A tough decision for women

Earlier this week, the Sun reported that a committee named “Her Seat at the Table” is encouraging women to seek positions on city council in the next municipal election. As part of that effort, the group will host a gathering on Dec. 3, at which there will be a range of information available for those considering running. That meeting will be followed by a second session in February, which organizer Tracy Baker says will be “more strategic.”

I have no doubt that the “Her Seat at the Table” initiative is well-intentioned, in that it seeks to resolve the gender imbalance that currently exists at the city council table. That said, it is important that anybody thinking of running for any elected position — women in particular — have a very clear idea of exactly what they are getting themselves into.

Over the past 20 to 30 years, I have often been contacted by people who were pondering being candidates in an upcoming election, whether it be at the school board, city council, provincial or federal level. Their concerns have ranged from the cost of election campaigns to the time commitment required to do the job if elected, and everything in between.

More recently, their top issue by far is the amount of abuse they will experience during the campaign and, if they are elected, during their tenure as an elected official.

In the early summer of 2022, I was contacted by a number of women who were thinking about running for city council in that fall’s municipal election. They were each smart, well-educated and committed to the city. I had no doubt that they would be very effective city councillors, if elected.

As the time drew closer for them to each make a final decision on whether they would be running or not, however, they each became more concerned about the nasty nature of politics, particularly on social media. They were increasingly troubled by the prospect of being subjected to the insults, threats and thuggish behaviour that has become common.

For at least two of them, the final straw was the manner in which former deputy prime minister Chrystia Freeland was treated in Grande Prairie, Alta., on Aug. 27, 2022, during which she was repeatedly intimidated by a man who was much larger than her.

The incident was videotaped and is still available on YouTube (search “Chrystia Freeland Grande Prairie”). It’s a stomach-churning example of the mistreatment many female politicians across the political spectrum are subjected to on a regular basis.

Within days of the Freeland incident, every single woman who had contacted me regarding the possibility of running for city council had decided to not run. They each told me they were unwilling to subject themselves and/or their family to even the potential for abuse. In their view, it just wasn’t worth it.

They each made what they believed was the right decision for them, and so have many others facing the same decision.

This week, it was reported that a recent survey of more than 1,600 local government politicians by the Canadian Municipal Barometer found that a staggering 63 per cent have experienced some form of harassment. Last year, Federation of Canadian Municipalities president Rebecca Bligh told the FCM annual convention that harassment of leaders at all levels of government is “surging.” She added that some elected officials have resigned or decided not to run again because of the abuse they have experienced.

A male city councillor told me last year that he has decided to leave politics because he is tired of being yelled at by citizens. Other male councillors have told me about the growing volume of abusive calls and emails they receive, something they each say has become “part of the job.”

That’s what elected men are saying; for elected women and women in non-elected leadership positions, the experience can be even worse.

Many have told me about the disgusting, sexist communications they often receive. Others have been the victims of stalker-like behaviour. Almost all of them believe they are being held to a much higher standard of performance than their male colleagues, and subjected to even more abuse when they are unable to satisfy those unreasonable expectations.

For example, the constituency offices of NDP cabinet ministers Bernadette Smith and Nahanni Fontaine were each vandalized this past summer, while the offices of male ministers were left alone.

I could cite other examples, but you get the point: politics is a rough business, especially for women. It’s not fair, but it is the reality.

For that reason, I encourage anybody considering putting their name on a ballot to think very carefully about that decision. Like the women who consulted me in 2022, they must each ask themselves if the possibility of being elected is really worth it.