#WhatIfWomen is a fundraising event for War Child, an organization that helps children in war-affected communities get back their childhood by giving them access to education and opportunity. On Monday I’m excited to celebrate The Power and Promise of Women with War Child Canada. You can get a ticket here.  Growing up, my mum really instilled in me that I could do anything and be anyone I wanted when I got older. It wasn’t easy and there were struggles but nothing like growing up in a war-torn country like Sudan or Iraq. For the past couple weeks, I’ve been working with the War Child team to join a group of incredibly inspiring women in this campaign. When they approached me about volunteering it was around the day when all the ‘Me too’ posts hit the internet and I nearly broke down talking about how important it is for women to support other women and girls. THOUGHTS ON MY MIND… What if women were given the same work opportunities as men? What if women had the courage to speak up without consequence? What if women had equal pay? What if women had equal access to education? What if women were given the chance to lead? What if women didn’t have to be scared of walking alone at night?  What if women grew up knowing they can achieve anything they want?  #WhatIfWomen earned the same as men? I’m volunteering w/ @WarChildCan, see blog for details! ❤️ https://t.co/lsnMMPo4xg pic.twitter.com/unZUt79ssZ — CASIE STEWART ☀️ (@casiestewart) November 2, 2017 November 6, 2017 | Eglinton Grand | Toronto | 6 pm | #WhatIfWomen You can still get a ticket to Monday’s event at Eglinton Grand featuring performances by Sarah McLachlan, Chantal Kreviazuk, and Ruth B. It’ll be a room full of strong voices coming together to show the world that compassion…

Seeing almost every single woman on Facebook posting this as their status makes me feel sad and angry. I’m upset. I have let so many things slide and just shake them off like it’s no big deal. IT’S A FUCKING BIG DEAL. I think back to how many times in my life a dude has said something inappropriate to me, made me feel like I was less than him, over-sexualized a non-sexy situation, made me feel shame, or flat out assaulted me. Up until last year, I had lived with pretty huge boobs my whole life. I was approved by OHIP for a Breast reduction that changed my life. Aside from the physical pain of huge boobs, I hated/hid them because of the negative attention I would get from men. It made me feel disgusting. I was ‘blessed’ with a chest before I started grade 7. The next two years were really hard. Going through puberty, trying to figure out things with boys, get good grades, and fit in. There was a group of boys in my grade 7-8 school who really made it their entertainment to torment a few of us. Tom, Nathan, Dan were notorious for unzipping the front of our shirts (zipper shirts were in style it was the 90s).  That boy gang had no shame, they would walk home with us and tell us we had to flash them our boobs in the forest or they’d have Monique beat us up. We didn’t know any better. We wanted to be cool and liked. I remember a specific incident where this guy Aaron had just gotten a cast removed on his leg and he was known for throwing water on you if we wore a white shirt. Why or how they thought this was ok beyond me. I…

The subway is kinda weird. I don’t mind the streetcar. I used to take TTC to work every day from Broadview station to Yorkdale, then a 15min bus to the office. It was my first job after university when I moved to Toronto. I remember writing TTC Tales on my morning commute and posting to the blog when I got to the office. On the way home I’d write about my day. I don’t think WordPress mobile had photo uploading back then. I used Picasa to upload and get a URL then added that to the HTML tab in WP-Admin. Those early days of blogging were what made me fall in love with journaling. I know it’s really helped me live a better life. I love looking back at people, places, things. It’s a great reminder of where you came from and good motivation for where you’re heading. They say there are all kinds of benefits to writing and keeping a journal. I highly recommend it. It’s kinda like finding a friend in yourself. Although my diary is public, I’m often writing letters to my future self, talking through feelings, or making memory notes. A couple years ago my mum & her bf sailed to the Bahamas and lived there for a year. During that time I would write a lot of notes to her so she could read what I was up to when she had wifi. Hi Mum! There’s a lady’s crotch fairly close to my face, she’s wearing a pager and reading a medical paper. Someone who really smells like BO just came near me. Thank god this is my stop. xo  

I remember exactly where I was when I found out about Princess Diana’s death. Before we get to that, you’ll need to know a special connection I’ve always felt to her. The day I was born my mum held me in her arms and said ‘you are going to be someone special‘ her and my dad named me Casie Diana Stewart, after the Princess. Growing up I followed in mum’s footsteps admiring her, we had a bunch of China from Diana’s Royal wedding and commemorative plates around the house. I was so in awe of the way she lived her life, her beautiful smile, great sense of fashion, and desire to help everyone around her. August 31, 1997 I was at Lisa Baker’s house for a sleepover, the last big hang out before we all started back to for the first day of high school, grade 9. A bunch of us girls were sleeping on the floor and all over Lisa’s room in the basement of her parent’s house. I remember we had been up late in the backyard and I tried smoking pot by the river for the first time in my life. We were woken up early by a phone call from my sister, who was 10 at the time. She was talking really fast. I could hear mum upset and the tv in the background. I really don’t think my sister understood what happened and who paparazzi were. She was trying to tell me the paparazzi killed Diana but she got the words wrong and said ‘Pavarotti’. So, here I was in trying to relay the message to my friends, some still sleeping that an Itallian opera singer killed Princess Diana and it’s all over the news. Mum came on the phone shortly after the mix-up and delivered…