Did I know who Gladstone was? No. Did I care? No.
In Vancouver, a coalition of advocates is asking the city's school board to reconsider what it means to honor someone with a building's name. Gladstone Secondary, named for a 19th-century British Prime Minister whose family fortune was rooted in slavery, stands as a quiet but persistent symbol of whose stories have been deemed worthy of public memory. Women Transforming Cities is urging the board to rename the school after Rosemary Brown—the first Black woman elected to a Canadian provincial legislature—arguing that the names on our institutions shape what young people believe is possible for themselves.
- A Vancouver school still carries the name of a man whose family owned enslaved people, even as his name has been removed from institutions across England.
- Of Vancouver's 109 schools, only a handful bear the names of women, exposing a deep and deliberate gap in whose legacies the city has chosen to celebrate.
- Launched during Black History Month, the campaign carries urgent symbolic weight—its co-chair, a Gladstone alumna herself, says she never knew who the school was named after, and never had reason to care.
- Advocates are pushing not just for a single name swap, but for a systemic shift toward honoring Black, Indigenous, and racialized women whose contributions have been written out of public memory.
- The Vancouver School Board now faces mounting pressure to decide whether Rosemary Brown—trailblazing politician, historic first, and largely unrecognized figure in public life—will finally have her name on a building where children grow.
Gladstone Secondary in Vancouver carries the name of a 19th-century British Prime Minister whose family wealth was built on slavery—a fact that a growing coalition of activists says can no longer be quietly ignored. Women Transforming Cities, led by co-chair Dr. Joy Masuhara, is calling on the Vancouver School Board to rename the school after Rosemary Brown, the first Black woman elected to a Canadian provincial legislature and the first Black woman to run for the leadership of a federal political party in Canada. Brown died in 2003, but her legacy, advocates argue, is exactly the kind of history that should greet students every day.
Masuhara, herself a Gladstone alumna, speaks with personal clarity about the campaign. She never knew who Gladstone was when she attended the school, and she never had reason to find out. But a school named after someone like Rosemary Brown, she says, would be different—it would tell racialized students something true and important about what is possible for them. The timing of the push, during Black History Month, sharpens that message.
The numbers behind the campaign are difficult to dismiss. Vancouver runs 109 schools, and only a handful are named after women. Women Transforming Cities is asking the board to go further than a single renaming—they want to see schools named after Black women, Indigenous women, and Asian women whose contributions have been systematically left out of public recognition. Rosemary Brown, Masuhara notes, is one name among many deserving ones.
The campaign is part of a wider reckoning unfolding across North American cities over who gets memorialized in public life and what those choices communicate to the communities that live with them. For Vancouver's school board, the question is no longer abstract: will it act, and if so, whose name will finally take Gladstone's place?
Gladstone Secondary sits in Vancouver as a monument to a man most of its students have never heard of—and a growing coalition of activists argues it's time for that to change. The school carries the name of William Gladstone, a 19th-century British Prime Minister whose family wealth was built on slavery. That historical fact has become impossible to ignore, especially as the conversation around whose names deserve public honor has sharpened across North America.
Dr. Joy Masuhara, co-chair of Women Transforming Cities, is leading the push to rename the school. She points out that Gladstone's name has already been stripped from public institutions across England, including from his own hometown. Yet here in Vancouver, a secondary school still bears his name. The timing of the campaign—launched during Black History Month—underscores the symbolic weight of the ask. Masuhara speaks from personal experience: she attended Gladstone Secondary herself, and the irony is not lost on her. "Did I know who Gladstone was? No," she says. "Did I really care to know who he was? No." But if the school were named after someone like Rosemary Brown, she argues, the story would be different entirely.
Brown, who died in 2003, was the first Black woman elected to a Canadian provincial legislature, serving as a BC MLA. She also became the first Black woman to run for the leadership of a federal political party. These are not footnotes in Canadian history—they are watershed moments. Yet most students walking through Gladstone's halls likely know nothing of her. Masuhara believes that would change if her name were on the building. "I think it would have an impact—definitely on me as a racialized woman," she says. The point is not abstract: representation shapes how young people see themselves and what they believe is possible.
The numbers tell part of the story. Vancouver operates 109 schools across the city. Of that total, only a handful are named after women. The disparity is stark and deliberate—a reflection of whose stories have been deemed worthy of institutional honor. Women Transforming Cities is calling for the school board to go further than simply swapping one name for another. The organization wants to see schools named after Black women, Indigenous women, Asian women, and other racialized women whose contributions have been systematically overlooked in the public record.
Masuhara acknowledges that Rosemary Brown is one candidate among many. "When we talk about Rosemary Brown, she is one of many, many great women leaders that have been part of our history," she says. The point is not to elevate a single figure but to recognize a pattern of erasure. Indigenous women, women of color, women whose leadership shaped this province and nation—they exist in the historical record, yet their names do not appear on schools where children spend their formative years.
The campaign reflects a broader reckoning taking place in cities across the continent. Public institutions are being asked to account for the people they memorialize and what those choices communicate to the communities they serve. For a school in a diverse city like Vancouver, naming it after a 19th-century British slaveholder sends a particular message about whose history matters and whose does not. The pressure on the Vancouver School Board is mounting, and the question now is whether the board will act—and if so, whether Rosemary Brown's name will be the one that replaces Gladstone's.
Citas Notables
His name has been taken off all public institutions in England, and even his hometown. We think public places need to be named after diverse women.— Dr. Joy Masuhara, co-chair of Women Transforming Cities
I think it would have an impact—definitely on me as a racialized woman. So I think these are all good reasons.— Dr. Joy Masuhara, reflecting on what it would mean if the school were named after Rosemary Brown
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does the name on a school building actually matter? Kids are there to learn math and English, not to study whoever the school is named after.
That's the instinct most of us have. But think about it differently: a school's name is the first thing you say when you tell someone where you go. It's on your diploma. It's how the institution identifies itself to the world. When that name belongs to someone whose values align with the school's mission—or whose story reflects the students inside it—it becomes a daily affirmation. When it doesn't, it's a daily erasure.
So you're saying Rosemary Brown's name would somehow make students feel seen?
Not just feel seen—it would tell them that women like her, Black women, women who broke barriers in politics, belong in the pantheon of people we honor publicly. Right now, Vancouver has 109 schools and only a handful named after women. That's not an accident. It's a choice that's been made over decades.
But Gladstone was a significant historical figure. Doesn't that count for something?
He was significant, yes. But he was also a slaveholder whose name has been removed from public institutions in his own country. England decided he didn't deserve that honor anymore. The question Vancouver is asking is: why should we keep it?
What if the school board just says no? What happens then?
Then the conversation continues. These campaigns don't disappear—they grow. More people start asking the question. More students start wondering why their school is named after someone who enslaved people. The pressure builds until the institution has to reckon with it.