At Harc, our work is personal. We build brands by listening deeply, showing up with care, and staying close to what matters. This story is about what that looks like in real life. It’s about how Jarren’s relationship with his sister, Tynice, shaped the way we think about care, storytelling, and what it means to do work that centres love and presence.

Growing Up in a Home Built Around Care

Jarren grew up in a household where care was constant. His sister, Tynice, has autism and intellectual disabilities. Her needs were complex, and the family carried those needs with limited support from their community.

“All the air in the house was sucked up by Tynice,” Jarren shared. “I don’t even say that in a bad way. Her needs were just so high and we didn’t really know what was happening.”

He remembers locking himself in his room to find quiet, still hearing her voice through the walls. His parents, especially his mother, did everything they could to advocate for Tynice. That advocacy wasn’t always met with support.

“She once told her Bible study group, ‘I just need someone to take her for one hour.’ And they told her to pray harder.”

That story continues to sit with us. Not just because it speaks to exhaustion, but because it highlights something we often hear in our work too. That families carrying complex needs are often expected to do it all, quietly. And when they ask for help, they’re told to simply endure.

Distance, Guilt, and the Slow Return to Relationship

For many years, Jarren didn’t know how to be close to Tynice. The intensity of her needs, the repetition in her speech, and the emotional charge of their shared history created space between them.

“Honestly, for years I didn’t know how I fit into her life. I thought maybe she’d be happier without me.”

It’s hard to name that kind of distance. It takes tenderness and self-compassion to speak it out loud. And yet, Jarren did. In doing so, he opened a door to something new.

Steps Toward Something New

We held this conversation in our studio, surrounded by the familiar quiet of a space we’ve shaped for thoughtful work. As Jarren spoke, there were moments of stillness. A softness in his voice when he shared about the present. A thrum of emotion when he described how far things have come.

This isn’t about a tidy journey. It’s about the steps he has taken with his own two feet. About the intuition and compassion he’s grown into. And about how that growth lives in him now.

One of the first steps came through training as a coach. “I started to have conversations with her without being attached to outcome. That changed everything.”

Another came through our work at Harc. In projects with organizations like PosAbilities, InclusionBC, Aspire Richmond, Community Living BC, and the Canucks Autism Network, Jarren began interviewing self-advocates. Listening to their experiences reminded him of Tynice.

“I kept thinking, I’m giving all this attention to these folks in my job, and I haven’t been able to do that with my own sister.”

He also began to imagine what her care would look like as their parents aged. “One day, I might be all she has. So I started getting curious about her care system. Who’s in it. How it works. And how I could be part of it.”

A Relationship Rooted in Love and Trust

Today, Jarren and Tynice talk twice a week. The conversations aren’t always linear, but they are real. “She doesn’t remember what we talked about two hours ago. It’s not personal. It’s just her reality.”

Jarren no longer tries to fix it. Instead, he shows up. “I’m not her parent. I’m her friend. Her brother. Someone she can talk to. Even about stuff she can’t talk to my parents about. Like sex.”

That last piece is important. Because it speaks to trust. And safety. And creating space where shame doesn’t get to run the show.

“She used to try and talk in code. I’d say, just say what it is. Now she’s really practiced at talking about sex in a positive way. We talk about red flags. About safety. About what it means to be respected.”

Jarren sees the ways Tynice lights people up. He notices her in social spaces, complimenting strangers, bringing warmth. “She’s teaching me. About connection. About courage. About kindness.”

What This Means for the Work We Do

This is the heartbeat behind our work. Jarren’s story is a living example of the kind of listening, presence, and care we aim to hold in every brand we build.

When we talk about being values-led, we mean:

• Holding complexity with tenderness
• Meeting people where they are, not where we expect them to be
• Listening without trying to fix
• Respecting lived experience
• Making room for nuance, repetition, and difference

These aren’t just ideas. They are practices. And they are shaped by real people, like Jarren, who bring their whole selves into the work.

We know that many of our clients and collaborators live these stories too. Stories of caregiving. Of advocacy. Of loving someone fiercely in systems that aren’t built to support them. We hold those stories with respect. And we build brands that honour them.

Hope, in Practice

“When I talk to families through our work with Possibilities, I know exactly what they mean when they say, ‘We’ve tried everything.’ Because that was us.”

Hope, for Jarren, isn’t just a feeling. It’s something we do. It looks like naming the unspoken. It looks like showing up twice a week. It looks like making space for conversations that haven’t been welcomed before.

“Sometimes the progress isn’t in the outcome. It’s in the collaboration. It’s in someone finally feeling heard.”

Why This Matters

Toward the end of our conversation, something softened. As we talked about how the work we do at Harc comes close to home, we felt ourselves land in the same rhythm. There was ease in the room. A sense of shared knowing.

“Doing work that comes close to home feels essential. I don’t want to keep client work at a distance. I want to be present with people. I want to be in the story.”

We believe that presence shapes everything. When we build brands, we bring our hearts with us. Because that’s how real connection is made. Not through perfection, but through care. Real care. The kind that sits beside you when things are hard. The kind that listens closely. The kind that doesn’t turn away.

A connective brand leads to a connective community. And that’s where we want to work. In places that are tender and true. In rooms where stories are shared and held with love.