stand between them and stop him. I tell him he can’t do this. He doesn’t care. When I’m out he shoved my daughter into a bookcase for protecting her brother who he pushed down the stairs.

CAS contact him. A teacher overheard my son tell a friend his dad punches him. CAS arrive and because, just for once, I have been able to make him shut up and listen, they seem to think things are ok. They talk to the kids, I can hear them laughing in the kitchen. CAS write to him and close the case. I am devastated. I’m ashamed. I don’t know what to do.

On vacation he loses his International drivers license and blames our son. He is in a huge rage. His dad and his dad’s family have never seen him like this before. They are shocked. We aren’t. It’s normal.

My son and I sit back and let him search, only giving suggestions because we both know my son will be blamed if he or I find it. Eventually his step mother finds it in the glove box of the rental car.

Over the next few days when ever my son passes me he mutters, “still waiting for an apology.”

He terrified the cats. He threatened to take them to the vet and have them put down. I call them and they reassure me no vet would do that. He terrified us too.

His bad moods last for days, weeks, years. Nothing we do is good enough to avoid his wrath. Sometimes he sat at the kitchen table as we ate dinner and laugh with the kids. I hated when this happened. I waited for the moment when he decided it’s not funny anymore, I knew it was coming, it always did. The trouble was the kids didn’t realize and all of a sudden he’s back to being mad and he loses it on them. I was afraid to let the kids have friends over and encouraged them to go over to their friends instead.

He checked the bank balance all the time and asked me why did you go to this store and spend that? I start using cash back at the grocery store and money my aunt sent for my birthday to pay part of each vet bill, as our remaining cat ages, so they look cheaper. He could spend money on anything he liked, and did. He bought expensive items for himself such as multiple high end watches and things for the house like unattractive art work without any discussion and I’m stuck with it. Meanwhile, I struggled to buy clothes for myself or purchase a small gift for a friend’s birthday without scrutiny.

He woke me up at 6am on weekends because he’s up. I have to ask permission to sleep in. If was not busy doing chores and sat down with a book, he passed me saying “must be nice.” I couldn’t sit, relax or “just be” without being criticized.

He didn’t like my friends and couldn’’t stand my parents. Whenever my parents called he came in the bedroom (where I tried to avoid him) and started groping me. Years later I bless the person who invented the cordless phone so I could walk away from him.

When my parents died he spent every evening on his computer deciding what to do with the money. Even though he hated them, he felt entitled to their money.

After 25 years of marriage and yet another random verbal attack I know I am living with a man who despises everything about me, my kids, my family, my job, my religion and my politics. I look into the future and all I see is misery. The kids will leave and maybe show up for dinner once a year on Christmas. I will continue to live a life consisting of walking on egg shells, being controlled and displaying no emotions. I know I can’t do this any longer. I call his cousin and ask if she’s going to an event to remember the women killed at the polytechnic in Montreal.

***

In the ten years since we left, the kids grew into adults and were able to make their own decisions about what they wanted to do with their lives. My greatest regret is for them, that we did not leave sooner. My ex did take me to court for many reasons including custody, but because he dragged the process out the kids became of an age where he could no longer control them and they remained with me. I continued to teach, and to advocate for children in similar situations to those which my own kids endured.

After an amazing 36 year career I retired. I am active in SAFE and my faith community and do some supply teaching at my old school. Our home is safe and peaceful, we can laugh and be ourselves. I am very happy and deeply grateful for my wonderful new life and for my family and friends who helped me achieve it.

Ontario’s Call to Declare Intimate Partner Violence an Epidemic

Sun, 24 Nov 2024 10:16:04 GMT

Ontario’s Call to Declare Intimate Partner Violence an Epidemic

Intimate partner violence (IPV) remains a pervasive issue in Ontario, disproportionately affecting women and marginalized communities. Recognizing IPV as an epidemic is crucial to ensure that survivors are believed and supported without the burden of proving the severity of their experiences. Such a declaration would acknowledge the systemic nature of IPV, facilitating more effective interventions and support mechanisms.

Current Efforts Toward Declaration

In recent years, there has been a concerted push to have Ontario officially declare IPV an epidemic. In April 2024, the Ontario government expressed support for Bill 173, the Intimate Partner Violence Epidemic Act, 2024, which mandates the government to recognize IPV as an epidemic. OLA

This legislative move followed advocacy from various organizations and municipalities. For instance, Peel Region declared IPV an epidemic in June 2023, urging the provincial government to follow suit. CBC

Similarly, Toronto City Council made a declaration in July 2023, highlighting the urgency of the issue. CBC

Comparison to National and International Efforts

Globally, recognizing IPV as a public health crisis is not unprecedented. Countries like Australia have implemented national plans to address family violence, treating it as a public health emergency. In Canada, while there is no federal declaration of IPV as an epidemic, the government has introduced legislation aimed at preventing and deterring IPV, acknowledging its widespread impact. Canada.ca

Alignment with SAFE's Mission

Survivor Advocates for Empowerment (SAFE) is dedicated to supporting survivors of gender-based violence through advocacy, education, and direct support. A provincial declaration of IPV as an epidemic would bolster SAFE's mission by validating the experiences of survivors and highlighting the systemic nature of the issue. This recognition would pave the way for more comprehensive support services, increased funding, and public awareness campaigns, all of which are integral to SAFE's objectives.

How Individuals Can Take Action

Community involvement is essential in advocating for the declaration of IPV as an epidemic. Individuals can:

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Conclusion

Declaring intimate partner violence an epidemic in Ontario is a critical step toward acknowledging its pervasive impact and implementing systemic solutions. Such a declaration would not only validate the experiences of survivors but also mobilize resources and public will to address the root causes of IPV. By supporting this initiative, individuals and communities can contribute to a safer and more equitable society.

Ashley's Survivor Story

Fri, 01 Nov 2024 22:08:31 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Ashley

It’s survivor stories that serve as lessons for others who have experienced gender-based and/or intimate partner violence.

“I believe all of [this] has made me the strong person I am today, and now allows me to help others get out of situations I wish I could have had help getting out of.”

Those are the words said today by an amazing adult woman whose abuse story began at a very young age.

She was molested and human trafficked by her foster brother at the young age of 4 and 5.

She was molested everyday at age 13-14 by her mom’s best friend. She took the abuser to court - who was sentenced to two (2) years but got out early for “good behaviour” !!!!!

In her early twenties she was ruffied at a bar, then taken advantage of by multiple guys in the bar bathroom while security stood around and didn’t do anything.

She has also overcome emotional abuse in a same sex relationship.

Her name is Ashley. She is a survivor and is proud to be a member of the SAFE Committee. She bravely shares her story in the hopes to help others victims of abuse and GBV.

SAFE is honoured in having Ashley as a key member of the SAFE Committee.

Lorraine's Survivor Story

Tue, 01 Oct 2024 21:59:59 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Lorraine

It’s survivor stories that serve as lessons for others who have experienced gender-based and/or intimate partner violence.

“There is always hope!”

Those words are Lorraine’s mantra. They served her well several years ago as she faced her own survival path and continue to serve her well today.

Lorraine is a survivor of intimate partner violence and abuse; a journey of self reconciliation that she lives with every single day. HOPE would become her healing mechanism after her experience with IPV/abuse that occurred over three decades of marriage.

Paralyzed with fear of not being believed, learning about deceit and betrayal that came out after her separation, learning about lawsuits against her abuser’s business of which she had no knowledge (and she held a Board position in that business), trials of dealing with both financial and emotional abuse at the hands of her abuser, followed by sexual abuse through the frequency of website pornography - were just a few of the unimaginable things she had to endure in her quest for HOPE and healing.

Lorraine’s experience, story and being A SURVIVOR - is giving her the courage, strength and drive to advocate for the others that are out there - those who have been victimized by violence. Those “others” who are silent, want to be free of their silence, even those who are fresh out of breaking their silence, or sadly those who have succumbed to the worst silence of all – a permanent silence.

Lorraine is inspiring because she IS the victim’s voice. She is a volunteer ground warrior doing the underground work in supporting victims of domestic violence. As a proud advocate for Violence Against Women (VAW), Lorraine is a public speaker and educator through her lived experience on the topic of domestic violence and abuse.

In early 2022 she joined the Victim Services Unit with Halton Regional Police Service as a Volunteer. For six years Lorraine served as:

A Crisis Phone Line Volunteer & Public Educator with SACHA (Sexual Assault Centre of Hamilton and Area). In this capacity she spent hours volunteering on the crisis line, co-facilitating new trainees for the crisis line, and educating the community on SACHA’s mandate at public events.
A Committee Member and Survivor Representative with Halton Violence Prevention Council & Speaker’s Bureau. In this role she attended quarterly meetings with organization partners such as: Halton Police, NINA’s Place, CAS, VAW, etc., all in the capacity of representing the “survivors voice”.

Lorraine is a kind, understanding, and determined advocate. She doesn't let her experiences define her - she lets them empower her. She uses her experience and knowledge to see the world as a place where you can always find support and get to a better place for yourself; after all, there is always hope.

We are honoured that Lorraine currently serves as a Director/Board Member of SAFE and was recently appointed Chair of the SAFE Committee.

Abarna's Survivor Story

Sun, 01 Sep 2024 21:53:54 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Abarna

“Years of violence lead to my diagnosis of Major Depression, General Anxiety Disorder, PTSD and chronic illness that researchers speculate has some correlation with past trauma.”

Abarna still manages these illnesses today. She is a survivor of domestic violence and sexual assault, who hopes her story of resilience, determination, and growth can inspire others who may be feeling lost and hopeless.

Having struggled through violence on her own, Abarna found her passion for advocacy at a very young age, driven by the belief that no one should be isolated and stifled when experiencing such profound traumas or afterwards. She has worked with victims and survivors of gender-based violence for years as a crisis line volunteer where she provided support and practised suicide intervention with those needing immediate help.

Abarna has persevered and accomplished some of her biggest goals in life - and above all, she has survived - something she is grateful for every day. Through sharing her story, offering peer support, advocating on a community level and having designed programs with SAFE to help support victims and survivors, Abarna hopes to be able to provide victims and survivors with the support she did not have herself, and to ensure they get help and find empowerment much sooner than she did. She dreams of SAFE supporting as many victims and survivors as possible.

Kai's Survivor Story

Thu, 01 Aug 2024 21:37:51 GMT

A Survivor's Story: Kai

"Sexual assault is not high school drama!"

Those words powerfully stated during Kai Ruhl’s speech back in May. She represented SAFE at the “Empowering Through Collective Support: Bridging Gaps for Victims & Survivors” event in honour of #VictimsWeek .

Her words resonated deeply, emphasizing the serious impact of sexual assault, THEN, and they continue to serve as a reminder to others that in Canada, the Criminal Code defines Sexual Assault as:

“Any unwanted sexual act done by one person to another or sexual activity without one person's consent or voluntary agreement” (Department of Justice, 2010).”

Kai Ruhl is a survivor who began volunteering with SAFE in August 2023 and became an honoured member in December 2023. Advocating for and supporting survivors of gender-based violence has been a passion for Kai for the past few years. As a survivor, Kai finds empowerment in helping others feel heard and less alone. By continuing to provide support and empowerment through SAFE, Kai hopes to make a difference in the lives of fellow survivors. Grateful for the opportunity to be a part of SAFE, Kai looks forward to participating in the organization's various initiatives for survivors.

SAFE takes great pride in having Kai as a key member of the SAFE Committee.

SAFE Blog

The Justice System Was Never Built with Survivors in Mind

The Justice System Was Never Built with Survivors in Mind

Survivors Have Been Telling the Truth

Reporting Should Not Feel Like a Risk to Your Safety

The System Still Rewards Harm and Calls It Procedure

Healing Should Never Jeopardize Justice

Delays Do Not Just Waste Time. They Cause Harm.

Survivors Need More Than a Process. They Need Support.

Some Survivors Face Even Greater Barriers

What Survivors Have Been Asking for Is Not Radical

We Need More Than Recognition. We Need Change.

Sources

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

My Name is Jessica Baker: Sexually Assaulted by Jacob Hoggard

My Name is Jessica Baker: Sexually Assaulted by Jacob Hoggard

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

Gisèle Pelicot and the Fight to End Victim-Blaming - BBC Newsnight

Gisèle Pelicot and the Fight to End Victim-Blaming - BBC Newsnight

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

Sangeeta's Survivor Story

A Survivor's Story: Sangeeta

My Story: From Silence to Strength

How Iti Saaram Was Born

A New Beginning

Abuse Knows No Boundaries: Charlize Theron’s Story Is a Reminder That Gender-Based Violence Touches Everyone

Abuse Knows No Boundaries: Charlize Theron’s Story Is a Reminder That Gender-Based Violence Touches Everyone

The Reality Behind Closed Doors

The Hidden Epidemic

When Survival Becomes a Performance

Everyone Knows Someone

From Surviving to Thriving

We Honour All Stories

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

Chelsie's Survivor Story

A Survivor's Story: Chelsie

SAFE and Partners Brief Ontario Minister on GBV Program Impact and Community Needs

SAFE and Partners Brief Ontario Minister on GBV Program Impact and Community Needs

SAFE Partners with Achēv to Provide Survivor Peer Support

SAFE Partners with Achēv to Support Survivors of Gender-Based Violence

SL Hunter Speechworks Sponsors Specialized Therapy for SAFE Survivors

SL Hunter Speechworks Sponsors Specialized Therapy for SAFE Survivors

Crystal's Survivor Story

A Survivor's Story: Crystal

WhiteEagle's Survivor's Story

A Survivor's Story: WhiteEagle

Standing Stronger Together: SAFE Partners with Achēv to Support Survivors of Gender-Based Violence

From Lived Experience to Peer Support: Why Shared Stories Save Lives ﻿

SAFE’s Role in Stronger Together

Why This Partnership Matters

Learn More & Join Us

From Lived Experience to Peer Support: Why Shared Stories Save Lives

From Lived Experience to Peer Support: Why Shared Stories Save Lives ﻿

Understanding the Power of Lived Experience

Peer Support: Walking Alongside, Not Ahead

Mental Health Support: A Bridge to Recovery

From Peer Support to Co-Production

The Challenge of Power and Equity

Building Trust Through Relational Work

Survivor-Led Spaces Save Lives

Frequently Asked Questions

Peer Support vs. Advocacy: Why Language and Roles Matter

Peer Support vs. Advocacy: Why Language and Roles Matter ﻿

What Is Peer Support?

And What About Advocacy?

Why the Distinction Matters

Respecting Roles and Boundaries

How Peer Support and Advocacy Work Together

Moving Forward with Intention

The Power of Co-Production: Survivors at the Decision-Making Table

The Power of Co-Production: Survivors at the Decision-Making Table ﻿

What Is Co-Production?

Why It Matters

Avoiding the Mistakes People Often Make

What Makes It Work

Survivors as Experts

The Power of Shared Leadership

What You Can Do Right Now

How Economic Hardship Increases Gender-Based Violence

How Economic Hardship Increases Gender-Based Violence

From Lived Experience to Peer Support: Why Shared Stories Save Lives

From Lived Experience to Peer Support: Why Shared Stories Save Lives

Peer Support vs. Advocacy: Why Language and Roles Matter

The Power of Co-Production: Survivors at the Decision-Making Table