8 Women Who Hit Their Stride At 50—And Beyond
For the past four years, Chatelaine has celebrated the incredible Canadian women and gender-diverse people who are working to make the world a better place with our annual Doris Anderson Awards. The only qualification for our recipients is that they display the same tenacity and fearlessness as our awards’ namesake, our formidable former editor-in-chief Doris Anderson.
This year, all of our talented and inspiring recipients are over 50. Forget the under-30 prodigies we usually see in magazines: These women—who hail from politics, the arts, sports, social justice and more—have hit their stride in midlife and beyond. (In fact, one of our recipients is still breaking world records at 100!) It’s high time we celebrate this often-overlooked demographic. —Erica Lenti
Our 2024 recipients:
Céline Dion | Leah Gazan | Dorothy Grant | Mitzie Hunter | Pamela Anderson | Betty Brussel | Jessica Waite | Ingrid Waldron
Céline Dion, age 56
For triumphantly returning to the stage while raising awareness for Stiff Person Syndrome
It was the kind of over-the-top comeback performance you’d only expect from Canada’s greatest diva: Perched on the Eiffel Tower, Céline Dion opened the 2024 Olympic Summer Games by belting out Édith Piaf’s Hymne à L’Amour into the night sky as raindrops poured down on the baby grand piano next to her. Dion, who was diagnosed with Stiff Person Syndrome in 2022, had not sung live in four years. And yet there she was, in perfect Céline form, as though she had never left the stage.
It wasn’t an easy return. Stiff Person Syndrome is a rare autoimmune disorder that causes involuntary muscle spasms and stiffness, and it has no cure. In the limited appearances she has made since her diagnosis, Dion has said that she’s learned to live with the disorder. (She was not speaking to media at the time of publication.) In April, she told Vogue France that that means five days of physical and vocal therapy a week. “Either I train like an athlete and work super hard or I switch off and it’s over,” she said. “I’ve chosen to work with all my body and soul, from head to toe, with a medical team.”
Dion opened up once more in June in her feature-length documentary, I Am: Céline Dion, offering the world an unprecedented and candid glimpse into life with Stiff Person Syndrome. In one harrowing scene, Dion experiences a lengthy seizure. In another, as she strains to sing, she tearfully admits that she can no longer hit the notes she once could. Still, she told journalists upon the documentary’s release that she would sing again.
“I want to be the best I can be,” Dion told Vogue. “My goal is to see the Eiffel Tower again.”
Just three months later, at the Olympic Opening Ceremony, Dion achieved that goal in what might just be one of her most iconic performances yet. What’s next for the queen of power ballads—another Las Vegas residency? A world tour? It seems it’s up to her wildest imagination. —E.L.
Leah Gazan, age 52
For creating the Red Dress Alert system to protect Indigenous women and girls
Last May, Leah Gazan stepped onto the floor of the House of Commons with the goal of protecting Indigenous women, girls and LGBTQ2S+ people. The NDP member of Parliament representing Winnipeg Centre called on the federal government to implement what she called the Red Dress Alert system; like an Amber Alert, it would notify Canadians when an Indigenous woman, girl or LGBTQ2S+ person goes missing.
Gazan’s motion—developed alongside long-time Indigenous advocates Sandra DeLaronde and Hilda Anderson-Pyrz, as well as family members of the missing and murdered—comes after decades of violence against Indigenous women, girls and gender-diverse people in Winnipeg. The city has been deemed “ground zero” for the MMIWG2S+ crisis, a reputation underscored by the deaths of four Indigenous women at the hands of a serial killer in the spring of 2022. (The killer received four life sentences for his crimes in August.) Following the murders, MPs unanimously backed Gazan’s motion, which the government promptly adopted.
The federal government has since earmarked $1.3 million in the 2024 budget for developing the Red Dress Alert system—a name inspired by Métis artist Jaime Black, who used red dresses in an art installation to honour murdered and missing Indigenous women and girls—alongside Indigenous partners and the province of Manitoba. Advocates hope such a system will help bring missing women home and draw greater attention to their cases.
A member of Saskatchewan’s Wood Mountain Lakota First Nation, Gazan is the daughter of a Holocaust survivor from Holland and a Lakota-Chinese mother who grew up in the child-welfare system and went on to become a psychiatric nurse and social worker. “For my parents, the way they survived their own genocides in different parts of the world was to work together to fight for a better world,” says Gazan, “and I grew up in that.”
Before entering politics in 2019, Gazan spent time as an organizer for Idle No More, a grassroots protest movement honouring Indigenous sovereignty. She was elected to represent central Winnipeg in 2019 and has spent the past few years as an MP pushing for recognition of Indigenous rights, climate action and anti-poverty measures such as Guaranteed Liveable Basic Income.
In October 2022, Gazan presented a motion to recognize Canada’s residential-school system as an act of genocide for a second time, which was ultimately adopted with unanimous consent. The motion is not legally binding, but it was a significant move that allows for Canada’s residential-school system to be described as genocide without the “cultural” qualifier, which experts say could affect future legal cases involving residential-school survivors. In September, Gazan also tabled a private members’ bill that would recognize residential-school denialism as a hate crime.
Gazan does this work not because she loves politics, but because “I love justice, because I love Mother Earth and I want to make sure that every- body is afforded human rights,” she says. “I’m going to stay here for as long as I can and fight like hell.” —Charnel Anderson
Dorothy Grant, age 69
For creating a living record of Haida design over the course of a 40-year career
For Haida designer Dorothy Grant, creation has always been about connection—to the past, to traditions and to one another. This year, she bridges her past and her present with two new projects that reflect on her 40 years in fashion: a retrospective exhibition at the Haida Gwaii Museum, in Skidegate, B.C., and a companion book, Dorothy Grant: An Endless Thread. These two projects feature pieces from every era of her career, starting with her early days making regalia and weaving spruce-root baskets the way she was taught by her maternal grandmother, Florence Edenshaw Davidson. Many of her most recent designs are inspired by silhouettes plucked from her archives, such as her fur-felt hats and swing coats adorned with hand-cut appliqués of her artwork.
Not many people have the chance to reflect on their journey in this way, and Grant recognizes the opportunity. “To look at it, it’s like rising above yourself and looking down at your life,” she says.
One of the first designers to marry traditional Haida art and contemporary silhouettes in the early 1980s, Grant created a new avenue for cultural expression, paving the way for the next generation of Indigenous designers and fostering a sense of belonging. “Our art, ceremonies and fashion [are] reflections of who we are, but [they] also open up for everybody to share that feeling,” Grant says. “Believing in ourselves, being proud of who we are and showing it in our mediums of fashion, art, language and culture unites us as human beings.”
As for what comes next, Grant is giving herself space to feel it out. “The exhibition is called Raven Comes Full Circle. And when [you’ve] reached the end of that circle, it’s not an end—either you’re going to spiral down or you’re going to spiral up,” she says. There’s no doubt that for Grant, the only way is up. “Where that lands me is yet to be determined, but for now, I’m going to keep creating garments for people. That’s what makes me happy.” —Andréanne Dion
Mitzie Hunter, age 53
For ushering in a new era at the Canadian Women’s Foundation
You’ve probably heard Mitzie Hunter’s name in the past few years—whether during her 2020 run for leadership of the Ontario Liberal Party or her 2023 race to become mayor of Toronto. But after nearly a decade as a member of provincial Parliament for Toronto’s Scarborough-Guildwood riding and serving as Ontario’s minister of education and associate minister of finance, Hunter bid the world of politics adieu. In June, she stepped into a new role as president and CEO of the Canadian Women’s Foundation, a non-profit that works to bring gender equality and justice to girls, women and gender-diverse people through funding initiatives, advocacy and developing resources. Hunter calls it a dream role: “I’m really in awe of the work that we do.”
In her new position, Hunter has already identified gaps to be addressed. “We will be doing more work for women with disabilities,” she says. “Women who experience a disability and face gender-based violence often have [fewer] supports and sometimes feel as if they cannot leave their situation even though they need to.” Hunter also highlights the organization’s work with Indigenous communities, such as doula-training and youth-leadership programs in Yellowknife, for which the Canadian Women’s Foundation is a partner and provides funding. “We look to them to tell us what’s happening on the grassroots level so we can bring their concerns to the national level of change-making,” she says.
Thanks to a long career in government, Hunter brings with her extensive knowledge of policy as well as a new network of partners and donors. “It’s not only the programming that I’m so passionate about but also the public-policy landscape and changing systems that aren’t working,” Hunter says. She also has a unique perspective from her time in politics. “I’m grounded in the local community. As a former MPP, I understand the work of local organizations, and that’s what the Canadian Women’s Foundation seeks out—those organizations that may be smaller [but] doing the real work in communities. We come alongside, we make those investments and we partner with them.”
For Hunter, success at the Canadian Women’s Foundation means making Canada better and safer for women. “That’s what we’re working toward—a more fair Canada when it comes to women, girls and gender-diverse people. A Canada where girls can dream whatever big dream they have and know that there are no barriers or separation between what they get paid and what the guy next door gets paid. That’s the contribution that I hope to make.” —Andrea Yu
Pamela Anderson, age 57
For challenging beauty standards one makeup-free red carpet at a time
When she stepped out at Paris Fashion Week in September 2023, Pamela Anderson found herself making headlines again—but not for the usual reasons. Without a glam team or stylist, Anderson, then 56, took her front-row seat at some of the biggest and most photographed runway shows of the year with nothing more on her face than a layer of moisturizer and a lick of mascara, her trademark blond mane air-dried and windswept.
No stranger to having her photo splashed on the front page of tabloids and her life dissected by the media, the former Playboy model and Baywatch star has been living in the shadow of her bombshell image for decades. “[Going makeup-free] was the beginning of me letting go of the image I had always had of myself,” Anderson told Better Homes & Gardens in September. (Anderson was unavailable to speak to Chatelaine for this profile.) “What is this cartoon character that I’d created?” she thought. “Okay, that was fun. But I’m not that person anymore.”
A woman opting out of wearing makeup in public shouldn’t be newsworthy, and yet the fact that her pared-back look captured the world’s attention is not surprising. Despite slowly shifting beauty standards, women—especially celebrities—are still expected to present themselves in a certain way, so it was refreshing to see Anderson challenge those ideals. And it wasn’t just a stunt: More than a year later, she still frequently attends red carpets, photo calls and ad-campaign shoots without makeup.
During the pandemic, Anderson moved back to her childhood home, a six-acre property in Ladysmith, B.C. These days, she spends her free time baking sourdough bread, tending to her vegetable garden and walking her dogs on the beach. Professionally, she’s busier than ever. In 2022, she made her Broadway debut as Roxie Hart in Chicago. This year, she played the lead in Gia Coppola’s The Last Showgirl opposite Jamie Lee Curtis, and she’ll be starring in a 2025 remake of The Naked Gun with Liam Neeson. She has also released a Netflix documentary, a memoir and a cookbook, and is the owner of a skincare brand.
“As soon as I took the mask off, the whole world opened up,” Anderson told Better Homes & Gardens. “Projects are finding me all of a sudden, so I’m going to be open to what the universe has in store.” She’s back in the public eye, but this time, it’s on her own terms. —A.D.
Betty Brussel, age 100
For shattering swimming world records ahead of her 100th birthday
At the ripe age of 67—when most competitive swimmers might have already hung up their suits— Betty Brussel started racing. Some 34 years later, she’s still swimming—and, even more impressively, breaking records.
Brussel’s journey in the water began back in Zaandam, Netherlands, where she was born in 1924 and learned to swim with her 11 siblings. “When I was a kid, they were building a new bridge over the canal,” she says. “And we just taught each other to swim!” In 1959, she immigrated to Canada with her husband and moved to British Columbia, where she worked as a seamstress. After raising three children (who are now 69, 72 and 74), Brussel retired. But she remained active, and swimming became a newfound hobby.
In 1991, she dipped her toes into the world of competitive swimming, racing in the 55+ BC Games. She did not perform exceptionally well (that would come later), but she practised and got tips from lifeguards on how to perfect her strokes. She joined the White Rock Wave Swim Club in South Surrey and never looked back.
Last January, at age 99, Brussel made headlines when she set world records in the 400-metre freestyle, 50-metre breaststroke and 50-metre backstroke at the Victoria Masters Swim Club, one of the many meets she attends across B.C. each year. “When I swim, I feel happy and relaxed,” she says.
But it’s not always easy. “Betty continues to show her grit and tenacity,” says her coach, Dr. Linda Stanley Wilson. In September 2024, after recovering from a two-week illness that took her out of training, Brussel was insistent that she would get back into top form. “I think I can do it; I will try,” she told Stanley Wilson. “She is simply incredible,” the coach says. “She doesn’t act like she’s 100.”
These days, the centenarian swimmer lives in New Westminister, B.C. She hasn’t slowed down a bit: she still drives, answers all of her own emails and—according to her friends—doesn’t let anyone help her carry her gear bag.
When she’s not swimming, Brussel loves to walk and knit. She also enjoys spending time with her friends and family. (At at recent swim meet in Salmon Arm, B.C., Brussel visited with her younger brother, Jan, who is 92.)
But her heart remains in the pool at the təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Centre. For the foreseeable future, Brussel will continue to compete in the 100-to-104-year-old category, no doubt breaking even more records.
“It should be a pleasure, never a chore,” Brussel says of swimming. Her positive outlook and commitment to a healthy lifestyle make her one of Canada’s greatest treasures—in and out of the water. —Shireen Ahmed
Jessica Waite, age 52
For publishing her first book— an instant bestseller—in her 50s
“I had to learn to write to tell this story,” says Calgary-based author Jessica Waite. And what a story she had to tell. After her husband, Sean, died suddenly in 2015, Waite discovered that her beloved partner of 20 years—and the father of her then nine-year-old son, Dash—had had a secret life that included a porn addiction, recreational drug use and infidelity.
Waite, who had journalled throughout her life, once again turned to writing to make sense of it all. “At first, I was writing because I was hurt—life had hurt me,” she says. “But at a certain point, I realized that writing about it might help other people.”
Two years after Sean’s death, Waite—who had been a stay-at-home mom since Dash was born—took the first of many writing courses, building a community of writers while penning her debut memoir, A Widow’s Guide to Dead Bastards.
The subject material was at times incredibly dark; aside from what she discovered about Sean after his death at the age of 47, Waite also wrote about how difficult the final years of their marriage were. But she says the hardest part was recounting not the lows of their life together, but the highs. “When I had to bring in the good Sean,” she says, “that’s what got to me.”
Waite also had to navigate how her unflinchingly honest memoir would impact Sean’s family. “At the beginning, I felt I needed more permission [from], but as time went on, I was better able to stand in what I saw as the truth of the story,” she says. While her in-laws were “so supportive,” she says, feelings inevitably got hurt. Ultimately, says Waite, “I learned that I could live with someone being mad at me.”
After she finished the manuscript, her writing connections led to agent introductions; she signed with one of those agents in January 2023 and sold her book that March. It was published in August 2024 and became an instant bestseller.
“Prior to this experience, I really felt like culturally at this life stage, women are being invited to fade away into nothing,” says Waite. “I was worried no agent would see me as a profitable client because I wasn’t young. But some part of me knew not to count myself out.”
The highlights reel since August includes the memoir being named a noteworthy book by The Washington Post, a glowing mention on author Nora McInerny’s Terrible, Thanks for Asking podcast (“a lifeline during the worst parts of my life,” says Waite) and being interviewed for Maria Shriver’s website, Sunday Paper. (Shriver also wrote to Waite personally.)
Next up: Waite is continuing to promote Dead Bastards while percolating ideas for her second book. “Ideally,” she says, “I’d like my first book to become the least notable thing about me.” —Maureen Halushak
Ingrid Waldron
For standing up against environmental racism—and having it recognized by law
One day in 2012, Nova Scotia community organizer Dave Ron walked into Ingrid Waldron’s office at Dalhousie University. Waldron, a health researcher and sociologist, was settling into a project about gentrification in Halifax’s North End, where Black people—including some evictees of Africville, a Black community in Nova Scotia that was demolished in the 1960s—have long resided. Ron, meanwhile, was off to California to start a new job, but he needed someone to take over his work concerning the issue of environmental racism. Visiting Waldron’s office, he wondered: Might she want to head up a study on the topic?
“I’d never heard the term, and I had never done anything around the environment, mostly because it just didn’t interest me,” says Waldron. Back then, she thought of environmentalists as obsessive, overzealous and aggressive. But environmental racism encompasses more than just our treatment of the planet; it considers how environmental policies and actions affect communities of colour and how Black and Indigenous people are positioned in environmental movements. As Ron told her more—particularly that the issue disproportionately affects Black and M’ikmaw communities—a clearer picture started to form.
“I recognized that it probably was a health issue,” Waldron says. She was in.
This past June—12 years after that first meeting with Ron—legislation that Waldron helped develop became federal law, requiring the government to form a national strategy to prevent and address the effects of environmental racism.
Getting from research to legislation has been a long process. When she first learned about environmental racism, Waldron drew a connection between the concept and the spread of cancer. In a scene from There’s Something in the Water, a documentary adapted from Waldron’s book by the same name, community activist Louise Delisle drives through her hometown of Shelburne, N.S. House by house, she points out the neighbours who have been diagnosed with or died of cancer. The macabre tour ends at the site of the former town landfill, which doesn’t have a liner to prevent waste from reaching the community’s water.
“It was governments that put those waste sites in communities,” Waldron says. She knew action had to be taken, so she reached out to Nova Scotia MPP Lenore Zann. In 2015, the two put their heads together and drafted what would become Nova Scotia’s version of the law, calling for the creation of a panel to prevent environmental racism in the province. Zann, who later became a federal member of Parliament, introduced an upgraded private member’s bill in 2020; it ultimately failed when Parliament adjourned for the year. The following year, Green Party leader Elizabeth May tabled the bill—C-226—again, and it became law this past summer.
But Waldron says the work she has been doing for a decade has only just begun. Now, it’s time to hold governments to account via the two organizations she leads, the ENRICH Project and the Canadian Coalition for Environmental and Climate Justice. “It’s really up to the governments to make sure they see this through.” —Vicky Mochama
