Resilience in Each Step: Barb Sylvester’s Journey Through Loss, Learning and Language 

When CBU Alumna Barb Sylvester reflects on her life story and journey through education and life, she sees paths shaped by resilience, adaptability, and a deep connection to her Mi’kmaw roots.

“I always tell people, your story is so important, as it’s uniquely yours,” Barb says. “Mine started early when I lost my mother, Marie Ninnian Marshall. She was murdered when I was just a baby, leaving me and my 10 siblings behind.” Today, Barb often shares her story in Murdered and Missing Women and Girls (MMIWG) circles, hoping it will be a beacon for others that they are not alone.

That loss, and everything that followed, would profoundly shape Barb’s identity and her pursuit of education. Barb was raised by her “second mom,” Nancy, who stepped in to raise her at only 18 years old. Barb calls her an angel who walks the earth.

Barb grew up navigating not only the typical challenges of childhood but also the complex legacies left by colonial systems. She calls herself a ‘Product of Indian Day Schools,’ referring to the colonial institutions that replaced residential schools in Canada but continued to strip away Indigenous children’s culture and language.

“It continued the premise of educating us in a colonial way,” Barb says. “Can you imagine, reading about yourself as Mi’kmaw people, having been responsible for killing off all the Beothuks? These were the educational resources for Social Studies being used at the time.”

But even within those systems, Barb’s love of learning never diminished. 

Facing Early Barriers

Barb’s high school years were marked by trauma and constant upheaval. As a teenager, she endured a court trial after surviving sexual assault, an arduous process that led her and her family to uproot their entire lives multiple times.

“Everything I knew I had to leave behind. My home, my community, my friends and my school. All gone,” she says. “At one point, my mom said to me, ‘Our safety is more important right now. We have to leave.’”

Having to transfer to different high schools multiple times, Barb lost credits for many completed courses. At the time, she says, the Nova Scotia education system lacked flexibility for students going through a crisis when transferring from school to school. “I was an excellent student,” she says. “But the system itself didn’t work. I had to spend an extra year catching up to gain the credits I needed to graduate.”

By the time she finished high school, Barb had moved six times. She fought to keep her education on track while carrying the weight of trauma, survival and displacement. “I was 17 and rebuilding my life from scratch,” she says. She credits her mom, Nancy, with her love, trust and faith in her, to keep moving forward.

New Territory at University

After high school, Barb became the first in her immediate family to attempt post-secondary education. The transition was far from easy. “University was too foreign.  It wasn’t the academics I struggled with. It was the environment itself. It didn’t feel right. I knew academically I belonged, but my spirit couldn’t take root.”

Feeling overwhelmed, Barb left early in her first year. “There’s this big weight that Indigenous students face, which is that if you drop out,  you are also scared to disappoint not only your family but your entire Mi’kmaw community too. It’s a heavy burden to carry”.

Still, her drive to learn never faded. Unsure of what academic field to pursue, she tried short-term certification diploma courses. But it wasn’t until years later, when the right opportunity finally aligned with her life, that Barb’s path would truly open.

A New Way Forward

When Cape Breton University launched a pilot cohort of the In-Community program, Barb knew it was the opportunity she had been waiting for. The In-Community model offered university programs directly within Mi’kmaw communities rather than requiring students to relocate, helping address barriers Indigenous students were facing at the time, such as family obligations, transportation, geography and financial pressures.

“Mainstream educational institutions weren’t built with us in mind,” she says. “But with the cohort, they brought the university to us.”

Barb completed her Bachelor of Arts and Bachelor of Business Administration (BBA) degrees by 2004, all while raising her family and having a full-time job. “I remember the day I finished my last class, as it was a Friday,” she says. “I could rest. I had almost a month left of pregnancy and planned to take some vacation time, but gave birth to my second daughter the following Tuesday.”

She credits the success of the cohort model with CBU’s willingness to listen to the advisors who asked them to rethink the traditional structures that had been in place for almost 50 years.” she says. “And it worked. Almost every single graduate I know from those early cohorts has gone on to have meaningful careers.”

Barb later received a Bachelor of Education degree through another similar cohort program, this time with St. Francis Xavier University. This time as a grandmother as well.   “I knew the cohort system worked for me,” she says. “It allowed me to keep working, raising my daughters and pursuing my education all at once.”

Language as Resistance

While education gave Barb degrees and a sense of academic confidence, it was language reclamation that gave her something deeper: a connection to identity.

“My birth mother was a fluent speaker. So was the mom who raised me. One lost her life and couldn’t teach me, and the other went through the educational system, which forbade it,” Barb says. “So, I grew up just speaking English. It wasn’t until much later that I reclaimed the language, in honour of them both, I will be both their voices, she says.”

Barb immersed herself in the language wherever she could.   She often masked her learning to blend in. “I’d answer in one-word phrases so no one would know I wasn’t fully fluent,” she says with a smile. “I was a language warrior, circling speakers like a siklati (shark).”

Over time, Barb earned the respect of fluent speakers across the region. A turning point came when she finally confessed to the late Putus Victor Alex, a respected figure in the Mi’kmaw Grand Council, how she had worked her way to fluency after he asked.  Proudly he claims,  “Now, no one can ever say it can’t be done. You’re the example that it can,'” she remembers. “It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders.”

Her commitment to Mi’kmaw language revitalization is a lifelong promise. “I’ve made a commitment to myself to learn every day until my last breath and help pay it forward, too,” she says.

Today, Barb works to create positive, shame-free language learning spaces. “Teaching with patience, kindness and pride, that’s what builds fluent speakers. Helping others fill their language baskets with tools, even if it means writing a new word on your arm! And practice, practice and more practice,” Barb says, is her motto.

Full Circle Moment

This spring, Barb will return to CBU to serve as the Master of Ceremonies (MC) for CBU’s Indigenous Alumni Gathering on May 30 in Membertou, a full-circle moment she embraces with pride. The event celebrates CBU’s Indigenous graduates and alumni while recognizing the barriers Indigenous students have overcome.

Barb is sharing her story, one of survival, resilience and advocacy, with the hope that it will resonate with her fellow alumni while showcasing one of the many winding paths to academic success.

“Standing up there, I’ll be representing not just myself, but everyone who fought to get here,” she says. “Everyone who overcame trauma, barriers and setbacks. We can’t forget those who didn’t either”.

For Indigenous students following behind her, Barb offers this advice: “It’s okay not to have all the answers right now. It’s okay to change your mind. It’s okay if things don’t work out right. Your path doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s, you are unique and so will be your pathways”.

She believes community-based educational models, like CBU’s In-Community cohorts, are examples of necessary, crucial pathways through traditional barriers to education. Bridging gaps for accessibility, belonging and culture, these aren’t add-ons. They’re the foundation for Indigenous student success.

Barb’s journey is proof that resilience is not just about surviving hardship. It is about carrying strength forward, reclaiming space and walking a path where you can thrive. Even as she celebrates how far things have come, Barb remains focused on the work ahead, pushing for deeper cultural inclusion, language revitalization, and systems that understand Indigenous realities rather than merely accommodating them.

“I’m hopeful,” Barb says. “Every new speaker, every new graduate, every new act of pride, every new accolade, every new pathway. It’s all success.”