My father was born in Verdun. My mother left Egypt on her own, at 22. Both spent their careers teaching children from working-class neighbourhoods.
My mother chose Quebec because she believed a woman could become more here than what was expected of her. I want my daughters to still be able to believe in that Quebec: a Quebec that does not dictate what they should be, but gives them the means to choose.
That is where it all begins.
I learned this there: the most decisive power is not always the one you see. It lives in restrained gestures, in a word kept, in a decision owned. I have watched teams hold together under pressure no one had anticipated.
I have seen the opposite too. When fear sets in, listening withdraws. The decision becomes a personal risk. It stops being a shared responsibility.
That is where I speak from.
We invest massively in the people who lead: their development, their training, their coaching, their performance reviews.
What we build far less often is the collective capacity to hold together when the pressure rises.
So we ask individuals to carry alone what should be held up by shared markers, rituals, bonds and a shared responsibility.
This is the conviction that runs through my opinion pieces, my personal essays in major media outlets, the book I am finishing, Ce que gouverner exige, and the talks I give to those who want to understand more deeply what allows collectives to hold.
A conference. A project. A public stance.
It all starts in the same place: this drive to understand what allows humans, teams and institutions to hold together when the pressure rises.