“A valuable contribution doesn’t necessarily need to come in the form of smart answers, it can also be good questions.” This was one of the many nuggets of wisdom from Barbara McInnes, a visionary changemaker and one of my most cherished mentors. 

Barb passed away early in the morning on July 1 after a long battle with colon cancer, at 77 years old. 

Barb co-founded the Ottawa Community Foundation with her father in 1987. She then led the Foundation from 1991 until she retired in 2014. Barb was also instrumental in forming and developing Community Foundations of Canada, the umbrella network for approximately 200 community foundations across the country. She was deeply involved in a number of boards and was awarded the rank of Member in the Order of Canada by Governor General Michaëlle Jean.

People often mention the size of the Ottawa Community Foundation’s endowment as one of Barb’s big legacies — which was $100 million around the time of her retirement and now stands at $225 million. But in the 12 years that I’ve known her, she rarely mentioned the size of endowment as a significant accomplishment. She was more interested in finding new, better ways to enhance people’s lives. 

I met Barb in 2010. I was a young changemaker with a radical idea for the city, trying to feel my way around the craft of social enterprise. I think her first reaction to me was annoyance around my opinions. She had good reason. I was green and untested in those days. I mindlessly carried around opinions like I carried around gum in my backpack. I was just beginning to learn. Getting started as a young entrepreneur is hard — and getting started as a young social entrepreneur in Ottawa was near impossible in those days. There was no organized community or support. Impact Hub Ottawa — the coworking space and community for changemakers I co-founded — wasn’t just about a bunch of people sharing a printer. I had a vision for it to be a home for people from diverse sectors at a time when changemakers needed connection, knowledge and inspiration. Today, Impact Hub Ottawa is a flourishing community asset.

Along the way, Barb guided me through some critical choices, and I learned a lot about leadership from her. Here are three of the critical insights I’m reflecting on now. 

Lead with curiosity.

What she really means here is don’t lead with judgement. It’s easy to judge people, especially people who have come before you. It’s easy to judge people you don’t know or don’t agree with or might not share the same values as you. 

When I was presented with the opportunity to help start up Rideau Hall Foundation as its inaugural managing director, I wasn’t sure if I should take it. I had a lot of opinions about the institution. It is, after all, the office and official residence of the Queen’s representative in Canada. But being in my own bubble, I had already made up my mind about what Rideau Hall was like, what Governors General were about, and what they weren’t about. Barb encouraged me to not judge or lead with opinions, but to be curious about people who might not think or behave like you, to learn what makes them tick, what gets them excited and what doesn’t. She said coming from a place of curiosity rather than judgement means you’re carrying an open mind. This is a leadership insight for all of us as changemakers.

Lead with passion. 

In other words, don’t open a conversation with numbers and charts. Graphs and statistics are a newer way of communicating but they don’t resonate with everyone. One may think it’s a smart way to communicate an idea but graphs can’t communicate one’s passion about an idea.

When I first presented Barb with the idea for Future of Good, I showed her a bunch of diagrams and numbers, and said this is why it’s worthwhile. Barb said, “Where’s the passion?” The irony of course, which Barb pointed out, was that I was sharing an idea for a digital publication without sharing my passion for it through a story. 

I was scared of sharing personal stories because I’m an introvert, I’m an immigrant, English is my second language, and I’m trained as an engineer. None of these things gave me confidence to open up and get personal. Barb pushed me to share my story from the heart and to share it passionately with everyone — how I was affected, how I was missing out, and how a lack of insightful coverage on social change affected my ability to do really good work. I’ve since learned to weave in personal stories in much of my writing and speaking. 

Lead with a sense of mischief.

She doesn’t mean to break the law or do hurtful things, but to have a sense of playfulness in what you’re passionate about. It means to take people slightly out of their routine but in a way that helps them do something new or see a new perspective. 

When we were developing the inaugural Future of Good summit, we came up with the idea to not share the agenda with participants. We shared when the summit started, when lunch was, and when it ended but that was it. We didn’t share times and topics for the panels, keynotes, and conversations. I was worried about deviating from the norm so I talked to Barb and she said, “I think it’s a great idea. It’s a little mischievous but we need to have fun once in a while. You need to think about how you’re going to communicate this as something exciting.”

The team ended up talking about the summit like the experience at a concert. You get the ticket for the whole thing, you know when it starts and when it ends, but you don’t get an agenda or song list. You buy into the whole experience, so attendees can be fully present for the whole thing, because you never know what could happen next. It pissed off a bunch of high-profile busy people who are used to arriving and leaving here and there, but when we explained it the morning of, everyone had a good chuckle and they got it. The best part was that everyone stayed for the entire summit because they didn’t want to miss out on what could be a super interesting talk around the corner. 

Barb is an icon of bold humility like no other. She drilled into me that you’ll never do anything original and ambitious if you’re not willing to be humble. I miss our walks, lunches and conversations. I miss her smile, her laughter, and her stories of travel and mischief. We became friends and she became a cherished mentor. She guided me through tough times, both professionally and personally. She helped me make decisions when there was no clear path. There were a few times when my partner and I were on shaky ground, and her advice helped me think through what I bring to my marriage. She taught me that one doesn’t need to be loud and boisterous to be seen or heard. She taught me that kindness and compassion matter above all, and that smiles go a long way — because even on a rainy day, everyone in the community can connect to a smile.

Vinod Rajasekaran

Publisher & CEO

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