“Denis had this incredible ability to believe in people before they were capable of believing in themselves.”
There are people who build companies.
There are people who build industries.
And then there are the rare few who build people.
To me, Denis Lavoie belonged to that last category.
A lot of people will remember Denis for Motoneiges.ca, SledMagazine.com, SnowShoot, and everything he accomplished throughout his career. They’ll talk about the magazine he built, the relationships he forged, and the impact he had on the snowmobiling industry.
They definitely should.
But that’s not the story I want to tell.
I want to tell you about the way Denis made people feel.
Because I truly believe that’s where he was at his greatest.
Denis believed in people before they believed in themselves
Denis had this almost disarming ability to believe in someone before they were capable of believing in themselves.
That’s exactly what he did for me.
For more than a decade, I had been trying to convince the world of one simple thing.
That I could really ride a snowmobile.
Not “pretty good for a girl.”
Not “good enough.”
I mean ride. “Dot.”
The kind of riding where your gender disappears, and only your line choice, throttle control, commitment, and skill matter.
For years, I felt like I was fighting for a piece of cake that barely even existed.
In a male-dominated industry, I often felt like my presence threatened people more than it inspired them.
Everyone was polite.
Everyone smiled.
Everyone wished me success.
But when real opportunities came around, somehow my name was often left out of the conversation.
I experienced it in my workplace.
I experienced it within snowmobile clubs.
I even experienced it through my local dealership.
After years of constantly trying to prove your worth, something inside you slowly starts to wear down.
At first, you’re fighting everyone else’s doubts.
Then one day…
You realize you’ve started fighting your own.
You almost forget who you are.
The meeting that changed everything
Then, in 2024, Patrick Roch contributor at M.CA introduced me to Denis.
Looking back now, I don’t think Denis ever saw me as “the female rider.”
He simply saw a rider.
A writer.
A collaborator.
Someone who had something worth saying.
He welcomed me into the Motoneiges.ca and SledMagazine.com family with a generosity that I still struggle to put into words.
He trusted me as a writer.
Then later, as an official snowmobile test rider.
And the beautiful part?
He never made me feel like I had to earn my place over and over again.
He simply acted as though that place had always been mine.
That may sound simple.
But it changes a life.
Hay Days: A lesson I only understood later
A few months later, I booked a flight to Minneapolis to meet him for the very first time at Hay Days.
I’ll never forget walking the grounds beside him.
Every few minutes he’d stop.
“Jessy, come here. There’s someone you need to meet.”
His friends.
That’s what he’d always call them.
Company presidents.
Marketing directors.
Engineers.
Professional riders.
The people whose voices genuinely shape our industry.
Looking back now, I realize something that completely escaped me at the time.
Denis wasn’t introducing me to important people because he wanted to show me who he knew.
He was introducing me because he believed those people should know me.
There’s a world of difference between those two things.
One says,
“Look who I know.”
The other quietly says,
“I think you belong here.”
That…
Was Denis.
He never held onto opportunities.
He shared them.
He never protected his network.
He opened it.
He saw potential in his collaborators long before they could see it themselves.
He didn’t just give me a platform
Today, people often tell me they enjoy reading my articles.
They appreciate my honesty.
My different perspective.
My “Jessy.P Unleashed” voice.
The truth is…
That voice almost disappeared.
After years of trying to earn my place, I had started making myself smaller.
Quieter.
Safer.
Afraid of taking up too much space.
Denis never once asked me to change who I was.
He never told me to be more diplomatic.
More careful.
More agreeable.
He simply gave me the confidence to be unapologetically myself.
And honestly…
That may be the greatest gift you can give another human being.
Sometimes confidence is borrowed
People often say confidence comes from within.
I’m not sure I believe that anymore.
I think sometimes confidence is borrowed.
Someone believes in you so deeply that one day you wake up thinking,
“Maybe they’re seeing something I can’t see yet.”
Little by little…
That borrowed confidence becomes your own.
Today, every time I write…
Every time I speak my truth…
Every time I refuse to compromise my integrity for popularity, sponsorships, or politics…
A part of that courage traces back to Denis.
He didn’t just give me a platform.
He gave me my voice back.
He gave me my confidence back.
And most of all…
He gave me my fucking backbone back.
The true legacy of Denis Lavoie
I don’t believe Denis’ greatest legacy is the magazines and the articles he leaves behind.
His greatest legacy is people.
The people who stand a little taller because he chose to believe in them.
The people who found their voice because he took the time to listen, and read.
The people who dared to dream bigger because, at one point in their lives, Denis simply looked at them and said,
“Go for it. I trust you.”
Thank you, Denis
Denis…
Thank you for reminding me that I never needed anyone’s permission to belong in this industry.
Thank you for introducing me to your friends—not so I could admire them, but because you believed that one day they would become mine too.
Thank you for seeing something in me that so many others chose to overlook.
I love you.
Thank you for everything.
And if, twenty years from now, someone writes that Jessy.P believed in them before they believed in themselves…
Then I’ll know I did right by you.
xox
— Jessy.P For Denis.
