Celebrating 5 Years of Bakau Consulting: A Reflection

By Cicely Belle Blain

graphic: Mariana Trujillo-Lezama

Unless you’re from South East London, it’s unlikely you’ve heard of Welling. It’s a small, sleepy area in the English county of Kent, although clings desperately to its political designation as part of London. It’s about 30 minutes by train to central London, which to Canadians with their vast countryside and spacious cities seems like nothing but for the British means as outskirt-ish as you can get. 

Here, I spent much of my childhood. My Nana lived in Welling for 88 years — both her and my mother were raised in the same sturdy semi-detached brick house. I went to school just behind her house and would often frequent Welling library. Teen me spent many an afternoon here, secretly squirreling away queer literature.

In August 2017, I quit my non-profit job and left Vancouver to go back to England. I was exhausted and burnt out after throwing myself in Black Lives Matter organizing without the tools or coping mechanisms to manage the emotional and physical perils of activism. I was fortunate to have a childhood home to return to; privileged to experience the kind of rest only available when your parents are paying your rent. 

Bakau, formerly Cicely Blain Consulting

I searched around for jobs in Vancouver, constantly feeling demoralized by rejection after rejection. My experience as a BLM Vancouver co-founder was like a crash course in event planning, project management, values-based strategic planning, volunteer coordination, media strategy and so much more. Yet, it was not enough for a professional world looking for a disproportionate number of years of education, experience and hard skills. 

This was pre-2020 — BLM wasn’t cool yet and my name was associated with division and radicalism. I was a 23 year-old Black, queer femme and Vancouver wasn’t ready to see my potential. I couldn’t find a job, so I created one for myself.

My Nana had always believed in me and been the one to instill feminist and anti-oppressive values in me and when I told her of my business idea, she agreed to support me. She said she had a small amount of money she’d been saving since I was born and I could have it to start this venture. She’d taught accounting at the University of Malawi and so accepted nothing less than a thorough business plan. 

I headed down to Welling library and made a bad website on Wix. I put some pink circles around my name and called it a logo, then registered the name with the Canadian government and pressed publish. 

Nana’s investment got me a couple of months of rent, some legal fees and a new computer before I picked up a food delivery job on the side. I threw a launch party on International Women’s Day of 2018 and the response told me everything I needed to know; people were excited and ready for the vision I had. 

In November 2020, Cicely Blain Consulting became Bakau Consulting — a new name and brand to reflect the business’s expansiveness and growth beyond myself as an individual. I named the company after a coastal town in my grandfather’s home country, The Gambia, as an ode to my ancestors and the Blain family’s entrepreneurial spirit.

It’s now 2023 and Bakau Consulting is turning 5 years old! 

Growing in community

I think the way Bakau has evolved is really a testament to community. While prospective employers weren’t able to see the value of my lived experience and skills, especially those earned through grassroots activism, many people around me did. From the attendance at Stratagem in 2019 and Stratagem Virtual in 2020, to word of mouth referrals, to our sign ups for the Facilitation Certificate Program, we’ve seen individuals show up both through their employers and independently to be a part of this work. 

Working in what is broadly known as the DEI space is complicated. I think it’s something that has infinite and endless importance, but also something that can, and has, become co-opted and sanitized by the forces of capitalism. 

At Bakau, I am grateful to have a team who both recognizes the shortcomings of the corporate DEI industrial complex and sees the potential to push at those restrictive boundaries and incorporate more radical, justice-oriented strategies into workplaces. 

In 2020, we saw a massive increase in our engagement and client numbers after the world ignited in response to the murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. I don’t take lightly the fact that this work operates in response to oppression. I yearn for the day we spend more of our time being proactive than reactive. My association with BLM once ostracized me from corporate spaces — or rather business and non-profit leaders alike chose to exclude Black voices. And now, it’s a celebrated and sought after aspect of my work. 

I am constantly reminded to remain humble and grateful and use my various privileges to continue the fight for justice both professionally and personally. Anti-racism consulting does not replace direct action or grassroots activism; it attempts to bolster and highlight the deep and rich wisdom that comes from the streets and kitchen tables and bring it to the place we spend far too much of our lives: work. 

Goodbye, Girl Boss

As Bakau turns 5, I am reflecting on our collective growth. 

As a society, we have grown to see the value of anti-oppression work; to speak the hard truths of white supremacy; to celebrate authentic diversity through honouring lived experience; to make small but meaningful change where we can; and, to hold oppressors to account. There’s still a long way to go but noticing the small changes provides levity and inspiration in an occasionally dismal-looking future.

As a team, we have grown to find balance in our personal and professional lives; to excel at turning values into strategy; to plan stellar events; to move through conflict; to honour our own and one another’s needs; and, to design and implement visionary projects.

And as an individual, I have let go of the #GirlBoss dream. When you start a small business, you get sucked rapidly into a world of hustle culture and insufferable corporate lingo (circle back, anyone?). As a queer person of colour with ADHD, I’ve done a lot of assimilating and masking to fit in and mold myself into someone neurotypical white supremacy deems worthy of respect. And boy, am I over that.

I recall at one business awards dinner where I felt underdressed (turns out I was dressed fine, I just wasn’t skinny and white) a fellow 30 under 30 winner asked me, “So, what’s your exit strategy?” The dissonance between us amused me greatly. He was selling quad bikes or something. 

I’m a millennial — I won’t assume I’ll have the same job forever but there is no exit from liberation work; I’ll always be doing it in some form or another. I imagine an ebb and flow; a symbiotic relationship between personal, professional, digital and grass roots change work always being present in my life. Right up until she passed at the age of 91, my Nana was donating parts of her pension to the Cuba Solidarity Campaign, Black Lives Matter and many other causes.

Dreams for expansive futures

While burning out in 2017 led me to create Bakau, I never want to experience that again. I want more rest, for myself and my team and my community. I want more joy, more play, more freedom, more connection. Internalized capitalism is a hard lesson to unlearn in a world where we are told our worth is tied to our productivity. 

I’m not a very good business owner — I’m an Arts grad and networking event reject with no exit strategy who tells their team to work less and rest more. I think, however, that makes me a good leader. Five years ago, I may have vowed to eradicate oppression from every workplace in Canada. My outlook now is more humbled and realistic, but also more aligned with my vision to create sustainable, secure, healthy, joyful, accessible workplaces. And it starts with my own. Could my team change the world? Absolutely. Should they do that at the expense of their mental and physical health? Definitely not.

Life is quieter at Bakau than it once was and sometimes that’s scary. But most of the time it’s beautiful. I sleep better, I go outside more, my eyes hurt less, my relationships are less strained, I make myself nutritious food, I learned to knit and taught my dog tricks. After 5 years, I remembered how to breathe.