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Belair was one of only five female crash rescue structural firefighters in Canada when she began her career in the Canadian Armed Force (CAF) in 1986. She quickly found that many of the men were extremely vocal about their opinion of women in firefighting. From her first day in training and through the course of her career, she has been on the receiving end of comments like, “firefighting is a man’s job,” “women aren’t strong enough,” or even how women shouldn’t put themselves at risk as the “child-bearers of society.”

“There were a lot of obstacles and it was really hard to overcome,” she recalls.

Her remedy? To climb the ladder so she could one day be in a position to impact the most change – not only for her and her peers, but future generations to come.

“I knew that if I was ever going to change this perception, I was going to advance in my career because change starts with our leaders,” she says. “If I could obtain the role of chief I could, in effect, make change to provide a more inclusive environment for the females joining the fire service after me.”

And that’s exactly what she did.

From NC to the Canadian Armed Forces

Belair, nee Gacek, chuckles when she thinks back to her college days, and how different she was when she arrived at the Welland Campus for the Law and Security Administration program in 1983. Growing up in Hamilton, she was a straight-A student who graduated from high school in only three years. She describes her younger self as the ‘nerdy little bookworm’ who never skipped a class.

Leaving home to start college at the age of 16, it was challenging to be away from her family, and her friends who were still in high school. She began her program nervous and introverted, with most of her classmates much older than she was.

Her experience at NC proved to be transformative. She built up her confidence and self-esteem. By the time she graduated in 1985, on the Dean’s Honour Roll, the way she thought about herself had changed profoundly.

“The experiences I had at NC: I grew up really fast. I came into myself. I became extroverted. I really found who Monique was and what I was capable of,” she says. “Through the peer support of the other students and teachers, I believe it helped build the foundation to be the leader I am today.”

She entered the program with her sights set on becoming a police officer. From her experience in air cadets, she found the uniform, the discipline and the structure highly appealing and could envision herself working in a similar environment someday.

But when she graduated at the age of 18, she was still too young to enter police services, so she applied to become a military police officer with the CAF. During the recruitment process, her future took another unexpected turn.

Belair recalls how the recruitment officer called her into the office to review her testing results, questioned her repeatedly about her height and even got out the measuring tape to confirm that she was indeed five-foot-nine-inches tall. She then found out that while they did not have any available military police officer positions, they were looking for a female over the height of five foot eight to become a direct entry into the Forces as a crash rescue structural firefighter. They played her a video to explain the position, and she was all in.

“I didn’t really know anything about it. I thought, “Oh, that sounds cool. It must be the same as policing really, they’re both emergency response, and the rest is history.”

Becoming ‘Eve’

When she set out to begin her career, Belair did not think she was doing anything extraordinary. Neither did she intend to become the “poster girl’ for females in firefighting. She was simply following her interests and pursuing her career.

She was the only female when she completed basic training in Cornwallis, Nova Scotia, as well as when she spent months at the CAF Fire Academy in Borden training for structural, aircraft and ship firefighting. When she began her first post in Ottawa, she became the first female firefighter in the nation’s capital.

“My family and friends didn’t really realize how non-traditional this job was until the media got involved once I was posted to Ottawa and the news got out that they had their first female firefighter in 1986,” she says.

From day one, it became apparent that the act of fighting fires was not going to be her greatest challenge. Whether it was an ‘Adams and Eve’ sign on the bathroom door at her first station – where she soon gained the nickname ‘Eve’ for being the only woman — getting arrested during her ‘initiation into the fire service’ in Ottawa as she tried to fit in with the guys on her crew, or being called a ‘skirt’ at a curling bonspiel, Belair faced the constant struggle of not being accepted in her role.

“It was 1986. It was still like ‘I’m stealing men’s jobs.’ And it wasn’t’ just from men – I got it from women. ‘Why are you trying to take a man’s job away from him,’” she recalls. “So those were real struggles at the beginning.”

Belair often got scalding treatment from other women whose partners worked on her crew and didn’t like the idea of a woman with them at the station, especially during night shifts. She recalls how the first question she would get asked wasn’t about her training or types of calls she was responding to. It was “where do you sleep,” and “what do you sleep in.”

She overcame the challenges by ensuring she had a positive support network, surrounding herself with an accepting circle, and through her steadfast determination to not let the opinion of others steer her off course.

“It was about fitting in, but still identifying with myself as a female –accepting that not everybody was going to be handling the situation the right way. Perseverance, resilience and just knowing, in my own mind, I had earned my place there,” she says. “I belonged there. And if they had the issue, they needed to find a new job. Because I wasn’t going anywhere.’

Belair was grateful for the support from many of her male peers and fire chiefs, such as the one who stood up to the crowd after hearing her being called ‘a skirt’ by telling them, “I don’t know where you work, I only have firefighters working for me and if you don’t like that you’re welcome to leave.” She never forgot it.

Belair began working to promote change early in her career. In Ottawa, she gained significant media attention for being a female firefighter in the CAF. She participated in many public engagements promoting diversity on behalf of the CAF and her role as a firefighter. She was even featured in a government video, which was shown nationally to Grade 8 girls to promote women in non-traditional careers.

Standing out as a female firefighter created some special memories for Belair. She fondly recalls working in Ottawa early in her career and responding to a call at the international airport for hot brakes on dignitary’s plane, who turned out to be the Crown Prince of Thailand. When he spotted Belair’s braid falling down the back of her bunker coat, he asked to take a photo with her.

“He had never seen a female firefighter before,” she said. I was invited to the embassy to meet with him. Although it wasn’t a firefighting experience, meeting him and being acknowledged for the job I did was pretty awesome for a 19-year-old girl.”

Career path

Belair takes great pride in being part of such a respected profession and she has had varying positions under the fire services umbrella.

During her years with the CAF, she served in Cornwallis, Borden, Ottawa and Bagotville, finding it rewarding to serve her country. Her career has also taken her to a variety or places and positions. She worked as a fire service communicator (1995-2001) and fire prevention officer (2001-2007) for the Barrie Fire department; a fire marshal for Toronto General Hospital (2009-2012); a fire protection specialist (2012), and issues management supervisor for the Province of Ontario’s Office of the Fire Marshal and Emergency Management (2012-2015); and deputy fire chief for the St. Catharines Fire Department (2015-2017).

Through her work in fire prevention and investigation, she has enjoyed working with codes and legislation, giving evidence in court, conducting investigations and laying charges.

She describes her time firefighting as a ‘lights and sirens’ front-line emergency responder, a high-stress, instant-decision-making, critical thinking job.  “Your adrenaline is rushing, you’re exhilarated, excited and possibly nervous over getting to fight a fire. You’re fearful and anxious and might even feel responsible that you might not be able to save these peoples lives and property,” she recalls. “All your emotions are coming at you and you are trying to focus on the tasks you’re assigned. You try and find calm in the chaos.”

Chief changemaker

In 2017, Belair took on her high-profile role as deputy fire chief for the Oakville Fire Department where she spends her days “putting out fires – literally and figuratively.” Along with the administrative duties that come with the position, she is the senior officer on call who responds to significant incidents, ensures that all resources are provided, and interacts with the media.

She’s also the deputy manager of training for more than 230 members, which has been challenging during the COVID-19 pandemic. Having to incorporate measures such as physical distancing, she faces the additional challenge of maintaining the health and wellness of firefighters, while ensuring they are trained to deliver core services to the community.

As deputy fire chief, Belair has made it her mission to implement change and to ensure that the culture of fire services become more inclusive and embraces diversity. It is what she finds most rewarding and, simultaneously, the most challenging aspect of her career.

Camp Molly

Driven by her passion for educating and empowering young girls to want to explore a career in fire services, Belair wanted to do more than simply hand out pamphlets at schools. She wanted to show young women that they could do it.

In 2019, she established Camp Molly: a three-day program aims at empowering and educating young women, between 15 and 18 years of age, about career opportunities in the fire services. She named it after Molly Williams, a former slave in New York City who was reported to be the first female firefighter in 1815.

“I target the 15 to 18 year olds because they’re at that cusp where they’re not really sure yet where they want to go with their life. So I’m just providing them with an opportunity to see what a career in fire services will be like,” says Belair. “And I’m not saying, you have to be a firefighter. You can be the fire investigator, the fire prevention officer, the public educator, the communicator – all depending on what your area of interest is.

“But don’t rule it out because you don’t think you’re strong enough or, because you’re a girl, that you can’t do the job because that’s what people are telling you.”

The impact that Camp Molly has on girls is among the most rewarding aspects of Belair’s career and is a testament to the need for instigating change. She sees girls come in shy and anxious on the first day, and watches their excitement grow as they try on their bunker gear for the first time. Participants also have the opportunity to experience various aspects of what a firefighter does. They wear a breathing apparatus, climb ladders, use axes and carry hose lines. They move through the tower, and perform combat challenges, survival training and entrapment drills. Most of all, it offers a supportive environment for young women to explore career opportunities they have never before considered – and they create friendships that last well beyond the three-day camp.

The reason Camp Molly must exist is something Belair explains by speaking about a girl named Malaika. She attended Camp Molly just four months after moving from Pakistan where similar opportunities do not exist for young girls. Malaika was excited to experience what it was like to be a Canadian female where there were no barriers based on gender.

“Her step-mom explained how, after coming to Canada, Malaika has been living in a cocoon,” recalls Belair. “And Malaika, in her interview, said, ‘My step-mom says I have been living in a cocoon but, after these past few days, Camp Molly has given me my wings to fly.’”

Belair describes the determination on Malaika’s face as of the happiest moments of her career.

“It’s knowing that I enabled somebody else to step outside her comfort zone, and try something and be open to change … and change is coming,” she says. “I’m certainly going to do my part to make it happen.”

Inspiring and mentoring

Besides Camp Molly, Belair is involved in mentoring young women in non-traditional leadership roles. She is also a frequent public speaker on women in leadership.

Mentoring young women, she encourages them to be open to change – the very philosophy she models her own life after. She is continually reminded about the need to continue mentoring girls through her interactions not only with the girls, but with their families. Even in 2021, she still encounters parents who don’t want their daughters to pursue a career in fire services. One girl she was recently mentoring had a father who didn’t believe that women could be firefighters or that Oakville’s deputy fire chief is a woman.

“He had to look me up on social media to verify that I was really female,” she recalls.

Belair’s personal journey as a minority within the fire services led her to become aware of issues such as mental health, diversity and inclusion before they became corporate buzzwords. It has been a long-time priority for her to promote diversity, inclusivity and mental health in the fire services.

As deputy fire chief, she has been reaching out to the community, and formed a committee including cultural and religious leaders, including other fire services in Halton, to engage them on how the fire services can be more inclusive – not only when it comes to recruitment but how to better serve their communities.

With Post Traumatic Stress Disorder a real concern for those in the fire service, Belair has been a long-time supporter of mental health, to ensure training and counselling is available for her crew through peer support groups. She advocates for mental health supports at the national level as well, through her involvement the Canadian Association of Fire Chiefs.

Within her own crew, she makes a point of reaching out frequently, to hear about any issues they may have or anything they may be concerned about. “If there’s anything I can do to make it more inclusive to them, I’ll do that,” she says. “Deep down, we all want to be accepted.”

Looking back

It has not been easy working as a firefighter and raising three children over the years, especially after becoming a single mom.

Her own children never realized she was doing anything non-traditional while they were young. She recalls volunteering in the library of her daughter’s school about 17 years ago when her class came in to watch a video. It happened to be the national CAF feature on women in non-traditional jobs that featured Belair as a young crash rescue firefighter in 1986.

“There was a huge silence when my part came on and then there was this unanimous cry of, ‘OMG that’s Jessica’s mom,” she recalls. “Up until that time, she didn’t know anything different than her mom worked in the fire service so it was always just so normal to her. That’s the day she gave me the nickname, ‘badass mom.’”

As Belair looks back on her career, she recalls how her Type A personality on the job is so very different than that young girl who walked into NC at the age of 16. Going through decades of experience and many different obstacles and challenges, she developed a thick skin. Being so outspoken about the place that women should have in the fire service, she has become known as “the deputy fire chief that likes to hire women.” It’s not always a compliment, but she wears it as a badge of honour.

Celebrating women

Belair likes to celebrate the benefits that women bring to the fire services. She points out that there are many aspects to being a good firefighter. While it requires physical strength and fitness – like many other professions such as being a police officer, doctor or nurse – it also requires good team players, as well as leaders to step in in critical situations. Honesty, integrity and compassion are key.

“You’re going to see people on the worst day of their lives. You’re going into their homes, their cars. You’re seeing them at their worst. They have to trust you, that their valuables can be trusted with you,” she says. “You have to have compassion you have to be caring.”

For every girl who’s told she’s not tall enough or strong enough, Belair stiffens her resolve break this continuing myth.

“When I say ‘change is coming,’ I really believe it. I have worked my whole career to get to this level because change starts at the top,” she says. “Women have a right to work wherever they want in whatever type of career they want. I’m going to be making change until my last day at the fire service.”

Awards and achievements

• Biosteel’s Women of Inspiration for work with Camp Molly and female youths
• Chief Administrator’s Award (Town of Oakville) 2020 for Leadership
• Provincial Ovation and Amethyst Award recipient
• MPP Certificate of Appreciation House of Commons
• Provincial 25- and 30-year Fire Services Long Service Medal
• Federal 20-year Fire Services Exemplary Service Medal

Professional involvements

•  Canadian Association of Fire Chiefs Diversity and Inclusivity Committee
• Town of Oakville’s Anti Racism Inclusivity and Diversity Committee
•  HIEC Board of Directors to engage youth with educational opportunities
•  Fire Service Women of Ontario