As one of a mere dozen or so Chinese women in a community of over two thousand Chinese men, Jean Lumb was determined to see that change-little did she know her determination would grant her an audience with the Prime Minister of Canada.
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I was excited when Wattpad approached me about their partnership with Myseum of Toronto and asked me to write about pioneering women who have changed the social and political landscape of Canada for the better. When I found out one of the women was Jean Lumb, my excitement grew to nerves—like Jean, I was born on Vancouver Island, and had grown up listening to stories of how this one island girl was instrumental in changing the course of immigration in Canada for Chinese Canadians, which in turn made the immigration system fairer for everyone. Without Jean's work, I might not be here, considering my grandparents immigrated to Canada! I've looked up to Jean my whole life and wanted to do her powerful story justice. I hope you enjoy it and come away with the same awe and gratitude I have for her. If you're interested in seeing any of my research for this story, or have questions, please let me know, I'd be happy to share!
You can find our more on Jean and learn about other pioneering Canadian women in this awesome online walking tour put on by Myseum here!
*The following story is based on real people and true events that have been creatively expanded upon by the author. The content of this story is not intended to be a historically accurate resource.
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Jean Bessie Lumb quickened her pace as she turned onto Elizabeth Street, Chinatown, the heart of Toronto's immigrant neighbourhood, referred to by some civic officials as the slums, but known by all who lived there as, The Ward—a neighbourhood crammed with hard-worn houses, more people than beds, businesses offering new types of food and music, home to bootleggers and bachelors, hard-working factory and laundry and kitchen workers. It was dirty, and brash, and fascinating. Jean couldn't imagine living anywhere else.
She dashed behind a streetcar, avoiding being seen by a group of Laundrymen with their arms elbows deep in large tubs of the day's overflow washings from the Wash and Iron store behind them. Even after years in The Ward, Jean hadn't gotten used to the hopeful way men looked at her when she passed. It wasn't because she was young and beautiful, though she was, it was because in the hazy-half-second it took their eyes to adjust off their washboards and soap-sudded hands, they'd recognize in her their wives and sisters and daughters back home in China. A heartbreaking reality of being one of a mere dozen or so Chinese women in a community of over two thousand men. The hopeful look of misplaced recognition wasn't what bothered Jean though, it was the sadness that came after, along with the harsh inescapability of living under the Chinese Immigration Act, known in The Ward as the Chinese Exclusion Act: a racist head tax that made it nearly impossible for Chinese families to immigrate to Canada together.
