BCBusiness

IT'S THE MIDDLE OF JULY, and around 90 people have packed a room in Vancouver's Gastown. There are drinks on offer, along with charcuterie. People are mingling and shaking hands and looking at name tags and making small talk. Of course, it's hard to ignore the three archery stations at the back, where guests are getting lessons from instructors in red vests on how to properly nock and then shoot a bow and arrow. Or, in the adjacent room—practically a museum, with medi- eval-looking shields and crests adorn- ing the walls—the people practicing how to swordfight. Academie Duello, a martial arts school on West Hastings Street, isn't the typical spot for a political fundraiser. But then, Brenda Bailey isn't a typical politician. The attendees run the gamut in terms of ethnicity, gender and age. The tie that binds is that most have experience in, or at least familiarity with, the tech sector. If you were up for a prison sentencing, you would not want to be given the collective hours of Dungeons and Dragons played in the room. A veteran of Vancouver's video game industry and a lifelong fan of franchises like Star Wars and Zelda, Bailey is comfortable here. After all, the acronym of her minis- try—Jobs, Economic Development and Innovation ( JEDI)—is no coincidence. She makes her way around the room shaking hands and chatting easily while carefully cradling a glass of wine. The 57-year-old is one of the tallest people in the build- ing and she regularly bends down to hear what people have to say. She gestures excit- edly with her hands. She speaks softly but firmly. She laughs easily. Everything that comes out of her mouth is delivered pre- cisely, but doesn't seem practiced. Looking at this calm exterior, one won- ders if, underneath it, Bailey is worried. In October, British Columbians will go to the polls again. Bailey's portfolio has been a talking point for opposition parties who have grave concerns about her NDP govern- ment's handling of the economy and who decry its supposed abandonment of the private sector. She's also running in a newly created riding, Vancouver-South Granville, which covers the eastern part of Kitsilano and the western part of Fairview. It's cer- tainly not her current Vancouver-False Creek riding, which encompasses most of Downtown Vancouver (a constituency that had only been held by the then-named BC Liberal Party before she ran). The NDP's popularity, it's safe to say, isn't close to what it was in 2020, when Premier John Horgan called a snap election and won the biggest margin of victory for the party since 1991. Might that be a risk for a high-profile minister who presides over a huge port- folio that essentially encompasses small businesses (which are struggling in a tough economy), as well as a beleaguered tech sector that has taken more than a few lumps post- COVID? Bailey has positioned herself as the per- son who will continue to try to get the latter back on track, and it's clear that the peo- ple in this room and in the sector at large believe it. Whether she gets the chance to do it—or to push through an increas- ingly tight global economy and see actual rewards that create a legacy for an NDP party with a historically incomplete record when it comes to economic management— is yet to be determined. After about an hour and a half, Bailey approaches the archery section of the room. She listens intently while the instruc- tor shows her how to place the arrow on the bow, pull it back and guide it into the target. Supporters and staff alike gather behind her, filming the scene on their phones. The pressure mounts. She pulls the bowstring back, pauses, and releases, just missing the target as the arrow flies high into the white curtain behind it. She consults with the instructor and fires again, missing in almost the exact same way. Bailey stops smiling momen- tarily but doesn't give up. She steadies the bow, consults the instructor again briefly, then fires right into the middle of the yel- low target. Cheers erupt from around her as she gracefully passes the bow set to the instructor, grabs her glass of wine and steps back into the crowd. "That was quite fun!" she says. Episode I: A City Far, Far Away Brenda Bailey grew up in Nanaimo, born to a heavy-duty mechanic father who worked in the forestry industry and a mother who ran a small publishing firm and taught at Vancouver Island University. Her brother was an activist in Clayoquot Sound's War in the Woods, so, as Bailey puts it, "there was a lot of hot debate. The question of forestry versus environment was pretty live at my kitchen table." As her opinions about the world were being formed, she was also being drawn to a galaxy far away. "I saw Star Wars when it first came out, and dressed up as Princess Leia for a year," she says. "I wrapped my hair in those buns. It drove my mom nuts." Bailey went to McGill University and earned a degree in political science with a focus on Middle Eastern studies. To get through school, she started a business sell- ing branded T-shirts for sports teams. "At McGill, everyone had so much money; my family didn't," Bailey says. "I showed up there as this kid from Nanaimo with big hair and a leather jacket and cowboy boots. Everybody else was a prep. So I thought: how can I afford Ralph Lauren?" Episode II: A Disturbance in the Force Bailey came back to B.C. and earned a second degree in social work at the Uni- versity of Victoria. She also had three chil- dren with fellow McGill classmate Basil Stumborg, who is now a decision analysis expert at BC Hydro. Eventually, Bailey was hired P O L I T I C S T h a m m a n o o n K h a m c h al e e 32 B C B U S I N E S S . C A O C T O B E R 2 0 24

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