Single Mom Thug Life: Solo Female Traveler. Being Purposeful. Vxo

When I was 16, I graduated Nicholson Catholic College, in Belleville, Ontario. I wasn't a genius or anything. I had simply moved from Quebec and the differing education systems required me to skip to the next grade level.

For some years prior I had been attempting to draw fashion and costume designs. My mother had taught me how to sew. She also fixed all the overly creative pattern manipulations I had been attempting. Upon graduation, I announced to my parents that I had chosen Fort Lauderdale College, in Florida as my education destination! As far as I was concerned, the further from my hometown I got the better! And to be honest having the ocean close by was and always has been an emotional draw. I am grateful to my parents for not laughing at me. However, I was met with the firm parental decision that I would spend the next year at a local college, Loyalist, before I could adventure anywhere.

I was horrified to be signed up for Secretarial school. It was as far from creative as I could get. At a time when I was ready for the post secondary experience, being a Secretary was the furthest goal from my mind. But I heeded my parents and attended. I remember my parents telling me that it would be a good 'backup' employment if my fashion or costume career did not pan out.

The first semester I excelled. My thought process was, 'if I have to be here, let's do really well and get it over with so I can show my parents that I was ready for Fort Lauderdale!' At this time I was also designing and creating fashions that I would wear to school. I was always kinda boyish, or so I thought, and I loved the entire punk genre. I think it was the green fluorescent mohawk that got the attention of the head of the program, Ms. Cross.

At the commencement of the second semester she asked me to meet her in her office. She explained to me that the way I dressed was not professional in the realm of Secretaries. I asked her if Secretaries worked in fashion houses or media outlets where my 'attire' would be considered rather boring. She didn't succumb to my bait. Instead she told me that she would fail me if I did not start dressing the conservative way she told me to.

The rebellious, tenaciousness of me decided that Pina colada's were a preferable lunch time pastime (and no I will not tell you where at 17 they allowed me to be served). My afternoons were spent passed out on my typewriter and I flunked out of the second semester. In honor of my parents, they were right. I was the first student hired out of this course and I worked as a Secretary, first for the CEO of the Bank of Montreal, then St. Margaret's Hospital, and ended up at Saturday Night Magazine where I could wear what ever the hell I wanted. It has also been my fall back position several times throughout my life.

Fast forward from the early 1980's to 2013. I had been a single mom of four children, working nine years selling real estate, and at Danier Leather, and at Sears call centre, got my mutual funds license, and worked as a developer's assistant, tree planter, vine pruner, as well as opening a corporation that supported at-risk women and created a transitional home for them. Whew! No wonder I burnt out. (And just so you know, before my jealous and abusive husband 'reeled me in' pre-children, I worked first as a fashion designer, then a costume designer, a wardrobe mistress, and then was given the ultimate career goal of being invited to be the wardrobe mistress for then, new Hollywood North).

I decided in 2013, that it was time to go back to school. Not yet healed from 20 years of abuse, I was terrified. I am on fire when I speak up for people who cannot get their voices heard, but I have always been terrified to get my voice heard. It does not help that I sound like 'Mini Mouse' or so I am told. I took Business and excelled. The profs were outstanding and encouraged me to step outside of my fears. I was also pushed into the limelight for things that came naturally to me. I thought I was just being friendly. They called it leadership. I wanted to talk about the corporation I was still running for women, they put me in front of hundreds that wanted to hear me. I used to cry when I spoke in public, simply out of fear of being heard. Abuse will do that to you.

On graduation day, the then President at Loyalist approached me and said "we will be watching you and take the credit that this is where you came from." I have never forgotten those words.

Fast forward to 2021 at York University. I did a 5 year undergrad in 3 years. Defending my Masters in Social Anthropology was hindered by Covid but will be defended by the end of this year AND I am in my second year of my Ph.D. During all of this, I have not forgotten from whence I came; Belleville, Quinte, and Loyalist College.

In 2019, I returned to Quinte to do my Master's research comparing rural and urban obstacles to services and social worlds, specifically with impoverished young people. During this time I was invited by Loyalist's Child and Youth Care Program to talk about my research. Every single student picked up a copy of my research proposal. I often invite critical feedback and one student asked me what right I had as an adult to speak on behalf of youth. Herein lies my greatest shame. With all my young research participants I had said, I would return to report back to them that I would not only give them a copy of my research paper before I defended it; I also said that I would invite their critique to ensure I was truly expressing their voices, not mine. I held out as long as I could, threatening my Ph.D. that was dependent on my Master's defense. Who knew COVID would halt the world for two years? I do plan on returning, when the world opens up. My shame and my fear tells me that my young participants will no longer be accessible. That Loyalist student asked the right question, and I have never forgotten the responsibility of the response I gave.

Recently, I returned to Loyalist College to talk with the Justice Studies students. I talked about where I came from and how that creates my position within my world of research. My life in poverty and abuse has given me a liminal perspective that reaches across cultural boundaries. I also delivered a copy of my pre-defended major research paper that I had promised to return to my research participants with and discuss. The Justice Studies students' questions were 'knowledged' in experience whether academically or through lived experiences. What was most poignant, was that these students were not afraid to discuss the topic. In a world where we sidestep difficult topics like poverty, children's rights, and abuses, they were not afraid of the words that structure change in their community.

I will keep returning to Loyalist College. I think I once heard it described as "the little college that could". That sounds a little like me. I am just the little voice that keeps trying to tell a story about people who should matter more. I have often heard the Belleville area described as 'stagnant'. That would be the word I used to describe it when I was 16 years old aching to go to the other side of the world. Yet, I heard the word again during my 2019 research in Belleville. Sometimes the affliction of a place is not movement, but stagnancy. But I will keep returning, like I hope many will. Because Loyalist College isn't teaching stagnancy, they teach movement and how to pivot within stagnant worlds. Just as importantly though, they teach the responsibility of returning so that every generation benefits with greater leaps from whence they came. Vxo

About the Author. Veronica Hendrick (maiden name) is an Anthropologist and has been a single Mom for almost 18 years now. Some of her experiences are poignant, others just down right ludacris bubbles inside her imagination! Her father was an Irish Storyteller of high regard and she is just trying to step into his oh so big stride. On a more serious note, Veronica is also an advocate for at risk women everywhere and encourages them to step outside of what society says they can do and to start dictating to society what they choose to do instead.