“I am an independent human rights and international development consultant and facilitator,” she tells The Local. “But one of my absolute favourite things to do is capacity building and facilitation.”
Capacity building, Wallace says, isn’t just about training or policy, but rather about “inspiring sustainable change that uplifts communities, nurtures equity, and paves the way for a more inclusive future”.
Her own focus is on capacity building in gender rights, children’s rights and freedom of religion or belief.
“Freedom of religion or belief, to me, means having the right to pray or not to pray, or just to peacefully enjoy your coffee,” she explains. “And to be able to manifest it. Having a place of worship but also the right to be able to change what you inherited from your family or your parents.”
The intersection of freedom of religion or belief and children’s rights could, for example, include children being forced to attend church or be baptised against their wishes, whether that's by their parents or the state.
“Neither of my kids are confirmed,” Wallace says. “I wanted them to be, but they didn’t want to, and that’s their right.”
“And the state doesn’t have the right either to decide whether a child can go to mosque or not.”
Wallace has a degree in law, specialising in criminal law and Sharia law, but she is a Christian by faith.
“My work is driven by a simple yet powerful philosophy: Every person deserves the opportunity to thrive in an environment of fairness, respect, and freedom.”
Wallace has not always been an independent consultant, working instead as an employee for many years. Her first job when she arrived to Sweden was with an international child rights organisation, Skandinaviska barnmissionen, who had just started working in Pakistan.
“I worked a bit with them on cultural sensitivity and that sort of thing, and how to work in that part of Asia.”
Later that year, she was offered a job with the same organisation as regional coordinator for Asia and Eastern Europe, before becoming the head of international departments a few years later, which included work in east and west Africa as well.
“I led the team of the international department in Sweden, as well as the regional office in Nairobi,” she said. “That was probably the topmost position I could get there, and when I was offered to work as the adviser for freedom of religion or belief at Svenska missionsrådet, the Swedish Mission Council, I accepted that offer, resigned from my job at Skandinaviska barnmissionen and moved to Svenska missionsrådet as an adviser.”
Wallace quickly realised that the role wasn’t for her, but decided to stick it out for a year before making a decision.
“It had nothing to do with the organisation,” she insists. “I worked with wonderful people, and the colleagues were great. I just didn’t want to restrict myself in one role.”
A month and a half into her new role, Wallace told her manager she wanted to resign.
“She was like ‘do you have another job?’, and I said ‘no, I don’t’. 'You know in Sweden, we have this safety network'. I'm like 'I don't think I want that'," Wallace says.
Eventually, her manager suggested that Wallace go on sick leave instead, in case her resignation was a result of stress or burnout. Wallace agreed.
“But the thing is, I wasn’t sick or anything. I wasn’t burned out. Maybe I was a bit tired, and when I took that offer to go on sick leave, I realised that I was finding it hard not because I’m sick but because I was psychologically, mentally, starting to feel a bit down.”
Wallace took a long holiday, taking her children to Kenya, where she says she had “almost a spiritual experience”.
“Sitting in the savanna on your balcony, just having a cup of coffee, it’s just so much bigger than yourself,” she says. “And I decided, it’s not how I want to live. I want to do this, I want to take this huge risk. So I came back and spoke to [my manager] and she absolutely understood.”
She decided to become an independent consultant and her former employer became her first client.
“They liked working with me, and I liked working with them, because it’s a great team. So they asked, if I was planning to become a consultant, would I like them to be my first client?”
Wallace says her Swedish ex-husband, who she has a “great connection with”, helped her set up a consultancy.
“He has his own work, so he could guide me a bit. You know, register as a limited company and that kind of thing.”
She says that her supportive family helped, as well as already having some knowledge of how Sweden works. People were also willing to help her start her company once they found out more about her line of work.
“I rented an office space in central Lund,” Wallace says. “The landlord, when he heard that I worked with human rights and international development, children’s rights and gender rights and so on, he said he did not want to charge me anything. He gave me the first month free to test how it is.”
“You know, most international people work with tech, or the university or Tetra Pak and whatnot. But this is not something people expect you to be renting an office space for.”
“So the general kindness that comes with working in this branch, that’s probably one of my biggest experiences.”
Wallace used the app Fortnox for the nitty-gritty details of starting up a company, which she recommends in part due to the fact that it provides information both in Swedish and in English.
“I have some Swedish,” she says. “I can take meetings in Swedish, for example, but when it comes to details, discussions and real technical work, I moved to English because my Swedish is still not at that level.”
What would her advice be for others considering a similar career?
“Networking is by far one of the most important things you can think about.” Wallace’s own network was greatly helped by the fact that she had already spent a few years in Sweden working in the industry she planned to consult in.
“I had already been in the Swedish development sector for seven or eight years, and honestly speaking, it’s kind of small. Everybody knows everybody, it’s a small world here.”
Wallace also recommends finding your niche or specialism if you're interested in human rights work.
“Human rights is so broad. We can get lost in it. But find that niche, what is it that speaks to you? Because at the end of the day, human rights is all about passion. There are things you are more passionate about – the climate, life under the sea, they are two different things, but still very much interconnected.”
Volunteering can be a great way to get a foot in the door, but that doesn't mean there's no way into the industry if you're unable to work for free.
“Try getting some experience first, as a volunteer. I know it’s not always possible. When you’re young, you’ve just started your studies, there are internships and volunteering opportunities,” she says.
“But when you’re in your mid-30s or your mid-40s, you might have built up a certain career already. That can be a plus point. Try to lean on that to build your network.”
Wallace admits that this is not always easy.
“It can be one of the most difficult things to do, to reach out to someone in your network. Try to overcome that. It’s OK to ask, and people will not know who you are and what you’re doing or what you need unless and until you get out and say it clearly.”
In her own career, Wallace has found that coming from a different background has often been a good thing.
“I’m from Pakistan, which is a predominantly Muslim country,” she says. “Some of my absolute best friends are still in Pakistan, but being a minority in a society like that does something to you. I don’t want to use the term ‘second-class citizen’, but we use that term in human rights. You don’t feel like you belong, in a way.”
Instead of seeing this as a negative, Wallace has chosen to embrace it.
“Either you can think ‘I don’t belong anywhere’, or you can use it to your advantage – I belong everywhere. I feel comfortable in most places.”
Coming from a country similar to the ones she works with now can also help her to see issues from both sides.
“I’m right at home working in the human rights sector, coming from and having worked in parts of the world which are disadvantaged or underdeveloped. I have a bit of an advantage there, because I have been on the other side, and by looking at it from that side I understand things in a completely different way. I’m not saying my Swedish colleagues are unable to do that, but having lived both lives creates a different sort of understanding.”
When working in Asia and Africa, Wallace said that it was often easy for her to build trust.
“I’m an Asian myself, so people tend to trust me in a different way or see me as one of their own. But I also saw it in Africa, the level of trust was kind of immediate, especially as a person of colour myself.”
On the other hand, it has not always been easy to lead teams of “older white men”, she says.
“As a woman, I mean now I’m middle aged, but I remember when I was younger, I looked kind of young. Younger than I was at the time. So I would sometimes tie up my hair or do something that could make me look older, so my voice has more meaning or more effect.”
Now, she no longer tries to change herself to try and make people take her more seriously.
“I decided I don’t want to do that. It’s my knowledge and my experience, but it hasn’t always been easy, because people come with certain ideas at a certain age. It becomes difficult for them. So that has been a bit of a challenge – I’ve learned from them also, but it wasn’t always easy.”
People with an international background don't always work in exactly the same way as Swedes, but this can also be a good thing.
“Swedes are extremely polite people, but there are ways of working where having my international background is such that I'm able to make decisions kind of fast,” she says. “Sometimes you have to do it. You can't wait for the whole room or the consensus of thoughts.”
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