Carried by Community

Over the holiday break, I’ve done a lot of reflecting on my journey — my childhood, my career, my family, and Culturally Committed.

When I think back to my childhood, I realize how fortunate I was to belong to a family that prioritized sharing in fun activities together. My memories of growing up are peppered with family quad rides, wiener roasts in the bushes alongside the Assiniboine River, getting pulled behind the skidoo on an inflated tractor tube, entire summers spent in the swimming pool with my siblings and cousins. (Our hair was SO green). Our house was alive and active with food, friends, and laughter.

I’ve been remembering a particular winter outing with my family and another family who lived in Grand Valley. My parents bundled my sisters and me into our snow gear (I don’t think my brother was born yet), and we met the Macphersons for a day of tobogganing down the valley wall. I don’t remember how old I was — just that I was small. My memory of the day is shaped by how often this story has been retold.

I was at the top of the hill with my dad, lining myself up for my next slide. Somehow, instead of pointing down the well-burnished path we'd rubbed into the hillside over the course of the day, I ended up headed toward a steep, tree-filled section we’d been told to stay away from. My parents realized what was happening just as my saucer tipped over the edge. My mom says she watched in horror as the pompom on my toque disappeared. They ran to the edge and could hear me laughing — toque fallen over my eyes, somehow missing tree after tree, rock after rock — before coming to a gentle stop at the bottom of the hill.

It became a family joke that this ride was symbolic of how I seemed to move through life: oblivious to the risks, happily sliding along, and somehow arriving unscathed.

As I’ve been reflecting, I’ve realized how familiar that feels. When Culturally Committed began, I didn’t have a clear map. I didn’t fully understand the risks or the consequences, or where the path would lead. I just knew I needed to move. And somehow — with a lot of care, guidance, and trust — we've found our way down the hill. 

I’m aware that milestones like this don’t happen in isolation. Culturally Committed exists because of relationships — because of mentors who have walked alongside us, a team that shows up with care and integrity, and a community willing to learn together even when the path isn’t clear. I’m deeply grateful for all of it.

We remain a grassroots, heart-led collective, fully community funded, and still finding our way — much like that little kid on the hill, trusting that care will meet us where we land.

As we look ahead, I’m holding a lot of curiosity. If you’ve been following our work, I’d love to know: do you know about our membership? And were you aware that this work is community funded?

If the answer is yes, I’d also welcome understanding what’s kept you from joining so far. This isn’t about convincing anyone — it’s about listening, learning, and navigating the next stretch of the ride with a bit more clarity. I'll link a short survey here, and would be so grateful if you'd take a moment to complete it.

For now, I’m holding gratitude for where we’ve landed, and humility for all that’s still ahead. Thank you for being part of this ride — for walking with us, questioning with us, and helping shape what comes next.

Still learning. Always.

With gratitude,

Kim