New support group for BIPOC survivors of gender-based violence in P.E.I.

María Gómez, the community relations co-ordinator at BIPOC USHR in Charlottetown, is leading a new program organized by the non-profit to offer resources to the BIPOC community who have dealt with gender-based violence. Photo by Judith Mendiolea /Special to The Guardian

(Story originally published on The Guardian on Feb 07, 2025)

When María Gómez arrived in P.E.I. as an international student from Colombia, she expected challenges — language barriers, cultural differences, adjusting to the weather. What she didn’t expect was how much her identity would shift.

“I never thought about my skin colour before,” she said. “Suddenly, people made me aware of it, and that changed the way I saw myself.”

For many immigrants, the act of moving to a new country comes with more than just logistical hurdles — it comes with the realization that the way they are perceived has changed.

Gómez had never questioned her racial identity before. Now, it was shaping her experiences in ways she had never anticipated.

Years later, Gómez is using her own experience to support others.

As the community relations co-ordinator for the non-profit BIPOC USHR, she is leading a new support group for BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and people of colour) survivors of gender-based violence, an initiative under the national action plan to end gender-based violence.

The goal is to create a space where survivors don’t have to explain their identity but instead can simply exist and heal.

Barriers to support

Canada has made strides in addressing gender-based violence, but racialized survivors continue to face disproportionate barriers when seeking help.

A 2022 study by the Canadian Centre for Justice and Community Safety Statistics found that immigrant women were more likely to experience intimate partner violence than non-immigrants, yet they were less likely to report it due to fear of police, immigration consequences, or lack of culturally appropriate services.

Jasonique Moss, who works with the Women’s Network of P.E.I., has seen these barriers firsthand.

“They shout out from the tops that they prioritize diversity,” Moss said. “However, the infrastructure doesn’t reflect that.”

Jasonique Moss, who works with the P.E.I. Women’s Network, says there is a lack of accessibility to resources in the province for BIPOC communities. Photo by Contributed

Gómez has also encountered these challenges.

“In Canada, some services require permanent residency or specific immigration status, leaving many without access to crucial support,” she said.

Many immigrant women lack legal status, which prevents them from accessing health care, shelters, or financial aid.

Others fear that reporting violence could impact their immigration process, leading them to remain in unsafe situations.

Moss agrees that the burden often falls on survivors to navigate a system that was never built with them in mind.

“Survivors already struggle to prioritize their needs, especially when violence is involved,” she said. “The work now is empowering folks to recognize they’re in that kind of situation and that help exists.”

A space for healing

For Gómez, the importance of a BIPOC-specific space is clear.

“For a BIPOC survivor, speaking in a room where everyone understands your struggle — without needing to explain it — is powerful,” she said.

The program consists of two four-week sessions, designed not as therapy, but as a space for survivors to develop coping strategies. Sessions include guided mindfulness exercises, meditation and discussions about identity.

“We don’t just carry the trauma of what happened to us,” Gómez said. “We carry the weight of how society sees us.”

The first session is dedicated to setting community agreements. Participants establish expectations for confidentiality and mutual support.

“Safety isn’t something that just happens — it’s built together,” she said.

To make the program as accessible as possible, transportation, childcare, eldercare and meals are provided, ensuring that logistical challenges don’t prevent participation.

While the address of the program is not provided for confidentiality purposes, anyone interested in attending can do so contacting Gómez through BIPOC USHR.

Distrust in the system

For many BIPOC survivors, past experiences with institutions — whether in Canada or in their home countries — make them hesitant to seek help.

“Being badly burned by the people meant to help you can deter someone from ever reaching out again,” Moss said.

This fear isn’t unfounded.

A 2023 report from the Canadian Women’s Foundation found that racialized women are more likely to have their concerns dismissed or downplayed by authorities, leading to lower reporting rates and fewer convictions in cases of intimate partner violence.

For Gómez, this is why trust-building within a BIPOC-centered space is crucial.

One of the biggest challenges survivors face — especially those from immigrant backgrounds — is isolation.

Gómez understands this deeply.

“Finding a community where you feel safe and seen is not a luxury — it’s essential,” she said.

The support group encourages long-term relationship-building, helping participants stay connected even after the sessions end. The goal isn’t just immediate relief — it’s fostering a network that can continue to uplift survivors in the long run.

Moss echoes this sentiment.

“Healing isn’t just about escaping a bad situation,” she said. “It’s about rebuilding — reclaiming your identity and feeling whole again.”

Systemic change

Despite national efforts, Canada still lacks comprehensive, culturally appropriate services for racialized survivors of gender-based violence.

Moss believes that while there is plenty of discussion about inclusion, the policies don’t back it up.

“The program I work for is for people with permanent residency or citizenship only,” she said. “But a lot of people fall into the category of not having status, and that cuts them off completely.”

Moss argues that real change won’t come from government statements alone — it requires action.

“Consultation needs to be followed by actual services, not just a checkmark saying they spoke to us,” she said. For Gómez, this initiative is a step toward filling the gap.

“Healing begins when people no longer feel invisible,” she said. “That’s what we’re trying to create.”