Seven years ago, I began advocating for the Kids in the Know body safety program here in Newfoundland and Labrador. Seven years of conversations, meetings, and sharing my story—sometimes through tears, sometimes through anger and frustration, but always with hope. Hope that one day, every single child in this province would have the tools to recognize unsafe situations, find their voice, and reach out for help.
As a survivor of childhood abuse, this work is personal. I know what it means to be a child who is silenced, who feels trapped, and who has no words to explain what’s happening. I know the lifelong impact of carrying that kind of pain in silence. And I also know the power of education—equipping young people with the right knowledge can change the course of their lives.
This is a turning point for child safety in our province. Last week, it was announced that the Kids in the Know program will be fully adopted province-wide by next month. By then, every child in every K-9 classroom in Newfoundland and Labrador will have access to age-appropriate lessons on safety, boundaries, healthy relationships, and how to reach out for help. I want to sincerely thank Joe Boland (retired RNC police chief); Dr. Sandra Luscombe; Dr. Vicki Crosbie; Malin Enstrom (RNC); Lindsay Dillon (RNC); my husband, Tom Davis; and Connie Pike (retired RNC) for their support, guidance, and dedication to protecting children, as well as everyone who worked tirelessly behind the scenes to make this milestone possible.
This is not just a policy decision—it is a cultural shift. It tells our children: We see you, we hear you, and we believe you deserve to be safe. It tells survivors: Your voice mattered. Your pain was not in vain. Change is possible. And it tells our communities: We can build a future where safety, education, and prevention are woven into the very fabric of childhood.
For me, this is a full-circle moment. I have advocated as a mother, as an author using my voice for change, and as a community leader—but most of all, as the little girl I once was: the one who longed for safety but didn’t know where to turn. This victory is for her, and for every child in Newfoundland and Labrador today, and for generations to come.
So, what does this mean? It means fewer children will carry silent burdens. It means more children will know how to reach out. It means families, schools, and communities can respond earlier, stronger, and with compassion.
And most of all, it means hope. Hope that we are changing the trajectory for our children. Hope that survivors’ voices, when lifted together, can change systems. Hope that what once felt impossible is now reality.
Thank you to every person who believed in this work, who added their voice, who stood beside me in this fight. Today, we can say with certainty: the advocacy mattered. The children mattered. And together, we made history.