By Angela Marie MacDougall
A man walks into the legislative chamber and takes his seat while facing charges of assault, assault by choking, and uttering threats in an intimate partner case. He has been removed from caucus and now sits as an independent, yet he continues to participate in the work of governing. In British Columbia, that man is Hon Chan.
This situation should be unthinkable in any institution responsible for public safety, yet it is happening in full view of the public and within the highest levels of government.
In Manitoba, former finance minister Scott Fielding has been charged with sexual assault. In Winnipeg, Russ Wyatt faces new charges after returning to office following an earlier case. These are not isolated incidents or unfortunate coincidences. They demonstrate that violence against women is not confined to private life but is now present within legislative assemblies themselves, where laws are made and standards are set.
This is the crisis that must be named directly.
We are watching men facing charges of sexual assault and choking continue to exercise public power, participate in legislative decision-making, and influence the conditions that shape public safety. The same institutions that claim responsibility for protecting the public are permitting this contradiction to stand within their own ranks.
There is no neutral way to understand this situation. This is not about procedure or timing, and it cannot be explained away as part of a process that must run its course. This is about power, and it is about what institutions are prepared to tolerate in those who hold it.
Violence against women has long been treated as something that occurs in private spaces, within relationships and behind closed doors, where it can be minimized, delayed, or ignored. That distinction has allowed institutions to avoid responsibility and to separate violence from governance. That boundary has now collapsed. When a man charged with choking a partner takes his seat in a legislative chamber, the line between private violence and public authority no longer exists in any meaningful sense.
What follows is not confusion but adaptation.
The role remains intact, the work of governing continues, and authority is preserved while the allegations are treated as something external to the exercise of power. What is being protected in that moment is not public safety or public trust. What is being protected is continuity of power, even when that power is directly implicated in violence against women.
Choking is not a minor or ambiguous allegation. It is widely recognized as one of the strongest indicators of escalating and potentially lethal violence. Sexual assault is not a matter of interpretation or misunderstanding. It is a profound violation of bodily autonomy and safety. These are among the most serious forms of violence recognized in both law and risk assessment, and they are directly linked to the risk of femicide.
Across Canada, women are being killed in predictable and preventable ways. The work of the Canadian Femicide Observatory for Justice and Accountability has made this clear year after year, documenting the patterns, the warning signs, and the systemic failures that precede these deaths. Cases such as Bailey McCourt and Laura Gover have made visible what has long been known: the risk is not hidden, and the violence does not come without warning.
Yet even with that knowledge, even with that evidence, even with women continuing to be killed, the presence of serious allegations such as choking and sexual assault does not disqualify someone from holding public office.
That is the standard currently operating within our legislative institutions.
Women who live with this level of violence do not experience it as a single event that can be isolated and addressed at a later time. They live within ongoing conditions of control, fear, and calculation that shape every aspect of their daily lives. They make decisions about what to say, where to go, and how to respond based on an ongoing assessment of risk that institutions often fail to recognize or act upon.
What is now visible is that this same pattern is being reproduced at the highest levels of governance.
Information about harm exists, the level of risk is understood, and the response is delayed or absent while authority remains intact. Institutions continue to function around that contradiction, accommodating it rather than confronting it, and in doing so they normalize a level of risk that would be unacceptable in any other context.
There is no defensible rationale for this.
Elected officials are not entitled to hold power under any circumstances. They are entrusted with authority on the condition that they exercise judgment, uphold public trust, and contribute to the safety of the communities they serve. When credible allegations of serious violence against women are known and no immediate action is taken to remove that authority, that trust is broken in a fundamental way.
In every other area of public safety, known risk at this level would trigger immediate intervention to reduce exposure and prevent harm. The failure to apply that same standard within legislative assemblies is not an oversight or a delay. It is a political choice that signals what is and is not considered disqualifying for those in power.
As Executive Director of Battered Women’s Support Services, I hear from women every day who are navigating the consequences of this exact failure. They understand what it means when risk is known but not acted upon, when harm is minimized, and when authority is allowed to remain in place despite clear warning signs. They are living with the outcomes of decisions that prioritize continuity over safety.
When those same conditions appear within the institutions responsible for public safety, the message is unmistakable.
Violence against women is not disqualifying.
That message carries consequences far beyond the walls of any legislative assembly. It shapes how seriously violence is treated, how urgently risk is addressed, and whether women can expect protection from the systems that claim to serve them.
Public safety does not begin after charges are laid or after cases become public. It begins at the moment institutions are confronted with credible information about harm and decide whether to act.
