And a very happy Mother’s Day to all moms wherever you are.
I’m Christian Robicheau at the Sterling Creations desk and pleased to be sharing our president’s editorial for today.
Donna J. Jodhan has a very interesting editorial for this week where she talks about the fine line.
Please give this a read and send Donna your feedback to donnajodhan@sterlingcreations.ca.
Happy weekend.
+++++++++++++++
What Is The Fine Line?
By Donna J. Jodhan
We ask it all the time, sometimes out loud, more often silently: what is the fine line? Or perhaps the better question is, where is the fine line? Because the struggle isn’t just defining it—it’s locating it in the messy, shifting terrain of real life.
The “fine line” suggests precision, a clear boundary between right and wrong, acceptable and unacceptable, effort and neglect. But in practice, that line is rarely crisp. It bends under pressure. It blurs depending on perspective. And often, it reveals more about our values than about any objective truth.
At its core, the question we’re really asking is this: what can we get away with, and what can we not? That phrasing alone exposes a tension. “Getting away with” implies pushing limits, testing how little is enough. It hints at systems—whether personal, corporate, or institutional—designed not always around doing what is best, but what is minimally required.
Nowhere is this more evident than in accessibility.
Take accessible travel. The fine line here is often drawn between compliance and genuine inclusion. A hotel may technically meet accessibility standards—ramps installed, elevators functioning—but still fail to provide a truly usable experience. Narrow doorways, poorly designed bathrooms, or untrained staff can turn “accessible” into a hollow label. So where is the line? Is it at legal compliance, or at lived usability? If a person can enter a space but not comfortably exist within it, has the line already been crossed?
The same dilemma appears in accessible online banking. Institutions may check boxes: screen reader compatibility, larger text options, simplified interfaces. Yet, if navigation is confusing, security measures are overly complex, or assistance is difficult to reach, accessibility becomes performative rather than practical. The fine line here lies between designing for users and designing with them in mind. One meets requirements; the other meets needs.
Accessible services more broadly—whether in education, healthcare, or public systems—face similar tensions. Policies may exist, accommodations may be offered, but the delivery often falls short. The line blurs between intention and impact. A service can claim accessibility, but if individuals still struggle to use it independently or with dignity, the claim rings hollow.
And perhaps the most sensitive example is caregiving.
What separates adequate caregiving from inadequate caregiving? It’s tempting to define it in measurable terms: hours of care provided, tasks completed, needs met. But caregiving is not just transactional—it is relational. The fine line here isn’t just about whether someone is fed, washed, or supervised. It’s about whether they are respected, listened to, and treated as human beings with agency.
Adequate care may meet physical needs. Good care meets emotional and psychological ones as well. Inadequate care isn’t always obvious neglect; sometimes it’s the quiet absence of empathy, the rushed interaction, the assumption that doing enough is the same as doing right.
So where does the fine line lie?
It lies in intention, but more importantly, in outcome. It lies in whether systems are built to pass standards or to serve people. It lies in whether we aim to avoid criticism or to create genuine inclusion.
And perhaps most uncomfortably, it lies in our willingness to ask harder questions. Not “is this acceptable?” but “is this truly equitable?” Not “can we get away with this?” but “should we?”
Because the fine line is not fixed. It moves as awareness grows, as expectations evolve, as voices that were once ignored begin to speak—and be heard.
Maybe the real challenge isn’t finding the line at all.
Maybe it’s choosing not to stand right on the edge of it.
I’d like to leave you with this for your consideration.
Picture a clean, simple scene viewed from above.
A straight blue line runs horizontally across the space, bold and steady. Along this line, several people are positioned so that each person stands with one foot on either side of the line—straddling it. Their stance feels relaxed but deliberate, as if they are balancing between two sides without fully committing to either.
Nearby, a red line runs parallel to the blue one. This line carries a different mood. The people along it are standing directly on top of the line, placing one foot carefully in front of the other, heel to toe. Their posture is more focused and precise, as if they are concentrating on maintaining perfect balance without stepping off.
The contrast between the two lines is clear:
the blue line suggests openness and flexibility, while the red line conveys caution, precision, and control.
Image = Silhouette of a person balancing on a tightrope above a calm ocean at sunset, one leg lifted and arms outstretched for stability, with the glowing sun low on the horizon casting a gradient sky of blue, orange, and pink, while several shark fins cut through the water below, adding tension and danger to the serene yet dramatic scene.
To learn more about me as an award winning sight loss coach and advocate visit www.donnajodhan.com