A "patient, observant and humane feature journalist": A tribute to Brenda Suderman (died Sept. 20, 2026)

I first met Brenda Suderman in the late 1980s when she was writing for the Mennonite Distorter, a satirical publication that made fun of denominational leaders and bureaucracy, theological disputes and the Mennonite tendency toward earnestness. 

It was famous for the first question its reporters asked everyone they interviewed: “So, where do you get off, anyway?"

I don’t recall what I told her. But I do recall many more meetings with her over the next 40 or so years as we both pursued careers that overlapped and then merged—me in communications for various non-profits and she as a journalist who sometimes interviewed me. 

In 2019, we found ourselves working as freelance religion reporters at the Winnipeg Free Press when she joined my Religion in the News project at the newspaper. 

I mention this because on Sept. 20, Brenda passed away. Her death has prompted a time of remembrance and reflection. 

Raised in Winkler, Brenda graduated from Carleton University’s journalism program in 1988 and worked for newspapers in Fort Smith, NWT, Portage la Prairie, MB, and Saskatoon, SK, as well as freelancing for various publications. 

I started writing for the Free Press as a religion columnist in 2003; Brenda started in 2006. She continued doing that until 2023, when she retired. 

We worked together for four of those years, from 2019-23. We found ourselves touching base frequently during that time, checking in to see who would cover what story. 

When she signed off three years ago, she wrote in the Free Press about what that reporting had meant to her—the people and the places she had got to know and visit, and how they impacted her life. 

We never did talk about AI and writing, so I don’t know what she would think of my asking it about her reporting. Here’s what it said: 

Brenda Suderman’s Winnipeg Free Press work is best described as empathetic community journalism: carefully reported, warmly written stories about faith, immigration, memory, neighbourhood life, cultural institutions and the ordinary people who sustain them. 

She was not primarily a confrontational or investigative reporter. Her strength was to enter a community respectfully, find a human story within it, and explain why that story matters beyond the individuals involved. 

It went on to say that, in her reporting, Brenda put people first; that she had strong observational detail; that she had a narrative rather than an argumentative structure; she held a generous view of her subjects; and her writing was accessible without excessive simplification. 

It went on to commend her broad and ecumenical faith coverage, seeing faith not just as something that happens in places of worship, but as part of civic and social life. 

In one sentence, it said she was a “patient, observant and humane feature journalist who turns Winnipeg’s religious, cultural and community life into accessible human narratives—less interested in exposing people than in helping readers understand them.” 

I echo all of that. 

Over the time we knew each other, we didn’t always see eye-to-eye on things. Sometimes we frustrated each other. But I respected her as a journalist and counted her as a friend. 

In journalism, the end of an article is noted with – 30 –. It comes from telegraphy in the 19^th century. That’s when messages came in a roll of paper and it was impossible to tell where one message ended and the other started. 

To assist readers, telegraph operators used it to let people know the end of a message. It meant: “No more — the end.” That code was later used by journalists transmitting stories by telegraph. 

So, for Brenda, we now also say – 30 –. But her stories will live on at the Free Press website.