It was 9:30 p.m. on a Saturday night when Brenda Hadley, who was serving at the time on the board of directors for Green Haven Shelter for Women, received a call from the shelter line. On the other end was Liz Westcott, Green Haven’s executive director.
Hadley picked up the phone and asked Westcott why she was at the shelter so late. “And she said ‘I need help, the basement is flooding.’”
So, Hadley gathered some mops, buckets and extra hands and hurried to the shelter to help Westcott bail out and mop up the mess.
It’s work like this, according to Hadley, that speaks to Westcott’s passion and commitment for Green Haven - an organization she’s led since before the shelter even opened its doors in 1991.
It's a passion that will be missed as of Nov. 27, when Westcott retires.
“Honestly, I get teary when I think about her not doing that work anymore, but I know this retirement is richly earned,” said Couchiching Family Health Team’s director of clinical services, Angela Munday.
Life before Green Haven
Westcott has worked with community-based charitable organizations for most of her adult life, though her passion for women’s issues started when she was a teenager.
When she was in high school, Westcott participated in a walkout to protest a dress code policy that barred female students from wearing pants to school. The protest was successful, and the students saw a direct change as a result of their actions.
“It really was quite a heavy experience, to see something that we had done actually made a difference," she recalls.
After graduating in 1976 from Fanshawe College with a diploma in developmental service work, Westcott began working with individuals with developmental disabilities in Alberta. She moved back to Ontario a few years later and continued with the same kind of work before taking a job with a community living association.
In 1990, when the shelter in Orillia was being built, Westcott was moved to work more closely with women’s advocacy. The tragedy of Montreal’s Ecole Polytechnique shooting, that claimed the lives of 14 female engineering students, was top of mind, said Westcott.
At the time, she was also raising two young daughters and was trying to help her sister who was in an abusive relationship.
“So when this opportunity came up, I thought this was my chance to do something that might matter and might make a difference," said Westcott.
Eary days at Green Haven
When the shelter opened in 1991, it was quaint, comfortable and homey, says Westcott, who remembers wallpapering on the morning of the grand opening in preparation for the ceremony that would be held later that day.
Upon opening, the converted house on Mississaga Street had 12 beds, though Green Haven was only funded as a 10-bed shelter. The organization’s crisis line was the only other service offered at the time.
The goal of the shelter was to be welcoming to all who walked through its doors.
Within a year, an outreach program was started to support women after they moved out of the shelter, as well as those who may need counselling but could continue living in the community.
A number of violent acts against women were making headlines throughout the 90s - such as the murders of Kristen French, Leslie Mahaffy and Arlene May. Tragedies like that resulted in domestic violence being treated very seriously.
“So we were seeing huge numbers in demand for service at the time, and that’s never really abated,” said Westcott.
Green Haven’s impact
Fleeing an abusive relationship, Cheryl Patterson-Craig arrived on Green Haven’s doorstep in September of 1996.
“At first I didn’t really think I was being abused because there was never any physical abuse for me,” said Patterson-Craig. Eventually, Patterson-Craig said she recognized the situation for what it was, called Green Haven’s crisis line and made the daunting leap to escape with her two young children.
The situation was especially hard for the children who were only three and four at the time. Shelter staff were very helpful in providing support to her daughter in particular.
“It made all the difference to her. She sees it now and realizes what the abuse (was).”
After leaving the shelter, Patterson-Craig used the outreach program to connect with shelter staff and other women using Green Haven’s services. Patterson-Craig said the ability to speak to other women with similar experiences of abuse made her feel less alone.
Green Haven staff made it known that they were there for support in the future as well, said Patterson-Craig. Even now, she’ll occasionally call Westcott to talk about life.
“She’s always happy to hear what’s going on,” said Patterson-Craig.
The support she received from Green Haven is what drove Patterson-Craig to later serve on the board of directors. Having experienced the services first-hand, she said she could speak to what helped her most and where the organization could improve.
“If it wasn’t for the shelter, I wouldn’t be here. It really, really saved me,” said Patterson-Craig.
A champion for the shelter
Much of Green Haven’s success can be attributed to Westcott’s ability to advocate for the organization, stresses past board member Donna Thomspon.
“I never had anyone say to me, ‘What’s Green Haven shelter?’” said Thomspon, who credited Westcott, "the face of the organization," for that.
During Thompson’s time on the board of directors, she witnessed an evolution of its members.
Westcott knew Green Haven needed board members with varying work backgrounds and life experiences. Lawyers, teachers, police officers, women of colour, women with disabilities and more were brought on to help the board’s functionality, said Thompson.
In her role with the Couchiching Family Health Team, Munday has worked with Westcott when referring clients in unsafe relationships to Green Haven. Her closest work with Westcott, however, was on productions of The Vagina Monologues in Orillia.
The Vagina Monologues is a book by author, activist and performer V (formerly Eve Ensler) written based on a series of interviews with women around the globe who experienced abusive relationships. The Vagina Monologues can also be performed as a reading, and the rights are given out for free by the author as long as proceeds are donated to a local charity dedicated to ending violence against women.
Munday and her team of friends who make up Mosaic Productions, a collective of women using art and awareness to promote the rights of women and children, read the book as part of a book club.
“We thought if we put this on with our love of theatre, we could make a huge difference,” said Munday.
Mosaic Productions has put on five productions of The Vagina Monologues at the Orillia Opera House since 2006, raising over $40,000 for Green Haven and Jubilee House.
Westcott worked closely with the Mosaic members, attending many rehearsals with the group.
“(Westcott) would say things like ‘You’re keeping the lights on.’ It was that level of need. She really helped us tap into the passion and the reason why this was important," said Munday.
Westcott’s support through the emotional content helped the production members as they cried, laughed and said uncomfortable things. “She was so non-judgemental as we were going through those rehearsals, helping us embrace that vision of the powerful woman that we want everyone to be.”
Westcott made sure there were therapists in the audience in case viewers were triggered by any of the content in the show. She additionally set aside tickets for past and present shelter patrons “so that they too could feel empowered, said Munday.
Challenging times at Green Haven
Throughout the 1990s and into the early 2000s, budget cuts introduced by provincial and federal governments stripped social services of some of their vital resources, according to Westcott.
“So we were crippled for a while around how much we were actually able to do, just having to hang on for our dear life in terms of our continued existence,” said Westcott.
Being close to the edge was paralyzing, but ultimately gave Green Haven a “steely spine” and reminded its staff of the organization’s importance in the community.
Green Haven is responsible for fundraising 20 per cent of its annual operating budget.
“There’s constant and ongoing fundraising that has to happen,” said Hadley.
Westcott’s ability to speak on behalf of the shelter showcases her commitment and passion, which has helped Green Haven in its fundraising efforts.
The strong working relationships Westcott keeps with local government representatives has also been “critical” to the shelter, said Hadley.
And with the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, the shelter now faces a host of new challenges. Green Haven was full in March when the city declared a state of emergency and consequently stopped intaking new patrons then.
With women only moving out and none coming in, the building became “eerily quiet,” said Westcott, especially as the crisis line stopped ringing.
“It was quite concerning because although the public message was stay home, we know women aren’t safe in their homes,” said Westcott. The shelter team began pushing the message that their lines were open, and saw a gradual uptick in calls.
While doors are open again at the shelter with limited capacity, taking a distanced approach to relationship-based work has proven difficult.
“It’s about being connected directly with women and going through some very emotional, intimate kinds of sharing about some of the worst things that have ever happened to (them). And having to do that over the phone or through a closed door, those are things that have really changed the ways we do business,” said Westcott.
A new chapter for Green Haven
While the first proposal for a new shelter was submitted in 2008, the idea to build a new facility had been considered long before that. The project was shelved by the provincial government for a number of years until it finally received funding in 2016.
Once they had found property to build on, the project moved extremely quickly. “The next thing you know, we’re under construction,” said Westcott.
Westcott was determined to build a shelter that bettered the lives of women while respecting the natural environment of the property. An archeological study was done to determine how the land was used by Indigenous people centuries ago.
“It provided just a fascinating report on the history of this property. It was amazing,” said Westcott.
The trees from the property that had to be removed for development will be commissioned into patio furniture “as part of our process to respect the land,” says Westcott.
The building’s design is light and bright, still with a focus on creating a welcoming atmosphere. Wide hallways and staircases make the new shelter more accessible for women with assisted mobility devices.
While the old facility featured 13 beds between five bedrooms, the new shelter has 14 beds and 10 bedrooms. The previous shelter had only two bathrooms while the new building has seven.
A primary goal with this building, according to Westcott, was giving women enough space so that “we can really (say) ‘You are important enough to be taken care of and you deserve a decent place to be.’”
Since the 1990s Westcott championed a new shelter that was more adequate for Green Haven’s needs.
“(Westcott’s) legacy has got to be the new build. Without her it never would have happened,” said Hadley.
What’s next?
On Nov. 27, Ligaya Byrch will take over as Green Haven’s interim executive director.
Byrch has worked in the shelter system for 10 years off and on. She began working in HIV/AIDS support before pivoting to work in primary care. For the last seven years, Byrch worked for the Local Health Integration Network.
Now retired, Byrch said she’s redefined herself as a community innovator and entrepreneur. Through this, she said she’s raised over $3 million in grants in the past three years.
Byrch first came to Westcott when Green Haven was planning their new building; she offered to make a donation. Ultimately, Byrch fundraised and donated the appliances and furniture for the new shelter’s kitchen.
“(Byrch) comes at it certainly from a place of community. She’s not a stranger to the organization,” said Westcott.
When Westcott announced she’d be retiring, Byrch suggested to the board that they “take a breather” and determine the organization’s next steps before hiring a full-time executive director. Byrch took on the role of interim executive director to allow the board this time to consider their next steps.
“Supporting individuals and organizations through change is something that really excites me,” said Byrch. The opportunity to aid the shelter in a time of transition is what Byrch said drew her to the interim role.
As interim executive director, Byrch said her job is to provide support to staff and clients, ensuring Green Haven can remain open for those that need its services.
Until she leaves, Westcott said there’s still boxes to unpack from the shelter’s move and everyday work to be done.
“We still have a budget to submit and reports that are required on a regular basis, so it’s kind of business as usual and trying to clean up loose ends,” said Westcott.
As for retirement plans, Westcott has none so far.
“My retiree mentors tell me that I’m probably going to be busier than I’ve ever been, but I’m kind’ve thinking I might sleep for about six months and then I’ll figure it out,” laughed Westcott.
Westcott’s parting thoughts
Westcott said the highlight of her career was working with the women around her -- shelter staff, the network of staff at other organizations, and the women who come through the shelter doors.
“It’s been a pretty incredible journey. It’s truly been such an honour to have been a part of that,” said Westcott.
The care and community mindedness the city of Orillia has is something Westcott said stuck out to her over the years. “I am always honoured and in awe of what the city of Orillia has been able to support,” said Westcott.
Some of the most amazing memories Westcott said she’ll carry with her are times when past residents of Green Haven have reached out to speak with her, or expressed how the shelter helped them.
One such memory Westcott holds onto is from a fundraising event held a few years ago.
Westcott was standing near a dunk tank at a carnival-esque event when she felt someone press what felt like paper into her hand. When she looked up, a man who appeared to be in his early 20s was pushing a $100 bill into her palm.
“And he just looked at me and he said, ‘I recognized you from across the lot and I just came over to say thank you. I lived at the shelter when I was eight years old and you were there and it mattered.’”
Westcott was overwhelmed, and said she cried for about an hour after the encounter. Tearing up again, she said, “Those are memories that never go away.”
Abby Hughes, a lifelong Orillia resident and Orillia Secondary School graduate, is a second-year Ryerson University journalism student interning with OrilliaMatters.
