Thank you, Mr. Chair.
I'd like to thank the committee for inviting me to appear today.
I joined the Canadian Armed Forces in 2007, when I was 31 years old. I had a bachelor's degree. I was offered entry into the forces as an officer, but I wanted to see what it was like to be a non-commissioned member first, before pursuing my dream of being an officer at some point. However, that's not how my career turned out.
I joined the forces to serve my country and serve overseas, with values of respect, honesty, and so on. I quickly found out that wasn't the case at all.
My career began with harassment, right off the bat. There was an incident with a colleague, during which the principles of honesty and respect were not followed. I was blamed. Because honesty and respect are important values to me, I ensured that this 18‑year-old young man was compensated by the forces after four years for a problem caused by a superior on a power trip. I won't go into greater detail, as it would take a very long time. Some time later, a master warrant officer came up to me, inches from my face, and said, “If you want your career to go well, you'd better stay away from Plamondon and his family.” I replied, “You taught me that once you're paired up with someone, it's forever.”
My career started like that in 2007, 2008 and 2009. I was still experiencing harassment. I was told that women had no place in the forces, that at 31, I was much too old, that I had no business being in the forces. They made that type of comment. It was psychological harassment, sexual harassment. I was told, “Keep your mouth shut or you'll get killed.” I've experienced it. During a drill, I was once told, “Do you want to be left behind in the field?” I was told that, given my career, I'd better take it really easy, better not speak up, otherwise it would be even worse, it would be the whole group. I think several women have made, or may make, similar statements. These are things I've experienced.
Psychological harassment is very strong. It doesn't matter how strong you are, if you take a few hits here and there, at some point you lose faith in your chain of command and institution. For me, the Canadian Armed Forces was the most glorious institution, and the one I should have trusted the most, because they're the ones who defend our country. On the other hand, when your country's own members destroy you, you don't know who you can trust anymore.
My chain of command destroyed me in every way. They went so far as to tell me it was all in my head. I was prevented from visiting my family. My doctor and psychologist were telling me to go see my family to clear my head. But when you're on sick leave, you can't go further than 50 kilometres away. My family is in New Brunswick, 300 kilometres away. I was asked to submit a request to be allowed to visit my family, but my chain of command refused, because there are mandated programs. These programs actually focus on harassment. There are all kinds of programs, but the forces don't abide by them. They exist and we do some every year, but a lot of people don't abide by them.
You get shut down because you're a corporal, because you're a woman, because you're old. You get pushed aside because you asserted yourself. In the forces, you mustn't assert yourself, especially if you're a woman. You get sidelined when it's time for missions. I've been told, “Cyr, you're doing really well here. He's just arrived, he doesn't know the job, so he's going on a mission. You're going to stay here and do background work.”
At one point, I received an email and I was happy, because I was about to leave on a mission. I still had a 13‑kilometre exercise to do. It's a major exercise, and very demanding. The day before, you're normally meant to be resting. Other soldiers can confirm this. However, the day before my exercise, my superior asked me to go and do topography, in the rain, until 11 o'clock at night. The 13‑kilometre exercise was at 6 a.m. the following morning. The next morning, I went for my 13‑kilometre exercise. With 200 metres to go—I could see the trenches—I crumpled and fainted. When I woke up, I was in hospital. The first thing I asked was whether I'd finished my 13 kilometres. They said they didn't know and that I'd been out for 45 minutes.
The Canadian Armed Forces don't talk about that. Those things are hidden. They cast doubt. What was said about me was that Corporal Cyr is a coward, she went 200 metres and stopped. Instead of explaining to members what's going on, they leave all kinds of things hanging in the air, which means they're always hassling people when they're injured or things happen.
I was in hospital for a week. Pardon the expression, but I peed blood for three days. Before I left, the hospital doctors gave me a medical note saying I had to spend two weeks at home, resting. Then I went to see the forces' medical services. That's another big shortcoming: the military system doesn't respect the civilian system. You have to fight all the time. When I went to the forces medical staff with my note, they said, “What, you want another vacation? You just spent a week in hospital.” I got into a big fight with the doctor and said, “You look at what's written here, look at all the instructions the doctor has just written about what I've just been through.” He told me he was going to give me the day off. I was back on Friday and the weekend was starting. I said, “That's fine, give me that. Monday morning, you won't be seeing me, believe me.”
We have to fight constantly. I'm speaking as a woman. I have male colleagues who also have to fight, but it always seems to be worse for women. A civilian doctor is a doctor. It seems to me that when a civilian doctor gives instructions, we shouldn't have to fight with military base doctors to follow them. The doctor should say that regulations must be followed.
The same holds true for harassment. If you try to raise it, you get harassed. You're told that you're a loser and you're just trying to get time off. No one explains to people what happened, so we get sent somewhere else. In my case, I was sent to another unit and told I was going to be promoted to a senior position, but I was lied to. That wasn't it at all. It was harassment, pure and simple.
I was doing some training on the base. I had a 20‑minute demarcation drill to do. One morning I was told, “This morning it took you 23 minutes, but the warrant officer and I did it in 20 minutes.” It was constant harassment. They were constantly nit-picking.
At one point, I was forced to fall to my knees and ask for help, because either I was going to kill the person or I was going to kill myself. I got to the point of writing a suicide note. Unlike others who had committed suicide, if I went through with it, I wanted the media to know why and find out about what was going on in this deeply flawed system.
Two years before I left the forces, so in 2017, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. I burst into tears. I told myself that I couldn't have this disorder, since I hadn't been on a mission. I was told that my war had been fought on the base. I couldn't accept this diagnosis. For two years, from 2017 to 2019, I didn't leave home. They were calling my house constantly for a year. As I previously said, they refused to let me visit my family. I was asked to fill out a request for authorization, but it was refused. To make sure I didn't visit my family, they called me at home morning and night. What does that do to a person? At some point, the brain gives up. I didn't even dare go out on my own turf anymore.
What saved my life was buying my restaurant and my cats. That's what continues to save my life every day. Even so, buying the restaurant got me in trouble with Veterans Affairs Canada. I saved my own life by having a business that allows me to get out of the house. I've created a safe haven, a refuge, a place to recuperate, to help me return to public places, but I've been forced to pay back an amount of money to the Manulife insurance company. Yet I'm not being paid by my job; I'm paying. This issue is still unresolved today, in 2023.
When we get out of the forces, Veterans Affairs tells us that everything is fine. Today, I dare to hope it's better, because things are done electronically. In my case, it was still paper forms in 2019.
In 2020, I was told I owed Manulife $27,000 or $37,000. I called Veterans Affairs to find out what was going on, and learned that between 2019 and 2020, I had not received 15% of my income from Veterans Affairs. No one at the minister's office bothered to call me to let me know. People suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder are not there. We're having trouble with the paperwork. I'm still struggling. I have a business, but I have people looking after my business. I'm here for my personal well-being. No one from Veterans Affairs called me to say there was a problem because I wasn't getting my money. I hope things like this will improve.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak. Thank you for making room for women.