We were absolutely devastated that we didn’t have high browns like the guys.
—Louise Ferguson
Troop 17 (1974/75)
*
By 1974, the RCMP uniform had conveyed ideas about manliness, power, state authority, and the nation for more than a century. It was a readily identifiable symbol of Canada, a bridge from the past to the present and a reminder of Canada’s imperial ties with Britain. The women of Troop 17 shared these beliefs about the symbolism and authority that the RCMP uniform represented and they were eager to don the famous red serge.[311] Unbeknownst to them, however, dressing female Mounties in the red serge tunic, Stetson hat, and Strathcona boots worn by male officers was never a consideration for the RCMP in 1974. Instead, the police force decided to negotiate the tensions surrounding the hiring of women by developing a feminized version of the male uniform. It was seen as one way to manage the women’s smooth transition into the rank and file, many of whom were resistant to the idea of female Mounties.
But the creation of an alternative uniform for women proved to be a complex balancing act for the RCMP. The women’s version had to convey both authority and femininity, a fusion difficult to achieve in a society that viewed these concepts in dichotomous terms. Early in their training, the first female Mounties challenged the distinction that the women’s uniform represented. But the RCMP remained intransigent, preserving the iconic review order uniform as a representation of Canada that was exclusively male. The history of the women’s uniform contextualizes the implications the arrival of women had for the image of the RCMP. It also illustrates how gendered assumptions about the women’s difference, rather than their equality, were reinforced through their uniform.
The history of the RCMP uniform and the rules and regulations governing the wearing of one are long and complex.[312] To eliminate the potential for confusion, the information that follows focuses on the two types of RCMP uniforms most recognizable to the Canadian public: the service order or daily operational uniform, and the review order or ceremonial red serge dress uniform.[313]
Historically, the RCMP’s review order uniform communicated a number of ideas about civic authority, citizenship, and power within Canadian society. In 1873, the uniform played a significant role in establishing the authority and power of the Canadian state and the Queen’s Empire on the western prairie. The NWMP’s approach to dressing its police officers in red serge woollen tunics mirrored a long British military tradition dating back to the formation of the New Model Army during the English Civil War. At that time, red (or scarlet) was a colour widely associated with royalty since it was more costly to produce as a dye than earth tones, such as brown or blue. When a brighter, synthetic version of the dye began to be produced on a mass scale during the industrial revolution, red serge woollen tunics soon became standard apparel for many of the Empire’s armies and colonial police forces.
The decision on the type of uniform adopted by the NWMP evolved over a two-year period and cannot be attributed to any one person. Colonel Robertson-Ross, the adjutant general of the Canadian militia sent by Macdonald to survey conditions in the western territories prior to 1873, and a “noted devotee of military finery,” was viewed by one historian as instrumental in the decision.[314] The extent of Robertson-Ross’s influence is not clear, however, and it appears that commanding officers of the NWMP also submitted suggestions.[315] By January 1874, the colour of the tunic had been selected. That month, Commissioner George Arthur French wrote, “A scarlet tunic has I believe been decided upon and from what I can learn here there are very good reasons for the decision. I should therefore advise the adoption of a plain scarlet tunic similar to those worn by some of the Imperial Cavalry regiments.”[316] In 1876, a hussar-style design was officially adopted as the uniform of the NWMP.[317]
Concerns about the costs of dressing the new police force were discussed in Parliament. Macdonald reassured members of the House that the NWMP would be a civil force, not a military force, “with as little gold lace, fuss and fine feathers as possible,”[318] likely a reference to the elaborate uniforms worn by the British Hussars. Parliamentarians’ fears were justified because by May 1875, the NWMP’s commissioner was suggesting that chevrons and gold lace for non-commissioned and commissioned ranks should adorn the tunic “to lighten it.”[319] Despite Macdonald’s reassurances about fuss and fine feathers, “the Mounted Police in full dress soon resembled British dragoon guards.”[320] But the elaborate uniform was expensive and unsuited to rugged prairie life where the NWMP uniforms wore out “at an alarming rate.”[321]
Once the men of the NWMP began their policing duties, the uniform underwent numerous changes to accommodate the primitive living and working conditions they experienced. Official dress regulations were relaxed and practicality soon determined how the men dressed. The men adopted more flamboyant pieces of clothing for their uniform such as fringed buckskin tunics, slouch hats, neckerchiefs, chaps, velveteen breeches, and flannel shirts, all articles of clothing that made policing on horseback more comfortable.[322] By 1895, other elements of the uniform had been replaced. The British-style pillbox hat and white pith helmet were replaced by the Stetson hat.[323] Created in 1865 by J.B. Stetson of St. Louis, Missouri, the Stetson, popularly known as the “cowboy hat,” was a wide-brimmed hat made out of felt that featured a high crown and straps that prevented it from flying off the head during windy days. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, the more practical dress had finally distanced the NWMP from its “old association with the British army.”[324] In fact, images of NWMP officers from the period depict men who resembled cowboys more than members of a paramilitary police force inspired by regiments of the British military.
At the turn of the twentieth century, the NWMP uniform garnered international attention during the Anglo-South African War. Strathcona’s Horse was not only famous for being exceptional scouts but for their distinctive style of dress.[325] It was no coincidence that the riding breeches, neckerchiefs, cowboy hat, and riding boots they wore were more suited to climatic conditions on the South African veldt, which resembled those of the Canadian prairie. In particular, a special riding boot was designed and manufactured for Strathcona’s Horse by the Slater Shoe Company of Montreal. The Strathcona boot, as it was called, featured a laced instep with a large gusset which afforded greater flexibility for the foot. A second gusset on the upper calf that could be loosened or tightened by an adjustable strap was also added, making the boot beneficial for both riding and marching. In keeping with the elite status of the regiment, the boots were issued to all members of Strathcona’s Horse, not just its officers, a significant departure from British military tradition.[326] When the NWMP adopted these elements as part of the official dress uniform at home, a close connection between military prowess and the romantic figure of the western cowboy was firmly established.[327]
The NWMP’s review order uniform underwent very few changes after the police force was granted “Royal” status by King Edward VII in 1904. In recognition of this new status, blue shoulder epaulets replaced gold-trimmed scarlet straps on the red tunics. By this time, the RNWMP uniform was associated with an image of Canada that was heroic and manly, an image that the federal government now fully endorsed and was reluctant to change.[328] The Mounties’ dress uniform reached its final form in 1914. By 1920, strict compliance with dress regulations was expected from all members of the RCMP as the newly amalgamated police force expanded its mandate across the country.[329]
The unusual dress of the men of the RNWMP also served as a symbol of eroticism, a dimension of the uniform that may explain its ongoing appeal in popular culture. Indeed, the sexual attraction of women to the RCMP officer was colloquially known in Canada as “scarlet fever,” a characterization that suggested women were unable to resist the attraction of the handsome Mountie dressed in his red serge tunic. Dorothy Standish Paull, in her 1993 memoirs, recalled dating her future husband, Tom, who was stationed in Banff, Alberta. “We began to see each other as long as the working days would allow. I found I had not only caught his eye but Scarlet Fever as well. I was engaged to Constable Tom Paull during the summer of 1937.”[330] Paull titled her memoirs Scarlet Fever. There is little doubt that the review order uniform was firmly established as the centrepiece of the RCMP’s image by the time Dorothy succumbed to Tom’s attractions.
Throughout the twentieth century, the RCMP remained committed to portraying its male police officers as gentlemen. One way this was achieved was through the creation of regulations regarding a Mountie’s dress and deportment. Numerous handbooks written for new recruits provide evidence that the RCMP associated gentlemanly behaviour and self-discipline with a neat and clean appearance. For example, in one 1947 pamphlet titled Prelude to Duty, recruits were told to “Keep your uniform clean. There is no excuse for dirty shoes or dusty clothes … Before going on Parade have the other fellow check you and do the same for him. There are mirrors on each floor. Use them to inspect your personal appearance before leaving the room.” And in 1951, recruits were advised, “Always walk smartly about the ground of your training establishment. Be properly dressed whenever you leave your barrack room or the building in which you live. Do not wear part civilian clothes and part uniform. Always see that you are properly clad.”[331] Order and manliness were defined through the strict maintenance of a clean appearance, an immaculate uniform, and military deportment, all of which were thought to contribute to a Mountie’s authority over other Canadian men.
Given the specific values and ideals that the Mountie uniform represented, the design of a distinct uniform for female Mounties was viewed as necessary to appease a number of constituents within the RCMP who were concerned with the erosion of the image and authority of the police force following the arrival of women. The first priority for commanding officers, however, was to encourage Canadian women to apply to the RCMP. With this objective in mind, they determined that a stylish and feminine uniform would help to attract female recruits. After all, it had been a successful strategy employed by the Canadian armed forces during World War II.[332] A number of institutions had similar strategies. The occupation of nursing, for example, redesigned its uniforms in the 1940s “to publicize the makeover their occupation was undergoing.” Toronto General Hospital had consulted with an “internationally known” fashion designer to create an all-white uniform for its nurses that conveyed cleanliness and respectability.[333]
When the RCMP’s commissioner convened a planning committee to design a women’s review order uniform on June 14, 1974, the all-male committee “felt that the adoption of a distinctive uniform should coincide with recruitment, to produce an immediate and favourable impact” on Canadian women.[334] Not all of the officers present were comfortable with this idea. They argued that one of the underlying principles in recruiting women was that they be given equal treatment wherever possible. The creation of a uniform separate from the male version was a “major departure” from those principles, one that potentially weakened “the strength of the original intent” in hiring women.[335] It proved to be a prescient concern.
Despite the reservations of some, in April 1974 the RCMP hired the executive director of Fashion Canada, “one of the best known Canadian designers,”[336] to help the RCMP’s tailors meet the force’s requirement for a stylish review order uniform.[337] The hiring of a fashion designer dispels the misconception that Maj. Doris Toole, Troop 17’s advisor, designed or had input into the design of the women’s uniform.[338] The RCMP’s tailors were instructed to take the designer’s recommendations into consideration when creating a final product.[339] The men on the planning committee agreed that “female members should be immediately recognizable as members of the RCMP and not confused by the public with other uniformed groups.” However, the initial prototype did not bear much resemblance to the male tunic and left little room for the application of rank and service badges.[340] The RCMP’s tailors worked to resolve these issues.
Designing a uniform that identified women as police officers but was appropriately feminine was a universal problem for most police departments during the 1960s and 1970s. In 1960, the Toronto Police Service had issued its policewomen with “derby style hats to prevent them from being mistaken for airline stewardesses or TTC [Toronto Transit Commission] guides.”[341] Canada’s first female police chief, Lenna Bradburn, who began her policing career in Toronto, recalled having been mistaken for a post office employee while wearing the hat on patrol. Bradburn became a strong advocate for wearing the forage cap issued to male police officers, a regulation that did not change in Toronto until 1991. Differences in headgear for male and female officers were, for Bradburn, evidence of the systemic discrimination against women in policing.[342]
By the fall of 1974, the RCMP’s design difficulties had been overcome and senior tailor Albert Reiter and his staff were presenting prototypes of the women’s review order to the commissioner and senior officers for their approval.[343] Henri LeBlanc recalled, “I remember on a couple of occasions where we had any new piece of the uniform, they’d have someone come in and show us the uniform. We would look it over and then decide whether it was practical or not.”[344] Female support staff modelled the pieces for the officers in the commissioner’s boardroom. The uniform consisted of a navy blue knee-length skirt, black pumps, a white dickie, a red wool serge blazer made from the same fabric as the male tunic, a shoulder bag, and a navy blue pillbox hat.
Maj. Doris Toole, in Ottawa in mid-August 1974 to consult with the RCMP about Troop 17, was asked to attend one of the sessions in the commissioner’s boardroom. She recalled that several RCMP secretaries were present and made suggestions that would, in her opinion, have made the uniform even more feminine. Toole had been an advocate for changes to the women’s military uniform, which had become feminized following the unification of the Canadian armed forces in 1964. For Toole, the feminization of the military uniform “played into men’s ideas of femininity” and did not reflect policies about women’s equality with men within the armed forces.[345] Toole voiced her concerns over the suggestions being made by the secretaries, which were never acted upon, likely because what the participants in the commissioner’s boardroom were viewing that day was the final design. Toole remembered that “at that meeting it was agreed that feedback from the Troop and Depot staff would be sought” before any further changes were made.[346] However, Troop 17 was never given the opportunity to provide their input and the design stood.
Decisions regarding the women’s service order uniform were also in the final stages. Earlier in the year, the RCMP’s Clothing and Equipment Design Committee (CEDC) had already laid the groundwork for the development of a service order uniform after reviewing “various women’s uniforms of the Canadian Armed Forces.”[347] The design included a brown tunic similar to the male jacket but without breast pockets; blue “ladies-style slacks” with a yellow stripe; a blue knee-length skirt; a square leather purse with a shoulder strap; a beige long-sleeved blouse without pockets; and a black oxford-type walking shoe.[348] While the women’s operational uniform bore a close resemblance to the male uniform, there was one significant departure.[349] The female uniform also included a triangular necktie, which was made of dark blue heavy cotton and included a white elastic strip with a metal hook that went around the neck and hooked onto a metal loop on the left-hand side of the tie.
It was not unusual in the 1970s for police departments to create an alternative to the male tie in an effort to maintain a woman’s feminine appearance when wearing a uniform. For example, the first women to be hired as police officers by the police department in Seattle in 1976 wore “crossover ties that snapped in the front.”[350] Similarly, the Canadian military issued a “neck tab” to female personnel instead of a tie.[351] In western societies, a tie traditionally symbolized professionalism and neatness. But the size, width, colour, and pattern also conveyed specific meanings about the wearer.[352] For the RCMP, a stylized tie conveyed that its female officers were feminine, but it also suggested that female Mounties possessed a different set of attributes from their male counterparts.
Dressing female Mounties in slacks for operational duties was another concern since pants, although practical, emphasized a woman’s form. In the 1970s, wearing pants while working in a professional office was not considered appropriate for women in private industry or the public service.[353] The police force’s clothing policies for its female civilian staff reflected these values. Carol Hill recalled that there was a dress code in place for female support staff working at Depot in 1974. Women were required to wear dresses or skirts; slacks were not permitted during office hours until several years later. When pants were finally allowed, female staff members were instructed to wear “dressy” pantsuits only.[354]
Female police officers wearing pants was a problem for many police departments struggling to come to terms with choosing practicality over social convention. In Seattle, one of the first female constables characterized her uniform in 1975 as a “cross between a meter maid and a flight attendant.” She explained that in those days, women’s pants had zippers on the side rather than the front. The women’s uniform followed this fashion trend and every time female police officers had to use the bathroom, they had to remove their gun and utility belt to undo their pants.[355] A stylish side zipper rather than a front closure made the slacks feminine but impractical, given all of the equipment that police officers carried around their waist.
Some female municipal police officers in Canada were required to wear a skirt during operational duties. It proved to be highly problematic for Liz Davies, the first woman hired as a constable by a small municipal police department in British Columbia in 1973. Davies was hired before the department had a uniform for her to wear. She recalled piecing together a uniform for herself from a number of sources. Davies took a skirt worn by an earlier policewoman who had resigned from the department to a tailor to have it altered to fit her. She paired the skirt with a force-issued long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black boots that she purchased. Davies’s own trench coat completed her uniform. After the department hired a second woman six months later, Davies remembered that the department “tried to get us into culottes. They didn’t work at all. It was ludicrous. They seemed to be fighting putting us in pants … We were expected to climb fences, we were expected to run after people and do all kinds of things in a uniform that wasn’t really workable. So they finally had to give in and give us pants.”[356] One year later, in 1974, this particular police department issued its female constables with the same uniform as male officers, resolving the functional difficulties the women were having.
Perhaps the RCMP took the experiences of these municipal police departments into account when they designed the women’s service order uniform, which allowed for pants. When it came to the review order uniform, however, the RCMP’s designers viewed slacks as unprofessional and unfeminine. The RCMP had strict regulations regarding the appearance of its police officers, both male and female, during public events and in public spaces. As one Dress and Deportment regulation stipulated in 1988, “Appearance in both dress and behaviour has become synonymous with the position as a member of the Force, and primarily, the basis on which he/she is judged and accepted by the public.”[357] Allison Palmer, who was stationed at a tourist destination in the Rocky Mountains in the late 1970s, discovered that few people connected the women’s review order uniform with the RCMP. She recalled that tourists questioned her as to whether female Mounties were really just summer students dressed in “rented” uniforms to promote Canada. She also remembered two American tourists thinking that she was wearing “the new Salvation Army uniform.”[358] For Palmer, these perceptions undermined her authority as a law enforcement officer. The women of the RCMP quickly recognized that the male review order uniform conveyed specific messages to the public about authority that a feminized version of the uniform was unable to express.
The RCMP was also keen to ensure that female Mounties were appropriately heterosexual in appearance. Some members of the public speculated that because the women worked in a male-dominated institution, they were lesbians. Lesbian Mounties would have been a public relations disaster for the police force during a time when gay men and women in Canada were still not out in the workplace. The women’s review order uniform was intentionally designed to communicate notions of normative femininity to the civilian population and to defray any characterizations of female Mounties as lesbians or as manly. One senior officer recalled, “As time developed, we changed our attitudes. Before, you know, we insisted [female members] wear skirts and then we went into the slacks so it’s a progression over the years.”[359] Displaying the femininity of female Mounties moved them outside the masculine workplace and into a more conventional realm where skirts, rather than masculine attire, were broadly accepted in Canadian society as normative dress for women.
The RCMP’s interest in promoting the femininity of its female police officers to Canadians was still evident at the training academy in 1978. Every day at noon, troops practised their drill manoeuvres in front of the public in the academy’s parade square. Cherise Marchand recollected that her troop was the only female troop in training at Depot between the end of May and October of that year. She commented that her drill instructor was anxious to have her troop marching on the parade square during noon parade as often as possible. “So we were wearing skirts with nylons and all of that. So we did at least four of the five parades a week.”[360] The sight of female Mounties parading in skirts and heels for tourists was a stark contrast to the display of the men parading in Stetsons, breeches, and Strathcona boots. The image conveyed to the public that female Mounties were still feminine despite the fact that they were engaged in masculine activities such as drill manoeuvres.
On October 8, 1974, the RCMP announced to the media that the first women’s review order uniform would be modelled for journalists at Government House, the residence of the Governor General in Ottawa. Later that day, a photograph of model Christine Shaikin wearing the uniform appeared in the Ottawa Citizen with the caption “À la RCMP.”[361] The use of French was likely a reference to the fact that the RCMP worked with a fashion consultant on the design. The women’s uniform reassured Canadians that there was little change in the status quo for the RCMP despite the hiring of women. The masculine identity of the police force remained intact and men remained firmly in control.
The adoption of the women’s review order dress uniform had one final hurdle to clear before becoming official. Commr. Maurice Nadon reminded the Solicitor General that any change to the RCMP’s uniform regulations required an order-in-council from the federal cabinet. His request was an urgent one, since the women had already started their training in Regina. On October 3, 1974, section 194 of the RCMP Act was revised by cabinet to include a section on the female uniform. The revision read:
The significant uniform of the Force, the design of which is to be approved by the Minister, shall (a) in respect of male members, consist of felt hat, scarlet tunic, blue breeches with yellow cavalry strip, brown Strathcona boots and jack spurs and (b) in respect of female members, consist of cloth cap, scarlet tunic, blue skirt and black shoes, together with such other items of uniform as the Minister approves.[362]
The distinctions were clear: women would wear a feminine version of the male review order uniform, a decision endorsed by the highest levels of the federal government.
Many police departments, including the RCMP, were engaged in a tough balancing act when designing a uniform for women. Adding to the problem was a desire to desexualize the appearance of their female police officers. When the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP) hired its first female constables on May 24, 1974, the recruits were issued an over-the-knee, straight-cut skirt, a tunic without breast pockets, and a Sam Browne holster. Jill Ryan recalled that she was later issued pants (with a side zipper) the first winter “because we were freezing in miniskirts and black nylons” while out on patrol. Ryan also received a blue blouse without pockets because the police force “didn’t want our ‘fullness’ to be even more apparent.”[363] Pockets were an operational necessity for police officers, but the OPP’s desire to conceal a female police officer’s “fullness” was an indication that some police departments were overly concerned with desexualizing the women’s bodies.
The RCMP, despite their best intentions, was similarly inclined. In the interests of drawing attention away from the women’s breasts, the original service order uniform did not have pockets on the tunic or shirt. The RCMP unwittingly issued the first female Mounties polyester blouses that emphasized their breasts. Several of the women recalled that the blouses were transparent and, because they were made out of polyester, clingy. They recounted how on cold days there were “all kinds of rude comments” from male co-workers when their nipples became obvious through the fabric.[364] The choice of fabric and the elimination of pockets on the blouses only served to enhance the female body rather than de-emphasize it. Attempts to both feminize and desexualize the uniform were not always successful.
Breasts were also problematic when it came to organizing items for the kit that was to be issued to female Mounties in Depot.[365] Undergarments had been a part of the standard kit issued to all new recruits since the nineteenth century, and the all-male committee was initially undaunted by the prospect of choosing underwear for the first female recruits. Cameron Montgomery, who was involved in meetings concerning the development of the women’s kit, remembered discussions about undergarments and bathing suits for the women. He recalled one of the men had done some research and discovered that the RCMP could order bathing suits with modesty panels across the front that would conceal the women’s crotch. Another discovered that sports brassieres were available. The men unanimously agreed that these articles would be useful items for the women’s kit. It “soon became clear we had to get somebody else involved, maybe a female” recalled Montgomery. “We didn’t know what we were doing, that this isn’t working, and we knew it wasn’t. Like the modesty panel. That tells you a lot, doesn’t it?”[366] The fact that the men did not consider it necessary to seek advice from a woman about female undergarments speaks to the tight control commanding officers were accustomed to exerting over all aspects of a recruit’s training.
Montgomery’s concerns were justified. Decisions about the type of bathing suits issued to the women and discussions about modesty panels became moot after the bathing suits became transparent following three months of daily wear in chlorinated water.[367] Journalist Colleen Slater-Smith reported on another problem the women were having with the bathing suits. She noted that Troop 17 were nervous about the “fall-out” of their breasts during rigorous swimming manoeuvres since the suits were cut low under the armpits.[368] Slater-Smith’s reportage illustrates just how little privacy the women of Troop 17 had at the academy. It further shows that female journalists were not above writing about the women from a gendered perspective, despite the fact that they were also working in a male-dominated profession and breaking down barriers.
Apart from the inadequacy of the bathing suits, the force-issued bras fell short of the women’s needs as well. The sports bras were of poor quality and lacked proper support for physical training according to Marianne Robson.[369] It would take another two years for the RCMP to do away with issuing bras to female Mounties. The CEDC finally determined that decisions regarding the type of undergarment the women wore were best left up to the women themselves and that “no further issues would be made when the present stock was depleted.”[370] It signalled the partial demise of the century-long tradition of RCMP control over every piece of the uniform and kit issued to recruits.
While the selection of undergarments for recruits may seem strange by today’s employment standards, it is important to remember that the paramilitary structure of the RCMP demanded conformity. Sameness, right down to undergarments, was part of a strategy to dissolve individualism during a recruit’s time at Depot. The elimination of individualism prepared a recruit to unquestioningly obey the power and authority of senior officers, not only at the academy but in the field. It explains why the officers charged with finding suitable items for the women’s kit were initially unfazed by the task, and why they failed to consult any woman, even their wives, about the merits of the items they were selecting.
Despite the paternalistic concerns of commanding officers about the modesty of female recruits, aspects of the women’s kit were openly sexualized by male recruits at the academy. Soon after Troop 17’s arrival in 1974, male recruits learned that the RCMP was issuing them with brassieres. One instructor at Depot remembered that rumours developed that “RCMP” was stamped on the inside of the bras and an “open competition to see who could first get their hands on an issue brassiere” developed amongst the men.[371] The bras were considered a novel piece of kit that would lend credence to stories of sexual conquest. The gossip about an RCMP stamp on the brassieres was erroneous, however, as examples housed at the RCMP’s Historical Collections Unit demonstrate. Nevertheless, the competition over acquiring a force-issued bra served as a reminder to both the men and women of the RCMP that underneath the women’s uniform was a sexual female body that disrupted, rather than conformed to, the normative standards of policing that were so highly valued by the RCMP.
*
Although the RCMP wanted an attractive uniform for its female police officers, they also worked to minimize the female police body as a site of sexual desire. These seemingly contradictory impulses, between feminizing and de-feminizing the women’s uniform, speaks to the delicate balancing act the RCMP was engaged in as it sought to maintain the feminine appearance of the women while ensuring they were recognized as members of the RCMP. The RCMP’s insistence on continuing the tradition of designing and controlling every aspect of a recruit’s uniform and kit meant that the gendered lines between male and female uniforms would not be crossed any time soon.