How I decided to quit the North American lifestyle and move to Costa Rica…

In less than 2 months, my partner Levi, my Chihuahua and I will pack up our lives in London, Ontario and board a flight to Costa Rica where we plan to make our new home. When we tell people of our plans, we get a lot of people raising their eyebrows at us, and look at us like we are crazy. The biggest questions we get are generally, “Why?”, and “Why Costa Rica?”. The first thing I respond with is “Why not?”, but there is a lot more to it of course.

When Levi and I met, we automatically recognized that we had a love for travel in common. He had just spent 5 years living off and on in the Dominican Republic. I, myself, had studied abroad in Ireland my early twenties, and had just spent some time in Guatemala, which started off a long love-affair with Latin America. When we came together, so did our passions for travel, and that passion multiplied as we shared our stories of our travels and our dreams for where we would like to go. We had decided to go to Costa Rica a long time ago – this was something we had been cooking up for more than a year, and we knew that it would be something we would achieve together for reasons I’ll soon explain. When it just so happened that when I got the opportunity to travel to Kenya and Rwanda last year for work, those destinations had been on his list too – we traveled those countries together for 2 weeks while I worked, with an awesome stop-over in Amsterdam, and ever since then, we knew that our timeline to get to Costa Rica would have to be significantly shortened to be able to treat our “itchy feet” (the stuff that Gold Bond will never cure).

Life has led us to the point where we decided to significantly shorten our timeline to move to Costa Rica, and we couldn’t be more ready. So, to get back to the reasons I decided to quit the North American lifestyle and move to Costa Rica…

Simply, life is too short not to. My Dad was an avid traveler and got to see so many countries and visit significant destinations in his lifetime. The sad part about it all is that all these travel adventures happened within the 10-year span of his life between retirement and when he passed away from cancer. Everyone has the attitude that they will wait for their dedicated 2 or 3 weeks of vacation to see the world and enjoy themselves, or wait until retirement to do all their traveling. There is no guarantee on tomorrow, and I saw that in my Dad’s life journey. I am not going to wait until I am 55 to have all these wonderful travel experiences. I’m going to strive to have them every day that I have left on this earth!

I need to reclaim my own time. For the first decade of my career, I sold my life, soul, time and energies to someone else.  I actively and fervently pursued moving from a contract role to gaining a full time, permanent position that gave me access to a very nice salary, a benefits plan, and a pension. These were great financial benefits, but what did I pay for these? I gave my time – I gave every day from 8:30 – 4:30pm where I was required to be at a certain place and put in 35 hours. I gave my evenings and weekends to catch up on what my 35 hours in the office couldn’t cover. My sleep was consumed by my to-do lists and planning how I would literally schedule my day down to the 15 minutes. For my salary, benefits, and pension, I gave my time – my LIFE! I am currently transitioning out of traditional employment, and will soon be 100% self-employed. While I am essentially still selling my time, I am able to be conscious of WHAT time I am selling and to whom, and choose WHEN I am selling it. It couldn’t feel more freeing to be losing that feeling of being time-bound. I’ve never been more productive in my life since I choose to use my time the way I want!

I am choosing to live “location independent”. Location independence allows you to do your work at any time from anywhere, providing you have access to internet. I have set my business up so that I will literally be able to work from the beach, in a hammock, in my office, in a commercial space, at a coffee shop, in my bed, in Costa Rica, in Canada, in East Africa, or South East Asia, or anywhere my itchy feet takes me. When I go places, my work comes with me, so I will have the freedom to structure my life so that at any given moment, I can enjoy living and working in the settings, both locally and internationally, that bring me the most enjoyment. Location independence, of course, is not possible for every career, and it wasn’t possible for my career until now, but I have found a way that I can turn what I have been doing all my career into a thriving business that will allow me to work from wherever… providing I have an internet connection. For those times where I may find myself a bit more remote, I will have to get creative.

Costa Rica seems to offer all we want in a country.  We intentionally chose Costa Rica, even though neither of us have ever even been there. When we first made our plan, we decided that we would forego a “scouting trip” to see if we liked Costa Rica. By doing our research alone through books, the internet, and especially YouTube, we quickly found that Costa Rica has everything that we want in a country. First, Costa Rica is one of the most eco-diverse countries in the world. I absolutely love being in environments that are lush and green and breathtakingly beautiful (like Ireland and Rwanda), and Costa Rica seems to have it all. Second, Costa Rica has such a diversity of regions that span both the Caribbean and the Pacific, which will provide us so many excellent opportunities to explore. Third, we both love the heat and hate cold and snow. I, for one, have this medical condition called cold urticaria where my body literally cannot withstand cold without breaking into hives, respiratory problems, or at worst, anaphylaxis. I have had enough of winter. Levi too, is a beach bum at heart, and prefers the heat, mostly due to his DR days. Fourth, Costa Rica does not have a standing army. Levi and I are both pacifists, both having studied war and what divides people through different opportunities in our lives. We want to get away from the idea that the only way to solve things is through war and army mobilization. While we aren’t directly affected by the army here in Canada every day (except for the Army Base down the street from us), we like the idea of pacifism as a philosophy. Fifth, Costa Rica is a very common expatriate destination. While we have the greater goal of integrating as much as we can (which has its limitations), we like the idea that Costa Rica has been a choice destination for people like us for years. It’s been great to see the forums of expats and realize that Costa Rica living is a pretty nice choice for life.

It has been interesting to see that people have had strange reactions to our moving to Costa Rica. They think we are naïve, or just throwing caution to the wind like the hippies we are and moving to Costa Rica to live like beach bums. Where there may be some truth to this, we are both actually doing this to advance our careers to pursue a new type of lifestyle. On top of this, it’s not that hard to move. We have found that the process isn’t that difficult and actually pretty fun! We have spent a great deal of time learning from others’ experiences and reading up on all our requirements. We have thought through the important details of our travel, our visas, and our timing. While we don’t have everything figured out, that’s part of the experience of it all – figuring it out when we get there. We are so excited for the unknowns and the adventure of it all.

I plan to write on various aspects of why I chose to leave North America in pursuit of a global life as this adventure unfolds for myself and Levi. We have a lot that we would like to share about this experience in order to show others that if you have an interest to make the world your home, you can do it. Stay tuned as we continue to update with blogs and videos. Buckle up, and come along for our adventure!

Red Soil: A Reflection on Rwanda’s Genocide Memorials

We started the day with a driver who was to take us to some spots of interest in Kigali. We weren’t sure what to expect but went along with his ideas for places to take us as he would know best. First stop was a place called the Presidential Palace Museum. Not too sure what to expect still, we paid the 12,000 Rwanda francs required for entry, and met our tour guide who took us through a series of manicured gardens and up to two buildings that we were told was home to President Habyarimana over a span of some time until 1994 when his plane was shot down. First, we visited a smaller house that was his first residence – spartan, abandoned, a chilling place that held nothing but a past. We were then taken across the way to the palace that he and his family eventually moved into. It was also spartan, empty and held only echoes of what once was. We visited a room that served as the gathering place for government officials planning the eventual genocide. We felt the presence of evil in that room, both chilled to the bone to know that a mass extermination of people was carefully being planned out. We went up to the secret second floor, through the President’s escape door. In one wing of the floor, we stood in a chapel that Pope John Paul II once stood in where Catholic mass would be celebrated. We were then taken across to another wing of the house where the President would secretly meet with a witch doctor, who would be snuck in to meet with the President. We all marvelled at the juxtaposition of what happened on that floor of the house. We were then taken to the back yard where we saw remnants of the plane that was shot down over his own home as he returned from Arusha to sign a peace treaty that would permit the Tutsi refugees to come home to Rwanda. We again marveled at the contradictions of this man’s life. We agreed that the place had overall bad energy and were eager to leave, as we did not want to feel the evil any longer.

We then proceeded to the Kigali Genocide Memorial. We took a deep breath as we entered, both unsure of what to expect, but knowing that we would be tested. We learned about the early origins of the racial divide between the Hutus and Tutsis. I was disappointed to see how integral the Catholic Church was in promoting hatred amongst the races. I hung my head in shame knowing I was once part of that institution that has so much blood on its hands. We then saw the beginnings of the genocide. The propaganda that urged Hutus to turn against the Tutsis, that caused friends, neighbours, even family members to turn on each other and savagely torture, rape, humiliate and bludgeon people they once loved by any brutal means possible. We watched a film that depicted the violence, the mass graves, the violence, the injured children, the piles of dead women, men and children. It was so overwhelming that I sobbed and a little louder than I should lamented, “How can human beings do that to each other?”. Levi pushed me out of that room to protect me. We went into a room filled with thousands of photos of people who had been killed in the genocide. They were photos of ordinary people, living their lives in ordinary ways. rwandamemorialI couldn’t help but recognize that my own family’s albums had many similar photos, taken at the same time, yet in Canada, we didn’t have to worry about being killed by those we trusted. We then entered a room filled with skulls and bones and other human remains. Some skulls were intact, many had giant holes in them where they had been clubbed to death. It was overwhelming, and brought a terrible feeling of sickness to my stomach. We were both silent and didn’t say much to each other throughout this part of the exhibit. The final place we visited in the building was the Children’s room. There were large, blown up photos of children, and under it described their age, their favourite foods, their hobbies, who their best friend was, and the way they died. One little girl’s favourite song was a national Rwandese song, and she was brutally bludgeoned by those men of her own country that she had been so proud to be a part of. These kids were the same age as we were at the time. They were experiencing utter atrocities while we comfortably lived our lives free of fear in Canada. It just wasn’t fair. At that point we had enough and our hearts, minds, and souls couldn’t take it any longer. We emerged from the exhibit to the hardest rain I had almost ever seen. The pathetic fallacy was surprising, yet not, as the weather matched perfectly the way we were feeling inside. It stopped raining and we got ready to leave, but first, made our way down to the mass grave to pay our respects to the 250,000 who are buried there. We went down a series of white-tiled steps to the burial site. It was eerie to see that the heavy rains had washed some of Rwanda’s red soil down the steps. There were streams of red pouring down the steps to the burial site, and I couldn’t help to see that as representing the blood that was shed by all those who were buried there. The mass graves are large slabs of concrete, lacking engraving, artwork or other adornments. Their blankness showed that there will never be an easy way to describe what happened during that genocide that led to such devastation and atrocity. It was a chilling place to be, yet we wanted to pay our respects as best we could.

We entered the car of our driver and back onto the vibrant and lively streets of Kigali. We wondered if the genocide regularly popped into the minds of the citizens of the city, but it appears to the eye that the city has moved on and chosen not to dwell on its recent history. Our driver proceeded to take us to another museum, and we quietly asked him to take us back to our hotel as we couldn’t be tourists any longer. We had come face to face with the Rwanda we knew about yet was too far away until now to fully experience. We were changed people, unable to any longer be ignorant to the atrocities of humanity. We sat quietly for most of the night and talked about what we had seen, reflected on the people we saw around us and wondered what their role in the history was. We are afraid to ask those we meet, and will refrain from doing so out of respect.

We will continue to honour Rwanda this week as we turn our focus from its past to its present and its future. We will travel around Kigali and throughout the country to visit some of its most spectacular scenery and visit some of its most interesting cultural sites. We will honour the Rwandese wishes to not dwell on its past and be committed to peace and promoting, participating in and celebrating the social, economic and cultural thriving of this country. We will never forget Rwanda or turn our backs on what was an what now is.
“I know there is a God because in Rwanda I shook hands with the devil. I have seen him, I have smelled him and I have touched him. I know the devil exists and therefore I know there is a God.” – Romeo Dallaire, Shake Hands with the Devil.

Never again.

— October 2015

Can you really ‘put a lid on it’ if your life is about social justice?

In one of my early professional roles, a mentoring leader once told me that she noticed I carry around a sense of justice with me, and that justice manifests itself in my work. She reminded me that this sense of justice is both a blessing and a curse. She couldn’t have been more right.

Anyone who knows me in London or follows me on Twitter knows that on my personal account (@AMFEngage), I am very vocal in my commentary on social justice (and other) issues in our community. I don’t always use the tact and diplomacy that I was once trained to use, which can be problematic at times. When I see a discourse on issues that affect people, especially when well-being is concerned, I (usually) add my $0.02 in, often for my own satisfaction that I did my part in trying to mitigate the polarization that happens between people when social justice, human rights, or large-scale community issues come to the forefront. I’ve come to love (and equally hate) Twitter for its fodder on justice issues. I’m learning I have a reputation for my “speaking out”, and have been referred to as “edgy”, respected leaders of mine often comment to me about the content of my posts. I’ve heard that my professional colleagues who know me well have coined a term called “The Anne-Marie” – the ability to present oneself professionally, but once justice is involved, the edge comes out… and truthfully, I am not sure how I feel about this.

I grew up in a Catholic family, with a father that was very steadfast in his beliefs and took every opportunity to remind us so. I am daughter to a mother who also has her beliefs, and often shares them, quite eloquently actually, but can get stirred up when she needs to be, especially if the issue at hand is something she has taken a strong stance on. With these examples in my life, combined with a bloodline that combines very strong German, Scottish and Irish genes, I learned at an early age that if you believed in something, believe it with all you are, stand by it, and hold to it unwaveringly so.

The sense of justice that my former leader noticed in me all those years ago goes beyond what is right and wrong. It began on a moral foundation, but is backed up by knowledge, research and a personal commitment to calling out injustice where I see it. This sense of justice is what I can physically feel manifesting inside me as my whole person reacts to what I know is not the way things should be. This sense of justice is what prompts me to sometimes speak in what others may deem “out of turn”. This sense of justice comes from knowing that women, young people, and especially vulnerable populations have been quieted too long. This sense of justice is what led me to dedicate a career to social justice – because in social justice, justice needs to be felt, acted upon, and manifested – however gruelling and even if what you have to say isn’t always what people want to hear.

I’ve been in London for almost a decade now, and it’s a hard place to be a social justice advocate in. It’s a hard place to speak out in, and a hard place to stick your neck out in. It is a conservative place that reacts strongly to strong opinions. Throughout the decade, I’ve had my hands slapped more than once because I commented on something, raised an issue, or spoke about something without its veiled language (also known as truth) where my other responsibilities should have had me practicing constraint.  I have conflicted interests. I’ve misrepresented viewpoints. I’ve contradicted world views. I’ve shed light on something others were desperately trying to cover up. I’ve made passively aggressive comments. I’ve done it all. I’m not all proud of what I’ve done or said throughout my journey in social justice. As a result, I’ve of course, had to try my best to be so mindful about what I post, what I soapbox on, and who may interpret my posts. I don’t always succeed.

I know I need to strike a better balance in the way I use my voice, especially as I advance in my career, where how I represent myself online has a direct correlation to my success and people’s desires to work with me. My father, the man who taught me about being steadfast, as was going through a long illness before he died shared that he had wished he had lived his life less judgemental. “Put down your sword, Tom”, is some advice he had received when his sense of justice overpowered his tact. Sometimes I wish I could put down my sword, and take the weight of the world off my shoulders. But I can’t. People need me. The world needs me. The world needs people like me, however distasteful I may be. While I can always strive to be a bit more tactful and pay close attention to my use of language, I know that I’ll never ever lose that need that I have inherent in my blood, heart, and at my very core, to recognize injustice, call it out, and demand a better world for us all.

Do people actually care?

Working in the area of social justice, I am involved in many community groups that are aimed at delivering a particular message with the goal of engaging people in their cause. As community workers, we spend a lot of time discussing our strategy to engage people to raise awareness in order to create social change. We strategize, brainstorm, research best practices, plan, and work hard to implement our ideas to get people on board.

A few weeks ago, I was at a community table, working to actively strategize our approach to our work and our public engagement. We were all working hard to toss out many ideas based on the issue we were working for, hoping something would stick. It was a hard process, as most strategy meetings are. After some time, someone boldly asked the question to our group: “Do people actually care?”

Social justice advocates, volunteers, and non-profit staff working towards a specific cause have a tough job. We stand outside stores asking people for donations. We create web and social media content aimed at getting people to “click to care”. We gently intrude into people’s sense of altruism through our approaches, all because our causes rely on awareness, donorship, lobbying or investment to move the needle towards change, cures, or a general societal improvement.

On many levels, its very easy to see that as a society, we care. Volunteer Canada, a national body dedicated to promoting volunteerism and giving in Canada, reported in 2013 that Canadians volunteered close to 2 billion hours, however, the number of Canadians volunteering declined from 13.3 million in 2010 to 12.7 million in 2013. Analysis suggests that the decline in the number of Canadians volunteering could be due to a lack of focus in engagement efforts. In terms of donorship, the donor rate is higher than the volunteer rate, for reasons that can be understood, yet trends show a decline in donorship. The only saving grace is that while there are fewer Canadians donating their money to causes, donation amounts followed an opposite direction, with donors making larger financial commitments.

I care because social justice and dedication to community work is in my blood. Having two very engaged parents, I learned at a young age the importance of using one’s talents and resources for the benefit of society. Thus, I started to pursue working within areas in which I could make a difference. When I gained the professional opportunity to work towards MANY areas where I could make a difference through a general community engagement program, I wanted to do EVERYTHING. Change the world and contribute to every single social issue that I came across. I worked hard to do so. I put in volunteer hours. Researched all the social issues I could. Donated as much money that I had available. Said yes to every single ask for help, and thought that if I said no, that would mean that I didn’t care about a particular issue. I pulled this off OK for a while but I soon began to spread myself too thin – I came short on commitments, began to resent those things I had became so invested in, and generally disengaged due to engagement overload.

I was given the opportunity to make a professional change that allowed me to hone in on one focus area, which has allowed me to release myself of the guilt that I wasn’t making a difference in every single area of social justice, and replace that guilt with the satisfaction that my focus allowed me to actually do work that had the possibility of moving the needle towards change.

Canadians are inundated with requests to care. Online advertisements, door solicitations, store-front donation representatives, check out fundraising campaigns, school fundraisers, church donations, corporate fundraising campaigns, friends’ fundraising events. So many organizations, initiatives, fundraisers, and advocacy groups exist that people in communities get inundated, and confused.

“Do people actually care?” I think the fundamental answer that question is “yes”. However, the desire to care has been replaced with a general confusion on how to care. With the lack of focus, and mostly collaboration, on the approaches we take to solving our society issues, comes a lack of focus from those we rely on to carry on our causes through donorship and volunteerism.

As social justice advocates, fundraisers and non-profit staff, we need to get away from the belief that just because we exist as a cause, people will automatically jump on board. Instead of finding the best ways to attract the dollars and time of the public, we need to first clean up house amongst ourselves to better coordinate together the way we reach out to the public so to not only stop stepping on each other’s toes, but to keep an even playing field that the most valuable players actually want to play in.

 

Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge

At one time in my life, I thought I had landed the job that I could have stayed in forever, and I was prepared to do that, but things change, and I’m very glad they do.

A couple weeks ago, I had the privilege to attend a local event called “Women in Transition” where two inspiring women, Jodi Simpson and Karen Schulman Dupuis shared their stories of transition within their careers. I was drawn to this event, not only because I had already made some major career transitions, but also because I knew that statistically speaking, my generation (Generation Y) will hold almost 4 jobs over their first 12 years in the job market, and will stay shorter on average at each job (2.7 years) in comparison to previous generations.  That’s only the first 12 years.

I’ve made a few professional transitions within my life. Having begun my career as early as I could, I moved from the nonprofit sector, to manufacturing and technology, to human resources and the corporate world, to education, to international work, and now I am hovering in research with a special focus in engagement and knowledge translation. I’m lucky that I seem to surpass the average tenure for most of my jobs, which speaks highly to job satisfaction. Right now, I love the area I am working in and plan to stay here for a good while.

Many of my transitions have been by choice or by opportunity, or natural life progression. However, not all have been in situation within my control, executed with grace, or with outcomes I’m particularly proud of. Going through a job transition, while incredibly exciting, can also be incredibly traumatic, not only hard on the individual, but the family. I’ve heard that going through job loss or major career transitions can be often close to as traumatic as an illness or death of a loved one, and having experienced both, I can somewhat attest to this. When we lose or leave a job, we lose or leave a part of our self. In addition to being our sources of income, jobs are linked to our interests, our pursuits in education and training, but most of all our professional identity.

Recently, I chose to leave the job that at one time I thought I could have stayed in forever. That job became my dream role I never knew I wanted, but will forever be a defining feature in my career.  I grew up in this role, and grew as a person and a professional, through some incredible triumphs and tough lessons.

I had made the decision to transition out of my role a couple years before I actually did (after 6 years!), was often scared to, or just couldn’t find the right opportunity to do so – most of all, I just loved what I did, and who I worked with, and was comfortable. But I grew, and needed and opportunity to make an important transition from something so meaningful to me.

I eventually made the transition through a string of events and interactions that allowed me to recognize that it was time. I was in a work situation working within a program where things just no longer lined up for me, and I felt a sense of incongruence with the work I had been involved with, and the work I wanted to be involved in. After a long, grueling process, one that involved many hours of therapy, some tears, and A LOT of introspection, I made the leap and found a great opportunity to transition. I DID IT!

In the spirit of sharing experiences as Jodi and Karen did so eloquently in the Women in Transition event, here are a few things I agree with these women on, and a few lessons and realizations I picked up along my way (and continue to pick up!)

Career transition help you know your own value
One thing Karen Schulman Dupuis noted is that transitions help you know your own value. They allow you to step back and assess all you have done through your career, and all the kickass skills you have acquired along the way. They allow you to recognize and revel in why you were invited to work within amazing organizations, within amazing initiatives with gifted people, and take all that value to offer to a new opportunity. Transitioning in my career gave me the breathing room to assess myself, and taking myself out of my role allowed me to open my eyes to the infinite world of opportunity I had available to me, and what I had to chase those opportunities with a rate of success. Through my transition, I met amazing people, got invited to participate in awesome opportunities, and by recognizing my own value, others did too.

Career transitions allow you to let go
Every job I have had, I’ve poured 150% (or more) into. I can remember one leader asking me to calm down and step back because I cared too much about my work. In fact, I have a bit of a reputation of going Mach 10, a pace that people aren’t always ready for. Choosing to transition out of a role that was overwhelming at times allowed me to step back, while ensuring and having confidence that my work was left in good hands. I slowed down, to a speed I no longer recognized. I needed to slow down and let go in order to have the space to restore my own equilibrium. While it was hard to let go, I get equal satisfaction of knowing that the work I was so passionately involved in has new life and new direction, while I find my own new path. It also allowed me to set a new pace for myself that allows me to understand my own work style so that I work most effectively, with only having to give 100%, which I’ve learned is enough.

Career Transitions help you know your tribe
One tough yet necessary truth that I’ve had to come to terms with, and that I’m still coming to terms with, is that career transitions can have the potential to have important relationships tested. Sometimes a decision to transition comes from a difference of vision, or for me, an incongruence of direction, values and vision for the future. When I transitioned once I made that tough decision to do so, I unfortunately lost some incredibly important relationships to me, that I had fostered for many years, and with people that I actually very much loved. This is an unfortunate casualty of doing business, so I’m learning. From these losses, however, grew something greater. What I value most about this transition, is while I lost some valued relationships, I gained many more through my experiences and through (re)connecting with all those who had always been a part of my tribe, and stood there unwaveringly so. Through my transitions, an overwhelming number of many people came out to support me and stand behind me, and as a result, my network grew, and I got new opportunities and created a new tribe of treasured relationships with new ones being fostered every day. I’ll always be grateful for all those who were a part of my journey and will always wish my old tribe well, while poised and ready to create and innovate and do new things, with new visions with those in my new extended tribe. The singer/songwriter Don Henley wrote in his song “My Thanksgiving”, “sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge”, and this couldn’t be more true in my experience.

Career transitions allow you time for yourself

Career transitions aren’t always easy times, but anyone who is in one remarks on the fact that the transition period has given them the opportunity to concentrate on their mental and physical health. My transition period finally gave me the opportunity to find time to talk to others who could help me find new directions. My transition period finally gave me the space to try anxiety medication for the first time in my life, which I am so glad I finally did (another contributor to reduction of my capacity for work from 150% to 100%). My transition period allowed me to reconsider what my work meant to me, and for my life. My transition period made sure that I have enough steam to put my best into everything going forward, and now I am able to more intentionally and in a way that produces the best outcomes for all involved.

Transitions are scary, and sometimes can be traumatizing, yet I can’t wait for my next one, when it eventually comes when the time is right. While I absolutely love the area of work I am in right now, I know that the world is big, and opportunities are vast. With technology and the world the world integrates globally so rapidly changing, jobs will be available in the future that I can’t even conceive of right now, but I can’t wait to get hired!

Tattoos represent our human right to express; let’s let it be that way.

I have 14 tattoos and I’m at the point in my life that I am getting tired of covering them up, especially with the weather getting so warm.

My tattoos are a part of me. They are my art and creativity. They are an outward journal. They are what is important to me. Tattoos are what helps support my family and our future.

So why have I spent so many years covering up my tattoos?

I began getting tattoos at age 19. My first one was on my lower back (as it was unfortunately for many of my age group), and at the time, I felt like a rebel getting it. I can tell you that it certainly did NOT please my parents. While it wasn’t visible, I always ensured that it never “popped out”, especially in professional settings. In my twenties, while I pursued a successful and fulfilling education and career that spans both academic and community sectors, my tattoos took a back seat. Throughout this point in my life and career, I’d still always adhered to the conventional wisdom that there was no place for tattoos in the workplace, and at times, took great lengths to cover up my markings and truthfully believed others should too.

In my thirties, things changed. As adults do, I became more aware of myself, and being tattooed started to become more and more of my visual identity, so began to collect more. My tattoos were and are a part of me that I want to share with the world and who I know and come in contact with. Thus, I’ve stopped covering up my tattoos (most of the time) in order to fight that antiquated ideal of what a professional should look like and hope for a change in perception against tattoos…

This is in defense of tattoos and a plea for the acceptance and professionalization of tattoos in the workplace. It’s an encouragement to my fellow tattooed friends to stop covering up tattoos when the opportunity allows it. Through this, I urge all to reconsider their position on tattoos, and make more room for them in the workplace, and society. Here’s why:

Simply, tattoos are art.
I am the first to admit that tattoo culture doesn’t always have a reputation of pushing out the most tasteful, tactful, or visually pleasing forms of art. Tattoos can often go awry, and too often, tattoo choice and placement can show an error in judgement by the untrained tattoo artist, but mostly the willing canvas. However, tattoos are and can be beautiful when the right artistry, vision and tact are applied. As humans, we spend our days enjoying what is aesthetically beautiful. Our history has shown centuries of appreciation and reverence for the visual arts. Tattoos are an underappreciated art in the mainstream culture of professionalism, and I’m perplexed as to why. Why not use the most beautiful canvas of the human body to create the most beautiful art?

Tattoos are the norm.
While stigmatization of tattooed individuals is alive and well, and thriving at rapid rates, soon there will be no place for it within our society. A study completed in 2010 (6 years ago) stated that while uncommon among the baby-boomer generation (15%), tattoo popularity grew with Generation X (32%) and continued to grow with the Millennials at 38% admitting to having tattoos. In the US, it’s estimated that 42% of adults have tattoos. This number can only be growing. Look around you at any public event or venue (especially in warm months), and you’ll see that tattoos aren’t as uncommon than they once were.

Tattoo stigma and tattoo reality don’t correlate. That’s why it’s a stigma.
My mother is the absolute worst for perpetuating stereotypes of tattooed people. “They look like they smell,” she’ll say, and I’ve not been able to figure out why as I’m yet to find a smelly tattooed person. She has quoted tattoos as being trashy, unprofessional, tough, rough, and everything else negative. This is particularly troubling to me because my partner is an aspiring tattoo artist. I am tattooed. We are both tattooed, and I certainly don’t think we smell, or are trashy, unprofessional, tough, rough and everything else negative. My mom knows this too as she loves us and has always had unconditional love and acceptance. This is the case for SO many individuals and there’s no reason to have this. I know researchers who are educated to the gills that sport full sleeves. I know successful engineers whose ink is one of their most striking visual features. I know communications professionals with well-crafted stories down their arm. I know tattoo artists who are regular citizens like you and me – they do not fit the profile of being rough, partiers, or strange. My partner, for one, likes to spend his time with puppies and usually goes to bed ridiculously early at night in order to get a good sleep, and couldn’t hurt a fly if he tried. There needs to be a loosening of the old-time association between tattoos and the ridiculous idea that tattoos are for rough sailors, motorcycle gangs, and serial killers. Tattoos generally are beautiful outward representations of inner goodness. I hope that my partner and I, as well as all we know who are tattooed, can continue to change old and antiquated perceptions on tattoos dictating character and behavior.

Tattoos mean something to those who get them.
Of my 14 tattoos, 2 of them represent my late father, 5 represent my heritage, 3 represent a love of classic literature, 2 represent my nostalgic ways (especially in music), and the remainder represent traits I value in myself and for my life: freedom, adventure, and exploration. These are the things that I have taken the time (and expense and pain) to ink onto myself permanently to have a permanent place in my life, my character, and what I present to the world. Ask me, and I’ll always tell you what my tattoos mean. Ask others who are tattooed, and I’ll guarantee you’ll also get a satisfying response and a good story. Tattoos allow the whole person to shine through.

Tattoos are a freedom of expression, which is a basic human right.
I don’t know about you, but I value working with individuals and organizations that value diversity, freedom of expression, and the power of individuality. I don’t like to be around judgmental people who may automatically be guilty of some of the ignorant associations for tattooed people mentioned above. What I do understand is that we are currently not in a place where tattoos are always tolerated. I keep an array of blazers around for any business purpose that would require one. However, the freedom of expression is a chartered right to Canadians (and many other of the world’s citizens). As a result, we should be at place within society where in the workplace they are not met with punitive actions, or used as a reason not to hire or engage with someone (aka. discrimination). In a world that demands and needs tolerance for diversity in terms of race, language, country of origin, age, gender and ability, we must also promote tolerance of the freedom of expression that tattoos are for people. I don’t think anyone wants to be around anyone who automatically thinks like my mom in regards to her perception of tattooed people.

As I mentioned, we are not yet at a place in our world – in North America where I am currently, and most important globally – where tattoos are a wholly accepted practice and form of outward expression, but we are getting there. I’m optimistic for tattooed people and the tattoo industry and the wonderful artist who make up it. My employers have always been accepting of my tattoos, knowing that I am able to exercise discretion on how much they are visible with in each context, and in turn, I respect the boundaries of when my tattoos should be out. My mom – well, she’s coming around. She loves me, and she’s proud of me, and she loves my partner and so far has been “cool” about the tattoos her three daughters have been accumulating. I do urge everyone to consider and reconsider their ideas and perceptions on tattoos. Ask people what their tattoos mean. Consider revising workplace policies to accommodate this form of expression. Perhaps maybe you can consider getting some ink yourself.  Why not?


I would do my dear partner a great disservice if I didn’t give his work a plug. Levi Moodie is an amazing artist, tattooing as an apprentice at Manson Tattoo in Old East Village, London, Ontario. He has done the majority of my pieces and I love them all couldn’t be more proud of him and the hard work and passion he puts into his craft.
Facebook: http://facebook.com/tattoosbylevimoodie
Twitter: @tattoosbylevi
Instagram: @tattoosbylevimoodie

Keep your higher education administrative professionals close.

As a career, I’ve chosen to be an administrator within higher education and I absolutely love it. That doesn’t mean that I’ve chosen to work as university “staff” because I have fallen short of other academic goals – this is the path I’ve chosen, enjoyed, and will continue to work in for the foreseeable future.

I have been extremely lucky that within my career as a higher education administrator, I have been for the most part treated respectfully, and have forged partnerships with academic partners that have done amazing things, and this is due to a change in mindset among specific faculty that involves placing an incredible amount of value on the higher education administrator.

Not every higher education administrative professional has been fortunate enough to have the great experiences I have with faculty members, as not all academics embrace the value – and power – of the higher education administrator.  Every higher education administrator, self-included, has a nightmare of a story of when they were dismissed, treated poorly, or simply ignored due to their status as “non-academic staff” who will mostly lack the highest academic credential. Each higher education administrator can tell a story of pulling long hours, on tight deadlines, pulling something together for an academic colleague’s work. Each higher education administrator is familiar with the phrase “your failure to plan has become my emergency”. Each administrator can tell a story of being wildly misunderstood – in terms of professional capacity, professional credentials, or place held within the university. I can remember being at a research event where the question was asked what the role of staff and administrative professionals was in research. The researcher, flustered to come up with a good answer, finally concluded that the role of support staff was to “put up with researchers”. I was a bit flummoxed by this answer, and to be honest, felt a little angry that the vital role of support staff in research (and all academic functions) was overlooked, and seemingly not valued at all. Would this researcher’s work have even happened had it not been for the support staff standing behind him?

Academics, I encourage you to think of the administrators that work with you. What is their role? How do they advance your work? What skills do they bring to the table? What would happen if your administrators just weren’t there?

My academic friends and colleagues, I urge you to keep your academic administrative professionals close, and hold onto them. Here’s why:

Higher education administrators study higher education for a living. Yes, that’s right – our area of study is the academic institution – the inner workings, working with academics, student life, organizational behavior – you name it. We have chosen a profession that has required us to get intimately acquainted with how higher education institutions work. In fact, some higher education administrators have advanced degrees in issues of higher education. Myself, for instance, studied within my Masters degree issues of pedagogy, curriculum development, knowledge translation, research methodology, leadership, and many more aspects of higher education, which has equipped me with the toolbox to take on many types of higher education administration roles. Higher education administrators eat, sleep, and breathe higher education, and they are a wealth of information for academics looking to navigate the system or explore possibilities.

Higher education administrators have skills that academics don’t necessarily have. If you poke around your talent pool in your higher education environment, you’ll likely see that your administrators not only hold high levels of education, but also a skill set that academics don’t (and vice versa). Higher education administrators quite often have backgrounds in communications, marketing, finance, human resources, and other professional areas that have allowed a high degree of transferable skills enter into the ivory tower. They’ve specialized in all the areas of expertise that help elevate the work of academics. One thing that many higher education academics won’t do is tell you how many skills they have, as we sometimes just like to see that we can just “make things happen”.

Higher education administrators will let you take the credit. That’s not meant to be as harsh as it may sound, but the statement has some truth. Higher academic administrators don’t need to have their name on things. They are happy to lend academics their time, expertise, skills, and dedication. They are happy to take on tasks and initiatives knowing that they’ll be making someone, or something, else look good. And we’re OK with that! Higher education administrators have chosen a career within the folds of the ivory tower knowing that they will be the backbone of the great things that come out of education, but will never get the glory. And again, we’re OK with that!

Higher education administrators are committed to seeing the academy innovate. I’ll be the first to admit that one of the biggest frustrations I’ve had with working in higher education is what we would refer to as the “old boys’ club” or the “canon” or the “academic tradition”. These phenomena are both what make academia unique and one-of-a-kind, but they are also what makes the academy outdated, irrelevant, and missing the boat on the potential of higher education. I won’t spend time on listing those things that make higher education stuck in the Ice Age, but I think we can all name a few. Higher education administrators are the ones that have their finger on the pulse of what’s new in higher education. Higher education administrators have spent their time with other administrators exchanging ideas and practices on how to move the needle on the effectiveness of a university education.  Higher education administrators are interested in meeting the needs of the changing workforce and the global world, and they are excited and posed to help their academic colleagues do so.

Higher education administrators understand academics. Academics are a rare breed. I don’t think it’s a shock for me to make such a statement. They have chosen career paths that are unlike any you would find outside the academy. They spend their time in different ways that people do in other kinds of careers. They can sometimes have “interesting” personalities, usually as a result to their intense dedication to their discipline, field, and research process. I, for one, love academics. I love the way they think, and I love that they have chosen a life of inquiry and helping to mold young minds. Yet I also understand the challenges that can arise in working with this rare portion of people, as do my colleagues. In terms of working with brilliant minds, we’ve seen it, and felt it all. This is to say, bring it on – we can, and will, work with you, and will come equipped to face any challenge you may throw at us.

Here’s a few tips for academics on leveraging your resident higher education administrative professionals:

  • Ask your administrator about his or her background and why they chose a career in academia
  • Use your administrator as a sounding board – they will be able to give you an honest opinion of whether your ideas will gain ground or fall flat
  • Find out what’s in your administrator’s toolbox – they may bring a skill to your work that you don’t have, yet can significantly increase the impact of your work
  • Understand your administrator’s limitations and areas of expertise – just because they are an administrator, doesn’t mean they are suited for all administrative tasks, or will take on any task you’ll throw their way (for instance, I can’t organize paperwork to save my life!)
  • Appreciate your administration – just because a higher education administrator may not need the glory, they do appreciate feeling valued and small gestures that make them feel so

Keep your higher education administrative professionals close – you’ll never find a greater fan or supporter for what you do.