Turquoise Boutique

A Child's Orange Shirt

​Phyllis (Jack) Webstad, the founder of The Orange Shirt Society, in her own words:
​I went to the Mission for one school year in 1973–1974. I had just turned 6 years old. I lived with my grandmother on the Dog Creek reserve. We never had very much money, but somehow my granny managed to buy me a new outfit to go to the Mission school. I remember going to Robinson’s store and picking out a shiny orange shirt. It had string laced up the front, and it was so bright and exciting—just like I felt to be going to school!
​When I got to the Mission, they stripped me and took away my clothes, including the orange shirt! I never wore it again. I didn’t understand why they wouldn’t give it back to me; it was mine! The color orange has always reminded me of that and how my feelings didn’t matter, how no one cared, and how I felt like I was worth nothing. All of us little children were crying, and no one cared.
​I was 13 years old and in grade 8 when my son, Jeremy, was born. Because my grandmother and mother both attended residential school for 10 years each, I never knew what a parent was supposed to be like. With the help of my aunt, Agnes Jack, I was able to raise my son and have him know me as his mother.
​I went to a treatment centre for healing when I was 27 and have been on this healing journey ever since. I finally get it, that the feeling of worthlessness and insignificance, ingrained in me from my first day at the Mission, affected the way I lived my life for many years. Even now, when I know nothing could be further from the truth, I still sometimes feel that I don’t matter—even with all the work I’ve done!
​I am honored to be able to tell my story so that others may benefit and understand, and maybe other survivors will feel comfortable enough to share their stories.

"Don't hold your breath Sir"~Canada 🇨🇦

This beautiful girl of mine ♥️

I honestly don’t even know what words are left.

From the endless revelations and alleged cover-ups surrounding the Epstein files, to the existence of so-called “rape academies,” to the systematic erosion of women’s rights and bodily autonomy — it feels like too much.

And then Cornell.

A woman allegedly drugged and assaulted by multiple men for 7 HOURS and we’re talking about men being given essays as part of their punishment?

Essays.

WTF.

Look at the faces of these men. Look at the culture that can produce this kind of behaviour, normalize it, protect it, minimize it — and teach young men, directly or indirectly, that women are to be used as pleased That women are somehow disposable.

And I know this subject personally.

I have been dragged into the woods in broad daylight and violently assaulted.

So when I talk about women’s safety, this isn't some abstract issue I’m reading about on my phone. I know what it feels like to have your sense of safety ripped away from you. I know many of you have experienced and know how this feels too.

And before anyone tells me that I’m supposed to calmly wait for all the facts: yes, allegations are allegations, and due process matters.

But so does asking why women so often seem to be the ones carrying the lifelong consequences while institutions scramble to protect reputations, organizations, futures and careers.

I am exhausted by it.

Exhausted by being told to be vigilant.
Exhausted by being told to teach our daughters how to stay safe.
Exhausted by watching women have to prove what happened to them while the systems around them look for reasons to soften what happened to the men.

At some point you stop asking, “How did this one thing happen?”

And you start asking, “What the hell is wrong with the culture that keeps allowing it to happen?”

How are we supposed to just breathe, go about our ordinary lives and pretend everything is fine when the rot feels this deep?

I don't have a neat conclusion.

I'm just so damn tired of women having to survive systems that were supposed to protect them.

Easy like Sunday morning ♥️

For decades, you trusted my Boutiques, and you know I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve. I am currently working hard behind the scenes on my brand, Hope & Purpose, and I couldn’t resist sharing a tiny look at my web page.
​This space is deeply meaningful to me. Thank you for being such a special part of my journey.
​Stay tuned! 💜🕊️

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When they told you that you're adopting a 90 pound Dogo Argentino Mastiff/ Staffy and you end up with ........ 🐰

Happy Autumn Equinox! Wishing an abundance of blessings and peace for all 🌎✌️ 🍂🙏🧡

There is a quiet, enduring magic in the everyday rhythms of life captured while walking my pups.. It’s found in the simple motion of a friendly wave, the vibrant splash of yellow blooms thriving in a garden, and rows of laundry gently dancing in the breeze under the shade of towering trees. These are the moments that ground me and turn an ordinary neighborhood into a home.