Two years ago, before going to New Delhi on my first posting with my husband and knowing little about living abroad, I had a call with another spouse who had previously lived in Pakistan with her husband.
“Just be aware of the lack of spousal support,” was her recurring message to me. At the time, I didn’t truly comprehend what this meant. Lack of support in what? Why would I need support from my husband’s employer? Then in October we landed in India, and within weeks, her warning became clear. My husband was now the sole breadwinner, captain of our two-person social committee, and therapist and career counsellor for how lost I felt in pursuing my journalism career. By December, I knew I was depressed, spending only a few hours each day writing; then I would watch TV, clean, or do laundry, wondering as I picked lint out of the dryer what exactly I was doing with my life.
My experience as a diplomatic spouse is not unique, but it is rarely acknowledged, at least when it comes to policies. In 1981, the Royal Commission on Conditions of Foreign Service tasked Commissioner Pamela McDougall with writing a report on the changes needed in the foreign services; she writes that spouses “are key to an effective Foreign Service and too long have gone unsung and unheralded for the part they play in representing Canada abroad and making it easier for rotational employees to do their jobs.”
The McDougall report outlined key issues facing spouses at the time of its creation: a lack of employment opportunities, insufficient support services, and the overall disruptive nature of life with a Foreign Service Officer.
“Spouses are the other members of the Foreign Service community who have to be broken out of the ‘non-person’ shell,” McDougall writes, noting that spouses’ aims, ambitions, and motivations don’t fit into one mould.
Over 40 years have passed since McDougall’s report and the spouses who share their experiences in this piece echo the same issues as McDougall. While the newly formed Canadian Diplomatic Family Network is working hard to change this, it’s clear that this “non-person shell” spouses are placed in has yet to be broken.
Canadian Diplomatic Family Network
Created this past March, the Canadian Diplomatic Family Network is made up of spouses and spearheaded by IRCC Foreign Service Officer Meagan Dalby, who says throughout her 15-year career with the Foreign Service, families have never seemed like a factor in many policies and Foreign Service Directives (FSDs).
“As long as I’ve been in the Foreign Service, I’ve always thought that in this day and age, when we think about how we’re at a certain place when it comes to gender equality and all of these kinds of things, just to have this expectation that spouses are going to just you know, love their partners enough to give up everything … career, friends, family, the whole thing, and not ask for anything in return.”
According to Dalby, the committee has three main goals: increased access to employment, increased access to information, and respect and recognition from the government.
Finding employment while at post is the most common issue among spouses and can affect their sense of self-worth and financial stability, she explains, especially if they feel they must rely on their partner financially for their whole life.
“Whether in the Foreign Service or out of the Foreign Service, we know that divorce and separation are a thing. We know that … it makes women more vulnerable to financial hardship if they are underemployed, being out of the workforce, and the longer you are out of the workforce, the harder it is to keep working.”
Lost in translation
Arriving in Senegal at night, J.G. and her partner were picked up by his manager, who informed them that there had been a break-in in the area two days ago, information which made J.G. feel worried, especially when realizing their balcony doors weren’t locking. Alone all day in their apartment, J.G. winced at every little sound, worried someone was breaking in.
Before moving to Senegal, her partner did hazardous environment training, an in-person course that prepares government employees for dangerous situations. J.G., however, was only provided with an online self-defence course, which she had to watch during her free time.
“So, we arrived, I was scared, and then I just remember going out and not understanding a single word, and that was just terrifying,” she says.
After learning they would be moving to Senegal, a French-speaking country, J.G. asked if she could take French classes. She was told that because French was an official language of Canada, the employer would not provide lessons, a barrier that would follow her throughout her two years at post.
Not long after arriving, someone walked them through their apartment to ensure they knew how the gas stove and alarm worked. The entire walkthrough was done in French, leaving J.G. clueless about what was said until her partner translated. Every time something went wrong with their apartment, she had to ask her partner to submit a Mission Request Online (MRO) – an online ticket system to request maintenance assistance – something spouses don’t have access to. While her partner was at work, the maintenance crew would come and speak only French, forcing J.G. to call him up during his work hours so he could translate for her.
With the language barrier and working remotely from their apartment, J.G. says it was difficult for her to meet people. When the embassy put on a Canada Day party, she was told it was for employees only.
“I don’t know, I just felt dead and not supported,” she says, adding that it was also difficult to relate her struggles to her friends at home, who couldn’t understand what she was going through.
“They think that if you have a big apartment, you’re abroad, and you have household help, you’re just living in a castle, and you’re living your best life when that’s very often the opposite. And you just have no one to talk to.”
Skills and experience but no opportunities
R.L., who was previously in the Canadian Armed Forces, is now on his first post as a spouse in Peru but did two international postings in his previous position. Much like J.G. in Senegal, R.L. says there was no language training before their move.
“When you’re sitting around here [home] all the time, you have a massive language barrier, and all your family and friends are back in Canada. It’s not that great; it gets boring after a while,” he says.
While R.L. initially had a remote contract as a threat analyst for his home department in Ottawa, the work required him to be at the embassy every day. However, the government was unwilling to pay for an office at the embassy for him, resulting in the contract being cancelled. Since then, R.L. says there have been few other work opportunities, and the ones offered are tasks like shredding paper or moving couches from people’s apartments.
“I left the Canadian Forces with an incredible amount of experience and skills and knowledge, and the certifications don’t mean anything,” he says, adding that even government jobs back in Canada he’s applied to haven’t been forthcoming.
“I think it’s not a great idea to do another one [post] as a spouse without having something tangible to do,” he says when asked if he would want to do another one.
Sacrificing careers
S.D. has to make the difficult choice of either going on a second posting with her husband or staying in Canada so she won’t have to give up the government job she worked hard to get.
After finding out about their next posting, S.D. talked to her manager and director to see if she could continue her job via telework, an idea they said they weren’t comfortable with despite S.D. saying she was fine working Canadian hours while overseas.
In December, she emailed the spousal unit at Global Affairs Canada (GAC) to see if they could help; after a month of silence, they responded, saying they couldn’t do anything and that it depended on her manager.
“So, at this point, I’m unsure what I can do. See if it’s possible for me to leave my current job and come with you [her husband], or you might need to go by yourself. Honestly, it’s hard. It’s not an easy decision to make, especially because I have a four-year-old as well.”
Previously posted to Bangladesh with her husband, S.D. knows what it’s like to be on a posting without any meaningful work, saying she felt completely lost the first year of the post.
“My husband’s working hours increased …especially the first six months. Most of the time, he came back home around 11 p.m. So, imagine me staying at home, doing literally nothing and depressed,” she says. “My background is psychology, so I learned how to adapt and help myself, but honestly, I’m not superwoman.”
She actively looked for work and eventually got a short-term contract with the British High Commission. However, the idea of going abroad again without a job makes her hesitant to leave her current position.
“Work was very rewarding for my husband. He loved his job,” she explains. “It was nice for me to learn about a different culture as well. But in terms of the work experience or finding something for myself, I find it extremely frustrating. Honestly, it wasn’t easy for me to deal with. What should I do for my own career?”
Second class citizens
A former political officer for Global Affairs Canada, N.S. knows what it’s like to be on posting as a Foreign Service Officer and as a spouse of one. Starting her career in the Foreign Service in 2003, it wasn’t until 2015 that she went on her first posting as a spouse in India.
In her second year in Delhi, she applied to three different positions at the embassy and didn’t get any of them; when she and her partner went on their next posting in Dakar, she applied to a junior political position and didn’t even get an interview.
“I was really frustrated and angry because I was a perfectly good Foreign Service Officer … I felt like they were giving lip service to their spousal employment policy,” she says, adding that she also applied for an LES (locally engaged staff) job in India, which is reserved for local staff and sometimes open to spouses. However, after finding out she would only be paid 300 rupees an hour, the equivalent of about $5 Canadian, she chose not to take the job.
“I felt it especially egregious that it’s my own employer, basically, who is offering me not to work at anywhere close to my wages, or even the Canadian wages, which were $18 or $20 an hour if you were supervising workers or something, but I just said no, I don’t think I can do this. I will be too resentful.”
While she did end up getting a four-month contract at the embassy, she says her position as a spouse left her feeling like a nobody.
“That was really hard. I’m sure it’s hard for everybody, but it was particularly hard having been an officer and just how dependent I was on my partner and how excluded I was,” she says, explaining that when things frequently went wrong with their apartment, she couldn’t call the High Commission but had to ask her husband to submit an MRO.
“But I was the one who was at home, so I was the one who was dealing with all the issues, but I mean, it was a bit of a game of telephone because I would have to tell him what was wrong. And you’d have to remember, and by the time the guy came, sometimes the issue hadn’t been communicated. And I don’t know where the communications breakdown was, but it was one more thing for my husband to do. It made me feel like really second class because I couldn’t do this myself.”
Humans with the same needs and insecurities
In addition to the 1981 McDougall report, documents and surveys done by spouses in 2016 expressed the same concerns. The Canadian Diplomatic Family Network’s Dalby says it’s frustrating to look back and see that nearly a decade later, nothing has changed.
As to why the issue has been stagnant for decades, Dalby thinks it’s because the government doesn’t necessarily view it as an issue they are responsible for. Their relationship is with their employees and ensuring they do a good job, and that’s where their involvement ends. This leaves a portion of the Public Service still operating like it’s the 1950s, and many spouses, like the ones sharing their stories, feeling like second-class citizens.
But, Dalby is hopeful for change this time around, thanks to the newly created network.
“But now we’ve got the connections, we have the motivation, we have the skills, and I think that there’s going to be some people that will kind of have to listen if we have a critical mass of numbers and present ourselves logically.”
Sometimes, I feel like the yellow pegman used for Google Maps, flung into an unknown neighbourhood and expected to figure out the landscape of this new life with very little help. While my husband is guaranteed a job in every country we move to, my career trajectory is murky. While I love the adventure that comes with living somewhere new with my partner, every day is not about exploring but trying to build a meaningful life in a temporary location, a difficult task especially when there’s no support.
“I just would want to feel that I’m a person, I’m a legitimate human, who is the same importance as the employee,” J.G. in Senegal says. “I understand that workwise, I’m the spouse, and he is the one who works, but we are coming to our postings as two same-level humans with the same human needs and insecurities.”
