Tuesday, March 3, 2026

Job Offer or Trap? A Warning to Women — And a Question for Government

 

⚠️ Job Offer or Trap? A Warning to Women — And a Question for Government

Police in West Vancouver recently warned women about a suspected kidnapping attempt connected to a job offer in Surrey.

Let that sink in.

A job offer — something meant to provide dignity, stability, and income — allegedly used as a setup for harm.

For parents of daughters looking for work, this is terrifying.
For women already navigating ageism, rejection, and housing insecurity, it is infuriating.

And we need to be honest: when economic systems become unstable, predators look for openings.


🚨 This Is Not Just One Incident

When a case is discovered, we hear about it.

But how many attempts go unreported?
How many women walk away shaken but silent?
How many near-misses never become headlines?

Public warnings are important. But prevention must go deeper.


🛡️ Practical Safety Steps for Job Seekers

Until systems improve, women need practical protection strategies:

1. Verify the employer.
Search for a legitimate website, business registration, and physical address. Call a publicly listed number.

2. First meetings should be in public professional spaces.
Never a private residence. Never an isolated warehouse. Never a hotel room.

3. Tell someone where you’re going.
Share location. Set a check-in time.

4. Watch for red flags.

  • “Cash only”
  • High pay, no experience required
  • Pressure to come immediately
  • Vague job description
  • Refusal to provide written details

5. Trust discomfort.
If something feels off, leave. You owe no one politeness at the cost of safety.


💔 The Bigger Issue: Economic Pressure Creates Risk

We cannot ignore the environment this is happening in:

  • Housing costs are crushing. 🏠
  • Stable jobs are harder to secure.
  • Older women face quiet age discrimination.
  • Gig work offers little protection.
  • Online platforms are flooded with scams.

When women are desperate for income to pay rent, risk thresholds shift.

That is not weakness. That is survival pressure.

And predators know it.


🏛️ A Question for Government

Public safety is not just policing after harm occurs.

It is preventing the conditions that make exploitation possible.

So we need to ask:

  • Why are housing and employment insecurity treated separately from public safety?
  • What protections exist for job seekers responding to online postings?
  • How are governments regulating job platforms where scams flourish?
  • What are municipalities doing to ensure safe hiring spaces?
  • Why are women navigating economic vulnerability without stronger systemic safeguards?

If housing were secure…
If stable employment were accessible…
If age discrimination were meaningfully addressed…

Would women feel forced to respond to risky opportunities?

Safety begins long before a crime.


🌎 This Is Everyone’s Problem

This is not about one city.
This is not about one police warning.

When society becomes economically unstable, exploitation increases.

Parents worry.
Women second-guess every opportunity.
Communities lose trust.

And yes — the fear spreads.


❓ Reflective Questions

  1. Have economic pressures ever made me consider something that felt unsafe?
  2. How can we create verified, safer hiring systems?
  3. Should job platforms be legally required to screen postings more rigorously?
  4. How does housing instability increase vulnerability?
  5. What would a truly protective system for women job seekers look like?
  6. Why are we reacting to individual crimes instead of redesigning the conditions that enable them?

We need more than warnings.

We need:

  • Affordable housing. 🏠
  • Transparent employment systems.
  • Stronger oversight of job platforms.
  • Clear public safety coordination.
  • Economic policies that reduce desperation.

Because when a job offer becomes a potential threat, something in the system is not working.

And women should not have to risk their safety just to survive.


Sunday, March 1, 2026

Eliza (Songhees Woman, Mother of Joseph Enos)

 Eliza (Songhees Woman, Mother of Joseph Enos)

Eliza was born around 1832.

Before Victoria was a city.
Before streets had English names.
Before ships lined the harbour.

She was Songhees — T’sou-ke? No. Tsongees — the people of the inner harbour of what is now Victoria.

When she was a child, the land was not “settlement.” It was village. Canoes. Reef nets. Smokehouses. Cedar. Reef-fishing, camas digging, reef-net knowledge passed down through women.

Her world changed fast.

In 1843, Hudson's Bay Company built Fort Victoria. She would have been about eleven. Imagine watching strangers arrive and stay. Watching fences go up. Watching the shoreline shift from canoes to ships.

Then the gold rush.

Then 1862.

The smallpox ship.

When the disease arrived in Victoria aboard the Brother Jonathan and others, Indigenous people were forced out of town. Entire encampments were pushed away while infected settlers were treated. The epidemic devastated Coast Salish communities.

Eliza would have been about thirty.

How did she survive?

Some Fraser River communities were vaccinated by missionaries. Some weren’t. Some families fled to islands. Some carried immunity from earlier exposure. Survival was not random — but it wasn’t guaranteed either.

The fact that she lived means something.
It means someone cared for her.
It means she endured fever, fear, or loss.

Five years later, in 1867, she had a son: Joseph.

His baptism record at St. Andrew’s Cathedral shows something striking. His father listed as “Joseph – native of St. Mary’s, Azores.” His mother: Eliza, Songhees.

That means her life bridged three worlds:

  • Songhees
  • Portuguese Azorean
  • British colonial Victoria

That’s extraordinary.

Imagine her home. Likely near the harbour before the forced relocation of the Songhees reserve across the water. A place where Lusophone Catholicism met Coast Salish traditions. Where cedar baskets and rosaries existed in the same room.

Her son would later write in English. Keep diaries. Work land. Hunt cougar. Deal with Indian Agents. Navigate colonial systems.

Who taught him English?

Maybe mission school.
Maybe the Cathedral.
Maybe hearing it every day in town.
Maybe Eliza insisted he learn it to survive.

We don’t know.

But we know this: when she died in 1882 in Nanaimo District, he was fourteen.

Fourteen is still a boy.

He had already begun a diary. Then he stopped for two years.

That pause says more than any record.

Her death wasn’t just a line in a register. It was a rupture.

She died at fifty. Not elderly. Not frail. Just… gone.

And her son had to step into manhood without her.


What might a day in Eliza’s life have looked like?

Morning smoke from cooking fires.
Camas bulbs roasting.
Children moving between languages.
Church bells from St. Andrew’s.
Fishing gear drying.
Watching the shoreline change year by year.

Holding both grief and adaptation in the same body.


Questions to sit with

  • Did she choose baptism, or was it required?
  • What did she think of the Cathedral bells?
  • Did she teach her son traditional knowledge alongside catechism?
  • What did she lose in 1862?
  • Did she ever imagine her descendants would still be asking about her?

She is not just “Tsongees (Eliza)” in a register.

She was a woman who survived epidemic, colonization, cultural upheaval, and raised a son who walked between worlds.

And because she did, I am  here.