PROFILE

FROM TRIALS TO TRIUMPHS

above. Cathy Browne with her daughter Perdita Felicien

St. Lucia-born Cathy Browne, who once had to take refuge in a domestic shelter in Canada, is a fierce advocate for women struggling with violence and other issues

By Vivien Fellegi

Cathy Browne’s mother had a mantra. “A woman will fall down three times,” she would tell her daughter. But she’ll get back on her feet. These words would prove prophetic for Browne, who’d face down one obstacle after another in the coming years. But she never allowed these challenges to defeat her.

“I didn’t let what I went through prevent me from being who I am,” she says. Browne’s daughter, world champion hurdler Perdita Felicien, chronicled these stumbling blocks in her recently released memoir, My Mother’s Daughter.

Browne, now 66 years old, was born on the Caribbean Island of St. Lucia. The family lived in a tin shack without electricity or plumbing, and eked out a living selling trinkets to tourists. Cathy frequently had to skip school to help out in the family business. Eventually, she missed so many classes that she dropped out in grade six.

But regardless of their precarious finances, Browne’s mother taught her to look out for those who were worse off. Though she was a talented hustler, Browne capped her sales at two shell necklaces per client, directing customers to purchase other souvenirs from her less successful friends.

But the young girl had always dreamed of a more successful future. Gazing at a faraway island, Browne imagined a better life. “I don’t know how,” she would tell herself, “but one day I’ll cross beyond that island.”

The wish came true for Browne. The teenager befriended a wealthy Canadian couple who were vacationing on St. Lucia, and, a few years later, they hired her to come to Toronto and babysit their two children. She decided to make the move, leaving her own children with her behind with their grandparents.

But life in Canada was less rosy than anticipated. The couple fired her without cause just a few months after her arrival. The next employer was worse. “She was a prejudiced lady,” says Browne. She would underscore a point by swearing “on my white Bible.” She also threatened to call immigration if Browne’s work failed to measure up. (At this point Browne’s status was precarious and she was at risk of deportation.)

Browne hoped that her partner would solve her legal problems by marrying her and sponsoring her and her children. But her powerlessness only fuelled his scorn. Bruce put her down constantly, telling her she was ugly or stupid, and even humiliated Browne by shutting down the water

supply to their home. But when he hit her, Browne decided she’d had enough and took her family to an Oshawa shelter, Auberge (later renamed Denise House).

Their time at Auberge proved to be a turning point. “It changed my life,” says Browne, “It built my self-esteem.” Not only did the shelter provide a safe space during the crisis, but it also gave her a highly subsidised townhouse where she and her family could heal in peace.

Propelled by her newfound confidence, Browne went back to school, earning both a high school diploma and a certificate as a health-care aide (later called personal support worker). Browne says she will never forget walking on the stage on graduation day. “I was feeling really proud when they called my name,” she says. Her children sprang to their feet and clapped wildly.

Shortly afterwards, Browne landed a job tending residents at a nursing home. She revelled in her new career. During breaks from cleaning and feeding her charges, Browne belted out gospel songs and sashayed across the floor. The residents were thrilled by these impromptu performances. “They loved it,” says Browne. “They sang along with me.”

Her job gave her another, unexpected boon. One of her clients introduced Browne to her son, and the match led to marriage. “He treats me like a queen,” says Browne. “I’m the happiest, happiest woman.”

But her good fortune has not made Browne complacent. Today she’s a fierce advocate for women struggling with violence and other issues. When her daughter, Felicien, first approached her to get her permission to write their memoir, Browne didn’t hesitate. She wanted to share her story so that other, silent victims of abuse would be empowered to speak out. “It’s wonderful that they know they’re not alone,” says Browne.

Today, Browne and Felicien donate a portion of the book’s royalties to Denise House, and they jointly chair the shelter’s Courage Circle, which brings awareness to domestic violence. The duo also support the shelter’s fundraisers – while her daughter gives the keynote speeches, Browne mingles with the residents and to bolster their spirits.

Browne advocates for women everywhere – on Facebook, on the street, and even on the bus. One time, at a courthouse, she saw a young woman with a toddler burst into tears and learned that the child’s father had refused to support their child.

“I was in the same boat as you,” shared Browne, who proceeded to tell the girl about her own child who became a hurdling superstar. “You never know, you might have a champion,” she told the woman, and the father would “be the one losing out.”

The girl stopped crying and laughed. “I felt good,” says Browne. “I really like to help people.”

Today, Browne, who is retired, enjoys looking after her 15 grandchildren and her great-granddaughter. But her biggest gift to her family is the example of her indomitable spirit and her bubbly optimism. She’s come full circle from the days when her own mother predicted both trials and subsequent triumphs.