Graduation Address

"Speaking Notes for Address by Catherine Frazee" (24 October 2002). (UA Case 69, Box 3)

Your Honour, Mr. Chancellor, Mr. President, Dr. Parr-Johnston, Minister Green, Mr. Cochrane, Your Worship, Faculty and Staff, Special Guests, Alumni, Parents, Friends, and Graduates.

I extend to this University my deepest appreciation both for the honour of this degree and for the opportunity to share a few of the reflections that this occasion stirs for me.

First among these reflections, is the very special meaning of an honour coming from and presented in the province of New Brunswick. I have great respect for this province’s demonstrated commitment both to the protection of human rights and to processes of critical self-reflection in the context of emerging rights issues and challenges. In particular, I have the highest regard for the leadership that has come from the province of New Brunswick in pioneering—indeed setting a national standard—for inclusive public education that meets the needs and respects the rights of children with disabilities. Consistent with this pattern of investment in inclusion I note and applaud recent efforts made by this University to achieve higher standards of access for disabled students, faculty and guests. New Brunswick, it seems, is 'on side' in its attention to issues of equality for persons with disabilities to an extent that should put some of its more prosperous neighbours to shame.

There is also a very personal dimension to my relationship with New Brunswick. Although I was not born here, New Brunswick is most surely where I am from. It is where my grandparents lived and where I came to know them; it is where my parents live and where I come to be with them. New Brunswick was the constant in the nomadic rhythms of my early family life. It is the place of enduring memories—a place where I made friends—and mischief—and where I have learned as an adult the importance of history, rootedness and connection. I have come to New Brunswick at times to work and to learn, and at times to take refuge from the ceaseless demands of both. I have come and will continue to come, now more than ever, with a sense of belonging to this place. For this, I extend my very personal thanks.

Second among my reflections is the much more solemn recognition that on this day in Canadian history, October 24, nine years ago, a young woman’s life was extinguished. A young woman with all of the capacity for love and hope and joy and connection that is the birthright of every person, died by her father’s hand on a farm in Wilkie, Saskatchewan on October 24th, 1993. Tracy Latimer would have been 21 years old this year, but for a criminal act regarded as "merciful" by as many as 71 percent of Canadians. 71 percent of Canadians who, unlike many of you, were not privileged to learn alongside their disabled peers—their disabled equals.

Along with my thanks in this moment, I therefore offer mindful remembrance of Tracy and countless other children, women and men with disabilities who have been silenced and dishonoured. From the deepest place of conviction within me, I speak back against the dangerous notion that the birth of a disabled child is a tragic birth—it is not. That we who have disabilities are broken and wretched—we are not. And that suffering and loss are the defining and irredeemable features of our lives—they are not.

This place and this day are infused with great meaning for me. So too, is the recognition of an honorary degree. For each of you as graduates, the degree that you receive today represents the fulfillment of a contract, the completion of several years of focused intellectual work, the marking of a social and cultural milestone. For me as an honorary recipient this degree has different meanings. From my grappling with these meanings, I feel compelled to declare that I accept this honour not as an affirmation of my own achievements, but as something quite different. Achievements, after all, are nothing more than so much fruit upon a vine. Why praise the vine? The bearing of fruit is a matter of soil and stewardship, is it not? Tribute is rightly owed to Mother Nature and to the careful tending of those who value the vine and its potential to bear fruit.

It is that careful tending and stewardship that this degree honours. I receive this award today, because I have been privileged. I have been privileged to flourish under the watchful attention of educators and employers, men and women like yourselves who have coached and challenged men from their place as teachers, administrators, managers, public servants, business people and politicians. I receive this award today, because I have been cared for by nurses and therapists, and served by researchers, engineers and inventors—all of whom have risen to the challenge that my particular genetic anomalies present—men and women like yourselves, with education in nursing, science, kinesiology, engineering, computer science. I receive this award today, because I have been inspired by artists and creators, writers and performers, by deep thinkers and visionaries, and, yes, misfits—for remember, a misfit is just a visionary at the beginning of her career.

I receive this award today, because men and women of courage and principle have taken a stand. Men and women like yourselves with fire in their bellies have battled for justice in the courts, in the media and in the public consciousness—slowly but surely advancing unpopular ideas—ideas about the emancipation of women, ideas about equal rights and opportunity, ideas about the delicate balance of nature. I receive this award today, because activists before me have asserted my right to be here, my right to act in the social world and to thrive in the natural world. I receive this award today, because one particular man and one particular women—my parents—raised me without shame or surrender and because my partner, family and friends have given witness and affirmation, gentle correction and unconditional support.

This degree honours our splendid interdependence. This degree affirms that it is not our individual achievements that are extraordinary. What is extraordinary is that every member of the human family connects to every other and that this web of unseen relationships gives an ethical dimension to virtually every decision and choice that we make—as gatekeepers and consumers, as artists and emancipators, as parents, lovers and friends. What is extraordinary is the impact that each of us can have through the respect and recognition we accord to the other. What is extraordinary is that we can honour, by our work and our words and our choices and our attention, the lives of others like Tracy Latimer for whom the prize of recognition was fatally elusive.

Some have said that education makes for inequality—the inequality of competitive success, the assertion of intellectual or athletic superiority. If I may ask you to take from my words one single message, it is the rejection of independent, individual achievement. Our flirtation with the fiction of individual achievement puts at great risk, the delicate fibres of interdependence and connectedness and mutual care that have permitted me to flourish.

To each of you, today’s graduates, my closing wish. May your gifts of intellect and the finely honed skills of your vocation being you something better than competitive advantage. May the careers—and the adventures in living—that unfold for you from this day weave themselves into an extraordinary tapestry of shared purpose and mutual regard. May the privilege of working for peace, inclusion and equality belong to each of you. And may you always understand that to do this work, you must first listen deeply for the voices of those who are absent.