National Inquiry Final Report PDF

RECLAIMING
POWER
AND PLACE
T HE F I NAL RE P ORT
OF T HE NAT I ONAL I NQUI RY
I NTO MI S S I NG AND
MURDE RE D I NDI GE NOUS
WOME N AND GI RL S
Volume 1a
Reclaiming Power and Place: The Final Report of the National Inquiry into
Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, Volume 1a
Cette publication est également disponible en français :
Réclamer notre pouvoir et notre place : le rapport final de l’enquête sur les
femmes et les filles autochtones disparues et assassinées, volume 1a
CP32-163/2-1-2019E-PDF
ISBN: 978-0-660-29274-8
COVER IMAGE:
Special thanks to the artists whose work appears on the cover of this report:
Dee-Jay Monika Rumbolt (Snowbird), for Motherly Love

The Saa-Ust Centre, for the star blanket community art piece
Christi Belcourt, for This Painting is a Mirror
Table of Contents
Preface
Acknowledgements 1
Foreword by Chief Commissioner Marion Buller 5
Foreword by Commissioner Michèle Audette 7
Foreword by Commissioner Qajaq Robinson 9
Foreword by Commissioner Brian Eyolfson 11
Messages from the Directors 13
Reflections from the National Family Advisory Circle (NFAC) 15
Our Women and Girls Are Sacred: Reflections from the
National Inquiry Elders and Grandmothers Circle 33
Introduction to the Final Report: Understanding Violence against
Indigenous Women, Girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA People 49
Introduction to Section 1: Establishing a New Framework 89

CHAPTER 1: Centring Relationships to End Violence 93
Introduction: Building a Solid Foundation 93
Why Start with Relationships? 95
Encounters That Make a Difference 98
An Intersectional Approach to Encounters 102
Four Pathways That Maintain Colonial Violence 111
Indigenous Women, Girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA People as Rights Holders 117
Promoting and Maintaining Healthy Encounters 122
Conclusion: Bringing It All Together 124
Reclaiming Power and Place: The Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls
CHAPTER 2: Indigenous Recognitions of Power and Place 129
Introduction: Women Are the Heart of Their Communities 129
Two-Eyed Seeing: Diverse Legal Orders and Inherent Indigenous Laws 132
Understanding How Laws Are Lived, in Community 137
Stories as Rights, Stories as Medicine 140
Indigenous Expressions of the Right to Culture, Health, Safety, and Justice 145
Existing Systems of Relationship, Governance, and Identity 162
Conclusion: Finding Solutions through New Relationships 173
CHAPTER 3: Emphasizing Accountability through Human Rights Tools 181

Introduction: Why Human Rights? 181
The International Human Rights Context 183
Applying International Human Rights Instruments to Ensure Accountability 199
Domestic Rights Instruments in Canada 202
Indigenous Rights and Human Rights: A Complicated Relationship 218
Conclusion: Understanding the Need for Self-Determined Solutions 221
CHAPTER 4: Colonization as Gendered Oppression 229

Introduction: The Context of Colonization for
Indigenous Women, Girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA People 229
Understanding Colonization as a Structure 231
The Logic of Discovery: Early European Exploration among
First Nations and Impacts on Gender Relations 234
A Religious Enterprise: Early Colonization among First Nations and Métis 236
The Early Colonial Context of Violence against Gender-Diverse People 239
Complex Relationships in Fur Trade Country 241
For Queen and Country: Shifting First Nations Experiences
within the Context of Canada 244
Colonial Encounter: Distinctive Métis Experiences 283
Colonial Encounter: Distinctive Inuit Experiences 294
Conclusion: A Crisis Centuries in the Making 312
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Introduction to Section 2: Encountering Oppression 321
CHAPTER 5: Confronting Oppression – Right to Culture 327
Introduction: Identity and Culture 327
Defining “Culture” 329
Pathway to Violence: Intergenerational and Multigenerational Trauma 331
Deeper Dive: The Need for a Systems-Level Approach to
Transforming Child Welfare 339
Pathway to Violence: Social and Economic Marginalization 379
Pathway to Violence: Lack of Will and Insufficient Institutional Responses 381
Deeper Dive: Media and Representation 385
Pathway to Violence: Denying Agency and Expertise in Restoring Culture 397
Self-Determined and Decolonized Systems 399
Linking Culture to International Human Rights Instruments 402
Conclusion: “Stop making an industry out of me” 406
Findings: Right to Culture 408
CHAPTER 6: Confronting Oppression – Right to Health 413

Introduction: Connecting Health and Safety 413
Defining “Health” 414
Current Approaches to Health in Canada 418
Deeper Dive: Understanding Distinctive Experiences of Danger in the
Lives of 2SLGBTQQIA People 447
Deeper Dive: Issues Specific to Inuit and Remote Communities 472
Pathway to Violence: Denying Agency and Expertise in Restoring Health 488
Connecting to International Human Rights 493
Conclusion: Creating a New Normal 497
Findings: Right to Health 498
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CHAPTER 7: Confronting Oppression – Right to Security 503
Introduction: “We’re not safe. Nobody is safe.” 503
Defining “Human Security” 504
Pathway to Violence: Intergenerational Trauma and Interpersonal Violence 508
Deeper Dive: Understanding Intersectional Métis Experiences 526
Deeper Dive: Enhancing Interjurisdictional Cooperation to Promote Safety 561
Deeper Dive: Resource Extraction Projects and Violence Against Indigenous Women 584
Pathway to Violence: Denying Agency and Expertise in Restoring Safety 595
International Human Rights Instruments and Human Security 608
Conclusion: Challenging “the way it is” 612
Findings: Right to Security 614
CHAPTER 8: Confronting Oppression – Right to Justice 621

Introduction: “Safety and justice and peace are just words to us” 621
Defining “Justice” 623
Deeper Dive: Criminalizing and Incarcerating Indigenous Women 635
Deeper Dive: The Sex Industry, Sexual Exploitation, and Human Trafficking 656
Deeper Dive: The Need to Reform Law Enforcement to Increase Safety 674
Pathway to Violence: Denying Agency and Expertise in Restoring Justice 703
International Human Rights Instruments and Principles of Justice 711
Conclusion: Reinventing the Relationship 715
Findings: Right to Justice 717
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P R E FA C E
Acknowledgements
As Commissioners, we were mandated to investigate all forms of
violence against Inuit, Métis and First Nations women and girls, including
2SLGBTQQIA people. We were given a sacred responsibility to hear
from families and survivors of violence to make concrete and actionable
recommendations for the safety of Indigenous individuals, families and
communities. The legacies of those who no longer walk among us will not
be forgotten as all Canadians have a moral obligation to share this sacred
responsibility in breaking down systemic barriers, eliminating violence,
and ultimately creating safer spaces for Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
We honour the memory of all missing and murdered Métis, First Nations
and Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people including the spirits of
the missing or murdered whose families shared with us. You were taken,
but you are not forgotten; your lives, dreams, hopes and losses are now
forever a part of Canada’s living history.
We want to thank the families who shared their painful truths, knowledge,
wisdom, experiences and expertise with us. We honour your strength,
courage and perseverance in seeking justice and healing for the loss of
your grandmothers, mothers, sisters, aunties, daughters, nieces, cousins
and close friends.
P R E FA C E
We acknowledge the survivors of violence who shared their experiences

with us. You have illustrated pure strength, courage and resiliency in
sharing your truth as many of you are still experiencing trauma and
systemic violence. We are extremely touched you entrusted us with your
experiences.
We cherish the submissions of artistic expressions, including, songs, poems
and art, that have been shared with us. Thank you to the artists, family
members, survivors and those across the nation who have been impacted
or inspired to take action through their submission. Your art will continue
to serve as powerful commemoration and legacy tools to share truth and
knowledge and serve as a means to heal and inspire action in others.
We offer our sincerest gratitude to the Elders and Grandmothers Circle
who worked alongside us, offering their support, wisdom, encouragement,
advice, protection and love to us and all who worked with the National
Inquiry. Our inspiration came from our Grandmothers who motivated us to
always work to the highest standards. One of the ways we will be able to
express our gratitude is to always live by the lessons and wisdom they
shared.
We want to acknowledge and thank the families and survivors who guided
and assisted us as members of the National Family Advisory Circle. For
many years, you fought to be heard and acknowledged in seeking justice
for your loved ones and your fellow Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. You fought for a national investigation into the
injustices and violence experienced by Métis, Inuit and First Nations
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. We were not provided with the
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time, tools and powers to do all that we had hoped we could do, but you
walked with us every step of the way, and we are beyond humbled to have
walked alongside you, and to have received your truth and your trust.
We have been honoured with the support of Elders and Knowledge Keepers
across the nation who offered their guidance, knowledge, wisdom, prayers,
traditions, and ceremonies to the National Inquiry at our hearings, state-
ment-gathering events and other community events. In sitting with us, tend-
ing to the qulliq and sacred fires, offering ceremonies, songs, prayers, and
words of wisdom, you have helped us navigate through the very challeng-
ing task of engaging in a legal inquiry process, while incorporating
distinctive First Nations, Inuit, and Métis cultures, languages, spirituality,
and creating opportunities for healing. You remind us that every step in our
process had to be with heartfelt intention and purpose and grounded in
relationships and reciprocity.
We want to acknowledge the communities across the country that
welcomed us into their territories and homes. You helped us create safe
spaces filled with culture, language, spirit and compassion at each hearing.
In these safe spaces, difficult truths were brought to light, and for some,
healing began.
We offer gratitude to the members of our Métis, Inuit, 2SLGBTQQIA and
Quebec Advisory Committees, who offered their time to us in exploring
issues and positive solutions. Your expertise, advice and guidance has
contributed to the development of this report and recommendations for
the elimination of violence against Inuit, Métis and First Nations women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
P R E FA C E
We are so thankful for all of the staff and the contractors who made up the
National Inquiry. You have been fiercely driven and dedicated to ensuring
we were able to fulfill as much of our mandate in the time we had avail-
able to us as we could. Time and time again you pulled off the impossible:
24 hearings across the country, almost 750 people’s statements gathered,
eight institutional visits to correctional facilities, four Guided Dialogues,
eight validation meetings for the Final Report and numerous other gather-
ings which were required to fulfill this national mandate. You have truly
brought to life our vision of finding the truth, honouring the truth and
giving life to the truth.
P R E FA C E
Chief Commissioner Marion Buller
F
irst, I acknowledge and welcome the spirits of the missing and murdered Indigenous
women and girls. I also acknowledge the courage of survivors. Their spirits and courage
guided us in our work. This report is about these beautiful Indigenous people and the
systemic factors that lead to their losses of dignity, humanity and, in too many cases, losses of
life. This report is about deliberate race, identity and gender-based genocide.
The violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is a national tragedy
of epic proportion. Also part of this national tragedy is governments’ refusals to grant the
National Inquiry the full two-year extension requested. In doing so, governments chose to leave
many truths unspoken and unknown. There has been and will be criticism of our work; it is
vitally important. I hope that the criticism will be constructive and never end. I take the critics
and their criticism as indications of the great passion that exists about the issue of violence
against Indigenous women and girls.
As a nation, we face a crisis: regardless of which number of missing and murdered Indigenous
women and girls is cited, the number is too great. The continuing murders, disappearances and
violence prove that this crisis has escalated to a national emergency that calls for timely and
effective responses.
Within the National Inquiry, and in the short time we have had to do our work, families and
survivors have provided important truths. These truths force us to reconsider where the roots of
violence lie, and in doing so, to reconsider the solutions. I hope that knowing these truths will
contribute to a better understanding of the real lives of Indigenous people and the violations of
their human and Indigenous rights when they are targeted for violence. The truth is that we live
in a country whose laws and institutions perpetuate violations of basic human and Indigenous
rights. These violations amount to nothing less than the deliberate, often covert campaign of
genocide against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This is not what Canada
is supposed to be about; it is not what it purports to stand for.
P R E FA C E
In this report, we use hard words to address hard truths like genocide, colonization, murder and
rape. To deny these hard words is to deny the truths of the families and survivors, front-line
workers, and grassroots organizers. We used hard words because the violence against Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is a difficult, critically important crisis to address and
in which we all have a role.
This report is also about hope. I believe, especially after witnessing the resilience of Indigenous
families, survivors and communities, that change will happen. An Elder said, “We all have to
get past the guilt and shame.” This begins with recognizing the truth. For non-Indigenous
Canadians, this means rethinking commonly held stereotypes, and confronting racism in every
context. For Indigenous Peoples, this means using the truth to rebuild our lives, our families, our
communities and Canada itself. And for governments, this means nothing less than a new
and decolonized social order; it is an opportunity to transform and to rebuild in real partnership
with Indigenous Peoples.
Skeptics will be fearful and will complain that the financial cost of rebuilding is too great, that
enough has been done, that enough money has been spent. To them I say, we as a nation cannot
afford not to rebuild. Otherwise, we all knowingly enable the continuation of genocide in our
own country.
I thank the family members and survivors who shared their painful truths about their tragic
experiences at our hearings and statement-gathering events. I am honoured to have shared your
tears, hugs and hopes for a better future. I will always be inspired by your resilience.
I have special admiration for the grassroots people and activists who knew, first hand, about the
depth of the violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. They knew –
they have always known – that the violence has to stop. Through their sheer determination over
generations, they have forced governments to pay attention, and to establish what we consider to
be just the beginning of this work: a National Inquiry into the root causes of a crisis that has been
generations in the making.
Canada can be a great country – the one many Canadians believe it is. Collectively, we must
settle for nothing less. Achieving this greatness will take vision, courage and leadership. I have
seen these qualities and more, in Indigenous people, from coast to coast to coast. I challenge
them to be the new leaders who will create a new reality, a new social order – a safe and healthy
country for all.
P R E FA C E
Commissioner Michèle Audette
T
hroughout the ages, all societies have taken care to ensure the safety of the members of
their communities. And yet, still today, the World Health Organization reports that 35% of
women worldwide will experience physical or sexual violence in their lifetime, this figure
reflecting only violence that is reported.
In Canada, statistics show that Indigenous women and girls are 12 times more likely to be
murdered or missing than any other women in Canada. According to Statistics Canada, between
2001 and 2015, homicide rates for Indigenous women were nearly six times higher than for
non-Indigenous women. A risk of such magnitude requires us all to take responsibility, to clearly
identify the issue and to take strong measures to address this situation, which is rooted in
Canada’s historical and political context.
That said, statistics cannot convey what families and communities really go through when they
lose loved ones to such violence. The concept of family means so much more than biological
lineage, with the strengths and diversity of a family being found in the sum of its parts. Each of
them deserves to live in an environment where all of its members can develop their full potential
safely and peacefully.
The National Inquiry has been an enriching learning experience, both personally and profession-
ally, but it has also been trying. Fulfilling our mandate was a daunting task, and I often felt
helpless when hearing the testimony of every person who generously contributed to the exercise
we put before them.
Our mission was to shed light on a social crisis that affects Indigenous women and girls and
2SLGBTQQIA people every day of their lives. Although this crisis was identified long ago, we
have been slow to examine it in depth. The commission that I have been part of inquired into a
situation that has affected all of Canada’s Indigenous communities, as well as all Canadians,
throughout the 500 years of our common history.
P R E FA C E
This unprecedented inquiry addresses violence against some of this country’s most vulnerable
citizens and identifies its systemic causes. Never has there been such an opportunity for the truth
about violence against Indigenous women and girls to be heard and acknowledged. Within the
organization, we pushed and constantly stretched the limits of our teams to meet our goals.
Why go to such lengths? To bring about change. As my mandate comes to an end, I note, with
great humility, that this National Inquiry will have honoured the struggles taken up by the fami-
lies and survivors over the past 40 years. This Inquiry, which was sought by 3,000 families, will
have shone light on facts that are all too often hidden.
Violence against Indigenous women and girls does not stem from one isolated event. Sadly, it is
the daily reality of far too many human beings, many of whom are among this country’s most
vulnerable. Today, we have the opportunity to highlight the extraordinary resilience of Indige-
nous women and girls, who remain dedicated to advocating for their rights and charting a path
forward – a path we must all take together. We wish to honourably acknowledge victims and give
families the opportunity to finally be able to give their children a better future.
The present can only be understood in relation to the past: we must know our past, understand it
and accept it, if the future is to have meaning. We now need to go further and put forward a true
social blueprint that will enable the country to adequately address this major social issue and
break through this impasse. All our efforts will have led to identifying the solutions, means and
actions needed to bring about this movement. Every Canadian can and must become involved at
their own level if things are to change. Together, we have a duty to take effective measures to
prevent and put an end to violence against Indigenous women and girls and ensure their safety.
This commission of inquiry does not mark the end of a movement, but represents a step in a
healthy process that is a source of hope, a social undertaking. Today is the first day of the Canada
of tomorrow. We cannot change the past, but we can work together to shape a better future built
on the strengths of each and every community that welcomes it, thereby committing to improv-
ing the safety of Indigenous women and girls together.
#EndViolence #WomenAndGirlsAreSacred #ThankYouLife
P R E FA C E
Commissioner Qajaq Robinson
A
s a non-Indigenous person, I must acknowledge the significance of the welcoming,
respect and kindness I, like others, have graciously received from Indigenous communi-
ties throughout the National Inquiry. I acknowledge that for many Indigenous Peoples,
however, welcome, respect and kindness is not what you receive when you encounter govern-
ment agencies and the Canadian public. Through this process, I have come to more fully under-
stand that the Canada I live in and enjoy is not the Canada that Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA peoples experience. In the eyes of the state, through law, policies and practice,
we are not seen or treated as equals.
The continued actions of our governments to deny and infringe on human rights and Indigenous
rights and the colonial, sexist and racist attitudes held by non-Indigenous peoples fails to recipro-
cate this welcome, respect and kindness you have shown me. Despite the numerous human
rights laws and instruments the federal, provincial and territorial governments are bound by, and
despite the recognition and affirmation of Indigenous rights in our Constitution, and the numer-
ous court decisions calling for rights recognition and respect, this is not the reality for Indigenous
Peoples, and especially Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Canada.
There continues to be a widespread denial of rights and dehumanization of Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA peoples. This denial and dehumanization is the foundation Canada is
built on, and upon which it continues to operate today. It is the cause of the violence we have
been called upon to examine. It is a hard truth to accept for Canadians today, as we pride our-
selves on being a just and principled society, bound by the rule of law and respectful of human
rights and human dignity. However, we have been blind to the reality that our own place and
privilege as Canadians is the result of gross human rights violations against Indigenous Peoples.
These violations continue to persist in overt and in more subtle ways daily across Canada. This
truth hurts us all, and grossly undermines our values and our potential as a country.
So what are we non-Indigenous Canadians to do now? We must acknowledge our role and we
must become actors in the rebuilding of this nation. We must acknowledge that the crisis of
violence against Indigenous women and girls has been centuries in the making, and its root cause
is colonialism, which runs deep throughout the foundational fabric of this country. We are here
P R E FA C E
now because of years and years of decisions and actions that built Canada, all while robbing
Indigenous Peoples, and especially women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA peoples, of their humanity,
dignity and ultimately their lives. It is genocide.
We must be active participants in decolonizing Canada. We must challenge all institutions,
governments and agencies to consciously and critically challenge the ideologies that govern
them. We must critically examine our systems of laws and governance to identify how they
exclude and oppress Indigenous Peoples. We must challenge and call on all leaders to protect and
uphold the humanity and dignity of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA peoples. And
when they fail to do so, we must hold them accountable.
Finally, ending the genocide and rebuilding Canada into a decolonized nation requires true and
equal partnership with Indigenous Peoples. I hope that the Final Report of the National Inquiry
into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls can be a tool to do just that.
Martha Kyak designed and sewed this amauti. Sewing this

amauti was a healing process for her. Martha has dedicated
this amauti in memory of her sister Lily.
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P R E FA C E
Commissioner Brian Eyolfson
A
s I reflect on the work of the National Inquiry, I have tremendous gratitude for the family
members and survivors of violence whose voices and contributions have carried this
work forward. Over the course of the National Inquiry, we heard from many courageous
grandmothers, mothers, sisters, aunties, daughters, grandfathers, fathers, brothers, uncles, sons
and other family members, including families of the heart, about their loved ones who have gone
missing or been murdered, as well as survivors of violence. As one of the Commissioners of the
National Inquiry, I have had the honoured privilege to be a part of this opportunity to change the
way forward.
To witness the extraordinary strength and courage of the families and survivors who shared their
truths with all of us has been an incredible experience. Those shared truths will always be in my
heart, and observing such strength and resiliency also gives me hope for positive change on a
stain that has covered this country for far too long. The release of this Final Report is also an
important opportunity and step in honouring the gifts of the truths that families and survivors
shared with the National Inquiry and everyone in Canada.
The mandate given to the National Inquiry, to inquire into and report on the systemic causes
of all forms of violence – including sexual violence – against Indigenous women and girls, is
far-reaching. In carrying out this mandate, it was important to the National Inquiry to create a
process that put family members and survivors first, to help create a path towards healing, and to
find, honour and give life to the truth, given the undeniable need to transform the conversation
about Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in this country and in our Nations.
Through this work, many beautiful relationships were also created across the land, relationships
that will continue beyond the mandate of the National Inquiry. We also heard from local Elders
who provided advice, such as keeping and carrying a sacred fire to each of our hearings. We
have also strived to be inclusive of all Indigenous people, including 2SLGBTQQIA people, and
respectful of local protocol.
Carrying out this important and necessary work from coast to coast to coast, in the allotted time,
has not been without its challenges. However, the many voices and contributions of families,
survivors, experts, Knowledge Keepers and other witnesses such as front-line workers, Parties
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P R E FA C E
with Standing, and our Grandmothers and National Family Advisory Circle members are undeni-
able. The record created, the fires lit and the many connections made through the work of the
National Inquiry, give strength and support for concrete and effective action that can be taken to
remove systemic causes of violence and to increase the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in Canada.
The fundamental rights, including human rights and Indigenous rights, of Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Canada must be upheld and respected on a substantive and
equitable basis. Many Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are denied basic
rights that others in Canada take for granted, such as access to safe housing and education. For
far too long, colonial and discriminatory policies, practices and attitudes have subjected Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to violence in this country – a violence that
unfortunately for many Indigenous women, girls, and Two-Spirit and transgender people has
become normalized – and continues on an ongoing basis. The need for decisive action to address
this crisis is urgent!
Not just governments, but everyone in Canada has a duty and responsibility to take action to
address the issue of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This
also requires critically examining attitudes and behaviours that impact the lives of Indigenous
women, girls, and Two-Spirit and transgender people in this country, such as negative portrayals
of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in the media. It is also important that
men “take action and stand up to end violence towards women and children,” as the Moose Hide
Campaign encourages, through actions such as speaking out against violence, holding each other
accountable, and healing and being healthy role models for youth. It is also vitally important
that we listen to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in addressing this pressing
issue, as they are the experts and have the solutions and important roles to play in ending
violence.
I firmly believe that the work of the National Inquiry, and the findings and recommendations
set out in this Final Report, provide a strong basis for changing the way forward. We have the
opportunity and the will of many to make the necessary changes to ensure the safety of Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people for generations to come. Through our concrete
actions, let’s honour and give life to the truth.
Our women and girls are sacred.
Chi-Meegwetch
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P R E FA C E
Messages from the Directors
My continuing prayer is that this national tragedy will end. We have the roadmap drawn in this
Final Report, guided by the heartbreak and hope of the many family members and survivors who
testified, and the Knowledge Keepers, experts and institutional witnesses who took the time to
appear before us. Now, we need the courage to face these truths and the collective will to make
Canada the country it was meant to be.
- Jennifer Moore Rattray, Executive Director
I would like to thank my team for their hard work and dedication throughout the Inquiry. They
ensured the Commissioners and the Legal, Research, and Outreach and Support Services teams
were able to concentrate on the survivors and family members who have been impacted by this
national tragedy, and that the witnesses were able to travel to and attend hearings across the
country. Despite being largely behind the scenes, we bore witness to terrible truths shared by
incredibly brave people, and we wholeheartedly believe that the recommendations from this
report must be acted upon immediately.
- Alexandre Desharnais, Director, Logistics
I am honoured and humbled by the incredible trust placed in us to hear these truths and to share
them within this report. To my incredible team - it has been a privilege to share this experience
with you. I hope that the vision we have outlined reflects the needs of those who came forward
to share their experiences, and that they ultimately contribute to a safer world for all Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. To my family - Craig, Anabelle, Claire and my
mother Carolyn - thank you for your support throughout this work. To all: each and every one
of us has a role; it is time to act.
- Dr. Karine Duhamel, Director, Research
Even though my role and responsibility was to provide enabling administrative services, I feel
privileged to have supported such quick, forceful and meaningful change. I am beyond hopeful
that the work instigated by the National Inquiry will be a catalyst towards repairing damage and
altering a trajectory which will provide equality of opportunity if not equality of circumstance.
With the advent of this Final Report and recommendations, what lies ahead is a great deal of
hard work, sure to be filled with moments of despair as well as celebration. Onwards.
- Nicholas Obomsawin, Director, Operations
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FOREWORD
The Registry’s responsibility was to hold all of the sacred truths and the evidence given to the
Commission by the thousands of witnesses who stood up to denounce the ongoing violence
against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in this country. My team and I
count ourselves lucky to have helped build a public record that resounds with the grace and
strength of the witnesses and their advocates. Their perspectives can help Canadians heal from
our country’s past and they tell us we must stop the current, normalized forms of violence. We
must begin to listen and to act.
- Bryan Zandberg, Registrar
The National Inquiry has a large public record accessible to anyone. The work was only
accomplished with the bravery, courage, and resiliency of all who shared their truth. The
evidence is compelling; it demonstrates how Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people are treated and how indifference and discrimination are maintaining harm and violence.
I encourage everyone to listen or read the record; it will not be easy – while the truth is
heartbreaking it also provides solutions and calls for change that need to occur so that this
country is safe for everyone.
- Christa Big Canoe, Lead Commission Counsel

It has been a great honour and privilege to be a part of this historic process. My sincere wish is
for the voices of the families and loved ones who testified at the National Inquiry to be finally
heard, and that their stories of loss and human rights abuses pave the way to a new future for
Canada, one in which we all are respected and treated as equal citizens. The Final Report and its
Calls for Justice speak to all Canadians; may we hear their truth and act.
- Catherine Kloczkowski, Director, Communications
I want to acknowledge all those who had the courage to forge this new path with us, the spirits of
our stolen sisters who guided every step of my journey, and my grandmothers in the spirit world,
who watched over me and my son throughout this journey and kept us safe. Now, more than
ever, we must all have the courage to continue on this road. We cannot turn a blind eye nor
remain comfortable with the status quo. My hope is that together with all Canadians, unified in
empathy and compassion, we will undertake the responsibility of ensuring the dawn of a new
reality for all those who have yet to be born.
- Terrellyn Fearn, Director, Outreach and Support Services
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FOREWORD
Reflections from the

National Family Advisory Circle
The role of the National Family Advisory Circle (NFAC) is to help guide
the work of the National Inquiry and to serve as the voice of truth for the
families and communities of missing and murdered Indigenous women
and girls. NFAC does this by providing advice during the planning and
hearing processes to ensure that the lived experiences of families are heard
by the Commissioners alongside the evidence that is presented by the
Expert Witnesses, and to ensure that the concerns and experiences of
families are taken into account by the Commissioners when they cross-
examine the witnesses bringing evidence before them.
Members of the National Family Advisory Circle are volunteers who
provide advice to the National Inquiry. The members are not involved in
any operations. Members were invited by the Commissioners to participate
based on three considerations:
• They are longtime leaders and advocates for their loved ones.
• They have indicated interest in providing their support to the
National Inquiry.
• They are representative of a diversity of Nations, geographical
regions, and urban and rural communities across the country.
15
FOREWORD
We asked members of NFAC, on a voluntary basis, to share some reflections about their own
experiences within the National Inquiry and their hopes for the Final Report and the outcome of
the National Inquiry. We emphasize their invaluable contribution to the process; words are not
enough to thank them for their time, expertise, and commitment.
NFAC members in Vancouver discuss and provide feedback on the Final Report.
16
FOREWORD
Vanish,
by Gladys Radek
Tamara Lynn Chipman stole her Daddy’s heart from the moment she was born. Even her Mom
knew she would be a Daddy’s girl forever. When Tamara lost her Grampa – her favourite person
in the world – she clung to her Daddy and became his little shadow. Tamara loved fishing boats,
fast cars, and dogs. She was an adventurer. She grew into a tall, lanky, charming, beautiful young
lady with a smile that would brighten anybody’s day – from Daddy’s little tomboy to a young
mother at age 19, forever bonded with her son. She was never afraid of anything and lived life to
the fullest.
Then, one day, out of the blue, something out of the ordinary happened. There were no phone
calls, no knock on the door, no cheery hello, no more, “Hey Daddy, what we going to do today?”
All of a sudden, our world came crashing down. Tamara had vanished. Days turned into weeks, a
month and then into years. She disappeared on September 21, 2005 from the northernmost tip of
the Highway of Tears in British Columbia.
Our family conducted search parties through the mountains, along the railroad tracks, in ditches
and culverts and tread through the back allies of communities where angels wouldn’t dare tread.
We searched local, provincial, national and international waters for our baby girl only to realize
that there were so many more missing, like her.
The eternal flame will continue to burn in the hopes that someday soon she will bounce in that
door and say, “Hey Daddy, what we going to do today?” We wonder, is she warm, is she safe,
is she alive, and is she being held against her will, is she being raped or tortured, is she being
bought or sold? What happened to her, is she dead? Somewhere out there someone knows some-
thing; we pray that someday they will come forward and tell us the truth. This thought runs
through the minds of all the families of our missing loved ones, the thousands of us who wake up
to this nightmare every single day.
Of all of the hurtful experiences associated with the vanishing of a loved one, one of the most
is the racism displayed when our First Nations loved ones disappear. We hear things like “I heard
she was just a party animal,” or, “Was she wanted by the cops?” Or, the worst of all, that she
“lived a high-risk lifestyle.” These labels have taught mainstream society that all our women and
girls are just that – prostitutes, addicts and hitchhikers, and therefore not worthy of care or effort.
This is not true: Tamara is loved, now and forever. The Government of Canada as a whole has the
responsibility of ensuring every citizen is protected by the laws of the land; all people living in
Canada have the responsibility to live in peace and with respect for basic human rights, including
safety and justice. It is time for justice, closure, accountability, equality and true reconciliation.
It is time to END VIOLENCE against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. What
do we want? JUSTICE! When do we want it? NOW!
17
FOREWORD
Fallon Farinacci
When the opportunity arose to be part of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered
Indigenous Women and Girls, I immediately knew I was being guided to share my family’s story.
I had to be the voice for those who no longer could speak for themselves. Being part of the
National Inquiry as an NFAC member has been a stepping stone to a deeper level of healing.
It has opened my eyes to the emotional wounds I was suppressing.
It has truly been an honour being part of NFAC. The National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls is bigger than most Canadians understand. It’s not only
about bringing awareness to the lives that have been lost, but it’s also about bringing attention to
the deep historical wounds that Indigenous people have had to endure. It’s about a movement for
healing for all.
I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for being given the opportunity to be a member of NFAC and to
have my voice heard for my mother (and father). Without NFAC, I don’t feel we would have had
the same level of respect laid out throughout the work for those who have gone. NFAC members
have drawn from deep within themselves to share and fight for change for generations to come.
My hope for the National Inquiry is that we the families, survivors and victims can all find
healing, but it must start with change.
Jeremiah Bosse,
widower of Daleen Bosse
At first, my thoughts about a National Inquiry were, “Will this actually work or help?” Doubt
wandered around my brain, knowing how many First Nations issues have been swept under
the rug.
I now hope this National Inquiry touches the hearts of the people of Canada, helping non-
Indigenous people understand the need for reconciliation.
Today I feel hopeful for the first time that as victims of violence our words will be heard. The
words of our lost ones are spoken! We will be there to represent them; they may be lost, but they
are not forgotten!
18
FOREWORD
Myrna LaPlante
Our LaPlante/Osmond family began our journey as family members of missing and murdered
Indigenous women and girls in September 2007, and we have since been involved in a number of
activities in Saskatchewan and nationally.
In February 2017, I was invited to a family members meeting in Acton, Ontario. There began my
journey as a National Family Advisory Circle (NFAC) member. It was truly an honour to serve
as a member on this committee alongside other family members who are seeking justice. My
goal was to bring knowledge and expertise also from the volunteer MMIWG work that we do
in Saskatchewan.
The National Inquiry has provided the opportunity for our family to tell our story about missing
Aunt Emily to the Commissioners and a national and international audience. This also provided
the opportunity to offer recommendations on the topic of missing and murdered Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
The sudden and unexpected loss of loved ones in a family dramatically shifts family dynamics,
and that presents a new way of interactions within family and with external entities – for exam-
ple, with work and extended relationships, friends, and social and other activities. There is a lot
of sadness; our family tends to be more subdued, and immediate family gatherings change. We
learn to cope with this ambiguous loss rather than heal. The National Inquiry has provided me
with an opportunity to learn new skills and to engage in true healing through the aftercare
funding via an Edu-Therapy Grief Resolution certification.
We trust that the truth is reflected within the Final Report, that it is evaluated, and that it is
compiled in a way that is respectful of families. We trust that the recommendations that will stem
from all of the testimony and family stories, and that there will be swift implementation by gov-
ernments. We also trust that there will be ongoing supports for families who have suffered great
losses.
The love and support of our NFAC family has been tremendous for me. For that, I am thankful.
We know that we are in the same boat as many families and we are not alone.
19
FOREWORD
Melanie Morrison
I’ve been fighting for years to have change, and one of the focuses of Native Women’s Associa-
tion of Canada was to have an inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.
We wanted the concerns about our experiences and our files to be heard. It was important to our
family that change happens. I saw it as an opportunity to expand our families’ cry out for change
to police protocols on Indigenous missing and murdered women’s and girls’ cases.
My sister went missing June 18, 2006. My mother did an initial search by talking to all of my
sisters’ friends and people who usually knew where she was. It was unlike my sister to not come
home because she was a young mother. She told my mother she was coming home early that
night. When my mom went to the police, she was met with the stereotype that because she was
only 24, she was probably just out with friends and would show up. Unfortunately, my sister’s
remains were found four years later. It was devastating because where she was found was less
than a kilometre from her home. Local police were in charge up to that point. Then, after follow-
up with the case, it was handed over to the Sûreté du Quebec and the file remains active. My
niece was left to be raised without a mother. My daughter and I were very close to my sister, and
my youngest never got to know her aunt. My mother hasn’t recovered from the loss. My father
passed in 2015. He passed without answers. She was very outspoken and a ball of energy. When
her life was taken, the light fizzled and things are not the same.
Being part of the National Family Advisory Circle is healing in the prospect of having real
change. It’s another ray of light that I hope will burn. The way our women’s files are treated is
wrong, and my hope is that our reality won’t be someone else’s reality. These women and girls
were important. They never got to fulfill their purpose because someone was able to take their
life. I would love for all Canadians to think of our women as important because they were impor-
tant to us. When this happened to my sister, she was in a good place. She had just finished an
entrepreneurial course and she had a dream to build a house for her and her daughter. It was
painful because she was doing all these great things and then this happens.
My hope would be that there is an immediate change of how the police handle Indigenous files
on- or off-reserve so there’s no delay in pursuing every possible option to find that missing or
murdered loved one. There was such a divide in my personal experience. On-reserve, my sister’s
case wasn’t considered important, and off-reserve, people didn’t think they had to be responsive.
If the local police and off-reserve police had communicated with each other, we could maybe
have had closure.
20
FOREWORD
Darlene Osborne
Tansi, Kitatamiskatinawow, I am a member of the National Family Advisory Circle and have
attended five hearings across the country in Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon, Calgary, and Quebec
City. My husband, John, often attended with me as my support.
For John and I, there was truth in the words and tears of the families who shared their stories and
experiences about their loved ones. While this National Inquiry represents a start, there is so
much more to do. The limitation of the process, and its structure, could not shine enough light on
so many dimensions of truth we had hoped the Inquiry’s noble mandate would illuminate. In the
end, we as family members, because of the Inquiry, are able to stand strong together and united
in the singular message that there cannot be any more violence against women and we must find
a way as a nation to end these shameful and preventable deaths and murders.
There are many solutions that were offered by families and by survivors. While the National
Inquiry’s mandate was limited to Indigenous women and girls, we heard from many other fami-
lies who lost Indigenous men and non-Indigenous women; families who felt their grief and loss
but who did not have a voice or a way to contribute to the National Inquiry. Their stories need to
be heard, too.
We also feel there is a need to further investigate policing in this country; we are concerned that
the truth around how police departments treated the investigations of our loved ones at the time
will be lacking. We need this information to truly tackle the problems; to make changes so that
our women and children do not go missing or, if they do, these crimes no longer go unpunished.
We realize that as we seek the truth, we must also focus on healing. Healing needs to happen to
address violence that still occurs today. Our community of Norway House Cree Nation has many
members who have lost loved ones to senseless violence. We need true healing centres where
there is long-term aftercare, particularly for the children of the murdered and missing women.
Many of these children are now young teens and adults. They are lost and angry for what has
been stolen from them. A healing centre would recognize the lasting legacy these crimes have
had on our community; a healing centre would also allow our community to offer a place to heal
that addresses each family member’s needs.
We are honoured that we could be part of the National Family Advisory Circle. We hope our
words and reflections are taken in the spirit with which we intend: a sincere desire for change,
rooted in an honest reflection on the achievements and failings of this process, and on the diffi-
cult task of finding truths and answers that end the loss of our sisters’, mothers’, and daughters’
lives. The losses of our loved ones have profoundly affected those of us who were there when
our loved ones went missing – and who are still here now, looking for answers. We demand more
from this nation called Canada.
21
FOREWORD
Pamela Fillier
My daughter Hilary went missing on September 15, 2009. When I went to the police, they
assumed she was out partying and did not look for her. My community ended up looking for her.
We called the media and when the media got involved and it blew up on television, the police
started looking for her. When my daughter was found, it was discovered that her first cousin had
murdered her. He had previously been to jail for raping the mother of his children. He was let out
of jail even though his file said he was at a high risk of reoffending, and now I don’t have my
little girl.
The National Inquiry has been a healing process for me. I felt very alone, but when I go to the
hearings and to meetings with NFAC, I don’t feel so alone. The person next to you knows how
you feel because they’ve been there in a sense. No two stories are the same, but there is always
something that is the same that you can identify with. I will stay in contact with these women
because they really feel like my family.
My hope for the Final Report is that it will raise awareness about how much racism still exists
in Canada. I also hope for tougher laws for rapists, pedophiles, and murderers. My daughter’s
murderer received a sentence of 25 years in prison, but after 13 years he will qualify for day
passes. He was also previously charged in a number of violent cases. I fear for the safety of
women and girls in his community because he showed no remorse for what he did to my daugh-
ter and I fear he will reoffend.
Something else I would like to see come of the Final Report would be more safe spaces for
children. My dream would be to create Hilary House, a safe haven where children from the com-
munity could play or have a place to stay the night. I would like for it to include an arcade room
and a dance floor. There are no existing houses of this kind on reserves and I believe that it
would be a wonderful initiative to keep our kids safe.
22
FOREWORD
Priscilla Simard
Verna Mae Simard-Shabaquay was born to Charles and Tina Simard in Red Lake, Ontario.
Together they raised their children Cecil, Verna, and Mitchel. She was born into a warm and
loving family. As a child, she was happy, kind, and full of spirit. Her father affectionately called
her Fawn for her gentle nature. Her mother died when Verna was a very young age. Her father
was grief-stricken. Children’s Aid Society (CAS) took the children and placed them in a Men-
nonite home in Red Lake. They were placed in foster homes where physical and sexual abuse
occurred.
Verna married, but it did not last long. She raised her children, but they were taken into CAS. To
compound that loss, her oldest son died. Verna became a grandmother, and Verna doted, cared
for, loved, and lived for her granddaughter. Verna’s life was difficult and tragic, as she was un-
able to deal with her traumatic history, the grief and loss of her mother, the tragic death of her
father, the loss of her brother, and the loss of her oldest son. We believe these factors contributed
to her high-risk lifestyle: alcohol/drug addiction, multiple partners, and intimate partner violence,
which resulted in her death.
Verna had allegedly fallen from a sixth-floor window of Vancouver’s Regent Hotel on Hastings
Street. The circumstances surrounding her death remain suspicious, unsolved but ruled “no foul
play” by Vancouver City Police. This case can be reopened pending any new information
brought forward by any person. We, as a family, believe the intimate partner violence contributed
to her death. We believe she was thrown out of the window.
At the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls hearing in
Thunder Bay, Ontario, December 2017, the family put forward several recommendations for
change, including on issues such as the investigative process of the Vancouver City Police, police
reports, coroners’ reports, police response and protocols, credible witnesses, and a preponderance
of evidence based on environment. As well, the family had specific recommendations on child
welfare, domestic violence, intimate partner violence resulting in death, and the need for holistic
healing strategies.
We honour the memory of Verna and seek justice. We look to the National Inquiry to advocate
for and advance the recommendations for women like Verna. These recommendations cannot be
downplayed, ignored, or shelved. When the recommendations are implemented, we avert suffer-
ing, justice can be served, and her spirit can rest!
Miigwech!
23
FOREWORD
Sylvia Murphy
I am honoured to be part of this mission for justice. I have obtained so much knowledge and
direction from the National Inquiry. The hard work and dedication of the Commissioners and
National Inquiry staff, the strength and dedication of witnesses and survivors, who offered
testimony – all have impacted my own journey in important ways.
Intergenerational trauma has been the outcome of my mother’s life, my own life, my daughters’
lives and my grandkids’ lives. If things would be the way that they should be, our family would
have not had to live through this. Our journey, filled with trauma, was caused by my father’s
death that left my mother, at 28 years of age, with eight children to support. My own journey in
care, first in an orphanage and then in foster homes, left me with deep feelings of rejection, loss,
and alienation within an often cruel world.
The struggles have not been without successes, though. My youngest daughter will soon cele-
brate two years of sobriety and of living clean from drugs and alcohol. During this time she has
worked to complete grade 12 and has started college to be an Addiction Support Worker. She is
working to heal, one day at a time.
I have lived my journey, which has not been an easy one. With the Creator’s guidance, I have
transformed into the person I am today. My grandchildren are living in this world with the help
and love from their mothers and me. As their Grandma, I have tried with the best of my knowl-
edge to direct my daughters with help from programs we will get on our journey of healing
and love.
Respect, love and patience are very important for a better life for all. Key to these values include
all the members of our communities, including Grandmothers, who are Knowledge Keepers full
of wisdom and knowledge, who give guidance to all in need at any time. Men and boys are im-
portant as well; they need programs and support to be fathers of future generations. Improve-
ments in programs to help men and boys recognize their importance in protecting the women and
girls in this world.
While I have many hopes for the future, the most important thing, for me, is to make sure that a
program is put in place so children in care receive direction and support, to ensure their survival
and the survival of future generations.
The Creator is making us all strong. I pray every day that justice will come.
24
FOREWORD
Barb Manitowabi
The support of my family (Shailla, Michael and Jacob) was what helped me participate in the
Truth-Gathering Process and contribute as a National Family Advisory Circle member. For us,
this was a step we took together in our healing from past traumas and abuse and to gain a sense
of justice and validation; to gain a better understanding about the oppression facing our people.
My family’s experience reflects many of the themes that other families shared, including the
intergenerational trauma, racism, abuse; ongoing economic and social challenges; the issue of
lateral violence; our deep mistrust in the institutions of Canada to protect and take care of us; and
in large part, how systems have failed in protecting and helping my family when we needed it
most. Retraumatizing, revictimizing and setting us up for more poverty and even more violence.
This was an opportunity to give a voice to the grief, pain and rage that we, as a family, were
unable to let go of otherwise.
After this journey we are closer and stronger as a family; for this, I am grateful.
This process has changed me forever. For two years we went to the darkest places where the pain
and hurt still lives. The National Inquiry has uncovered failure after failure in protecting the lives
and rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. It is a system that, at its core,
aims to destroy and pull families apart. Our reality is that we are watching the slow, painful
destruction of Indigenous Peoples. Canada has built a system of rules and laws stemming from
greed, racism, and hate; this system continues to devour our families today. Canadians cannot
deny the facts, as ugly as they may seem: this is genocide.
From my experience being in NFAC and working with the Commissioners, I am in absolute awe
at the dignity, strength, beauty, courage, and perseverance our NFAC group has shown over the
past two years. Through all the bad media, political posturing, on top of the stress of testifying
and hearings, we stayed committed to our mission: ensuring that the truth be heard.
We all had moments of wanting to quit when things got too painful. In these moments of doubt
we tried to stay focused and remind each other why we were doing this – and for whom. We are
doing this for the sons and daughters of future generations, and it is only by sharing and knowing
the truth that healing can begin. I’m proud to be standing with other survivors and family mem-
bers knowing we did all we could to help the next generation of survivors and warriors.
I am grateful to NFAC and to the Commissioners for hearing and supporting my family. I would
also like to say Gchi Miigwetch (big thank you) to family, friends and Elders who supported us
through many storms along the way and helped me personally to stay focused on my commit-
ment. Rebekka Ingram, Thohohente Kim Weaver, Maura Tynes, Gladys Radek, Lorna Brown,
Ron Zink; I hold you in my heart always and forever. Shailla, Michael, Jacob, I love you.
25
FOREWORD
Lesa Semmler
When the National Inquiry started and I was asked to be part of the National Family Advisory
Circle, I had never been on MMIWG walks or been to rallies.
I had never identified with MMIWG even though my mother was murdered by her common-law
partner when I was eight years old. I didn’t think she fit the category because she had not gone
missing first. When I attended the pre-inquiry meeting in Yellowknife in 2016, it lit a fire inside
of me because I realized that I could use my voice to make change. During the first NFAC mem-
ber meeting there was a lot of talk about the issues First Nations are facing and talk of chiefs and
reserves. The other Inuit NFAC members and I explained that we are Inuit and that our issues are
different, and we deal with them differently. We live in an isolated part of the world and our
women are dealing with a lot of family violence. I wanted to ensure people in our region had a
voice and that their concerns were represented in this national process.
It has been a healing journey to talk about what happened to my mother at the National Inquiry
into MMIWG so I can deal with it. It has been healing for me to tell my mother’s story. Other
people who have identified with my experience decided to start talking about what happened to
them, too. Sharing our Truth was important for me and for my grandmother who never talked
about it before. After we shared, she felt relieved because she finally had the chance to say what
she wanted to say. She also realized so many other people have had similar experiences.
My hope for the Final Report is that there will be good recommendations for the northern territo-
ries to ensure the safety of children, women and men in the North. We need programs and sup-
port for families that are culturally relevant. Western ways do not work for Inuit women because
they are not heard the way they want to be heard. I hope that the recommendations are written in
a way that will be easily adopted by the provinces and territories and that they will initiate
action. I hope that all people in Canada will sit down and read everything that has been done to
Indigenous people before they just say it’s our own fault. Without a shift in that thinking, nothing
is going to change.
26
FOREWORD
Pauline Muskego
The day I received a call from Commissioner Michelle Audette to ask if I would consider sitting
as a member of the National Family Advisory Circle (NFAC) for the National Inquiry into
Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (NIMMIWG) is a day I will never forget.
I recall the emotions I felt knowing that I would be honouring the memory of all MMIWG across
this land. My late daughter, Daleen Kay Bosse (Muskego) was one of the thousands who had
gone missing and was later found murdered. It was because of what we went through as a family
and what all families have gone through and continue to go through that I said yes, that it would
be an honour. My family was greatly impacted by our loss. Being able to tell our truth was a
way for us to heal from the pain we went through; however, it is a life-long healing journey for a
lot of the family members.
As a member of NFAC, these past few years have been challenging yet rewarding, knowing
that a National Inquiry of this magnitude and scope was able to accomplish what it did in the
short time it was given. The NIMMIWG is now in its final stages of completion and if it wasn’t
for the Commissioners and staff who stood strong and pushed forward despite all the opposition,
challenges, and obstacles, this National Inquiry would not have happened. For this I am thankful.
I close by saying, thank you…. It was an honour to sit as a member of NFAC.
“My Loved One Is Forever In My Heart”
Toni Blanchard
I decided to become involved in NFAC to have a voice for our Northern area and help make sure
something is done.
Being a part of the NFAC group helps with my healing and makes me stronger.
I want people to know that my sister, who was murdered in 2008 in Whitehorse, Yukon, had a
face. She was a daughter, mother, sister, auntie, granddaughter, and was very loved. She left
behind three beautiful children, who loved her very much. It is a hard journey to be able to talk
openly about what happened. I always end up crying and hating, when I shouldn’t be. All
MMIWG2S have people who care and love them so very much.
I hope the National Inquiry leaves as its legacy a beginning of decolonization, and that all
governments implement all Calls for Justice.
27
FOREWORD
Norma Jacobs
Guyohkohnyo Cayuga Nation of the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Confederacy
Haudenosaunee people, like other Indigenous Peoples, are so used to struggling. We are prison-
ers in our own lands, struggling with the traumas inflicted on us with the arrival of settler people
in our homelands, this great continent of North America, or, as the Original Peoples call it,
“Turtle Island.”
Through these struggles, we try to protect our “Mother, the Earth.” We do this to provide for and
leave something great for future generations, or as we say, our “coming faces yet unborn.”
Long ago, the Onkwehón:we, or Original Peoples, were given a sacred bundle made up of our
songs, languages, families, ceremonies, and everything else that supports our way of life. But our
people were beaten, enslaved and punished for using our language, coerced into giving up land,
ridiculed for our way of life and labelled negatively, violating our sacred boundaries of space
and time.
Even after we became aware of our own history, we dared not talk about it for fear of further
punishment, or even for fear of losing something we kept safe in our own minds. If we saw
someone violating our values and principles, not being accountable, we still did not speak up.
We learned to keep quiet and stick with the status quo, don’t talk, don’t feel.
Now! We are breaking that bond and speaking about our truths, even as we are surrounded by
our abusers and violators of our sacredness. It is possible to rebuild and restructure and restore
our ceremonies and languages. It is our blood memory.
Our Creation started with prayer and ceremony, guided by a sacred council. The Grand Council
of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy provided us with our bundles of values and principles so we
may experience this human journey with dignity and integrity.
Over 400 years ago, the Original Peoples made the first Treaty with European settlers, called the
Two Row Wampum Treaty. The Two Row Treaty was about each people respecting each other’s
sacred boundaries. Every Treaty was made with good intentions, respect, compassion and love.
Today, all of our demands are about respecting our values and principles. Settlers should respect
Turtle Island from our perspective, as visitors in our homes. We have to speak out and instill
responsibility and accountability in each and every living person.
28
FOREWORD
It takes so much time to heal our wounds and scars and transform oneself because of the status
quo. We have to heal not only ourselves, but also the trauma of our ancestors over generations.
But until we can move away from the status quo, break the cycle and gather our strength, we will
continue to have negative and hurtful relationships in this world and in our lives. By transform-
ing ourselves we can stop this cycle and instill within those coming faces yet unborn the values
and beliefs that will enhance our attitudes and behaviours for a more balanced future.
Our Values and Principles
Adenidao shra: Compassion and Kindness

Dewadadrihwa noh Kwa:k: Respecting One Another
Degayenawako:ngye: Working Together
Dewagagenawako:ngye: Assisting One Another
Esadatgehs: Self-Reflection on Actions
Gaihwaedagoh: Taking Responsibility
Gasgya:nyok: Encouragement
Gasasdenhshra: Strength & Supporting One Another
Drihwawaihsyo: Honest Moral Conduct
Oihwadogehsra: Being Truthful and Consistent
Sgeno: Peaceful Thoughts and Actions
Ongwadeni:deo: “Taking Care of Our Own”
29
FOREWORD
Rebecca Moore
I am an l’nu woman who was born and raised in the Kjipuktuk district of Mi’kma’ki (so-called
Halifax, Nova Scotia).
As an l’nu woman, I have been taught by my Elders that it is our inherent duty, as l’nu women,
to take care of the water and to protect the water for the future seven generations. I feel that this
is imperative for Canadians to understand. I take my inherent duty very seriously, which requires
much of my time, effort, care, and attention.
Our inherent duty and responsibilities as an l’nu woman places us as a direct target for violence,
harassment, police violence, misinformation by mainstream Canadians, criminalization, and in-
carceration. You see, it is not only Indigenous women who are living “at-risk” lifestyles or are on
the streets who are being targeted, it is Indigenous women as a whole. Because non-Indigenous
society benefits from settler-colonialism.
Being an Indigenous woman means living under a society and “civilization” that benefits from
your voicelessness, invisibility, disappearance, non-existence, and erasure. Because if we don’t
exist, then Canadians – while claiming to live an earnest and honest living – are free to steal and
exploit what is rightfully ours by loosening the “Rule of Law” for themselves and tightening it to
extinguish our existence and resistance.
Indigenous matriarchs – being the life-givers, grandmothers, clan mothers, and steering decision
makers – are not affirmed or recognized by the colonial courts and systems for their significant
place in Indigenous societies.
The Canadian government strips Indigenous women of their rightful place within Indigenous
societies and the outside world. By imposing their colonial structures, Canada removes the
decision-making power from the women and displaces it to corrupt government departments,
agencies, and service providers, etc.
Being l’nu in theory isn’t illegal, but in practice, living in action as one is. We have Treaty rights
under the Peace and Friendship Treaty, but good luck asserting them because the government is
going to tell you, “No, you can’t do that.” When it comes to hunting, fishing, or “earning a
moderate livelihood” with our own initiatives, we, as individual inherent rights holders and
descendants of the land itself, are treated by the state as criminals.
The Canadian government prevents Indigenous women and their families from having the auton-
omy to earn a moderate livelihood and achieve their own safety and security. Until Indigenous
women are given the power and authority to self-determine what happens within their own
territories, we will always be at risk under Canada’s “Rule of Law.”
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FOREWORD
Lorraine Clements
I woke this morning to a soft but inviting snow covered mountain,

A mountain of my childhood
A mountain I returned to this week to move forward speak my truth and
continue the healing within
A mountain of pain
A mountain of learning
A mountain of Hope.
My mountain has been a hard one to climb,
In my time have never reached the top.
Now with this day, my day of truth telling,
My mountain is not too high.
My mountain seems easier to climb.
My mountain now has hope.
My climb is just the beginning as with
many others this week.
Our mountain will be conquered.
With love, kindness and always together,
fighting the systems for Justice.
Photo submitted by Lorraine Clements; no copyright

infringement intended.
31
FOREWORD
Our Women and Girls Are Sacred:

Reflections from the National Inquiry
Elders and Grandmothers Circle
Introduction
Early on in the National Inquiry process, the Commissioners’ Elder
Advisors, or “Grandmothers,” gathered in a sweatlodge in Quebec. They
went into this ceremony asking themselves, what should the National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls look
like? What is the best way to do this work?
The sweatlodge was part of the Missinak Community Home, a safe house
in Quebec City co-founded by Elder Pénélope Guay, Commissioner
Audette’s spiritual grandmother. As Pénélope shares, “We all got together
there. And we came up with a plan, in our own way. We came up with a
plan to see how the National Inquiry would proceed. For the Grandmothers
[and Elders], for the Commissioners. What will our work be? That’s how
it went. We decided on everything you see. Our role, our involvement.
That was when we decided on how it would all be done.”1
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FOREWORD
Members of the Elders and

Grandmothers Circle. Left to right:
Leslie Spillett, Laureen “Blu”
Waters, Audrey Siegl, Louise Haulli,
and Bernie Williams. Not pictured:
Kathy Louis and Pénélope Guay.
Elder Laureen “Blu” Waters, Grandmother to Commissioner Brian Eyolfson, was there as well:
“When we came out of that sweat, one of the most important and profound things that came to
being was that we needed to have something that showed our Indigeneity and that blanket idea
came out of that. Those blankets that are hung up around the rooms [at the hearings]. Those
blankets that identify people, identify their Nations, their names, their land masses, the things
that they used for their cultures…. That was one of the most important things that I remember, is
doing that sweat and coming out with that idea. And, that helped shape us and to make sure that
we never forget about ceremony, to incorporate ceremony into everything that we do.”2
Ceremony, whatever it looks like, is deeply rooted in a people’s cultural identity. Incorporating
ceremony into such a legal structure as a public inquiry is a way of reminding Indigenous
families and survivors that this National Inquiry is to honour the sacred in them and in their lost
loved ones. As a National Inquiry, we have faced criticism for a seemingly rigid and legalistic
structure. Yet, within the limitations of our mandate, these words from the Grandmothers who
have led us through the process remind us of the National Inquiry’s guiding principle: that our
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are sacred.
To honour their work, the National Inquiry asked the National Inquiry Elders and Grandmothers
to sit down with the Research team, to include their reflections of this journey in the Final
Report.3 This is one small way to acknowledge their incredible contributions, which often
happen behind the scenes, as well as the work of mothers, grandmothers, aunties and caregivers
guiding similar work across this land.
The National Inquiry Elders and Grandmothers Circle
The idea for an Elders or Grandmothers Circle first started in the fall of 2016. The Commission-
ers decided to each seek an Elder from their community to provide them with advice. Blu recalls
that when Commissioner Eyolfson first offered tobacco to Blu, he explained that “he needed
34
FOREWORD
somebody to be there as support for him, to help him with this important work that’s being done
and to make sure that we incorporate spirituality.”4
The Commissioners decided to use the term “Grandmother” to represent the closer, kinship
relationship that was developing between themselves and their Elders. While not all the Elders
are biological grandmothers, they fill those traditional roles.
The current members of the Elders and Grandmothers Circle are: Pénélope Guay, French-
speaking Innu Grandmother to Commissioner Audette; Louise Haulli, Inuk Elder to Commis-
sioner Robinson; Kathy Louis, Cree Elder to Chief Commissioner Buller; Laureen “Blu” Waters,
Cree/Métis/Mi'kmaw Grandmother to Commissioner Eyolfson; and Bernie Williams, English-
speaking Haida/Nuu-chah-nulth/Coast Salish Grandmother to Commissioner Audette. Leslie
Spillett, Cree/Métis Grandmother to Executive Director Jennifer Rattray, joined the National
Inquiry in the spring of 2018, and Audrey Siegl, Bernie’s niece and a member of the National
Inquiry’s health support team, also supports the Elders and Grandmothers Circle.
As Indigenous women who are survivors and family members themselves, the Elders and
Grandmothers are witnesses to the many ways Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people
have been devalued and dehumanized, making them prime targets for violence. Working with
the National Inquiry has given the Grandmothers another way to do the same work they were
already doing, but in a new way. Each of the Commissioners’ Grandmothers bring deep commu-
nity knowledge and practical expertise to their roles.
Grandmother Pénélope is a proud Innu woman from Mashteuiatsh in Quebec, who strongly
believes in the power of reconnecting with your culture to heal the wounds of history. Her
Innu mother was deprived of her First Nations status when she married a métis man, as stipulated
by the Indian Act. As an adult, Pénélope has had to recover her culture through healing and
reclaim her identity as an Indigenous woman.
Pénélope co-founded the Missinak Community Home (la Maison Communautaire Missinak),
a safe house for Indigenous women in Quebec City, with her daughter 20 years ago. There she
sees many young women who are deeply affected by the trauma of residential schools, as well
as by substance use and homelessness, the consequences of residential schools today. With
nowhere to go, many of them end up being exploited on the streets. However, Pénélope also gets
to witness what she calls “miracles”5 – the extraordinary change that can happen when you give
people time and space to heal.
Elder Louise lives in Igloolik, Nunavut, a small community of less than 2,000 people. Much of
Louise’s work in the past has been focused on strengthening Inuit traditional values and making
Inuit knowledge and skills more accessible to the Nunavut government. She has worked as the
Inuit Societal Value Project Coordinator for Igloolik, where she offered traditional Inuit coun-
selling and did radio shows on Inuit family values. She worked on community wellness projects
for Igloolik and Nunavut, and was a Nunavut Human Rights Tribunal member from 2004 to
2013. She was also an Inuktitut language specialist in elementary schools and visits Elders in
Igloolik to make sure they get some help around the house.
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FOREWORD
Louise shares that violence is a significant issue in the Arctic, just as it is for so many First
Nations and Métis communities, although the culture of silence is even stronger: “For those of us
living in the Arctic, we have experienced this, but we are less vocal…. Indeed, Inuit too have
gone through exactly the same experience of mistreatment.”6 She emphasizes how much she has
learned from hearing the stories of so many other Indigenous women in Canada, and how impor-
tant it is not to feel that we know it all, but to really pause, listen to the families and survivors,
and learn from what they have to share.
Elder Kathy says: “My name is Kathy Louis. My views as an Elder from Samson Cree Nation
are mine and those of my Ancestors who were Leaders and Healers. Growing up on the reserve
was a lived experience throughout my life.” She was raised by parents and ancestors steeped in
strong traditional values. She is a residential school survivor and has spent her life helping her
people heal, especially men and women involved in the criminal justice system. Kathy was the
Pacific Regional Vice-Chair of the National Parole Board, where she served for many years, and
successfully helped introduce Elder-assisted parole hearings in Canada along with two male First
Nations Elders. She has also been awarded Canada’s Meritorious Service Medal and the Order of
British Columbia. In her work, Kathy saw many women who had acted violently in their lives,
but: “I observed that as the way they may have been treated as children and young adults grow-
ing up, and this was their lived experience in adult relationships. All this stems from racism,
oppression and colonization.”7
When she isn’t working with the National Inquiry, Kathy volunteers with several urban Aborigi-
nal organizations in Vancouver. In particular, she is working on the development of an Aboriginal
Family Healing Court Conference project. This is an Elder-driven project that focuses on helping
families involved with the child welfare system develop healing plans, to re-connect with their
own Indigenous cultural values and keep families together.
Grandmother Leslie (or Giizhigooweyaabikwe, Painted Sky Woman, White Bear Clan) is a
Cree/Métis woman from northern Manitoba. She began her career as a journalist and photogra-
pher before dedicating herself to what some people call “community development,” but she calls
Nation-building.
Leslie was one of the principle founders of Mother of Red Nations Women’s Council of Mani-
toba, sat on the Native Women’s Association of Canada Board of Directors, and is the founder of
Ka Ni Kanichihk, a Winnipeg organization that provides Indigenous-led programming, including
for family members of missing and murdered women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Leslie,
who has been raising awareness on this issue since the early 2000s, says: “One of the most ex-
treme forms of the colonial project has been about violence against Indigenous women and girls.
So that includes all kinds of violence, including state violence and discrimination, which has
caused so much trauma. And at its most extreme is, of course, the missing and murdered women
who just have been murdered because they were Indigenous, or who have disappeared, again,
because they were Indigenous.”8
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FOREWORD
Grandmother Blu (or Istchii Nikamoon, meaning Earth Song) is a Two-Spirit Cree, Mi’kmaw
and Métis community Elder working in the Toronto area. She is Wolf Clan, and her family is
from Big River Saskatchewan, Star Blanket Reserve and Bra’dor Lake, Eskasoni First Nations,
Nova Scotia. She currently works at Seneca College as an Elder on campus providing traditional
teachings and one-to-one counselling to the students and faculty.
Blu was first raised by her Kokum (grandmother), learning traditional medicines and hunting
geese, rabbits, ducks and muskrats in Toronto’s High Park. At age 10, she was adopted into a
white family. While she later sought out those Indigenous connections again, it caused a lot of
pain in her life. Blu sees many other people going through this, too: “For a lot of Indigenous
Peoples, they lose those connections and they’re lost. They’re wandering around lost, but know-
ing that there’s a big piece of them inside that’s missing.”9
Grandmother Bernie (or Gul Giit Jaad, Golden Spruce Woman, of Raven Clan), is a Haida mas-
ter carver, artist and activist. She is also a survivor and family member who has spent her life
advocating for Indigenous women, particularly in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside (DTES).
Bernie’s first love was her art, and she apprenticed under world-renown Haida carver Bill Reid,
the only female apprentice he has ever had. Bernie’s work is recognized around the world, and
one of her proudest achievements was creating a traditional Haida button blanket for the first
Indigenous woman to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. Through all the different kinds of violence
she survived, art and music were the things that provided safety for her. Her art today is her
biggest passion after her children and grandchildren.
However, she also answered her Elders’ call to advocate for her people. She first joined the Red
Power in 1974 and was mentored by other Indigenous Elders – “power house” women like
Harriet Nahanee, Kitty Sparrow, Reta Blind, Viola Thomas, Carol Martin, Mary McCaskill,
Noddy Bernice Brown, and Phillipa Ryan – who taught her who she really was and how she was
connected to the land. She continues this work with other women on the front-lines of the Down-
town Eastside, with no funding, simply going wherever she’s called into the early hours of the
morning. As Bernie says, “All I ever wanted to do was to bring the truth out – because I am a
survivor of sexual abuse, domestic violence, Sixties Scoop, Indian day school, residential school,
and all I wanted was, you know, the truth to come out. That women like me, you know, who have
lost family members, like my mother and my three sisters…. And then to hear, you know, the
stories all across Canada, that we had, like, a common thread together in that, eh? And, it was the
mismanaging of so many of our loved ones all across Canada.”10
Audrey Siegl (or sχɬemtəna:t, St’agid Jaad) is “Musqueam all the way back to the first sun-
rise,”11 with Haida connections through Bernie. She is one of the National Inquiry’s traditional
medicine carriers. In this role, she travels to almost all of the National Inquiry’s public events to
support people as they need it.
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FOREWORD
Audrey is also a survivor and family member, who came to this work through activism: “A lot
of people say we ‘protest’…. I protest nothing. I protect. Big difference. What I stand for is as
important as … what stands against me.”12 Later on, she adds, “I do the work I do because of all
the women who came before me who could not.”13
Leading with the Grandmothers’ Perspectives
The Grandmothers’ role at the National Inquiry has always been flexible, and has evolved over
time.
Louise, Commissioner Robinson’s Grandmother, started her work with the National Inquiry with
the intention of sitting by the Commissioner and being an Elder for her support.14
Pénélope similarly explains: “We have a role that is quite important, because we support the
Commissioners in their work to ensure that the vision for each approach respects the spiritual
values of our people. We’re always there from the start to the end … if we’re needed for infor-
mation, or for our thoughts, or to ask us questions. We’re always listening. We Grandmothers
follow along during the National Inquiry, and we meet to talk about how it went. What can be
improved? What can be done? We also meet over Skype to come together and prepare for the
next event.”15
At the Grandmothers’ direction, the National Inquiry did its best to incorporate the local tradi-
tions and cultures into its hearings wherever possible. As Blu explains, “Each Nation has its own
ceremonies that have sustained them over the beginning of time and they’re all valuable. None is
greater than the other.”16 This included the way the rooms were arranged and the opportunity for
families to access both Indigenous and Western healing supports.
One of the consistent reminders of Indigenous women’s power and place was the bundle of
sacred objects that traveled with the National Inquiry from hearing to hearing. The National
Inquiry’s bundle started with a red willow basket, a qulliq (an Inuit women’s oil lamp), a copper
cup with water, a smudge bowl and various medicines. We added to this bundle with each hear-
ing as people gifted us a Red River cart, a birch bark biting, sealskin, photos, songs, feathers,
stones, and many more medicines. Pénélope explained that: “We bring our sacred objects, like
our eagle feathers. All these objects, that’s our path, it’s our way of doing things…. It’s like our
way of giving thanks. Thanking the Creator a bit for the work that we have done too.”17
As Pénélope points out, making spirituality so visible in the National Inquiry is one of the
things that makes it unique: “That’s still important. It’s an inquiry, there are Commissioners.
Witnesses, lawyers. Putting spirituality at the centre of this National Inquiry allows us to work in
a calmer atmosphere, rooted in cultural values that are thousands of years old.”18
Incorporating Indigenous ways of doing things has been critical to making the process of the
Inquiry, and not just the recommendations or the Final Report, as healing and as decolonizing
as possible.
The Grandmothers also used their strengths differently within the National Inquiry.
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FOREWORD
Blu describes her role, particularly at the hearings, as one that encompassed many different
aspects: “We can be sitting in the back talking with a family member who is having a hard time,
or we can be sitting up at the front supporting the Commissioners and having them know that
we’re standing there with them, we’re there to watch them, we’re there to pray for them, we’re
there to make sure that the Creator is helping them, to hear the words that are being spoken and
to understand what they’re hearing…. Or the next day, we may be, you know, sitting with a per-
son who has just come in off the street and is having a breakdown because they hear their life
story being told, right? The same thing has happened to them and they’ve had no supports.”19
Bernie is not an Elder – her role in life is as a land defender and peacekeeper – but she takes her
role as a Grandmother at the National Inquiry very seriously. Her most important focus is on sup-
porting the families and survivors. She says it comes down to being a humble servant, lending a
hand, and making sure the families, the Commissioners, the staff and everyone else are okay.
The Grandmothers emphasized that while they were originally asked to guide the Commission-
ers, they worked with the entire National Inquiry community. Blu says, “We support the different
members of the Commission itself, so the cameramen, the security teams, you know, the Parties
with Standing, the health workers, the Registrar. You know, all the community members that
make up this National Inquiry, we’re here for every one of them, none of them has a greater role
than the other.”20
As part of the health team, Audrey brought comfort and healing to people using traditional medi-
cines. She says that the number one medicine she brings is love. Number two is patience, and
number three is space: “My granny taught me that you have to be able to do what you do with
only you. It’s good if you have the medicines, the actual medicines there, but if you can’t do –
if you can’t work on someone, if you can’t work with someone with nothing, with just you, that’s
not good.”21
Audrey explains some of the tools she uses: “I have an eagle fan, I have an owl fan. We have
different kinds of sage, we have beautiful tobaccos, we have copal. We have medicines that have
been gifted from all across Canada, north to south…. Everyone who comes in here and brings
medicine, it is my job, and I am honoured and humbled to do it, to take care of them.”22
The National Inquiry also makes use of the Grandmothers’ expertise in specific areas—for
example, Elder Kathy’s expertise with the justice system, or Bernie’s expertise on the DTES, as
well as their perspectives as Quebecoise, Inuit and Two-Spirit women. Their advice in crafting
the Final Report has helped ensure that the report will help keep women and girls safe, and
won’t simply collect dust on a shelf.
What Does it Mean to Be “Sacred”?
One of the most unique ways that the Grandmothers have guided the National Inquiry is by
helping us understand what “sacred” looks like in everyday life and in the context of this work.
What does “sacred” mean, and if women and girls are sacred, how does that affect what we do?
39
FOREWORD
From the Grandmothers, we can see that the idea of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
being “sacred” is as multi-faceted as people themselves.
Elder Kathy, who is fluent in Cree (Y dialect), explains the literal meaning of “sacred”: “It’s
Creator-gifting, Creator-power-gifting. You can say it in different ways and it will mean the
same. It’s Creator-centred-thinking…. It’s a sacredness of life.”23 After a bit more thought, she
adds, “It’s … you have the gifts that were given to you and you’re putting them to use for the
good of humanity.”24
Grandmother Blu echoes this idea: “For me, one of the lessons I learned was that in Creation, the
Creator made us and we’re all gifts. We carry gifts within ourselves and each one of us has our
own unique gifts. But, together as communities, when we share those gifts, we’re very rich. It’s
more valuable than any monetary means can be, because we know, and we can understand, and
we can help each other, and we can take care of each other, and support and know what the right
things are to do.”25
For Blu, one of her gifts is being Two-Spirited. She describes it: “As a Two-Spirited person,
I encompass both that male masculinity side and that female side. It’s a delicate balance. Some
days I feel more feminine, some days I feel more masculine. But, for me, it’s a blessing. For
others, they look at it as you’re a freak. You should either be man or woman, you can’t be both.
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard the saying, ‘God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and
Steve’ just out of ignorance. So, we have a lot of ignorances out there that we fight against
every day.”26
Blu explains that it was important to include 2SLGBTQQIA (Two-Spirit, lesbian, gay, bisexual,
transgender, queer, questioning, intersex and asexual) and gender-diverse people in the National
Inquiry’s mandate, because they have always been part of Indigenous circles: “Our Two-Spirited
people, our trans people, they’ve always been in community. They were ostracized through colo-
nization. They were told that their lifestyles were not appropriate, that they couldn’t carry on the
way they were. But, we’re still here. And, that we need to teach each other the valuable skills that
we pick up along the way. We need to support each other in doing our cultural work to reclaim
who we are.”27
One of the most common ways Indigenous Peoples recognize women as sacred is by bringing
new life into a community. Grandmother Blu explains: “Our women are so sacred. They control
everything. They are the heart of our nations, right? … Our women are the ones who are the
caregivers, they’re the ones that can bring life forward, they create that new life. Yes, they need
another partner to help them do that with, but they’re the ones that carry that life.”28
However, women and 2SLGBTQQIA people are sacred in many other ways, as well, since they
have many gifts to offer. As Leslie explains: “I do believe that … we are kind of portals for life.
But I don’t think that’s all we are, you know? I think we’re so much more than birthers. So I
don’t want to dismiss the sacredness of women as life-givers, but … that is so not our only
role.”29 She points out that everyone and every community is going to reclaim women’s
responsibilities differently, and that culture evolves.
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FOREWORD
Audrey offers another way to look at it: “For our young women, for our grandmothers, for our
women who travel with us, we are sacred because we exist. We are sacred because we have
survived.”
In many ways, the journey to the National Inquiry started in places like Vancouver’s DTES.
There isn’t anything that respects the idea that women and girls are sacred there – which is why
Bernie and others working with Indigenous women in the Downtown Eastside always remind
them that they are important, that they matter. Bernie says, “I walk up to them and tell them, I
just want to let you know how much you are loved…. Contact your families and let them know
you’re okay. That’s the message we tell them, because they feel judged a lot. That’s my front-line
work, is to let them know that no matter what, we’re fighting for them. You try to give them that
little ray of hope. No matter what, we’re fighting for them and we value them.”30
Grandmother Blu sums it up: “Women are the life-givers, but women are not going to be life-
givers without men. So, that’s a balance in life. Our Two-Spirited people bring that balance
again, of masculine and femininity. Our lives are not about our sexuality or even our gender
identity, it’s about us being a human being. It’s about us following those teachings that our ances-
tors put in place for us, those teachings of kindness and respect, truth, honesty, humility, love,
wisdom, about living those ways of life. Trying to look at each other as a valuable portion of a
community, what gifts does that person have to bring to the table, so that we can become a very
rich table, right?”31
When we honour our own gifts and the gifts in others, we are recognizing the sacred in all of us.
Understanding and Restoring Power and Place
Based on this idea of people’s gifts being respected and fulfilled, the National Inquiry’s vision is
to help Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people “reclaim their power and place.”
One of the best ways to do this is to recognize the importance of Indigenous ways of knowing,
doing and being. This often starts with learning, or re-learning, what those Indigenous ways are.
Grandmother Leslie shares that this approach is not often welcome when it comes to Indigenous
people and organizations trying to suggest their own solutions: “Assimilation is still how the
dominant culture approaches Indigenous Peoples. Somehow, we need to become them to be
okay. We need to have their values. We need to have their world views. If we don’t, then there’s
something psychologically wrong, deficient in us.”32
Several Grandmothers spoke about how they themselves grew up separated from their culture.
Grandmother Pénélope, whose mother had internalized a lot of shame for being Indigenous, had
her “wake-up call” when she first started learning the true history of Indigenous Peoples: “Today,
I teach this history wherever I’m invited. It takes me at least three hours from first contact to
today: what happened? What happened in residential schools? What happened with the Indian
Act, that made women like me lose their whole identity, their pride? No, as long as the Creator
grants me life, I don’t think I’ll ever stop telling this history.”33
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FOREWORD
Elder Kathy’s most important Cree teachings are to love, respect, help and care for one another,
and to be honest and kind with one another. She says, “The more centred you are in your life, the
more you realize your true essence and purpose in life of being a strong Indigenous woman. Also
I believe that, in order to live and be of help to anyone, we need to know and understand our
own values. We need to know who we are. Then you can take risks to do things differently and
contribute to society to bring about change. Because all of us can contribute that way. When we
recognize our gifts from our Creator, anything is possible. You make it real as you continue to
step forward.”34
Kathy is very aware that one of the greatest losses for Indigenous Peoples today is the loss of
language, culture and a sense of belonging. She witnessed first-hand how powerful restoring this
sense of belonging could be in Elder-assisted parole hearings for Indigenous offenders, where
she said they were “very, very receptive.”35 Sweat ceremonies are also important to women’s
healing, as well as immersion-style training for all service providers who are part of the
corrections system.
Kathy also shares that the inmates were functioning better than the staff because of the incredible
impact Elder involvement and ceremony was having: “Men and women came to prison, admitted
they came to prison to learn about their culture. To learn anything about having to do with tradi-
tions. And yet some of the men and women … were brought up with the traditions, but had not
lived and practiced any of that.”36 In doing this work, she has followed the teachings – of love,
compassion and forgiveness for others.
Leslie sees her work at Ka Ni Kanichihk, where all of the programs are culturally-based and
Indigenous-led, as an act of sovereignty: “It was us knowing that we had our solutions and learning
about how to apply those solutions in a way that really has an impact in the community.”37 She said
it was also explicitly about reclaiming women’s power: “I’m not interested in, you know, taking
over men. I think that we want to restore that balance … within our culture groups, and to show our
girls and our boys that there is a place that we hold them both up, and they are equally sacred and
they’re equally valuable, and they are equally needed to be a part of our Nations.”38
Leslie reminds us: “There is no nationhood without women and without not only women, with-
out women playing a fundamental and equal role within that Nation. There is no nationhood
without that.”39
Reclaiming power and place will look different across Canada, because of the diversity of
Indigenous Peoples. As Elder Louise pointed out, many plans made in the south don’t work
when people try to implement them with Inuit, because they didn’t come from Inuit.
However, Louise also sees many cultural similarities between Inuit and First Nations in how they
have responded to the hurt and trauma of colonization: “Inuit in the Arctic, and the First Nations,
are all one group and we have cultural values that we can recognize within each other.”40
One of the biggest challenges to reclaiming this power and place is how many women and
2SLGBTQQIA people continue to be lost every day. Blu explained that “[We lose] all their
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teachings. All their life lessons are lost. To learn – to be able to walk the same path that someone
has already walked takes a long time. And, when those people are taken early from us or when
there’s people who pass on into the spirit world, all their knowledge, their life experiences go
with them.”41
Ultimately, it comes down to listening to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
We have to value their voices, and fight against the stereotypes and centuries of colonization that
have de-valued and dismissed the many gifts they have to offer. Leslie emphasizes this: “I do
believe, and I believe to this day, that there has to be an independent Indigenous women’s voice.
And that doesn’t mean that we don’t play a role within our Nations or within the community. But
that’s, I think, a really necessary thing at this time.”42
As Pénélope says, “It’s really important for Indigenous women to speak up. I tell myself the
more they speak, the more they regain their strength. The more of us women who speak up, it’s
strength. It also shows our place.”43 She adds: “Taking our place also means moving forward in
spite of pitfalls and prejudice. We must take our rightful place; this is the strength I wish for us. I
really believe that.”44
How the National Inquiry is Creating Change
The Grandmothers have seen some of the changes this National Inquiry is already making, for
themselves and their communities, as well had to deal with its biggest challenges.
Louise reflects on how much work is still left to be done, especially with the National Inquiry’s
short timeline: “There is still a lot of work. Those we hear from are sharing stories, these are
stories they are finally sharing, of what they have been holding onto in their hearts, the pain that
they have been carrying, the untold stories they have been holding onto for many years without
any type of support. This is what we are seeing today…. But this is their story and now they have
been given an opportunity to be grounded and work towards the next stage.”45
Another challenge is that incorporating Indigenous ways into the legal inquiry structure wasn’t
always successful. The short time frame, bureaucratic rules and requirements and internal
difficulties all contributed to make this work as challenging at times as it was rewarding.
Bernie, Blu and Audrey all spoke about how this work – both in the National Inquiry, and outside
of it – can wear you down, to the point where it’s impossible to think what a “normal day” would
look like. The violence goes on, even as the National Inquiry ends. Bernie sees this every day:
“These are young kids that are just fighting for their own survival and that. Yet nothing – unless
you have somebody that’s going to come down there and look for you, you’re done. It’s only two
ways out. Either somebody is going to come in there that loves and cares about you enough, like
your family or your relatives, or you’re going out in a body bag.”46
Between January and September 2018, Bernie lost a staggering 88 friends or family members to
violence in the Downtown Eastside. Children are experiencing terrible psychosis, she says, “and
everyone just kind of turns a blind eye.”47
43
FOREWORD
Leslie sees these challenges in Winnipeg, as well – particularly how women are blamed for the
violence they experience: “We know that they’ve been called prostitutes, drug addicts. And then
there’s always the polite terminology, which is coded, racially coded, like ‘at-risk,’ or those kinds
of things. There’s ways of people washing their hands as if to say, ‘Well… that has really noth-
ing to do with us.’ They’ve caused their own disappearances. They’ve contributed to their own
disappearances, and/or rapes, and/or murders, by their personal behaviours – by the way that
they are dressed, by what they were doing, by being Indigenous, and by being women. Many
people don’t see the system as violence. But in fact, missing and murdered Indigenous women
and girls is the result of imposed poverty, legal and individual racism, discrimination and the
patriarchy.”48
However, the Grandmothers also recognized some of the changes already starting as a result
of this National Inquiry. For Louise, one of the biggest impacts has been that more and more
Inuit are speaking out: “Recently we have broken the silence, given the recent ability to tell our
stories. Through the First Nations’ willingness to open their stories by sharing them, our stories
are being heard. The Commissioners’ Inquiry is what opened this.”49
Pénélope sees these commonalities between our stories, too: “It’s striking too, all their stories.
They show how fragile we are, and at the same time, how strong we are. And it still continues
today. That’s what strikes me, and how resilient we are.”50
She sees that we are at a critical juncture: “With the National Inquiry, that’s what I say. We’re at
a turning point here in Quebec just as we are in every community in Canada. Every Indigenous
person in the country knows now that it’s not normal to be second-class citizens in your own
country. This will make us stronger. That’s what the National Inquiry will produce.”51
Most important is the support, comfort and healing the National Inquiry has been able to provide
to families and survivors – work the Grandmothers will carry on past the life of the National In-
quiry. As Bernie says, “Being asked to be part of the National Inquiry has been one of the biggest
responsibilities of my life, and one of the hardest. I’ve met amazing Elders, family members and
survivors all across our beautiful nation and it’s given me the opportunity to walk shoulder to
shoulder with families and be part of the change. I’m amazed at how resilient we all are –
through our journey, we still have a sense of humour and we’re still standing together. This has
been a healing journey for me…. It’s been tough sometimes, but that’s what made us stronger
and closer through the process.”52
Bernie also makes a point to single out the Commissioners. “I have never seen a group of four
more incredible human beings, who have taken on so much starting with nothing. They are the
true warriors. They have put in long hours, long days, time spent away from their families. The
Creator doesn’t make mistakes, and he knew exactly who was fittest for this journey. Now, I’ve
going to support them right to the very end.”
As Elder Kathy says, “Right from the start of the National Inquiry it appears to have been held
to a different standard by the government and mainstream society. However, I strongly believe
that our Spiritual ancestors have guided us in powerful ways to attain what our Creator and our
44
FOREWORD
ancestors rightfully gifted us, with our lifeblood – they left us their DNA to continue to right
the wrongs for our loved ones, the missing and murdered mothers, girls, sisters, aunts, great-
grandmothers and great-great-aunts. I have observed a hopeful future for empowerment, for
recognition, acknowledgement of survival and resilience, and in particular the Canadian society’s
need to validate the strong Indigenous women that we are. Perhaps some of us have not yet fully
realized that Indigenous women (people) come from a strong sacred essence, teachings and
knowing of personal power.”
Violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people violates that understand-
ing that each of us is sacred. This can create long-lasting trauma, but trauma is not the end of the
story. As Audrey puts it: “Here I am, after a lifetime of hiding myself and shaming myself,
proud, humbled and empowered. Empowered by truth, empowered by trauma and unspeakable
atrocities, to travel and be bold enough to say and to work with medicines that have existed since
the first sunrise, as long as we have.”53
Next Steps: The National Inquiry as a Beginning, Not an End
As Louise points out, the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and
Girls is a beginning, not an end. Everyone has a part to play going forward.
For many non-Indigenous people, it’s important to be ready to “unlearn” some learned behaviours.
Blu points out: “There’s still a lot of others out there that don’t really think this is that important.
They don’t know the histories, they don’t know that. They think these things happened 300 years
ago and why are we still talking about it.”54 Bernie adds, “If you’re not outraged, you’re not
paying attention. This is every Canadian’s responsibility not to turn a blind eye.”
For Leslie, getting individual people creating change is the most important step: “Individuals
have a role in these things as well. They can either support the status quo or resist it.”55 Later on,
she adds: “I have faith in the community. I have faith in the power of the people. That’s where
power truly is.”56
Leslie continues: “We have to mourn our losses, but we can’t let it stop us. We have to just keep
going. And that is the strength of the prayers of the grandmothers and the ancestors, that it’s our
job now, it’s all of our jobs to have strong prayers, and to have strong love for everybody. That’s
the medicine.”57
Blu also emphasizes that governments have to do better: “It’s got to be the government commu-
nicating with the different communities on all the issues that surround those communities,
whether it be water, whether it be land, whether it be suicides, whether it be missing persons,
whether it be housing, whether it be lack of resources. The government has to start listening.”58
Louise sees hope for the future in collaboration, or mutual understanding between Indigenous
and non-Indigenous peoples – for example, by using Inuit and First Nations cultural values in
areas like family services and other programs, where bureaucratic and Indigenous values seem
to clash.59
45
FOREWORD
Pénélope reminds us that reclaiming Indigenous values is also political: “I work with a group of
Indigenous women and men, and we work on crafts, and one time we were making moccasins.
I said, ‘Do you know that what you’re doing is political? Because if we no longer know how to
make our moccasins, embroidered, it’s a part of us that we lose.’ Now, that’s what they say.
Making our moccasins is political, yes, it’s true. Because it’s part of our culture.”60 As we will
discuss in more detail later in the report, culture is the foundation of nationhood. Teaching people
how to make moccasins not only is an act of personal growth, but it strengths the cultural identity
of a Nation.
This journey may be a hard one, but Kathy encourages people to “trust yourself. Trust your
heart.”61 She shares a quote from Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen, a professor at the University of
California, that has been very important to her in her healing work: “ ‘We do not serve the weak
or the broken. What we serve is the wholeness in each other and the wholeness in life. The part
in you that I serve is the same part that is strengthened in me when I serve. Unlike helping and
fixing and rescuing, service is mutual. There are many ways to serve and strengthen the life
around us: through friendship or parenthood or work, by kindness, by compassion, by generosity
or acceptance. Through our philanthropy, our example, our encouragement, our active participa-
tion, our belief. No matter how we do this, our service will bless us.’ ”62
Kathy reminds us, “We’re only given one life, and my gosh, we have to make the best of it when
we’re walking on Mother Earth and do the best for all of humanity.”63
In the meantime, the Grandmothers will carry on – through public policy, through women’s
shelters, by educating others and in their home communities.
Pénélope says she will continue to walk on this journey, no matter how difficult: “I will always
continue to walk despite the pitfalls that there may be or the learning experiences that are diffi-
cult. I’ll never lose hope. Because there’s always someone put on our path to help us understand
things…. It’s important to believe that we can change things even if we’re alone. When we
believe, we can change something. We can change the course of history.”64
Kathy is an example of someone who has survived a lot of colonial oppression, and has given
back so much to her community in spite of that. She says, “You can carry on, you can become
something that your parents and ancestors knew you could make happen of your life. You can
carry the lifeblood in a way that you don’t understand when you’re a kid. Much like a flower
blossoming, it doesn’t blossom fast. It takes years…. But those are the times we grow, because
we’re pushed to the limit of having to grow.”65 She adds: “And it’s not just for Aboriginal people.
Canadian society’s going to learn from what we write and what we do and what we say. They
may not like some of the stuff they hear. That’s part of healing process.”66
Audrey encourages Indigenous women to “make yourself strong, make yourself smart, make
yourself invincible, connect to women around you, support women around you, honour women
around you, guide women around you to places of healing.”67 She adds: “Yes, we have a shit ton
left in front of us to do, but look at how far we’ve come and look at whose shoulders we’re
46
FOREWORD
standing on to keep carrying ourselves with dignity and respect, and to keep knocking down
those walls, to keep shining the light, to keep leading with love, to keep leading with medicine,
to keep reconnecting to ourselves while we’re surviving a genocide and being accountable to the
Canadian government for legalities that they’re using against us to carry on that genocide.”68
Bernie will never take “no” for an answer: “As long as our women and our children are still
going missing and being murdered at a high rate, I’m still going to be on those front-lines.”69
Bernie said she’s been asked many times, why do you do this work? “And, I’m always reminded,
well, of Mother Teresa, she was coddling this beautiful brown baby. She was in Calcutta and
she was asked the question. And, she said, where else can you see the face of God?…. And, that
resonated…. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I could not stop crying. Because every human being
that you see, at the end of the day, we all belong on that big hoop of life together. And, these
women, why? I can only say what’s in my own heart. But, if I was ever asked to, you know – I
have no regrets and I would do this over and over again for the women, because they matter.”70
1 Interview with Pénélope Guay, September 18, 2018, 14 Interview with Louise Haulli, September 14, 2018,
by Annie Bergeron, p. 6. by Lisa Koperqualuk, pp. 1-2.
2 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4, 15 Interview with Pénélope Guay, September 18, 2018,
2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 12. by Annie Bergeron, pp. 2-3.
3 Some quotes have been edited for clarity in 16 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4,
collaboration with the Grandmothers. 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 26.
2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 7. by Annie Bergeron, pp. 7-8.
5 Interview with Pénélope Guay, September 18, 2018, 18 Interview with Pénélope Guay, September 18, 2018,
by Annie Bergeron, p. 22. by Annie Bergeron, p. 8.
6 Interview with Louise Haulli, September 14, 2018, 19 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4,
by Lisa Koperqualuk, p. 3 and 9. 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 14.
7 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018, 20 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4,
by Kelsey Hutton, p. 42. 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 15.
8 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018, 21 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 3-4. September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 22.
9 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4, 22 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 5. September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 22-23.
10 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl, 23 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018,
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 6. by Kelsey Hutton, p. 114.
11 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl, 24 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018,
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 2. by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 115-116.
12 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl, 25 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4,
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 12-13. 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 13-14.
13 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl, 26 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4,
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 63. 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 19.
47
FOREWORD
27 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4, 49 Interview with Louise Haulli, September 14, 2018,
2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 16. by Lisa Koperqualuk, p. 3.
2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 18. by Annie Bergeron, p. 4.
29 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018, 51 Interview with Pénélope Guay, September 18, 2018,
by Kelsey Hutton, p. 29. by Annie Bergeron, p. 16.
30 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl, 52 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 74. September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 29.
31 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4, 53 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
2018, by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 25-26. September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 14-15.
32 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018, 54 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4,
33 Interview with Pénélope Guay, September 18, 2018, 55 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018,
by Annie Bergeron, p. 13. by Kelsey Hutton, p. 5.
34 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018, 56 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018,
by Kelsey Hutton, p. 100-101. by Kelsey Hutton, p. 34.
35 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018, 57 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018,
by Kelsey Hutton, p. 44. by Kelsey Hutton, p. 39.
36 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018, 58 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4,
37 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018, 59 Interview with Louise Haulli, September 14, 2018,
by Kelsey Hutton, p. 17. by Lisa Koperqualuk, pp. 12-13.
by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 19-20. by Annie Bergeron, pp. 14-15.
39 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018, 61 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018,
by Kelsey Hutton, p. 38. by Kelsey Hutton, p. 30.
40 Interview with Louise Haulli, September 14, 2018, 62 Remen, My Grandfather’s Blessings, 7, as quoted in
by Lisa Koperqualuk, p. 9. Louis, p. 37.
41 Interview with Laureen “Blu” Waters, October 4, 63 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018,
2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. p. 32. by Kelsey Hutton, p. 23.
by Kelsey Hutton, p. 7. by Annie Bergeron, p. 28.
43 Interview with Pénélope Guay, September 18, 2018, 65 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018,
by Annie Bergeron, pp. 24-25. by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 118 and 124.
44 Interview with Pénélope Guay, September 18, 2018, 66 Interview with Kathy Louis, September 26, 2018,
by Annie Bergeron, p. 26. by Kelsey Hutton, p. 126.
45 Interview with Louise Haulli, September 14, 2018, 67 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
by Lisa Koperqualuk, pp. 5-6. September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 81.
48 Interview with Leslie Spillett, December 4, 2018, 70 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 8-9. September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 82.
48
INTRODUCTION
Introduction to the Final Report:

UnderstandingViolence against
Indigenous Women, Girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA People
Introduction: Listening Deeply
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Canada have been the
targets of violence for far too long. This truth is undeniable. The fact that this
National Inquiry is happening now doesn’t mean that Indigenous Peoples waited
this long to speak up; it means it took this long for Canada to listen.
More than 2,380 people participated in the National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, some in more ways than one. Four
hundred and sixty-eight family members and survivors of violence shared their
experiences and recommendations at 15 Community Hearings. Over 270 family
members and survivors shared their stories with us in 147 private, or in-camera,
sessions. Almost 750 people shared through statement gathering, and 819 people
created artistic expressions to become part of the National Inquiry’s Legacy
Archive. Another 84 Expert Witnesses, Elders and Knowledge Keepers, front-line
workers, and officials provided testimony in nine Institutional and Expert and
Knowledge Keeper Hearings.
49
INTRODUCTION
The truths shared in these National Inquiry hearings tell the story – or, more accurately,
thousands of stories – of acts of genocide against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. The violence the National Inquiry heard amounts to a race-based genocide of Indigenous
Peoples, including First Nations, Inuit and Métis, which especially targets women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. This genocide has been empowered by colonial structures evidenced
notably by the Indian Act, the Sixties Scoop, residential schools and breaches of human and
Indigenous rights, leading directly to the current increased rates of violence, death, and suicide
in Indigenous populations.
Defining Genocide
The term “genocide” was first used by the Polish-Jewish legal scholar Raphael Lemkin at a
conference in Madrid in 1933. Lemkin later elaborated his ideas in a book, published in 1944,
dealing with German actions within the context of the buildup to the Second World War. The
term “genocide,” as coined by Lemkin, is a hybrid between the Greek root genos (“family,”
“tribe,” or “race”) and the Latin suffix -cide (“killing”).
“Genocide,” in its original construction, is defined as coordinated actions aimed at the destruction
of a group, committed against individual members belonging to that group. In Lemkin’s construc-
tion of the idea, genocide would have two phases that could contribute to establishing the political
domination of the oppressor group. The first included the destruction of the “national pattern of
the group,” and the second phase included what he called the “imposition of the national pattern
of the oppressor,” which could be imposed on the population that remained in the territory, or on
the territory itself within the context of colonization of the land by a new group.
Writing in the context of the German state’s actions in the Second World War, Lemkin defined
“genocide” as occurring across several different fields:
• political, including the attack on, and subsequent disintegration of, political institutions
• social, including the abolition of existing laws and the imposition of new justice systems
• cultural, including forbidding the use of languages in schools and in the press
• economic, including the destruction of the financial base of the group, and including
actions aimed to cripple or to reverse its development
• biological, including measures aimed at decreasing the birthrate among groups of
people
• physical, including the endangering of health, and mass killings
• religious, including the disruption of existing systems of religion and spirituality, and
the imposition of new systems
• moral, including “attempts to create an atmosphere of moral debasement within this
group”1
50
INTRODUCTION
Lemkin’s definition of genocide included an important principle, which didn’t restrict the
definition to physical destruction of a nation or ethnic group. As he explained:
Generally speaking, genocide does not necessarily mean the immediate destruction
of a nation, except when accomplished by mass killings of all members of a nation.
It is intended rather to signify a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the
destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of
annihilating the groups themselves.2
The objectives of a plan of genocide would include actions aimed at the “disintegration of the
political and social institutions, of culture, language, national feelings, religion, and the eco-
nomic existence of national groups, and the destruction of the personal security, liberty, health,
dignity, and even the lives of the individuals belonging to such groups.”3
A legal definition of genocide wasn’t incorporated into international law until 1948, following
the programs of mass murder carried out by the Nazis during the Second World War. In its
articulation in this forum, though, it became more restrictive. Drafters argued over whether the
definition of genocide should be universal, as in other criminal categories, or restricted to certain
groups, as well as whether leaving some groups out might actually serve to target them.4 Lemkin,
who participated in the drafting, argued that social and political groups shouldn’t be included,
because they didn’t have the permanence of non-political groups. States in the negotiations –
among them the Soviet Union, Poland, Great Britain, and South Africa – worried that enforce-
ment of such a convention could violate the principles of state sovereignty.5 In the end, the con-
vention was a compromise: an agreement among states and the result of difficult negotiations.
The United Nations adopted the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of
Genocide (PPCG) on December 9, 1948. Article II of that convention holds that
genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or
in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, such as:
(a) Killing members of the group;
(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its
physical destruction in whole or in part;
(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.6
Canada signed the Convention in 1949 and formally ratified it in 1952.
51
INTRODUCTION
There is much agreement when it comes to the fact that genocide can be committed both within
and outside the context of an armed conflict.7 However, outstanding disagreements remain
concerning the question of “intent,” the nature of the groups included in its definition, and the
importance of physical or biological destruction in whole or in part as an essential part of
defining genocide.8
To some extent, these differences are part of a more social versus legalistic interpretation of the
term. As historian and political scientist Jacques Semelin explains, those scholars relying on a
legalistic concept of genocide are facing new challenges from those who question the extent to
which an international legal norm based on a political agreement by the international community
in 1948 should be the operational basis for how we examine and evaluate actions that may fall
under one or more parts of its definition today.9 Today, fields other than law also examine geno-
cide in different terms.
Conceived as a social practice, as Daniel Feierstein, director of the Centre of Genocide Studies
at the National University of Tres de Febrero in Argentina, argues, genocide involves “shared
beliefs and understandings as well as shared actions” that may contribute to genocide or to
attempted genocide, and which include “symbolic representations and discourses promoting or
justifying genocide.”10 Feierstein asserts that genocide as a social practice is a “technology of
power.” It aims, first, “to destroy social relationships based on autonomy and cooperation by
annihilating a significant part of the population,” in numbers or in practice, and, second, “to use
the terror of annihilation to establish new models of identity and social relationships among the
survivors.”11
As Canadian writer and filmmaker Larry Krotz explains, applying the term “genocide” to what
happened in North America has a decades-long history, including in the 1973 book The Genocide
Machine in Canada: The Pacification of the North, by Robert Davis and Mark Zannis; and
1993’s American Holocaust: Columbus and the Conquest of the New World, by David E.
Stannard. A more recent work, Accounting for Genocide: Canada’s Bureaucratic Assault on
Aboriginal People, by Dean Neu and Richard Therrien, was published in 2003.12
In recent years, and in light of the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s
(TRC) Final Report, many Indigenous thinkers have turned to evaluating how the term “geno-
cide” applies in Canada. As genocide scholar Andrew Woolford has noted, Canadian scholars
have not given colonial genocide in Canada enough attention, due in part, perhaps, to the fact
that the spatial and temporal boundaries of the case of genocide in Canada are not obvious. As he
notes, “If Canadian settler colonialism was genocidal, where exactly did it occur and when did it
begin? And considering the intergenerational effects at stake, as well as the perpetuation of set-
tler colonial practices, can we say for sure whether genocide has even ended?”13 Usually, and as
he notes, “Much nuance is lost by force fitting it into a traditional comparative genocide studies
paradigm that defines cases on national rather than regional or international levels of analysis.”14
52
INTRODUCTION
Officially, the Government of Canada currently recognizes five genocides: the Holocaust, the
Holodomor genocide, the Armenian genocide in 1915, the Rwandan genocide of 1994, and the
ethnic cleansing in Bosnia from 1992 to 1995. As Krotz maintains, “In our world, genocide is
absolutely the worst thing you can say about an action undertaken by individuals or groups.
So atrocious, in fact, that many historic events that carry the characteristics of genocide struggle
to – or fail to – get named as such.”15 But as Woolford argues, and as the testimonies heard by the
National Inquiry make clear, we must consider the application of genocide in both legal and in
social terms, and as it persists today.
As Pamela Palmater, chair in Indigenous Governance at Ryerson University, explains:
If you speak to Indigenous women today, they will tell you that the crisis is far from
over. The Indian Act still discriminates against Indigenous women and their descendants
in the transmission of Indian status and membership in First Nations. Indigenous women
suffer far greater rates of heart disease and stroke; they have higher rates of suicide
attempts; they disproportionately live in poverty as single parents; their over-
incarceration rates have increased by 90% in the last decade; and 48% of all children
in foster care in Canada are Indigenous. With this list of harrowing statistics, is it any
wonder that thousands of our sisters are missing or murdered?16
Considering the application of genocide on both legal and social fronts also means examining the
historical record in light of the particular ways in which the programs aimed at subjugating and
eliminating Indigenous Peoples were enacted, and the contemporary effect of these structures in
the ways that many programs and pieces of legislation continue to be administered. In the Cana-
dian context, and in reference to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, some
examples include: deaths of women in police custody; the failure to protect Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people from exploitation and trafficking, as well as from known killers;
the crisis of child welfare; physical, sexual, and mental abuse inflicted on Indigenous women and
girls in state institutions; the denial of Status and membership for First Nations; the removal of
children; forced relocation and its impacts; purposeful, chronic underfunding of essential human
services; coerced sterilizations; and more.
As Palmater notes:
So why is it so important to understand the history of genocide in Canada? Because it’s
not history. Today’s racist government laws, policies and actions have proven to be just
as deadly for Indigenous peoples as the genocidal acts of the past. What used to be the
theft of children into residential schools is now the theft of children into provincial
foster care. What used to be scalping bounties are now Starlight tours (deaths in police
custody).… Racism for Indigenous peoples in Canada is not just about enduring
stereotypical insults and name-calling, being turned away for employment, or being
vilified in the media by government officials – racism is killing our people.17
53
INTRODUCTION
As former National Chief of the Assembly of First Nations Phil Fontaine and Bernie Farber,
executive director of the Mosaic Institute, commented in a 2013 opinion piece, “Genocides
rarely emerge fully formed from the womb of evil. They typically evolve in a stepwise fashion
over time, as one crime leads to another…. Our conviction is that Canadian policy over more
than 100 years can be defined as a genocide of First Nations.”18 As they point out, the fact that
Indigenous Peoples are still here and that the population is growing should not discount the
charge; the resilience and continued growth of these populations don’t discount the many actions
detailed within this report, both historical and contemporary, that have contributed to endemic vi-
olence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Settler colonialist structures enabled this genocide, and “the intergenerational effects of geno-
cide, whereby the progeny of survivors also endure the sufferings caused by mass violence which
they did not directly experience,” need to be understood in the Canadian context.19 Genocide is
the sum of the social practices, assumptions, and actions detailed within this report. As Danny P.
shared in his testimony, “Is it any different today than it was 300 years ago when this was
socially acceptable and is it still socially acceptable to be going around killing our people off? …
That to me is a form of systemic genocide, which is still perpetrated today.”20
The National Inquiry’s findings support characterizing these acts, including violence against
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as genocide. Throughout this report, and as
witnesses shared, we convey truths about state actions and inactions rooted in colonialism and
colonial ideologies, built on the presumption of superiority, and utilized to maintain power and
control over the land and the people by oppression and, in many cases, by eliminating them. Due
to the gravity of this issue, the National Inquiry is preparing a supplementary report on the
Canadian genocide of Indigenous Peoples according to the legal definition of “genocide,” which
will be publicly available on our website.
Speaking Up … Again
As we discuss in the Interim Report, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have
been speaking out about this violence for decades. While some people spoke out about their
loved ones for the first time at the National Inquiry, others had also shared their testimony with
the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba,
Amnesty International for their 2004 Stolen Sisters report, and the Native Women’s Association
of Canada’s “Sisters in Spirit” research, education, and policy initiative.
In 2010, the Native Women’s Association of Canada (NWAC) confirmed 582 cases over 20 years
of missing or murdered Indigenous women and girls.21 In 2013, Maryanne Pearce, writing about
missing and murdered women for her doctorate in law, identified 824 who were Indigenous.22
The mounting evidence spurred the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) to do their own
review, which confirmed 1,181 cases of “police-recorded incidents of Aboriginal female
homicides and unresolved missing Aboriginal females” between 1980 and 2012.23
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INTRODUCTION
The RCMP report also stated that Indigenous women made up roughly 16% of all female homi-
cides between 1980 and 2012, despite making up only 4% of the female population.24 Statistics,
however, can be misleading: this number represents an average over a long time span, which
obscures the increasing severity of the problem – namely, that Indigenous women and girls now
make up 24% of female homicide victims.25
Lisa Meeches, an acclaimed Anishinaabe filmmaker from Long Plain First Nation in Manitoba,
co-created the true crime documentary series TAKEN a few years ago to help resolve the tragic
reality of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.26 As part of their advocacy,
Meeches’s production company, Eagle Vision, partnered with Maryanne Pearce and Tracey Peter,
an associate professor in the Department of Sociology at the University of Manitoba, to
transform an updated (2016) version of Pearce’s data into an odds ratio. They found that the
odds were much higher than previously imagined.
According to their calculations, Indigenous women and girls are 12 times more likely to be
murdered or missing than any other women in Canada, and 16 times more likely than Caucasian
women.27 Sharing these statistics – as well as the truths of families and survivors behind
them – has been another of their advocacy tools.
As more and more studies show, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are being
targeted from all sides, from partners and family members, acquaintances, and serial killers.
Rates of domestic and family violence are extremely high,28 but so is stranger violence. Indige-
nous women are also more likely to be killed by acquaintances than non-Indigenous women,29
and are seven times as likely to be targeted by serial killers.30 In the words of James Anaya,
United Nations Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, the rates of missing and
murdered Indigenous women and girls are “epidemic.”31
Other than murder, statistics also reveal how Indigenous women consistently experience higher
rates and more severe forms of physical assault and robbery than other groups in Canada.32
Sexual violence is a huge problem in all its forms: Indigenous women are sexually assaulted
three times more often than non-Indigenous women,33 and most of the women and children
trafficked in Canada are Indigenous.34 According to researchers Cherry Kingsley and Melanie
Mark, in some communities, sexually exploited Indigenous children and youth make up more
than 90% of the visible sex trade, even where Indigenous people make up less than 10% of the
population.35 The majority of Indigenous women who are later sexually exploited or trafficked
were sexually abused at an early age, making them easy targets for traffickers who prey on this
vulnerability and count on society’s turning a blind eye.36
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INTRODUCTION
The rates of violence are equally alarming for members of the 2SLGBTQQIA community, who
are often erased or left out of national statistics. For example, Égale Canada reports:
Lesbian, bisexual, and transgender (LBT) women, as well as gender-diverse and Two
Spirit people encounter discrimination, stigmatization, and traumatic experiences of
violence at disproportionately higher rates than their heterosexual and cisgender
counterparts. These experiences are motivated by intolerance, fear or hatred of the
person’s diversity in attraction, gender identity, and/or gender expression in every social
context: homes, schools, communities, religious and spiritual centres, public spaces, and
health institutions.37
In particular, one Ontario study of gender-diverse and Two-Spirit Indigenous people found that
73% had experienced some form of violence due to transphobia, with 43% having experienced
physical and/or sexual violence.38
Even when faced with the depth and breadth of this violence, many people still believe that
Indigenous Peoples are to blame, due to their so-called “high-risk” lifestyles. However, Statistics
Canada has found that even when all other differentiating factors are accounted for, Indigenous
women are still at a significantly higher risk of violence than non-Indigenous women. This
validates what many Indigenous women and girls already know: just being Indigenous and
female makes you a target.39
The common thread weaving these statistics together is the fact that violence against Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is not an individual problem, or an issue only for
certain communities. This violence is rooted in systemic factors, like economic, social and politi-
cal marginalization, as well as racism, discrimination, and misogyny, woven into the fabric of
Canadian society. As [Kohkom] explained, “I’ve been in survival mode since I was a little girl,
watching my back, watching goings on. Because I’ve seen my aunties, my cousins, my female
cousins brutalized by police. And, growing up as a First Nation woman in this city, in this
province, in this country – we’re walking with targets on our backs.”40
In talking of the loss of her daughter, Jennifer, Bernice C. spoke eloquently about what it means
to deny her daughter’s right to life: “Somebody stole her, had no right to her, had no right to take
her. She could have had a baby. She could have got married, but that was taken from her. Some-
body decided she didn’t have a right to live, but she had every right to live.”41
Jennifer’s sister, Tamara S., went on to add that Jennifer’s death and experiences of violence
cannot be seen in isolation from the many other stories of relationships in which the safety and
security of Indigenous women were denied.
It’s really heartbreaking to see that this is happening over and over. It’s not just our
family. After Jen, you hear of so many other stories of … other women. It’s just … it’s
becoming more and more of an evident problem that’s out there. This is not just a
random act. This is an actual epidemic. This is an actual genocide. Another form of
genocide against women.42
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INTRODUCTION
Tamara’s observation that Jennifer’s death – and the violence, disappearances, and deaths of
many other Indigenous women – was not a “random act” points to another important part of the
story that Indigenous families, friends, and loved ones told about the relationships and encoun-
ters that violated the safety and security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
In her testimony, Danielle E. described how even in their daily lives when physical or sexual
violence may not be immediately present, Indigenous women and girls experience a constant
threat of violence and the fear that accompanies this.
I have hope that something good will come out of this, that as an Indigenous woman,
I don’t have to walk on the street and be afraid because, today, when I go somewhere,
I’m afraid, and it’s a fear that we all carry every day and you get so used to it that it’s
like it’s part of you, and it shouldn’t have to be because not everybody in society today
has to walk around and be afraid the way Indigenous women are and girls. I have seven
daughters and lots of granddaughters that I worry about constantly all day. I don’t want
them to become a statistic.43
As these testimonies demonstrate, the normalization of violence – or, put another way, the nor-
malization of the loss of safety and security – becomes another way in which Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are targeted for further violence. The fact that there is little, if
any, response when Indigenous women experience violence makes it easier for those who choose
to commit violence to do so, without fear of detection, prosecution or penalty.
Interpreting the Mandate

As these testimonies suggest, the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women and Girls heard about a huge range of issues that impact the safety and wellness of
Indigenous women and girls. The National Inquiry itself is the result of mounting pressure from
grassroots family members and survivors, community organizations and national Indigenous
organizations, international human rights organizations, and the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission of Canada to launch a public inquiry into the disproportionate levels of violence
against Indigenous women and girls. After pointed resistance from the previous federal govern-
ment, a new federal government announced a public inquiry into missing and murdered
Indigenous women in 2015, and the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women and Girls formally began its work in September 2016.
The terms of the National Inquiry’s mandate (what we are meant to accomplish) is set out in our
Terms of Reference. Specifically, the National Inquiry is mandated to report on:
i. Systemic causes of all forms of violence – including sexual violence – against Indige-
nous women and girls in Canada, including underlying social, economic, cultural,
institutional and historical causes contributing to the ongoing violence and particular
vulnerabilities of Indigenous women and girls in Canada, and
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INTRODUCTION
ii. Institutional policies and practices implemented in response to violence experienced by

Indigenous women and girls in Canada, including the identification and examination of
practices that have been effective in reducing violence and increasing safety.
The Commissioners are to make recommendations on:
i. Concrete and effective action that can be taken to remove systemic causes of violence
and to increase the safety of Indigenous women and girls in Canada, and
ii. Ways to honour and commemorate the missing and murdered Indigenous women and
girls in Canada.44
Simply put, the National Inquiry’s mandate is to (1) report on all forms of violence against
(2) Indigenous women and girls. We will now take a closer look at each of these two parts of the
mandate, and at how the National Inquiry has used its judgment to interpret it.
This mandate hasn’t been without its challenges. For instance, reporting on “all forms of vio-
lence” significantly broadened the mandate of the National Inquiry to include issues such as
family violence, institutional racism in health care, child welfare, policing and the justice system,
and other forms of violence that stem from the same structures of colonization. Reporting on “all
forms of violence” also allowed the National Inquiry to hear from family members of loved
ones who died due to negligence, accidents, or suicide, or whose cause of death is unknown or
disputed. This is why the National Inquiry will often use the more inclusive term “lost loved
ones” instead of referring only to the missing and murdered. We do not use the term “victim” of
violence unless it is necessary in the context of the criminal justice system, in response to those
families and survivors who expressed how the language of victimization can be disempowering.
While this mandate allowed us to look at interrelated issues in a more holistic way, meaningfully
reporting on all forms of violence against Indigenous women and girls is also an extraordinarily
broad mandate to cover in the span of two and a half years – the broadest mandate a Canadian
public inquiry has ever received.
Even our name, the “National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls,”
created a barrier to clearly communicating that our mandate went beyond gathering evidence
only on the specific, limited issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. As this
report will show, we consider violence broadly and across time and space, understanding that the
circumstances that lead to the targeting of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
while a combination of factors, are rooted in deeper truths.
While many survivors of other forms of violence did come forward to share their truths, and
nearly every family member who came to share about their lost loved one was also a survivor of
violence themselves, this continued to be a difficult misunderstanding to dispel. We deeply regret
that this may have kept some Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people from registering
with the National Inquiry to share about other experiences of violence because they did not feel
58
CHAPTER 7: Confronting Oppression – Right to Security 503
Introduction: “We’re not safe. Nobody is safe.” 503
Defining “Human Security” 504
Pathway to Violence: Intergenerational Trauma and Interpersonal Violence 508
Deeper Dive: Understanding Intersectional Métis Experiences 526
Deeper Dive: Enhancing Interjurisdictional Cooperation to Promote Safety 561
Deeper Dive: Resource Extraction Projects and Violence Against Indigenous Women 584
Pathway to Violence: Denying Agency and Expertise in Restoring Safety 595
International Human Rights Instruments and Human Security 608
Conclusion: Challenging “the way it is” 612
Findings: Right to Security 614
CHAPTER 8: Confronting Oppression – Right to Justice 621

Introduction: “Safety and justice and peace are just words to us” 621
Defining “Justice” 623
Deeper Dive: Criminalizing and Incarcerating Indigenous Women 635
Deeper Dive: The Sex Industry, Sexual Exploitation, and Human Trafficking 656
Deeper Dive: The Need to Reform Law Enforcement to Increase Safety 674
Pathway to Violence: Denying Agency and Expertise in Restoring Justice 703
International Human Rights Instruments and Principles of Justice 711
Conclusion: Reinventing the Relationship 715
Findings: Right to Justice 717
iv
INTRODUCTION
While our mandate is similar in each province and territory, the rules and requirements for this
National Inquiry differ from jurisdiction to jurisdiction. These rules, which delineate the National
Inquiry’s powers and limitations, are set out in an Order-in-Council (or Administrative Decree)
for each of the provinces and territories as well as in legislation applicable to public inquiries
in each jurisdiction.
Being able to operate in every province and territory is critical because it gives the National
Inquiry the authority to subpoena documents, compel witnesses, and investigate the systemic
causes of violence against Indigenous women and girls anywhere deemed necessary, not just in
areas that fall under federal jurisdiction. This includes investigating root causes as well as
government policies, laws, and practices. However, this also makes our legal requirements
significantly more complicated, as there are also different laws and rules for public inquiries in
general across the jurisdictions.
As in other public inquiries, the National Inquiry has the power to investigate the issue at hand
by collecting evidence and hearing testimony from witnesses. This is done in as open and
transparent a manner as possible, creating a “public record” of critical information that can live
on past the life of the National Inquiry. The Commissioner or Commissioners then write a report
and make recommendations for change. Governments are not required to implement these
recommendations. However, public attention and education, particularly through the ongoing
legacy work of the public inquiry, help put pressure on governments wherever possible.
One of the National Inquiry’s main limitations – which is the same for all public inquiries – is
that a public inquiry can’t resolve individual cases or declare certain people legally at fault. This
is because public inquiries are meant to focus on systemic problems and solutions with the
understanding that these problems cannot be traced back to “a few bad apples.” The National
Inquiry also can’t do anything to jeopardize ongoing criminal investigations and must follow the
privacy rules around personal information as laid out in federal, provincial and territorial privacy
laws and obligations.
However, if new information comes to light during our Truth-Gathering Process or if the
Commissioners have reasonable grounds to believe the information relates to misconduct, they
can remit the information to appropriate authorities.
Gathering Truth
With these powers and limitations in mind, the Commissioners designed the overall format of
the National Inquiry – what we now call the “Truth-Gathering Process.”
Overall, the National Inquiry sought to be families-first (putting the family members of lost
loved ones and survivors of violence ahead of others who usually hold the power, including
politicians, governments, and the media), trauma-informed (supporting healing in a way that
does no further harm), and decolonizing (centring Indigenous ways of being, knowing, and
60
INTRODUCTION
doing). All of these goals were grounded in the National Inquiry’s guiding principle, “Our
Women and Girls are Sacred.” This vision would help to build the foundation upon which
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people will reclaim their power and place.
The National Inquiry also recognizes that, from an Indigenous perspective, there is not necessar-
ily a singular “truth.” Instead, each person brings with them their truth, and by gathering these
truths together, we can gain a more complete understanding of the issue. For these reasons, the
National Inquiry determined that our process would be called the “Truth-Gathering Process,”
recognizing multiple “truths” or perspectives to be brought forward.
These truths were offered by a variety of different people, families, and organizations, as well as
by the National Inquiry’s advisory bodies. Advisory bodies include the National Family Advisory
Circle (NFAC), made up of family members of missing and murdered Indigenous women and
girls and survivors; the National Inquiry Elders and Grandmothers Circle, in which the Commis-
sioners and the executive director have an Elder or Grandmother who works closely with them;
and external advisory bodies on four key cross-cutting perspectives that are often overlooked in
national Indigenous research or events: Inuit, Métis, 2SLGBTQQIA, and Quebec.
Part 1 of our Truth-Gathering Process focused on the lived experiences of those who came
forward as family members and as survivors themselves. All family members, friends and sup-
porters of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as well
as survivors of violence within these groups, were automatically entitled to participate in the
National Inquiry’s process at Community Hearings, through statement gathering, or through
artistic expressions. The National Inquiry did this through a public communications campaign to
tell as many people as possible how to contact the National Inquiry, but did not contact family
members or survivors without being asked to, to solicit their story; we believed very strongly that
it was up to each person to decide if they wanted to participate. If they did, we would assist in
every way to facilitate this participation.
Once a family member or survivor reached out to the National Inquiry, either by mail, email, or
phone, they did an initial intake process with a member of our Health team (later renamed Out-
reach and Support Services) to get their contact information and hear if they had any immediate
needs. Multiple options of how people could share their truth was explained to them, in keeping
with the principles of our trauma-informed approach and greater personal control over the
process.
This first option was to share publicly at a Community Hearing in front of the general public and
the Commissioners; in this case, their testimony would be livestreamed to the rest of the country,
and the transcripts of the testimony made public on the National Inquiry’s website. The only re-
strictions would be on names and events redacted to comply with privacy laws. Our decolonizing
approach meant that we travelled only to those communities that welcomed us, following local
protocols and taking guidance from local Elders. In order to be trauma-informed and create
culturally safe spaces, we did not allow cross-examination of family members and survivors.
Commissioners asked questions for clarification only.
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INTRODUCTION
Sharing their truths in-camera, or privately, at a Community Hearing was another option. In this
case, families and survivors shared directly to a Commissioner with their supports, National
Inquiry staff members, and Parties with Standing present, but without any access by the general
public. This was for the safety of the people sharing their truth, in some cases, as well as within
the trauma-informed approach where people might have difficulty describing their stories in pub-
lic. Whether it was for physical safety, mental safety, or cultural safety, holding private hearings
was crucial to ensure we could hear the true stories of family members and survivors of violence.
Confidential transcripts of these sessions were created to help contribute to the National
Inquiry’s findings of fact and recommendations, and identify overall trends, but they will not be
released to the public and will not be made available after the life of the National Inquiry. While
truths shared in-camera have helped shape the National Inquiry’s findings and conclusions, no
direct quotes are used from in-camera testimony in this report to respect that person’s confiden-
tiality, except in exceptional circumstances where permission was granted by the witness for
portions of the testimony to be used.
Sharing with a Statement Gatherer was another option. In this case, Statement Gatherers
travelled to the family member or survivor and conducted an in-person, videotaped interview
with them, which would later be reviewed by one of the Commissioners in all jurisdictions but
Quebec, which required review by three. The person sharing could request that their transcripts
be made public or kept private. There were also statement-gathering events, where multiple
statements were collected from participants at one location.
Another option was to submit an artistic expression that represented that person’s response to,
or experience of, violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to the
National Inquiry’s Legacy Archive. Commissioners welcomed people’s testimony in more than
one form.
Another decolonizing and trauma-informed decision made was to include chosen families, or
“families of the heart,” in all of our definitions of “family members.” This includes a broad sense
of family that goes beyond a person’s nuclear, biological, or extended family to include others
who consider themselves family. These “families of the heart” have chosen to stay closely in-
volved and support each other out of mutual love and respect. This is especially important for
many 2SLGBTQQIA people, women who have had to leave their biological families and/or
communities due to violence, or those who have been separated from their birth families through
child welfare, adoption, and the Sixties Scoop.
Parts 2 and 3 of the Truth-Gathering Process involved Institutional Hearings and Expert and
Knowledge Keeper Hearings. Institutional Hearings inquired into the systemic causes of
institutionalized violence, as well institutional responses to violence, while those who shared as
part of the Expert and Knowledge Keeper Hearings – Elders, academics, legal experts, front-line
workers, young people, specialists, and others – provided their recommendations on systemic
causes of violence and possible solutions. As part of the hearing process, National Inquiry
lawyers and Parties with Standing had the opportunity to examine Parts 2 and 3 witnesses. The
topics covered during the Institutional and Expert and Knowledge Keeper Hearings grew out of
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INTRODUCTION
the topics and issues that families and survivors were identifying as important to them during the
Community Hearings. The Institutional and Expert and Knowledge Keeper Hearings allowed the
National Inquiry to hear from representatives of the systems and institutions that many of the
families spoke about during their testimony and to explore in more depth how these systems and
institutions worked. It also ensured that the experiences and issues raised by families and sur-
vivors remained at the centre of the Truth-Gathering Process, even when we were hearing from
experts and institutional officials.
The National Inquiry did not maintain a narrow or Western definition of “experts,” but specifi-
cally sought to include Elders and Knowledge Keepers. These are Indigenous people who are
known for their wisdom, knowledge, experience, background, and insight. They are generally
sought out by community members or individuals for advice on traditional as well as contempo-
rary issues. Knowledge Keepers in particular have deep knowledge or expertise in Indigenous
knowledge systems, including Indigenous intellectual traditions, world views, and laws. Some
are considered the keepers of traditional knowledge or oral history within their families,
communities, or Nations.
The Parties with Standing played an important part during this phase of the Truth-Gathering
Process. Parties with Standing are groups that applied to have additional rights to participate in
the National Inquiry’s processes because they had substantial and direct interest in the subject
matter of the National Inquiry or because they represent distinct interests within which their ex-
pertise and perspective would be essential for the National Inquiry to fulfill its mandate. There
are 94 Parties with Standing, including groups representing non-governmental organizations,
Indigenous women’s organizations, civil societies and governments, and some police agencies.
Two of the most important ways that Parties with Standing participated in the Truth-Gathering
Process were by asking questions of the Institutional and Expert Witnesses at the hearings (called
“cross-examination”) and by providing closing oral and written submissions once all the evi-
dence had been gathered to offer their additional recommendations on how to end violence.
These submissions made up Part 4 of the Truth-Gathering Process. They also provided advice on
how to interpret the evidence before the National Inquiry and on the key findings that needed to
be made, in addition to the actions and recommendations required to promote safety and security.
Their submissions are accessible on our website online.49 Their contributions to the entire
process, as well as their particular contributions in proposing recommendations and resources
for us to consider, are evident in the Calls for Justice that we demand be fulfilled at the close
of this report.
The evidence considered by the Commissioners includes all testimony, or truths, gathered in
Parts 1, 2, 3 and 4 of the Truth-Gathering Process. It also includes exhibits submitted as part of a
witness’s testimony. For family members and survivors sharing in Part 1, these exhibits could
include photographs of loved ones, newspaper clippings, or other materials that would help tell
their story. In Parts 2 and 3 hearings, exhibits usually included relevant reports, studies, public
records, or other supporting documents.
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INTRODUCTION
Reclaiming Power and Place

The result of research conducted through the Truth-Gathering Process that privileges the voices
of those with lived experience, and that focuses on the sacred place of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people in their families, communities, and Nations, is a report that insists on
self-determined solutions distinctive to the needs of those most affected as rights bearers. And
while it is far from the first report released on violence against Indigenous Peoples, and it likely
won’t be the last, we maintain that the framework behind Reclaiming Power and Place: The
Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls is
both powerful and empowering in its calls to focus on rights and relationships at every level –
from the individual day-to-day encounters that feed violence and discrimination, to those larger
institutional and systemic structures that need to change.
In its presentation of findings, this report connects the testimony collected nationally during
the Truth-Gathering Process to violations of Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people’s human and Indigenous rights. By applying a human and Indigenous rights lens, as well
as a gendered lens, to the truths shared during the Truth-Gathering Process, we argue that the
violence experienced by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people – as well as all
forms of violence experienced by Indigenous Peoples – is a human rights issue. In sharing their
truths, families, loved ones, and survivors were not only sharing stories about the violence they
or their loved one endured but also sharing stories about human rights abuses and violations.
Making the changes required to end violence against them is not a matter of public policy but
one of domestic and international law.
Based on the findings from our Truth-Gathering Process and our analysis of previous reports, the
National Inquiry finds that the main reason these changes and recommendations haven’t been
implemented yet is that they rely on governments and bureaucracies to want to change their own
laws, contracts, and policies. While many of these should indeed be changed, they miss the
fundamental role of relationship. After all, Canadian laws are not set in stone; they are based
on the values and relationships of the people who write them.
In sharing their truths with the National Inquiry, family members and survivors told not only
stories about violence but also stories about the relationships through which violence takes place.
In this report, we focus on the role of relationships, and the significant encounters within rela-
tionships, that family members and survivors described as leading to or lessening harm, violence,
and suffering. Taking a basic lesson offered through the testimony – that relationships matter –
this report presents many examples that illustrate how relationships – whether those as small as
the relationship shared between two people or as large as the relationship between two world
views – offer important ways of understanding how violence continues and how violence may be
prevented. While the report and its recommendations argue for changes to the relationships that
colonial systems and structures are built on, it also strives to provide examples of the way indi-
vidual people and their day-to-day interactions can make a difference in ending violence.
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INTRODUCTION
Family members and survivors have revealed to us that relationships provide critical moments
of encounter that can either harm or help others. Whether it was at the hearings, in private state-
ments, or through artistic expressions, they told us about moments in their lives where either
healthy or harmful relationships had a huge impact on their lives. This is key to understanding
the real causes of violence. Because of this, we are focusing on the relationships behind the laws
and structures that are currently failing to keep women and 2SLGBTQQIA people safe.
This report presents its findings in such a way that it takes the truths, experiences, and expertise
held by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as the most important word on the
subject of the violence committed against them. By looking to Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people and their testimony to explain what needs to be done to end violence in
their lives, this report reflects a recognition of their strength, resilience, and expertise.
Opaskwayak Cree researcher Shawn Wilson has said:
One thing that most of these Indigenous inquiries hold in common is that they look at
social, historical and economic factors to explain the differences between Indigenous and
non-Indigenous peoples and then make recommendations that are intended to adapt the
dominant system to the needs of Indigenous people. These programs proceed with the
assumption that if economic and environmental conditions were the same for Indigenous
and non-Indigenous people, Indigenous people could ‘pull themselves up’ to the
standards of dominant society. This same attitude promoted the forced assimilation of
Indigenous people through such social tragedies as the ‘stolen generation’ and forced
residential schooling.50
In the past, “expertise” generated within academic institutions, governments, or Western ways of
knowing and conducting research – all systems that have historically excluded women and espe-
cially Indigenous women – has been seen as that most suited to addressing the complex problems
presented in this report related to issues such as culture, health, security, and justice. In contrast
to much previous research that positions Indigenous women as “victims” in need of protection or
saving, or that positions their experiences as “less than” knowledge gathered according to West-
ern research methods or approaches, this report instead centres these voices in recognition that it
is the wisdom held by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people that has the potential
to create more healthy and safe environments for all.
In this sense, the information presented in this report and the recommendations it offers are not
easy to understand or implement. Due to the denial of knowledge and expertise held by Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people for so long, respecting these opinions and teach-
ings will challenge readers, researchers, policy makers, and the general public who are used to
thinking about policy solutions or social issues in a particular way or within already established
systems. Really listening to this expertise often requires questioning standard ways of doing
things, challenging the status quo, and being open to radical, new alternatives.
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INTRODUCTION
Most importantly, this report recognizes that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people also have the solutions to counter this violence, overcome indifference, and reclaim their
power and place. Greg M., whose sister Jackie has been missing since 1997, said, “It’s tough
being an Indian these days. There’s so many things against us. But still we’re resilient people.
We stood … for 10,000 years here. We’re still going to be here.”51
Evaluation of the Federal Government’s Response to the

National Inquiry’s Interim Report Recommendations
One of family members’ and survivors’ biggest fears in opening themselves up for a process as
intense as this one is that in the end, nothing is done – that the report gathers dust on a shelf and
the recommendations are left unanswered. As family member Melanie D. said:
My biggest question is what is the government planning to do after this Inquiry?
Like, what is the action plan? Because I hope it’s not like another RCAP [Royal
Commission on Aboriginal Peoples] report. I hope it’s not 94 Calls to Action where we
have roundabout circle talks about reconciliation…. And I’m not just placing that on to
the government, but … what is Canada, all of Canada going to do?52
In Our Women and Girls Are Sacred: The Interim Report of the National Inquiry into Missing
and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, we issued 10 recommendations for immediate
action. Many of these recommendations had to do with the procedural work of the National
Inquiry itself, to make it easier and more responsive to families’ needs.
Holding those with the power to act on these recommendations to account is an essential step of
this process, and evaluating the progress made to date is an important indicator of the work left
to accomplish.53 As Terry L. shared: “I hear words all the time. I don’t want words anymore.
I want action.”54
The National Inquiry’s 10 Calls for Immediate Action from the

Interim Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls
1. Implementation of all the Calls to Action of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission,
particularly those that impact Indigenous women and children, including the immediate
implementation of Jordan’s Principle and the immediate and full implementation of the
United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples as a framework for
reconciliation, and including a federal action plan, strategies and other concrete
measures to achieve the goals.
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INTRODUCTION
To date, this has been partially implemented, and we recognize that the National Inquiry into
Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls is in itself a fulfilled TRC Call to Action.
Other actions include endorsing and passing New Democratic MP and reconciliation critic
Romeo Saganash’s Bill 262, a private member’s bill aimed at ensuring that Canada’s laws are in
harmony with those rights set out in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous
Peoples – a declaration that Saganash himself helped to create. At time of this writing, the Bill
was in its second reading, in Senate. In 2018, the federal government had also agreed to work
toward the equivalent of Jordan’s Principle for Inuit children, to ensure health care for them
would not be delayed. In addition, Bill C-91, An Act Respecting Indigenous Languages, which
would establish measures for long-term and sustainable funding for the support and promotiong
Indigenous languages, was unveiled in early 2019.
Collectively, these are important pieces of work, which will require careful implementation and
reporting. In particular, ensuring that the principles that animate them are applied to all services
that can help to promote security and safety for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people is a complicated process, but one that we argue needs to move more urgently and quickly.
2. Full compliance with the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal ruling (2016) that found
that Canada was racially discriminating against First Nations children.
This has not been implemented. Canada has now received seven non-compliance orders from
the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal (CHRT).55 The First Nations Child and Family Caring
Society is back in court against Canada, which is now rejecting First Nations children’s claims
based on their lack of Status as determined by the Indian Act. Aside from the many problems
with assigning First Nations identity through colonial legislation such as the Indian Act, which
we cover in more detail elsewhere in this report, the CHRT decision makes no distinction be-
tween Status and non-Status First Nations children, and the Supreme Court of Canada recently
ruled that Ottawa has a fiduciary duty to non-Status First Nations people, and to Métis. As of
February 19, 2019, the tribunal issued interim relief orders for Jordan’s Principle in favour of the
Caring Society, stating that non-Status First Nations children in urgent situations will be covered
under Jordan’s Principle until the evidence has been heard regarding the definition of “First
Nations.”56
Given that the Canadian Human Rights Act forbids discrimination based on race, it is the Caring
Society’s position that Jordan’s Principle also applies to Inuit children where public services
have been delayed or denied.
The National Inquiry heartily agrees with Dr. Cindy Blackstock when she says: “When I look at
the wealth of this country, I think that equality for First Nations children should come in a leap,
not in a shuffle. And just frankly, if they can afford to spend five billion on a pipeline, they can
afford to eradicate inequalities in education and other areas for their kids.”57
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INTRODUCTION
3. That the federal government finds a way to provide the contact information of the
families and survivors who participated in the pre-Inquiry process to the National
Inquiry. Alternatively, that the federal government provide families and survivors of
the pre-Inquiry information on how to participate in the National Inquiry.
To our knowledge, this was never done. Many families who participated in the pre-Inquiry
consultation process told our Outreach and Support Services team members that while they were
glad to see the National Inquiry moving forward, the registration process itself was confusing
due to the manner in which Canada conducted its pre-Inquiry consultations. Many families
believed that being part of those placed them on a list; the reality was that these were separate
processes. The pre-Inquiry process led families to believe that we would have their contact
information and we would reach out to them.
Also, many families believed that as Native Women’s Association of Canada (NWAC) and the
Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) had their contact information, we would have that
information too and reach out to them. This was not the case. We sincerely regret that family
members and survivors experienced added stress and confusion regarding our registration
process as a result.
4. That the federal, provincial and territorial governments provide project funding, in
addition to regular operational funds, to help ensure Indigenous organizations full and
meaningful participation in the National Inquiry.
This recommendation was partially implemented. The federal government did increase funding
to help improve the participation of the Parties with Standing, who consist mostly of Indigenous
organizations, at the National Inquiry’s urging. However, many smaller community and grass-
roots organizations, which are already underfunded and understaffed, did not receive any
additional funding to participate in the process or help the Inquiry do community outreach. In
addition, the requirement to pre-pay expenses and then get reimbursed was taxing for already
overstretched organizations reliant on sometimes unstable funding.
5. That the federal government establish a commemoration fund in collaboration with
national and regional Indigenous organizations (including Indigenous women’s organiza-
tions) and in partnership with family coalitions, Indigenous artists, and grassroots
advocates who spearheaded commemoration events and initiatives related to missing
and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and LGBTQ2S people.
This is one of the few recommendations that the Government of Canada responded to directly.
The federal government, through Status of Women Canada, committed to a commemoration fund
that would provide $10 million over two years “to honour the lives and legacies of Indigenous
women, girls, and LGBTQ2S individuals.”58 The commemoration fund committed to supporting
Indigenous communities in developing and implementing commemorative events.
The National Inquiry is glad to see that the federal government recognizes the power of
public commemoration to “honour truths, support healing, create awareness, and to advance
reconciliation.”59
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INTRODUCTION
However, we have serious concerns with the way the federal government reinterpreted this
recommendation. In particular, our recommendation specifically noted the importance of involv-
ing Indigenous women’s organizations, family coalitions, Indigenous artists, and grassroots
advocates. However, the call for proposals for this commemoration fund applies only to legally
constituted organizations, and it is not clear to what extent others will be able to access it.60 This
excludes these very same family coalitions and grassroots organizations we wanted to include,
who have been organizing around missing and murdered women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people for decades with very little support.
It can be a long and onerous process to legally incorporate as an organization; coupled with the
very short time frame organizations were given to apply, this almost certainly excludes the very
groups we intended this recommendation to reach.
6. That the federal government immediately provide additional funding to Health Canada’s
Resolution Health Support Program and expand its services to meet the increased needs
flowing from the National Inquiry’s work, and at a minimum for the duration of the
National Inquiry.
In response, the Government of Canada committed to increase health support and victim
services by
providing $21.3 million over three years to complement the health supports provided by
the inquiry, such as allowing the expansion of services to include all survivors, family
members and those affected by the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women
and girls, improving their access to health support services and extending the timeframe
during which health support services will be available up to June 30, 2020.61
They also committed to “providing an additional $5.42 million in 2019–2020 to extend the time-
frame for the two Department of Justice Canada initiatives: Family Information Liaison Units
and funding for community-based organizations to support families beyond the life of the
National Inquiry.”62
The National Inquiry welcomed this announcement, and in particular the portion of the Resolu-
tion Health Support Program that was designated to support the health needs of those who
participated in the National Inquiry. This did help family members and survivors.
However, the National Inquiry was only minimally consulted in how to allocate these funds.
Because most of the funds were allocated through regional First Nations and Inuit Health Branch
(FNIHB) offices, the support services available to family members and survivors did not include
travel or cultural healing, wellness ceremonies, or transportation to meet with Elders or tradi-
tional medicine practitioners, instead covering only Western approaches to health and wellness –
namely, counselling. While counselling is, in fact, an important part of many Indigenous Peoples’
healing journeys, cultural safety must be a key component in any Indigenous health and wellness
service. However, the FNIHB did lift all eligibility criteria so that everyone could seek advice,
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INTRODUCTION
including all those affected by the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, whether they be Status First Nations, non-Status First Nations, Inuit or
Métis.
In addition, distributing these funds through existing regional offices meant that families and
survivors who already had trouble accessing health services due to living in rural and remote
areas continued to have the same problems accessing these funds.
7. That Health Canada’s Resolution Health Support Program provide funding to
Indigenous organizations and other service providers (including provincial and territo-
rial governments) through contribution agreements and transfer funds to families
and survivors participating in the National Inquiry’s Truth-Gathering Process and
engaging in its commemoration activities.
The goal of this recommendation was to ensure that families and survivors, and not only estab-
lished organizations, had a voice in their healing and commemoration. The National Inquiry was
ultimately successful in negotiating contribution agreements with individuals for their aftercare
plans, which a Canadian government had never agreed to before. This gave families and sur-
vivors direct ownership over their own healing and wellness. We discuss this in more detail in
Chapter 9.
8. That the federal government undertake an engagement process with families, survivors,
Indigenous organizations, and the National Inquiry to investigate the feasibility of
restoring the Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
To date, this important recommendation has not been implemented.
9. That the federal government work collaboratively with provinces and territories to
create a national police task force to which the National Inquiry could refer families and
survivors to assess or reopen cases or review investigations.
The Government of Canada announced that they would provide
$9.6 million over five years [which] will support the Royal Canadian Mounted Police
(RCMP)'s new National Investigative Standards and Practices Unit. Members of this unit
will provide national oversight to major RCMP investigations. A significant proportion
of this oversight will focus on missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls
investigations.63
However, this does not fulfill the National Inquiry’s recommendation. We maintain that Canada
needs an independent national police task force specifically designed to meet the needs of family
members and survivors of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
which would include non-police members and investigators, and other built-in, transparent over-
sight mechanisms.
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INTRODUCTION
Our most important objection to providing additional funding to the RCMP in this manner is
that, once again, this involves police policing themselves. The RCMP have not proven to Canada
that they are capable of holding themselves to account – and, in fact, many of the truths shared
here speak to ongoing issues of systemic and individual racism, sexism, and other forms of dis-
crimination that prevent honest oversight from taking place.
In addition, our recommendation was for a national police task force, whereas the government’s
response includes only the RCMP, which does not cover other police service investigations or
areas covered by a national task force.
The National Inquiry is also concerned about the non-specific language used, in that “a signifi-
cant portion” will go toward investigations of missing and murdered Indigenous women and
girls. In 2010, the federal government cut funding to the Native Women’s Association of
Canada’s “Sisters in Spirit” research, education, and policy initiative to provide additional fund-
ing to other departments and to the RCMP, where enhancements made were general and not spe-
cific to Indigenous women and girls.64 These actions don’t inspire confidence for the future.
10. Given the short timeframe of the National Inquiry and the urgency of establishing
robust administrative structures and processes, that the federal government provide
alternatives and options to its administrative rules to enable the National Inquiry
to fulfill the terms of its mandate.
Overall, the National Inquiry recognizes that many improvements were made to expedite some
administrative services, particularly in the areas of staff hiring, security clearance, and procure-
ment of goods and services. However, problem-solving administrative processes that were
designed for indeterminate and well-established federal government organizations continued to
cause significant delays and frustration. Such administrative processes do not lend themselves to
inquiries with short timelines, let alone a National Inquiry with an Indigenous cultural mandate
that stresses the need to accomplish the work in a trauma-informed and decolonizing way.
The area where this had the deepest effect on families and survivors was in aftercare, where the
critical support the National Inquiry needed to provide to participants in order to avoid being
retraumatized as a result of sharing their truths was placed on shaky ground. This came to a head
in January 2018, when the federal government challenged the National Inquiry’s Terms of
Reference and authority to provide health support to families and survivors in preparation for
and during their appearance before the National Inquiry, and after sharing their truths. This effec-
tively froze all movement on aftercare supports for three months, while families and survivors,
including those in urgent crises, suffered. Even after coming to a funding resolution, there were
many rules and regulations that continued to hamper aftercare services, causing more delays and
valuable time lost. These required multiple paperwork amendments and new signatures, which
generated stress for the families and survivors as well as delays in payments.
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INTRODUCTION
Successes and Challenges of the National Inquiry

In reflecting on where we are today, the National Inquiry recognizes it has had many successes
as well as many challenges.
One of the most important successes of the National Inquiry is how many people entrusted us
with their stories. We see these stories as sacred. The National Inquiry made some mistakes
along the way, but family members and survivors of violence were able to work one-on-one with
our Health and Legal teams to share their stories, and continued to receive support through the
National Inquiry’s aftercare program for several months after they shared their truths. We are
humbled by the sheer number of people who shared their stories in order to help others truly
understand the levels of violence in this country.
Having so many people break the silence has already created a momentum much bigger than the
National Inquiry, and has continued to build. Trauma has widespread effects, but so does healing.
As one Inuk Elder told the members of the National Inquiry’s internal Inuit Working Group, their
work was “already saving lives.” These healing effects are still rippling gently through families
and communities. It is one of Canada’s most important jobs in the months and years ahead to
ensure that these ripples build into waves of change.
One of our biggest challenges was working under the federal government’s rules and procedures,
which are designed for government departments with long lifespans, not two-year public in-
quiries working in a culturally safe and trauma-informed way. Finding ways to navigate these
rules designed for a completely different context was particularly critical, given our other biggest
challenge: the lack of time.
The two years and four months’ mandate given to the National Inquiry at its outset was not
enough. With the broadest mandate of any public inquiry in Canadian history, and given the time
required simply to hire staff, get the infrastructure in place, and begin to build key relationships,
this time frame significantly hampered our ability to fully work according to families-first,
decolonizing, and trauma-informed approaches. Processes that would normally take months in a
government department needed to be compressed into weeks to fit our schedule. Many of our
hearings were held back-to-back, and we were never able to give as much notice for hearings and
events as we would have liked. It was very difficult to get the appropriate systems and policies in
place until well into our mandate. It was also very difficult to build relationships with Indigenous
communities with enough lead time to allow them to report back to, and work collectively
within, their families, communities, and governance structures. In some cases, family members
felt rushed, and received short notice for when they were scheduled to testify.
From an organizational perspective, National Inquiry staff members experienced delays in
receiving computers, phones, Internet connections, email access, and access to a central shared
drive – extremely important for a National Inquiry working from coast to coast to coast. Many
staff members worked from home, across all time zones and in remote locations, or spent a great
deal of time on the road. Ongoing technology and IT problems, along with the complex require-
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ments of a public inquiry operating in 14 jurisdictions at the same time, delayed processes
regarding travel arrangements, hospitality planning, procurement, and financial approvals and
payments.
In the end, the National Inquiry held dozens of events, large and small, in urban settings and in
northern locations across Canada. There were challenges. For example, the Community Hearing
in Smithers was held while the town was under a boil-water advisory, which meant bringing in
hundreds of litres of bottled water. In Rankin Inlet, National Inquiry-related activities used up
every single available hotel room in the community, and, in Iqaluit, we used up almost the entire
town’s bandwidth of Internet to be able to livestream the hearing online. In Whitehorse, an earth-
quake damaged the facility originally booked for the first Community Hearing, which resulted in
relocating to the already-full Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre and setting up large tents outside.
However, we recognize that these challenges were temporary for the National Inquiry. The com-
munities we visited have to manage with these challenges all the time. These are the kinds of
geographic and distinction-based needs that must be taken into account when governments are
responding to the National Inquiry’s recommendations.
The National Inquiry also had many other highlights. For example, the National Inquiry advo-
cated on behalf of Indigenous women and girls at the Supreme Court of Canada in the case of
Barton v. Her Majesty the Queen.65 This case involves the trial of Bradley Barton, the man
accused of killing Cindy Gladue, who bled to death after what the accused said was consensual
sexual acts. In our intervention related to the trial process, the National Inquiry argued that the
trial is emblematic of how Indigenous women are seen as less believable and “less worthy”
victims than non-Indigenous women, and that justice does not serve Indigenous women.
Importantly, we discussed the court’s failure to apply the law correctly under section 276 of the
Criminal Code of Canada, and to take judicial notice of the high victimization of Indigenous
women. We submitted that widespread racism and discrimination against Indigenous women
exists and that the courts must take judicial notice of such systemic bias against Indigenous
women complainants. We argued that indifference by all actors in the court, who often referred to
Cindy as a “native prostitute” instead of by her name, may have led to reinforcing discriminatory
beliefs, misconceptions, or upholding bias by the jury about the sexual availability of Indigenous
women and specifically, Cindy Gladue.
The National Inquiry’s action on this issue marks the first time a public inquiry has sought inter-
vener status at the Supreme Court of Canada. The Supreme Court’s determination in this case,
which is still pending, is anticipated to be a seminal case for determining the extent of the laws
around sexual violence and consent. We felt it was imperative to act and do everything possible
to speak out for Indigenous women on the issues that profoundly affect so many survivors and
families.
In designing our communications approach, it was a challenge to tailor our messages to diverse
stakeholders from families and survivors across Canada, to national and provincial Indigenous
organizations, and to federal and provincial governments. We needed to use a tool kit to reach
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INTRODUCTION
people that included a variety of channels and platforms – from social media to e-newsletters to
traditional print, television, and radio news stories – while being responsive to diverse cultural,
language, and demographic needs and perspectives.
However, with the guidance of the Grandmothers Circle and the National Family Advisory
Circle members, the National Inquiry created space for families to be heard and their truths to
be validated at every event. Public awareness of the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous
women is also on the rise. In 2017 on Twitter, for example, there were 13,529 tweets and 112
million impressions on a variety of topics, including spreading news of upcoming Community
Hearings. When we livestreamed Knowledge Keeper, Expert and Institutional Hearings on
Facebook and CPAC, thousands tuned in each day to watch the proceedings, comment, share,
and be inspired by the strength of the testimony presented.
We also redesigned the National Inquiry’s website in 2018 to better offer up-to-date information
on news and events, and an interactive map of all past hearings and events with links to docu-
ments and videos. Additional upgrades designed in early 2019 involve organizing and featuring
thousands of public records of evidence, including testimony from survivors, families, experts,
academics, and Knowledge Keepers, as well as written submissions, statements, orders, and
motions on our website. It is a significant record of information now available to the public – a
lasting testament of truth for all Canadians.
In many ways, this record is as much a part of the legacy of the National Inquiry as this report
itself. While the Final Report is the culmination of over 1,000 hours of truths shared with us, it
still only scratches the surface of the examination of violence against Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Our evidence belongs to the public, and is available in video and as
transcripts. We hope that academic institutions, governments, policy makers, and individuals
who want to better understand these issues will return to this public record. It presents a unique
opportunity for Canadians to hear these truths for themselves and change the relationships they
have with Indigenous women and girls in their own lives.
Response to the Denial of a Two-Year Extension

One of the biggest blows to the National Inquiry’s ability to balance the urgency of these issues
with the need to do this work thoroughly was the government’s decision to deny the Inquiry its
requested two-year extension, providing only a six-month writing extension instead.66
The National Inquiry was given an extraordinarily large task to accomplish in a time period that
federal, provincial, and territorial jurisdictions, with their knowledge of their own bureaucratic
natures, should have known was too short from the beginning. This was profoundly disappoint-
ing, and does a disservice to the thousands of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people lost to violence, and to the survivors of violence, some of whom advocated for decades
for a public inquiry. As Nahanni Fontaine explained to the Commissioners at the Winnipeg
Community Hearing:
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INTRODUCTION
Often I’ll say, well, we’ve been working on this for 30 years, if you look at the Highway
of Tears. But … actually we have collectively been working on this for 50 years. If you
look at Helen Betty Osborne, if you look at some of the first cases of missing women on
the Highway of Tears, those go back actually to the late ’50s, right? So, over 50 years,
MMIWG families have been quietly, loudly, courageously, resiliently, have been from
coast to coast to coast demanding action on MMIWG. It is only because of MMIWG
families that we are here today, along with Indigenous women who have stood with
families, and have been lobbying, and that voice in support of families.67
This extension would have allowed the National Inquiry to hold more Community, Institutional,
and Expert Hearings, so we could have heard from more women and gender-diverse people
involved in human trafficking and exploitation, who are homeless, who are in federal institu-
tions, and who live in more remote areas and in other regions. An extension would have ensured
the ability to look at regional specificities, and into larger or more complex issues.
Most importantly, however, an extension would have given more people a national public plat-
form to speak up and speak out about issues some people haven’t ever spoken about before. The
opportunity to share one’s truth can be remarkably transformational, especially when coupled
with a flexible and responsive aftercare program. There are many, many people whose strength
still need to be recognized, who are ready to take the next step. We cannot control the outcome
of this National Inquiry, but we have done our best to make the process itself a healing one. We
wish this National Inquiry could have been that tool for even more families and survivors.
The National Inquiry has done what it can to honour the spirits of those who are no longer with
us, and the future generations that are still yet to come, in the time we were given. However,
Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people cannot continue to fall to the bottom of the priority
list. They cannot be expected to make do with a few extra dollars here or a new program there.
Reclaiming Power and Place: The Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls calls for real, significant, foundational change. The rest
of Canada must be prepared to meet this challenge.
Foundational Concepts in Understanding Violence

Despite the short time frame to engage in this critical work, the National Inquiry humbly offers
this Final Report as an important piece of understanding violence in a different context. As many
witnesses shared, confronting the epidemic of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people – what the National Inquiry has deemed to be practices that are genocidal
– begins with acknowledging the scope of the harm that has been caused. Throughout this report,
we use a variety of terms and concepts to help draw critical connections between the experiences
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INTRODUCTION
and issues brought before the National Inquiry. Some of these terms and concepts were used by
families and survivors; others were used by Elders, Knowledge Keepers, researchers, and ac-
tivists. Here, we provide a brief explanation of some of these concepts that are critical to under-
standing why we need foundational changes, not band-aid solutions, to ending violence against
Indigenous women and girls.
The National Inquiry uses a broad definition of “violence.” We started with the World Health
Organization’s definition of “violence,” which involves the intentional use or threatened use of
power or force that is likely to cause harm against someone else (for example, interpersonal
violence), against a group or community (for example, armed conflict), or against oneself
(for example, suicide or self-harm).68
These types of violence can take many forms:
• physical (hitting, choking, murder)
• sexual (unwelcome sexual comments, fondling, rape)
• emotional (name calling, jealousy, humiliation)
• psychological (threats, social isolation, stalking)
• spiritual (not allowing someone to practise their preferred spirituality
or religion, belittling said spirituality or religion)
• cultural (violence in the name of a culture, religion, or tradition)
• verbal (yelling, lying, telling someone they are worthless)
• financial (not allowing someone access to money, destroying personal property)
• neglect (failing to meet the needs of someone who can’t meet those needs alone)69
We expanded that definition to include colonial, cultural, and institutional violence. Altogether,
these lead to systemic or structural violence, as well as, in many cases, lateral violence.
Colonial violence stems from colonization or colonialism, and relies on the dehumanization of
Indigenous Peoples. Colonial violence is perpetuated through a variety of different strategies,
including depriving people of the necessities of life, using public institutions and laws to reassert
colonial norms, ignoring the knowledge and capacity of Indigenous Peoples, and using con-
structs that deny the ongoing presence and dignity of Indigenous Peoples. It is also linked to
racism. The National Inquiry grounds racism through all of its analysis, insisting that racism
takes concrete and devastating forms. Racism, then, must be seen as more than just a set of ideas,
but as a set of practices that are grounded in systems that serve to target Indigenous Peoples over
generations, undergirding intergenerational and multigenerational violence, and contribute to
economic, social, and political marginalization; lack of will; maintenance of the status quo; and
the denial of agency, expertise, and value.
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INTRODUCTION
The process of colonialism is defined as the attempted or actual imposition of policies, laws,
mores, economies, cultures, or systems and institutions put in place by settler governments to
support and continue the occupation of Indigenous territories, the subjugation of Indigenous
individuals, communities and Nations, and the resulting internalized and externalized ways of
thinking and knowing that support this occupation and subjugation. These impositions are race-
and gender-based.
Colonialism is not to be confused with colonization. “Colonialism” is the ideology advocating
colonization. “Colonization” generally refers to the process by which Europeans invaded and
occupied Indigenous national territories.
While some people refer to the present as “post-colonial,” many Indigenous Peoples reject this
idea that colonialism is “over, finished business.” As Maori researcher Linda Tuhiwai-Smith
says, “This is best articulated by Aborigine activist Bobbi Sykes, who asked at an academic
conference on post-colonialism, ‘What? Post-colonialism? Have they left?’”70
There are many kinds of violence, particularly within the context of colonization. Colonization
is based on the practice of cultural violence, in a broader sense than is discussed above. These
practices, which can be explained by peace and conflict scholar Johan Galtung, target “those
aspects of culture …that can be used to justify or legitimize direct or structural violence.”71 This
includes Canada’s Western, white-dominant, mainstream culture, where racist attitudes and
forced assimilation policies are both examples of cultural violence, since it stems from racist
beliefs deeply embedded in Canadian culture.72
Systemic patterns of thinking such as racism, sexism, and colonialism also result in institutional
violence. Institutional violence is perpetrated by institutions such as the military, the church, the
educational system, the health system, police and emergency responders, and the justice system.
Because these institutions are generally well regarded within society, and operate on specific
rules, institutional violence can easily become the “status quo.”73 This makes them more difficult
to challenge or change.
As a result of all these forms of violence, many examples of structural or systemic violence
become embedded in Canadian society over time. As political scientist and scholar Rauna
Kuokkanen writes: “All these systems and structures – colonialism, capitalism and patriarchy –
are predicated on violence, whether direct and interpersonal or structural, economic or
epistemic.”74
Structural violence can be understood as the gap between a person’s or community’s potential
well-being and their actual well-being, when that difference is avoidable. These gaps are due to
injustices, inequalities, and other forms of violence embedded in everyday life that privilege
some people to the detriment of others. For example, extreme levels of poverty are not, in them-
selves, examples of structural violence. But when Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people are disproportionately affected from extreme poverty, and when state governments and
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INTRODUCTION
other institutions could address the inequalities and injustices that lead to this disproportionate
level of poverty, but don’t, then it becomes structural violence.75 As explained by Robyn Bour-
geois, in speaking about her own approach to understanding violence,
You have to recognize that all of the systems, whether it’s class exploitation, whether it
is disability and ableist privilege, whether it’s racism or colonialism – they all work in
and through one another. So, they work in mutually sustaining ways. So, this framework
really requires that we pay attention to how all of those things work together.76
Because these structures still exist today, “decolonization” (or “decolonizing,” since this
process is still ongoing) is also a key concept. “Decolonizing” is a social and political process
aimed at resisting and undoing the multi-faceted impacts of colonization and re-establishing
strong contemporary Indigenous Peoples, Nations, and institutions based on traditional values,
philosophies, and knowledge systems.
A decolonizing mindset requires people to consciously and critically question the legitimacy of
the colonizer and reflect on the ways we have been influenced by colonialism. According to ex-
pert in Indigenous research methodologies Margaret Kovach, the purpose of decolonization is to
create space in everyday life, research, academia, and society for an Indigenous perspective
without its being neglected, shunted aside, mocked, or dismissed.77
The ideas of “resistance and resurgence” are important to a decolonizing approach. “Resistance”
refers to the diverse strategies Indigenous Peoples and Nations use to resist colonialism. To
Indigenous Peoples, resistance is not just mass mobilization, armed conflict, and protest. It
encompasses a broad range of strategies and activities that promote decolonization, Indigenous
ways of life, values, knowledge, and broader political goals. Indigenous resistance includes
“everyday acts of resistance” that embody individuals and communities living by their traditional
teachings, despite overwhelming pressure from the dominant society not to do so. As a related
concept, “resurgence” is the increase or revival of an activity or of ideas. For Indigenous Peoples,
this involves increasing or reviving traditional land-based and water-based cultural practices that
existed long before colonization and will continue to exist long after, as well as the revitalization
of languages and cultural practices that have been under attack.
“She’s not just a picture on a wall”: Privileging the

Stories of Lives Lived
These concepts inform our findings, as well as undergird the testimonies of those who shared
their truths. These larger concepts, however, don’t obscure the most important elements of the
National Inquiry’s research: the loved ones who are no longer among their families, communi-
ties, and Nations. As Bernice C. said about her daughter Jennifer, “She’s not just a picture on a
wall somewhere or a newspaper clipping. She’s not just a statistic with the 1,000 or more
missing. She was our daughter.”78
78
INTRODUCTION
The truth is, despite the National Inquiry’s best efforts to gather all of these truths, we conclude
that no one knows an exact number of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls in
Canada. Thousands of women’s deaths or disappearances have likely gone unrecorded over the
decades, and many families likely did not feel ready or safe to share with the National Inquiry
before our timelines required us to close registration. One of the most telling pieces of informa-
tion, however, is the amount of people who shared about either their own experiences or their
loved ones’ publicly for the first time. Without a doubt, there are many more.
As witnesses made clear, we can’t forget the people behind those numbers. These women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people are daughters, friends, aunties, mothers and grandmothers. They are
present or future teachers, lawyers, nurses, land and water protectors, healers, artists, business-
women, foster parents, social workers, community leaders, and more. Most important, however,
is the fact that these women had their own hopes and dreams that were unfairly cut short.
Gwenda Y., who testified about her daughter Amber R., remembers her as a bright and loving
person who loved sports and children, and was very involved with helping to raise her niece and
nephew. Amber was 19 when she went missing and talked about becoming either a teacher or a
police officer.
When Gwenda remembers her daughter’s milestones, some of her strongest memories are of
Amber dancing. Amber loved Pow-Wows and ceremonies, and they travelled all over Canada
and the United States for her dancing. Her outfits were custom-made by her father. When she
was younger, the women Elders in their community even asked Amber to be the pipe girl, repre-
senting White Buffalo Calf Woman holding the pipe for four days, in the Sundance ceremony,
which was a great honour.
Gwenda remembered:
I’d … just to sit there and watch Amber dance. It was just so amazing to see her glide as
she lifted up her shawl. It was like she was flying like an eagle, soaring like an eagle
when she danced, and her footwork, as she danced, every step was so light. She was on
her toes, and every step was so light, and ... that’s what she reminded me of when I
watched her, watched her dance as an eagle soaring as she danced every step.79
Sarah N., who testified about her older sister Alacie, explained that “Alacie was wonderful to
have as an older sister. She was full of love, and she had touched my inner emotions so strongly.
She ensured that I wore clothing, clean clothing, and she always fixed my hair to be presentable,
as mothers do.”80 Alacie and Sarah grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, living a more traditional
Inuit way of life with parents who loved and took care of each other. They were taught Inuit
values and were raised to
respect others as we respect ourselves and to take care of others. If we see someone in
pain, we will help you. We will not just abandon you. We will hear you. This is what we
were taught. If a person is hungry, even if you have very little to share, you share
anyway.... We like big families with lots of food to share together. It’s an Inuit culture.
We still share today like that.81
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INTRODUCTION
Alacie eventually moved to Montreal with her cousin Lizzie. After her sister’s death, Sarah was
devastated to find out that the Montreal police had never even mounted a search for her and
didn’t investigate the death. Alacie’s tragic death hasn’t taken away the family’s memories of a
sister and a cousin held so close: as Alacie’s cousin Lizzie testified, “She was very kind, and she
was very loving…. She was always helping me. She fed me, because ... I was, like, homeless.
Not homeless, but I was not making any money.… But, my cousin was there helping me.”82
These stories of life lived in full illustrate the important need for Canada to confront what
Nicole B, called “its dirty-little-secret-self…. Stop saying that this is an Indigenous problem. This
is a Canadian problem…. Let’s start looking inside ourselves and say, ‘I’m responsible for this as
well. I am accountable for this and I, as a Canadian citizen, am going to stand up and do something
for this.’”83
Sharing Our Findings from the Truth-Gathering Process

Standing up means sharing these stories and seeing the women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
who are often obscured within the numbers. In sharing our findings from the Truth-Gathering
Process, this report focuses heavily on the testimony gathered from families, friends, and loved
ones of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as well as
survivors of violence, during the hearings, in statements, and through artistic expression. This
report centres the testimony of these witnesses to share with the broader public how their lives,
families, and communities have been directly impacted by violence and what they believe needs
to be done to create change. In each chapter, we present an overview of testimony in order to
illustrate key issues, concerns, and experiences witnesses spoke about in relation to this topic.
In particular, in keeping with the National Inquiry’s mandate, the findings offered here present a
summary of the root causes of violence as family members described them in relation to four key
themes: culture, health, security, and justice.
These are presented as experiences in common, as well as experiences that are distinctive. In pre-
senting these experiences, we draw from truths shared from every region across Canada, and
from various community perspectives. In doing so, we provide examples that reflect some of the
families’ and survivors’ common concerns and provide real-life examples of how a particular
issue has impacted an individual, family, or community. For example, in discussing the housing
experiences of Indigenous women living in urban cities, we use quotes from a selection of the
many witnesses who spoke on this subject to provide some specific examples that reflect broadly
the concerns echoed by other witnesses. At the same time, however, because of the depth and
breadth of the information collected during the National Inquiry, we encourage members of the
public, Indigenous organizations, and future researchers to dive into these further opportunities
for research and learning to examine the topics discussed in this report in much greater detail.
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INTRODUCTION
Throughout this report, we reference gender diverse and non-binary people as “2SLGBTQQIA,”
in order to emphasize our intent to be inclusive of a full spectrum of experiences. While we
acknowledge and reflect upon the important differences among non-binary gender identities, for
instance in our Deeper Dive sections, as well as in Chapter 11, we maintain that using a more
narrow conception of gender diversity limits our ability to convey the extent to which Indigenous
understandings about gender and gender identity have been under assault by governments, institu-
tions, service providers, and through discriminatory treatment.
We also made the decision to refer to those who shared their truths as family members and
survivors in this report using first names and last initials only. This is because violence against
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is an ongoing issue, and even though every-
one quoted in this report agreed to share publicly, we did not want to draw unnecessary attention
to individuals and, perhaps, expose them to further risk. However, we do use witnesses’ full names
when they shared either in a panel or in an Institutional or Expert and Knowledge Keeper Hearing,
since they are not sharing in a personal capacity. In the occasional instances where a witness
testified in multiple formats, we use their initials or full names, depending on the format in which
they shared their truth.
In addition to an overview of the testimony gathered during the statements, artistic expressions,
and Community Hearings, this report also presents testimony from the Institutional and Expert
and Knowledge Keeper Hearings (Parts 2 and 3) of the Truth-Gathering Process, as well as other
relevant academic research. This allowed us to further contextualize and deepen the understand-
ing of the truths shared by families, friends, and loved ones. This process also allowed the
National Inquiry to identify commonalities, differences, gaps, or previous findings and research
related to some of the issues families raised as being important to them. Many of the truths fami-
lies shared offered a deeper, more personal look at issues that have been widely recognized and
acknowledged in previous research and by Elders and Knowledge Keepers, front-line workers,
and institutional representatives, while other truths point to knowledge gaps that still need to be
filled in the future.
We have looked at and included testimony from all regions across Canada in this national report,
including the experiences of those in Quebec. In addition, we have produced a provincial study
of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec, which con-
stitutes Volume 2 of our Final Report. This is an example of the kind of regionally-specific work
that needs to be done going forward to better understand the challenges and solutions to ending
violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in different regions of
the country.
81
INTRODUCTION
Overview of the Final Report

Reclaiming Power and Place: The Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls is split into two volumes, 1a and 1b, for length, but is
made up of three main sections, in addition to the final findings of fact and Calls for Justice. This
report also includes focused examinations that look at specific issues in more detail. Volume 1a
includes Sections 1 and 2, while Volume 1b includes Section 3, our final Calls for Justice, the
annex summarizing the work of the Forensic Document Review Project and an overall
bibliography. The report specific to Quebec is a separate volume (Volume 2).
Section 1 – Establishing a New Framework
Section 1 of the report outlines a context that will be helpful for readers in approaching the
information presented in the later sections of the report.
In Chapter 1, “Centring Relationships to End Violence,” we introduce key teachings repeated
throughout the Truth-Gathering Process about the importance of relationships. As those who
shared their truths with the National Inquiry emphasized, understanding what happens in
relationships is the starting point to both understanding and ending violence against Indigenous
In Chapter 2, “Indigenous Recognitions of Power and Place,” we show how Indigenous Peoples
have always had their own concepts of rights, roles, and responsibilities within their communi-
ties or Nations. These rights are relational and reciprocal, and are based on Indigenous knowl-
edge systems and world views.
In Chapter 3, “Emphasizing Accountability through Human Rights Tools,” we examine human
rights instruments Canada has pledged to respect, maintaining that human rights instruments can
be a way to hold governments to account, particularly in the relationship between the Canadian
state and Indigenous Peoples.
Chapter 4, “Colonization as Gendered Oppression,” argues that the process and history of
colonization have jeopardized Indigenous women’s and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s rights to
culture, health, security, and justice. Colonization affected women and gender-diverse people
both in ways similar to the way it affected men as well as in distinct ways. We examine gendered
systems of violence at the root of the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people today.
This analysis brings us to the conclusion that violence against Indigenous women and girls is a
crisis centuries in the making. The process of colonization has, in fact, created the conditions for
the ongoing crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
that we are confronting today.
82
INTRODUCTION
Section 2 – Encountering Oppression

In Section 2, we focus heavily on the testimony gathered from families, friends, and loved ones
of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as well as
survivors of violence, to better understand their encounters with individual, institutional, and
systemic forms of oppression. This section is organized according to four main areas of rights
violations: culture, health, security, and justice.
In Chapter 5, “Confronting Oppression – Right to Culture,” we look at the importance of culture
in relation to violence in the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Colo-
nization has altered Indigenous Peoples’ relationships to their culture and identity through con-
certed efforts designed to sever these cultural and kin connections. Many of the stories we heard
from family members and survivors are rooted in these initial and ongoing attacks on culture.
In Chapter 6, “Confronting Oppression – Right to Health,” and with a holistic understanding of
health in mind, we consider the consequences of surviving violence or the loss of a loved one on
the health of survivors, family networks, and wider Indigenous communities. Their truths reveal
specific ways that the health care system responds to Indigenous Peoples, and how the lack of
adequate responses can contribute to further harm.
Chapter 7, “Confronting Oppression – Right to Security” engages the concept of human security
as distinct from a more limited understanding of the security state. In this chapter, we look at
how the physical, social, and economic security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people is undermined through issues such as poverty, housing, education, and transportation, and
how these factors contribute to violence. We also focus on the challenges that Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people face in accessing support to address their security
related needs.
In Chapter 8, “Confronting Oppression – Right to Justice,” we discuss the right to justice as it
relates to the experiences of the families of missing and murdered loved ones. We also look at
what survivors of violence told us about their experiences with police, the court system, and the
correctional system. These encounters highlight crucial disconnections between Indigenous
Peoples and justice systems, in ways that compromise their basic right to justice.
Throughout Section 2, we also take a series of “deeper dives” into topics that present distinct
issues or perspectives and offer opportunities to demonstrate how culture, health, security, and
justice can create particular challenges for specific groups, institutions, geographies, or other
circumstances, within a distinctions-based approach.
Section 3 – Healing Families, Communities, and Nations
In Section 3, we return full circle to many of the principles and teachings that provided the
foundation for Section 1, with a focus on different models of healing and Indigenous-led best
practices.
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INTRODUCTION
Chapter 9, “Wellness and Healing,” takes a closer look at the National Inquiry’s own health and
wellness approach for family members and survivors, and what we have learned from families
and survivors who participated in the National Inquiry who discussed their own healing journeys.
In Chapter 10, “Commemoration and Calling Forth,” we turn to the National Inquiry’s efforts to
raise awareness and engage in public education through our Legacy Archive, art outreach, and
youth engagement guide. Altogether, we assert, these actions, engagements, and interactions will
help reclaim the role of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as powerful cultural carriers
and sacred knowledge holders who are capable of shaping a safer future for the next generation
of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
In Chapter 11, “On the Front Lines: Valuing the Insight of Front-line Workers,” we provide a
summary of four Guided Dialogue sessions, held in the fall of 2018. These dialogues brought
together people of diverse perspectives to discuss best practices and solutions for change. These
were not aimed at gathering individual testimony, but instead aimed to bring together front-line
service providers, organizers, people with lived experience, Elders, academics, and outreach
support to fill in gaps and discuss best practices related to their own backgrounds within specific
Inuit, Métis, 2SLGBTQQIA, and Quebec contexts. Over the course of three days, participants
identified barriers and discussed what best practices and solutions look like through the lenses of
culture, health, security, and justice.
Calls for Justice
We end with our Calls for Justice. These Calls are anchored in human and Indigenous rights in-
struments, Indigenous laws, and principles shared through the testimonies of family members,
survivors, Knowledge Keepers, and Expert Witnesses, along with the National Inquiry’s advisory
groups, both internal and external. These Calls for Justice, as their name implies, demand action
that reflects, respects, and actively works to create relationships where Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people are recognized as rights bearers and have those rights upheld – work-
ing to address where justice, seen in the larger context of dispossession and marginalization,
has failed.
These Calls for Justice are based on the findings of fact found at the end of each chapter and in
the Deeper Dives, where applicable, as well as the overarching findings we lay out at the begin-
ning of Section 4. In addition, they are undergirded by important Principles for Justice – lenses
through which all Calls for Justice must be interpreted, applied and implemented, for change to
materialize.
Restoring safety for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is an urgent responsi-
bility for us all. These Calls are not simply moral principles; they are legal imperatives.
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INTRODUCTION
Summary of the Forensic Document Review Project

In this annex, we summarize the important work of the Forensic Document Review Project,
which examined 174 police files consisting of 136,834 documents and 593,921 pages. While the
Project's important work has been limited by the time frame of the National Inquiry’s mandate,
our examination demonstrates the important reasons that this kind of work and re-examination
must continue, to find justice for those families and survivors still desperately searching for
answers.
Conclusion: An Invitation
One of the things that makes this National Inquiry unique is that we are not investigating a past
wrong, but one that is still ongoing and that is getting worse. Acts of violence stemming from the
structures of colonization and coupled with racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia are not
few and far between, but pervasive, immediate, and urgent.
However, this violence is also preventable – if Canadians are willing to change. The National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls gave Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people a national platform to speak their truths, but the real work is only
getting started. Ending violence against Indigenous women and girls will require fundamental
realignment and transformation of systems and society as they currently exist. The investment
into solving this crisis must be equal to or better than the over five hundred years of deficit that
have preceded it.
The rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are violated or upheld every
day, in small ways and large. The National Inquiry believes that the restoration of these rights is
a pressing priority, as a way of transforming harmful encounters Indigenous Peoples have with
systems that impact their lives. In particular, governments have a responsibility to protect and
promote rights grounded in concepts of culture and identity, of health, of safety, and of justice,
which are key to ensuring overall progress in addressing the crisis of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. They are also key to ending violence and
finding holistic solutions to help build the foundation that will restore Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people to their power and place.
Documenting these encounters is one way we insist on accountability and a realistic assessment
of the ongoing reality of violence in the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. This is critical to understanding how our society can be transformed from its very roots.
85
INTRODUCTION
There is a role in this transformation for government, for industry, for communities, for allies,
and for individuals – we all have a part to play. By focusing on specific moments of encounter –
moments that form relationships – we offer one path through all of these stories. We have chosen
this path because we believe it achieves the mission of the National Inquiry to document in
precise and exacting ways the root causes of violence and the ongoing human rights violations
against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. We also hope, however, that the
path this report leads to for you, the reader, is one that shows you that change is possible
right now.
As you follow this journey through the testimony, you might find you have other questions or
that there are other routes you are interested in exploring in more detail yourself. You might find
that when you hear about a particular encounter, you want to know more about that family’s
entire story, or about how certain issues play out in the health care system, the justice system, or
other institutions. We encourage you to follow that path and incorporate what you learn into
relationship within your own lives, communities, and societies. Your relationship with the stories
included in this report and available online is an encounter – a transformational moment of
relationship – of the utmost importance in itself.
86
INTRODUCTION
Notes
1 Lemkin, Axis Rule in Occupied Europe, 79; 82-89; 89. 26 TAKEN, “About the series.”
2 Ibid., 79. 27 TAKEN, “Infographic.”
3 Ibid. 28 Boyce, “Victimization of Aboriginal People in Canada,
2014.”
4 Feierstein, “Defining the Concept of Genocide,” 15.
29 Bruser et al., “Nearly half of murdered Indigenous
5 Ibid.
women.”
6 United Nations, Convention on the Prevention and
30 Blaze and McClearn, “Prime target.”
Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, Article II.
31 Anaya, “Statement upon Conclusion of the Visit to
7 Schabas, Genocide in International Law, 46.
Canada.”
8 Bjørnland, Markuson, and Mennecke, “What Is Geno-
32 Boyce, “Victimization of Aboriginal People in Canada,
cide?” as cited in Feierstein, “Defining the Concept of
2014.”
Genocide,” 12.
33 Conroy and Cotter, “Self-reported Sexual Assault in
9 Semelin, “Around the ‘G’ Word,” 27.
Canada, 2014.”
34 Canada, Public Safety Canada, National Action Plan to
11 Ibid. Combat Human Trafficking.
12 Krotz, “A Canadian genocide?” 35 National Aboriginal Consultation Project, Sacred Lives.
13 Woolford and Benvenuto, “Canada and Colonial 36 Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Boyfriend or
Genocide,” 375. Not.”
14 Ibid. 37 Bucik, “Canada: Discrimination and Violence,” 4.
15 Krotz, “A Canadian genocide?” 38 Pyne et al., “Barriers to Well-Being.”
16 Palmater, “Sexualized Genocide.” 39 Boyce, “Victimization of Aboriginal People in Canada,
2014.”
17 Palmater, “The Ongoing Legacies.”
40 Kohkom (Piapot First Nation), Part 1, Statement
18 Fontaine and Farber, “What Canada committed against
Volume 122, Saskatoon, SK, p. 30.
First Nations.”
41 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public
19 Woolford and Benvenuto, “Canada and Colonial
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, p. 51.
Genocide,” 380.
42 Tamara S., Part 1, Public Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, pp.
20 Danny P. (Membertou First Nation), Part 1, Statement
51-52.
Volume 69, Membertou, NS, pp. 2, 4.
43 Danielle E. (Kawacatoose First Nation), Part 1, Public
21 Native Women’s Association of Canada, “What Their
Stories Tell Us.”
44 Canada, Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern
22 Pearce, “An Awkward Silence.”
Affairs Canada,”Terms of Reference for the National
23 Royal Canadian Mounted Police, “Missing and Inquiry.” See also, National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Aboriginal Women.” Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, Legal Path,
24 Ibid. Rules of Respectful Practice, available at www.mmiwg-
ffada.ca/files/legal-path-rules-of
25 Mahony, Jacob, and Hobson, “Women and the Criminal -respectful-practice.pdf.
Justice System.”
87
P R E FA C E
We acknowledge the survivors of violence who shared their experiences

with us. You have illustrated pure strength, courage and resiliency in
sharing your truth as many of you are still experiencing trauma and
systemic violence. We are extremely touched you entrusted us with your
experiences.
We cherish the submissions of artistic expressions, including, songs, poems
and art, that have been shared with us. Thank you to the artists, family
members, survivors and those across the nation who have been impacted
or inspired to take action through their submission. Your art will continue
to serve as powerful commemoration and legacy tools to share truth and
knowledge and serve as a means to heal and inspire action in others.
We offer our sincerest gratitude to the Elders and Grandmothers Circle
who worked alongside us, offering their support, wisdom, encouragement,
advice, protection and love to us and all who worked with the National
Inquiry. Our inspiration came from our Grandmothers who motivated us to
always work to the highest standards. One of the ways we will be able to
express our gratitude is to always live by the lessons and wisdom they
shared.
We want to acknowledge and thank the families and survivors who guided
and assisted us as members of the National Family Advisory Circle. For
many years, you fought to be heard and acknowledged in seeking justice
for your loved ones and your fellow Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. You fought for a national investigation into the
injustices and violence experienced by Métis, Inuit and First Nations
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. We were not provided with the
P R E FA C E
time, tools and powers to do all that we had hoped we could do, but you
walked with us every step of the way, and we are beyond humbled to have
walked alongside you, and to have received your truth and your trust.
We have been honoured with the support of Elders and Knowledge Keepers
across the nation who offered their guidance, knowledge, wisdom, prayers,
traditions, and ceremonies to the National Inquiry at our hearings, state-
ment-gathering events and other community events. In sitting with us, tend-
ing to the qulliq and sacred fires, offering ceremonies, songs, prayers, and
words of wisdom, you have helped us navigate through the very challeng-
ing task of engaging in a legal inquiry process, while incorporating
distinctive First Nations, Inuit, and Métis cultures, languages, spirituality,
and creating opportunities for healing. You remind us that every step in our
process had to be with heartfelt intention and purpose and grounded in
relationships and reciprocity.
We want to acknowledge the communities across the country that
welcomed us into their territories and homes. You helped us create safe
spaces filled with culture, language, spirit and compassion at each hearing.
In these safe spaces, difficult truths were brought to light, and for some,
healing began.
We offer gratitude to the members of our Métis, Inuit, 2SLGBTQQIA and
Quebec Advisory Committees, who offered their time to us in exploring
issues and positive solutions. Your expertise, advice and guidance has
contributed to the development of this report and recommendations for
the elimination of violence against Inuit, Métis and First Nations women,
munities and Nations, and actively sought to disempower women through the application of
state-sanctioned violence on a number of different levels. In addition, laying down these impor-
tant roots helps to convey how the structures and processes of colonization, which are often rele-
gated to the past, are very much factors today.
This wooden star blanket is a collaborative community art

piece. It is a mosaic made up of 128 individual tiles, each
one hand-painted by survivors of violence and families of
missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people during a statement-gathering event
in British Columbia. It is a symbol of the importance of
centring the voices of survivors and of families who
shared their truths with the National Inquiry.
This framework also provides insight into how

Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people experience discrimination and violence in
a way that is intersectional. In other words, this means that the structure of oppression, for those
who are targets of violence, includes many factors that influence the outcome of their lives and
those of their families.
We look to the past, and to these intersectional systems of oppression as they were developed,
as a way to look toward how to transform the present and the future, engaging with tools that
promote basic human rights in key areas such as culture, health, security, and justice, within
Indigenous understandings. These understandings are not uniform, and neither are they static.
Instead, they develop in relationship to those rights-bearers – Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people – to whom this report is devoted. The themes we address through a rights
lens are those most represented in the various systems and institutions people reported dealing with,
as well as those systems, institutions, and people perceived to have most contributed to harm.
Commissioner Audette hugs a participant

during hearings in Regina, Saskatchewan.
90
P R E FA C E
now because of years and years of decisions and actions that built Canada, all while robbing
Indigenous Peoples, and especially women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA peoples, of their humanity,
dignity and ultimately their lives. It is genocide.
We must be active participants in decolonizing Canada. We must challenge all institutions,
governments and agencies to consciously and critically challenge the ideologies that govern
them. We must critically examine our systems of laws and governance to identify how they
exclude and oppress Indigenous Peoples. We must challenge and call on all leaders to protect and
uphold the humanity and dignity of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA peoples. And
when they fail to do so, we must hold them accountable.
Finally, ending the genocide and rebuilding Canada into a decolonized nation requires true and
equal partnership with Indigenous Peoples. I hope that the Final Report of the National Inquiry
into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls can be a tool to do just that.
Martha Kyak designed and sewed this amauti. Sewing this

amauti was a healing process for her. Martha has dedicated
this amauti in memory of her sister Lily.
10
CHAPTER 1
Centring Relationships
to End Violence
Introduction: Building a Solid Foundation
Throughout the National Inquiry, we heard stories of loss and grief. We listened to what happens
when an Indigenous woman, girl, or 2SLGBTQQIA person goes missing or is murdered, and
heard about the impact of that loss on those who surrounded them. These people mattered. They
were mothers, daughters, sisters, aunties, grandmothers, nieces, cousins, and families of the heart
– and their absence has left scars that no amount of time can ever heal.
We honour the brave families and loved ones and those who survived to tell their stories, just as
we honour those who no longer walk among us, by sharing the truths they have gifted to the
National Inquiry in the following pages. These truths offer powerful teachings from those who
know best the steps that must be taken to end violence in the lives of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people: the Indigenous families, survivors, Knowledge Keepers, Elders,
grandmothers, and activists who have learned these teachings through experience.
In her presentation to the National Inquiry, Knowledge Keeper Mavis Windsor, a member of
the Heiltsuk First Nation of Bella Bella, British Columbia, and the social development director
of her community, made clear a message delivered many times over the course of the Truth-
Gathering Process: “We are the legacy. Despite the trauma our communities continue to live
through, we are capable of addressing the violence against women in our communities. The
solution is within us – within our communities.”3
Over the course of our work, the National Inquiry learned much about the distinct ways
violence shapes the lives of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA
people across the country, and the creative and courageous strategies these same people are using
93
to fight for change. While their stories demonstrate the importance of understanding the ways
that geography, culture, tradition, and many other factors must be accounted for in devising
meaningful recommendations and community-led change, the stories of those who shared their
truths also gave voice to one shared teaching over and over again: in order to understand the
causes of violence and to make the changes necessary to ending violence, we must recognize the
power and responsibility of relationships.
In the words of Expert Witness Sandra Montour, a Mohawk woman and executive director
of Ganohkwasra Family Assault Support Services, where she has worked for over 30 years in
providing support to Indigenous women and their families experiencing violence:
[We] hav[e] to build relationships, and we have to because our livelihood depends on it.
Our livelihood depends on it and the lives of our women in our community depend on it,
so we have to be incredible fighters, we have to be incredibly diplomatic, we have to be
able to problem solve and develop relationships.4
“WE ARE THE LEGACY. DESPITE THE TRAUMA OUR COMMUNITIES CONTINUE TO LIVE
THROUGH, WE ARE CAPABLE OF ADDRESSING THE VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN IN OUR
COMMUNITIES. THE SOLUTION IS WITHIN US – WITHIN OUR COMMUNITIES.”
Mavis Windsor
In the following pages, we follow these two important teachings. We centre the voices of First
Nations, Métis, and Inuit families, survivors, and others whose truths contain wisdom and guid-
ance on ending violence that has been ignored or actively silenced for far too long; and, as we
listen to this wisdom and guidance, we focus specifically on those teachings about how, through
relationships, we can come to understand the underlying causes of violence and identify and
implement the steps that must be taken to end violence.
We all have an opportunity to transform relationships that continue to harm Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, but this work is not easy, and it is especially difficult for those
like Mavis, Sandra, and the many other strong Indigenous people we will hear from in the fol-
lowing pages who work to create change within relationships that continually deny their agency
and rights.
As Marilyn W., a First Nations woman who shared her story about losing her sister to violence,
observed:
Each and every one of us as individual people, every morning we wake up, we have a
choice that we could bring light into this world or we can feed that – that darkness that
we have to live with every day. And I’m trying, and it’s real hard not to sit here and be
angry. It’s really hard not to have hate in my heart because my culture is about equality
and love. This is about the genocide of our people. This just isn’t about Indigenous
women. This is a spiritual battle.5
94
To emphasize the seriousness of this battle, and the importance of the solutions and recommen-
dations offered by the families, we look to the protections afforded to Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people as bearers of inherent Indigenous and human rights. Framing the
teachings about relationships offered to the National Inquiry in terms of Indigenous and human
rights in the recommendations at the end of this report reminds us that change can no longer rest
on the political or moral good will of governments. Implementing the changes demanded through-
out this report is the legal responsibility of Canadian governments, their institutions, and their
representatives in ensuring that the rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
are no longer abused and ignored. These changes also require the full engagement of Indigenous
communities and service providers, working in partnership to achieve better outcomes.
Why Start with Relationships?

Guiding our approach to analyzing the many truths collected by the National Inquiry is a teach-
ing that was shared over and over again during the Truth-Gathering Process: relationships are
key to both understanding the causes of violence and to making changes to end violence in the
lives of Indigenous girls, women, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Shawn Wilson, an Opaskwayak
Cree researcher from northern Manitoba, explains that relationships are central to Indigenous
ways of knowing. In this world view, we are each our own person, but we are also defined by our
relationships to others. We are one person’s mother, another person’s daughter, and a third per-
son’s family of the heart. We are connected to our ancestors, to the land where we come from,
and to future generations. In short, Wilson argues, we are not just one person; we are the sum of
all the relationships that shape our lives.6
The importance of relationships to the families and survivors who shared their truths with the
National Inquiry is evident in the way many chose to begin their story about a missing or
murdered loved one by naming the many relationships they shared with others, as in the case of
Percy P., who began his story about his 37-year-old daughter, Misty P., who has been missing
since 2015, with the following words:
[Misty] was raised around the drum, songs, ceremony, traditional living off the land.…
And so, Misty walked that road. She was a pipe holder, Sundance pipe holder. She
danced Pow-Wow. She was a good daughter, sister. She was a decent human being.…
Wherever she was at, she found people…. She had a lot of promise. She brought us to
the Canadian Aboriginal Music Awards, and we won the top hand drum for the year, and
it was quite an honour for us. And, she was the one that was orchestrating all of that.
Nothing like that has happened since she’s been gone. Our organizer is gone;
taken away.7
In an Inuit context, as well, Inuit telling their truths spoke of their loved ones with loving
memories, usually beginning with “My sister, beautiful sister…” or “My daughter, my beautiful
95
daughter…” and loving memories of their personalities and of their lives. The death of loved
ones and the experience of violence and tragedy brought out a great sense of loss, for which the
consequences meant ongoing struggles for personal health and well-being. The experiences that
missing and murdered Inuit women and their families had, and the encounters they had in their
attempts to regain control of their lives, to become healthy and well, to gain justice and safety,
determined the outcome of their lives.
Elder Rebecca Veevee lights the qulliq at a hearing in

Quebec City, Quebec.
Like Percy P. and the many others who shared

their truths with the National Inquiry, family
members insisted that to begin to understand
and honour those whose lives were cut short
because of violence requires a careful account-
ing of all the relationships that shaped a per-
son’s life and that they, in turn, played a part in
shaping. Talking about the love, care, wisdom,
and happiness Misty brought to her relation-
ships with her family and friends helps others
see what was lost when she went missing; it also, however, puts in stark contrast those other rela-
tionships where, instead of being cherished and loved, Misty and others like her were controlled,
ignored, and abused by those who chose to act violently toward her or those who responded to
her calls for help with indifference and judgment rooted in racist and sexist beliefs about her
worth as an Indigenous woman.
The truths that family members and survivors shared also pointed to the relationships that shaped
the lives of their missing and murdered loved ones as opportunities for learning, understanding,
and transformation. They emphasized the importance of strengthening bonds and developing
strong ties with one another to be better able to protect each other. In his writing about Indige-
nous–settler relations, Cree researcher Willie Ermine talks about relationships as “spaces of
engagement” to emphasize the opportunities that exist within relationships to work out the simi-
larities and differences between the various ways of knowing that may be held by those involved.
96
When we consider relationships as spaces of engagement, Ermine explains, we pay attention to
the words, actions, and behaviours that exist on the surface. These words, actions, and behaviours,
however, also tell us something about the attitudes, beliefs, and contexts that run below the sur-
face and that function as a “deeper level force” in shaping the ways of knowing and being that
may be present in relationships. To make lasting change to relationships so that they reflect a par-
ticular set of values – for instance, those that respect the rights of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people – requires doing the more difficult work of confronting and changing the
“deeper level force” so that the underlying context also reflects these values.8
In their testimonies, family members and survivors talked about the need to change the underly-
ing beliefs and contexts that are the systemic or root causes of violence and that allow that
violence to happen.
Another reason we centre relationships in the following pages is that they reveal to us how these
underlying or systemic beliefs translate into the day-to-day realities of the lives of Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in troubling ways. As many of the relationships de-
scribed by families and survivors illustrate, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
are denied the power to participate as equals in defining the terms upon which the relationships
that shape their lives are built.
In her testimony, Cheryl M. talked about how, after months of activism and effort to secure a
review of the investigation by the Office of Police Complaints Commissioner into the death of
Victoria P., it was only when she was accompanied by a well-respected and connected university
professor that government officials responded to her concerns, despite her own position as then-
president of the Nova Scotia Native Women’s Association.9
In her testimony, Jamie L. H.’s description of the violent, racist, and transphobic treatment
she was confronted with from the police demonstrates how, for Indigenous women and
2SLGBTQQIA people, inequality in relationships is often reasserted and expressed not only by
dismissive attitudes but also by threats of violence and harm.
It was right near Halloween…. And they [the police] began throwing off firecrackers,
and I was sort of jumping around; I didn’t know what was going around. I imagine they
were trying to frighten me, and they were making disparaging jokes about me; they did
a strip search, including, you know, me taking off my brassiere. And of course, I had
falsies on, and they were making horrible jokes about that, and tossing them around. And
it was just a very humiliating experience.10
To challenge the terms of this encounter would be to put oneself at considerable additional risk.
These examples offered by strong and resilient women who have gone on to be powerful advo-
cates for the rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people demonstrate how
their ability to shape relationships and to engage in relationships on their own terms is limited
97
by an undercurrent of colonial, patriarchal, racist, and heteronormative beliefs and institutional
practices that deems them as unworthy partners in that relationship. For Indigenous women and
2SLGBTQQIA people, inequality in these contexts does not simply mean being ignored or being
prevented from participating in a debate; it often means becoming targets for violence within
relationships that are forced upon them.
Encounters That Make a Difference

In describing those relationships that were important to understanding the violence experienced
in their own life or the life of their missing or murdered loved one, families and survivors drew
attention to specific moments in those relationships that they felt were especially important for
understanding the circumstances, causes, impacts, or details of their loved one’s disappearance
or death or of the violence they themselves had experienced – what we have characterized as
“encounters.”
We use the concept of “encounter” to reference a broad range of moments where relationships
are formed. These encounters represent a time and space through which the vision, values, and
principles that shape families, communities, and individual lives are created. We see these as
transformational moments, too; in other words, these encounters can lead the way to harm or to
healing, depending on the context. To engage in encounters like these represents an important
responsibility and an opportunity to shape the terms of a relationship in a good way.
In sharing her experience as a survivor of violence, Anni P. pointed to a “pivotal moment” when
her partner’s actions stopped Anni from harming herself, and in doing so also fundamentally
shifted Anni’s belief about the possibility of relationships being loving rather than violent.
There was a pivotal moment when I wanted to do myself in. She [Anni’s partner, Kim]
stayed with me, she would not let me leave the house, because if I got out of the house, I
would – that was it. Because she’s bigger and stronger than me, thank God, she didn’t let
me out. When I woke up in the morning, Kim was laying in front of the door because she
didn’t want to let me out of the bedroom. She was protecting me like a sentinel, waiting,
like you’re not getting out of here. And, in that moment, it was pivotal for me. Someone
loved me with everything they had.11
For Darlene G. – a First Nations woman and survivor of childhood abuse and sexual violence
who shared her truth at the Community Hearing in Membertou, Nova Scotia – a conversation
with her uncle in which she learned about her mother’s history of abuse within the residential
school system is the point at which her “life really alters,” because it is in this conversation with
her uncle that she is given a new way to understand both her own and her mother’s struggles
with addiction – an understanding that helps her down a path of healing. She explained:
98
My life really alters at [Uncle V.]. He’s been my rock, you know. He sat at a table one
day. At my Auntie [R.]’s funeral, we were all sitting out in the back of my Uncle [L.]’s
house and we’re around the table and I was clean and sober. I was five years. And he
looked at me, and he says, “Do you want to know why your mother was the way she was
with you? Do you want to know why your mother was the way your mother was, no
feeling, cold? Because she was raped by the priests.” I couldn’t understand that, but I
could understand why she was the way she was, why she drank, she – the way she drank.
Why I used and drank the way I used, it’s because of systemic abuse, generational abuse,
the government trying to change who we are.12
In sharing these significant moments in relationships important to them, Anni and Darlene
offered teachings on ways of engaging in relationships that had a profound impact on their own
healing journey from violence. In the following pages, we include similar accounts of specific
moments within relationships that families and survivors pointed to as important teachings about
what healing relationships can look like, and how a single conversation or action may be a pow-
erful opportunity to shape the terms of a relationship in a good way. These teachings provide
models upon which many of our Calls for Justice are based.
Commissioner Eyolfson shares a hug with

Charlotte Wolfrey in Regina, Saskatchewan.
Unfortunately, the encounters that many family members described during the National Inquiry
show that the responsibility to shape a relationship has been used to harm, rather than to honour,
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Most often, when families, supporters, and
survivors drew attention to specific interactions within relationships that they saw as holding dis-
tinct significance for understanding violence in their own or their loved ones’ lives, they pointed
to moments that, in their view, made violence more likely to happen. In many cases, these mo-
ments took place during a first encounter with someone to whom they or their loved one had
turned for support.
99
Not surprisingly, it is these examples that families stressed because – as we will see throughout
the report – they provide compelling information about what led to the violence or other harm
they or their loved ones endured, as in the case of the truth shared by Barbara H., regarding the
death of her 17-year-old daughter, Cherisse H. In her testimony, Barbara drew attention to an
encounter she had with Cherisse’s child welfare worker a few weeks before Cherisse’s death.
She [Cherisse] was – on the street and she was addicted to drugs. And, there was one
time there when she said to me, “Mommy, I need help.” This was after she had her son.
She was still doing drugs, and then she finally realized that she wanted to get the help
she needs so she could be a good mom.
So, she said to me that she needed help, if I could phone her CFS [Child and Family
Services] worker so they could place her in a locked facility so she doesn’t have to run to
the streets to do drugs. I guess she used drugs, too, to cope because they took her son
right at birth.
So, I phoned her worker, and her worker said to call back. So, I called back and she said
there’s no facilities that could take Cherisse, and I guess that she – I guess she felt let
down or – you know?
So, she went back to the street, and a week after that, that’s when – couple weeks after
that, that’s when they found her body.13
After being missing for a few weeks, Cherisse’s body was discovered in July 2009 by a
construction crew. Barbara is still looking for answers to understand what happened to her
daughter.
For Barbara, an important part of understanding the violence that later took her daughter’s life
rests in knowing why she was not able to access the services she needed to address her drug and
alcohol addiction at the crucial moment when Cherisse reached out and was ready for help.
Barbara reflects on a much different fate for her daughter, had such services been available. “I
know if she would have got the help she needed, she would have been a really, really good mom
to her son because she loved that little boy so much.”14
As you will see in the following pages, many families are keenly aware of similar moments such
as that shared between Barbara and the CFS worker, where a single encounter that holds the
potential of preventing or at least decreasing the likelihood of violence is squandered or lost –
often with significant consequences.
100
In her testimony, Carol W., a First Nations woman who is deaf, talked about the harm caused by
her first encounter with the police when she reported her 20-year-old daughter, Karina W.,
missing.
July 20th, 2010, is the day I went to the police station by myself without an interpreter. I
knew I needed help to locate my daughter. When I arrived, I took a picture and a note to
give to the police. I handed my note to the officer. He just looked and acted like it was
not important. He ignored me. I was so angry as he was not helping me. I banged my
hand hard on the counter. This is when he looked at me and handed me a witness
statement.
I had no idea what I was to do with that paper. No one explained what I needed to write
on that green paper. I looked for the officer to help me, but he was back on his computer,
acting like I was not important or what I needed was not important. Once again, I
slammed my hand hard on the desk. Finally a big man in a white shirt came and tried
to help me. Once I was done with the paper, I gave it to the big man in the white shirt
and I left.
I left the police station very angry and upset. The next day, I went back to the police
station with an interpreter and filled out and completed my statement. Without an
interpreter, communication was difficult.15
In failing to provide Carol with an interpreter, deliberately ignoring her as she stood at the
counter in the police station, and handing her unfamiliar paperwork to complete without provid-
ing instruction, the officer used this initial meeting with her to establish a relationship in which,
as Carol put it, “I was not important or what I needed was not important.”
Rather than recognizing the significance of this moment to respond to Carol in the ways most
helpful to a woman desperate to find her missing daughter and to establish a relationship that
could help facilitate an effective investigation, the officer asserted his position of authority and
power over Carol as if to remind her that, ultimately, Indigenous women do not matter to the
police and are not worthy of the police’s time and effort. As Carol says, “I felt unheard and
dismissed simply because they chose not to hear me [or] help me to locate my daughter.”16
“I WAS NOT IMPORTANT OR WHAT I NEEDED WAS NOT IMPORTANT.… I FELT

UNHEARD AND DISMISSED SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY CHOSE NOT TO HEAR ME
[OR] HELP ME TO LOCATE MY DAUGHTER.”
Carol W.
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Initial encounters that establish a relationship wherein Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, family members, survivors, and others are met with derision, racism,
and dismissal by those to whom they reach out for support permeate the stories shared with the
National Inquiry. In many cases, these encounters occur at moments when Indigenous people are
most vulnerable, as in Cherisse’s case. Almost always, these encounters demonstrate the ways
those involved take advantage of that vulnerability to further their own ends or to reassert a
system that devalues the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. They
occur when Indigenous women, like Barbara or Carol, engage with someone in a position of
authority, such as a police officer or a social worker; and they occur in situations in which, like
Cherisse, they are targets of violence. They also occur implicitly when an Indigenous woman is
confronted for the first time with a policy, a rule, or a belief built into a particular institution she
must navigate that punishes rather than helps her.
Again, in all these situations, the consequences of the actions of those involved are nearly always
the catalyst for further violence and harm.
In the following chapters, we follow the lead of families and similarly highlight these important
teachings. We often use the word “encounter” to describe these moments in order to signal their
importance as a pivotal or distinct moment, which family members or survivors have detailed as
the precise conversation, meeting, or event that took place at the beginning of a relationship
and that went on to shape that relationship in ways that hold significant consequences for how
violence continues within their own or their loved ones’ lives. In her testimony, Dr. Robyn
Bourgeois, a Cree professor at Brock University and a survivor of sexual violence and traffick-
ing, offered another way of asking this same question in even clearer terms: “What is the source
of the ideas that [make] i[t] okay to murder Indigenous women and girls?”17
An Intersectional Approach to Encounters

All of the stories of encounter we heard took place within relationships that created a particular
context or situation. As a result, these relationships must also be conceived broadly, to go beyond
the interpersonal and to engage the different systems, institutions, laws, and policies that struc-
ture these interactions. To understand how these situations are different for different people, and
the potential solutions to issues created within these situations, we draw on the importance of an
intersectional approach.
102
INTERSECTIONALITY: A SUMMARY OF OVERLAPPING OPPRESSIONS
AND IDENTITY MARKERS
• Colonization • Racism • Indigeneity and

(historic and "Status"
Types of Discrimination
Structural Forces
Aspects of Identity
• Sexism
ongoing) • Socioeconomic
• Transphobia and
• Patriarchy status
homophobia
• Social, political • Family status
• Exploitation
and economic • Educational level
marginalization • Economic,
political and social • Geographic
• Media and exclusion location
sterotyping
• Cultural violence • Gender
• Institutions and
structures that • Physical, emotional, • Ability and
harm rather than and spiritual disability
heal (e.g. health, violence • Sexual orientation
justice) • Family dislocation • Spirituality
and separation
• Denial of adequate
financial resources
Centring the lived experience of those who shared their stories with us represents the core of our
analysis. As scholars Olena Hankivsky, Renée Cormier, and Diego de Merich argue, “Centering
stories is consistent with any intersectional approach that prioritizes lived experience as a neces-
sary theoretical foundation for the pursuit of social justice.”18
American civil rights advocate and leading scholar of critical race theory Kimberlé Crenshaw
first coined the concept of “intersectionality” in the late 1980s, and it has gained an important
following since. Crenshaw suggested that comparing the lived experiences of Black women in
the United States with those of Black men or of white women minimized the level of discrimina-
tion that they faced. When people failed to understand how multiple systems, both visible and
invisible, oppressed Black women, they also failed to address the ongoing mistreatment of Black
women. She recommended a more integrated approach, which she called “intersectionality,” to
expose the reality of sexism and racism pervasive in Black women’s encounters with the people,
systems, and institutions supposedly developed to help them.19
Definitions of “intersectionality” vary, and have evolved to reflect the unique learnings and
experiences of Indigenous Peoples. In its broadest terms, however, intersectionality examines
more than a single identity marker and includes a broader understanding of simultaneous interac-
tions between different aspects of a person’s social location. For example, rather than using a
single-strand analysis of sexual orientation, gender, race, or class, intersectionality challenges
103
FOREWORD
Melanie Morrison
I’ve been fighting for years to have change, and one of the focuses of Native Women’s Associa-
tion of Canada was to have an inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.
We wanted the concerns about our experiences and our files to be heard. It was important to our
family that change happens. I saw it as an opportunity to expand our families’ cry out for change
to police protocols on Indigenous missing and murdered women’s and girls’ cases.
My sister went missing June 18, 2006. My mother did an initial search by talking to all of my
sisters’ friends and people who usually knew where she was. It was unlike my sister to not come
home because she was a young mother. She told my mother she was coming home early that
night. When my mom went to the police, she was met with the stereotype that because she was
only 24, she was probably just out with friends and would show up. Unfortunately, my sister’s
remains were found four years later. It was devastating because where she was found was less
than a kilometre from her home. Local police were in charge up to that point. Then, after follow-
up with the case, it was handed over to the Sûreté du Quebec and the file remains active. My
niece was left to be raised without a mother. My daughter and I were very close to my sister, and
my youngest never got to know her aunt. My mother hasn’t recovered from the loss. My father
passed in 2015. He passed without answers. She was very outspoken and a ball of energy. When
her life was taken, the light fizzled and things are not the same.
Being part of the National Family Advisory Circle is healing in the prospect of having real
change. It’s another ray of light that I hope will burn. The way our women’s files are treated is
wrong, and my hope is that our reality won’t be someone else’s reality. These women and girls
were important. They never got to fulfill their purpose because someone was able to take their
life. I would love for all Canadians to think of our women as important because they were impor-
tant to us. When this happened to my sister, she was in a good place. She had just finished an
entrepreneurial course and she had a dream to build a house for her and her daughter. It was
painful because she was doing all these great things and then this happens.
My hope would be that there is an immediate change of how the police handle Indigenous files
on- or off-reserve so there’s no delay in pursuing every possible option to find that missing or
murdered loved one. There was such a divide in my personal experience. On-reserve, my sister’s
case wasn’t considered important, and off-reserve, people didn’t think they had to be responsive.
If the local police and off-reserve police had communicated with each other, we could maybe
have had closure.
20
FOREWORD
Darlene Osborne
Tansi, Kitatamiskatinawow, I am a member of the National Family Advisory Circle and have
attended five hearings across the country in Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon, Calgary, and Quebec
City. My husband, John, often attended with me as my support.
For John and I, there was truth in the words and tears of the families who shared their stories and
experiences about their loved ones. While this National Inquiry represents a start, there is so
much more to do. The limitation of the process, and its structure, could not shine enough light on
so many dimensions of truth we had hoped the Inquiry’s noble mandate would illuminate. In the
end, we as family members, because of the Inquiry, are able to stand strong together and united
in the singular message that there cannot be any more violence against women and we must find
a way as a nation to end these shameful and preventable deaths and murders.
There are many solutions that were offered by families and by survivors. While the National
Inquiry’s mandate was limited to Indigenous women and girls, we heard from many other fami-
lies who lost Indigenous men and non-Indigenous women; families who felt their grief and loss
but who did not have a voice or a way to contribute to the National Inquiry. Their stories need to
be heard, too.
We also feel there is a need to further investigate policing in this country; we are concerned that
the truth around how police departments treated the investigations of our loved ones at the time
will be lacking. We need this information to truly tackle the problems; to make changes so that
our women and children do not go missing or, if they do, these crimes no longer go unpunished.
We realize that as we seek the truth, we must also focus on healing. Healing needs to happen to
address violence that still occurs today. Our community of Norway House Cree Nation has many
members who have lost loved ones to senseless violence. We need true healing centres where
there is long-term aftercare, particularly for the children of the murdered and missing women.
Many of these children are now young teens and adults. They are lost and angry for what has
been stolen from them. A healing centre would recognize the lasting legacy these crimes have
had on our community; a healing centre would also allow our community to offer a place to heal
that addresses each family member’s needs.
We are honoured that we could be part of the National Family Advisory Circle. We hope our
words and reflections are taken in the spirit with which we intend: a sincere desire for change,
rooted in an honest reflection on the achievements and failings of this process, and on the diffi-
cult task of finding truths and answers that end the loss of our sisters’, mothers’, and daughters’
lives. The losses of our loved ones have profoundly affected those of us who were there when
our loved ones went missing – and who are still here now, looking for answers. We demand more
from this nation called Canada.
21
FOREWORD
Priscilla Simard
Verna Mae Simard-Shabaquay was born to Charles and Tina Simard in Red Lake, Ontario.
Together they raised their children Cecil, Verna, and Mitchel. She was born into a warm and
loving family. As a child, she was happy, kind, and full of spirit. Her father affectionately called
her Fawn for her gentle nature. Her mother died when Verna was a very young age. Her father
was grief-stricken. Children’s Aid Society (CAS) took the children and placed them in a Men-
nonite home in Red Lake. They were placed in foster homes where physical and sexual abuse
occurred.
Verna married, but it did not last long. She raised her children, but they were taken into CAS. To
compound that loss, her oldest son died. Verna became a grandmother, and Verna doted, cared
for, loved, and lived for her granddaughter. Verna’s life was difficult and tragic, as she was un-
able to deal with her traumatic history, the grief and loss of her mother, the tragic death of her
father, the loss of her brother, and the loss of her oldest son. We believe these factors contributed
to her high-risk lifestyle: alcohol/drug addiction, multiple partners, and intimate partner violence,
which resulted in her death.
Verna had allegedly fallen from a sixth-floor window of Vancouver’s Regent Hotel on Hastings
Street. The circumstances surrounding her death remain suspicious, unsolved but ruled “no foul
play” by Vancouver City Police. This case can be reopened pending any new information
brought forward by any person. We, as a family, believe the intimate partner violence contributed
to her death. We believe she was thrown out of the window.
At the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls hearing in
Thunder Bay, Ontario, December 2017, the family put forward several recommendations for
change, including on issues such as the investigative process of the Vancouver City Police, police
reports, coroners’ reports, police response and protocols, credible witnesses, and a preponderance
of evidence based on environment. As well, the family had specific recommendations on child
welfare, domestic violence, intimate partner violence resulting in death, and the need for holistic
healing strategies.
We honour the memory of Verna and seek justice. We look to the National Inquiry to advocate
for and advance the recommendations for women like Verna. These recommendations cannot be
downplayed, ignored, or shelved. When the recommendations are implemented, we avert suffer-
ing, justice can be served, and her spirit can rest!
Miigwech!
23
Jennifer H. and Julia H.
Sisters much missed
Cindy H. came to the National Inquiry to share the story of her two sisters, Jennifer and Julia.
While she told the Inquiry the difficult details of their deaths, she also shared what made them
special and loved.
Cindy was close with both of her sisters. She remem- When I got thrown out of my apartment with a
bers when Jennifer turned 18, and started to spend couple of my kids, she kept me in that — in that
more time with Cindy and her mother, sitting outside apartment block, what the shelter gave her. She
in their backyard. gave us a bed on her floor for a couple months
and then I found my own place with my kids.
We had a great time, you know? She used to al- She was a good woman. She would have been a
ways make us laugh all the time…. She used to good grandma. I wish she was still alive.II
always curl her hair like my mom, eh, back in the
day. They had these big roll curling irons, big Most of all, Cindy told the Inquiry how much she
curls like this, and she’d be way more hair, you missed them, and how things need to change.
know. She used to always like to look nice with
her hair. That’s all I remember her as, just having They were good; they were good women at
a good old time with her all the time, and I used heart when they were alive…. Julia used to
to always stick up for her all the time, or she’d always listen to me and Jennifer used to always
stick up for me.I hang around with me all the time…. I wanted to
be here for my two sisters, and for myself, and for
Cindy’s sister Julia, who passed away six years ago, my sisters’ kids, you know? I’m happy I came, and
had been trying to escape a violent relationship and my daughter is here. I just hope people will listen
stayed for a while at a housing unit for abused to my story and maybe, maybe they make a
women. Despite her own struggles, she took Cindy in change.III
when Cindy needed it most.
– Cindy H., sister of Jennifer H. and Julia H.
From the statement gathered in Winnipeg,
October 20, 2017.
I Cindy H. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 53, Winnipeg, MB, p. 12.

II Cindy H. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 53, Winnipeg, MB, p. 21.
III Cindy H. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 53, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 21, 22.
107
In a second example, Métis witness Cindy H. shared how entrenched poverty and marginaliza-
tion made her sisters Julia and Jennifer into targets.
Julia H. was just shy of 21 when she was found naked and unresponsive on Maryland Street in
Winnipeg, Manitoba. Someone had mixed diabetic pills into her drink the night before, and
she was brain dead by the time her sister Cindy and her mother arrived at the hospital the
following day.
Twelve years later, Cindy’s other sister Julia was also found on Maryland Street in the middle of
winter. She was outside her abusive partner’s apartment, frozen to death. She had been dragged
outside in the night, and her body was covered in bruises. Despite this, in both situations, police
said there wasn’t much they could do. No one was charged in either case.
As we will discuss later in this report, both federal and provincial governments have historically
refused responsibility for the Métis. This has entrenched many Métis families in poverty. Many
Métis women and girls have been forced into some of the most dangerous parts of cities, with
almost no resources for support—and in this case, no justice for their families left behind.
Metis Moccasins, Lorraine Richard, AF A2019-0007.1

These moccasins were made by the late Irene Richard,
who was taken from her family too soon. Lorraine
remembers the time she spent learning this master craft
with her mother and grandmother: “The connection
made with these two strong women came with stories and
using our language.... [These] are times I remember with
love and calmness.”
108
Michelle S.
“The one I looked up to”
When Michelle first went missing, the newspapers didn’t even use her name. Her family came to the National
Inquiry to tell us about the strong, loving, driven person Michelle really was.
“My daughter, Michelle, she was 24 when she went “My oldest sister, Michelle, it’s hard to put into words
missing and she was a beautiful child. Like, from what she was and what she meant to my family
when she was a baby, she was just always smiling. and I. She was intelligent, caring, persistent, resilient,
And then when she got used to being a big sister, she beautiful, kind, and extremely soft-hearted. She was
just – she loved Dani to pieces and same with Tony. also so much more than that.
She was like the second mom when I wasn’t there,
you know…. She was my second mother. She was the one who
gave me haircuts, the one who made me dinner
She deserved better, you know. And you can’t ques- when I was hungry, the one who I looked up to, the
tion fate. I know that. I guess I’m just – I’m here also one who made my birthday special, the one who
just to remind [you] my daughter wasn’t just a work- loved and looked after me when no one else was
ing girl…. She was loved, you know. She has a lot of around to. She loved butterflies and the Little Mer-
people that still cry for her, you know.”I maid. She wanted to be a stylist. She wanted to be
somebody.
– Mona S., mother to Michelle S.
From the National Inquiry’s Around my 10th birthday my mother succumbed to
Community Hearing in Metro Vancouver,
April 6, 2018. the pull of addiction once more. She was not around
much during this time and it was up to Michelle to
take care of me. She did the best she could. She did a
fantastic job…. Michelle [S.] was my sister. I miss her
every day.”II
– Anthony S., brother to Michelle S.

From the National Inquiry’s Community
Hearing in Metro Vancouver,
April 6, 2018.
I Mona S. (Wuikinuxv Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 98, Metro Vancouver, BC, pp. 7-8.
II Anthony S. (Wuikinuxv Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 98, Metro Vancouver, BC, pp. 38 and 40.
109
FOREWORD
It takes so much time to heal our wounds and scars and transform oneself because of the status
quo. We have to heal not only ourselves, but also the trauma of our ancestors over generations.
But until we can move away from the status quo, break the cycle and gather our strength, we will
continue to have negative and hurtful relationships in this world and in our lives. By transform-
ing ourselves we can stop this cycle and instill within those coming faces yet unborn the values
and beliefs that will enhance our attitudes and behaviours for a more balanced future.
Our Values and Principles
Adenidao shra: Compassion and Kindness

Dewadadrihwa noh Kwa:k: Respecting One Another
Degayenawako:ngye: Working Together
Dewagagenawako:ngye: Assisting One Another
Esadatgehs: Self-Reflection on Actions
Gaihwaedagoh: Taking Responsibility
Gasgya:nyok: Encouragement
Gasasdenhshra: Strength & Supporting One Another
Drihwawaihsyo: Honest Moral Conduct
Oihwadogehsra: Being Truthful and Consistent
Sgeno: Peaceful Thoughts and Actions
Ongwadeni:deo: “Taking Care of Our Own”
29
FOREWORD
Rebecca Moore
I am an l’nu woman who was born and raised in the Kjipuktuk district of Mi’kma’ki (so-called
Halifax, Nova Scotia).
As an l’nu woman, I have been taught by my Elders that it is our inherent duty, as l’nu women,
to take care of the water and to protect the water for the future seven generations. I feel that this
is imperative for Canadians to understand. I take my inherent duty very seriously, which requires
much of my time, effort, care, and attention.
Our inherent duty and responsibilities as an l’nu woman places us as a direct target for violence,
harassment, police violence, misinformation by mainstream Canadians, criminalization, and in-
carceration. You see, it is not only Indigenous women who are living “at-risk” lifestyles or are on
the streets who are being targeted, it is Indigenous women as a whole. Because non-Indigenous
society benefits from settler-colonialism.
Being an Indigenous woman means living under a society and “civilization” that benefits from
your voicelessness, invisibility, disappearance, non-existence, and erasure. Because if we don’t
exist, then Canadians – while claiming to live an earnest and honest living – are free to steal and
exploit what is rightfully ours by loosening the “Rule of Law” for themselves and tightening it to
extinguish our existence and resistance.
Indigenous matriarchs – being the life-givers, grandmothers, clan mothers, and steering decision
makers – are not affirmed or recognized by the colonial courts and systems for their significant
place in Indigenous societies.
The Canadian government strips Indigenous women of their rightful place within Indigenous
societies and the outside world. By imposing their colonial structures, Canada removes the
decision-making power from the women and displaces it to corrupt government departments,
agencies, and service providers, etc.
Being l’nu in theory isn’t illegal, but in practice, living in action as one is. We have Treaty rights
under the Peace and Friendship Treaty, but good luck asserting them because the government is
going to tell you, “No, you can’t do that.” When it comes to hunting, fishing, or “earning a
moderate livelihood” with our own initiatives, we, as individual inherent rights holders and
descendants of the land itself, are treated by the state as criminals.
The Canadian government prevents Indigenous women and their families from having the auton-
omy to earn a moderate livelihood and achieve their own safety and security. Until Indigenous
women are given the power and authority to self-determine what happens within their own
territories, we will always be at risk under Canada’s “Rule of Law.”
30
FOREWORD
Lorraine Clements
I woke this morning to a soft but inviting snow covered mountain,

A mountain of my childhood
A mountain I returned to this week to move forward speak my truth and
continue the healing within
A mountain of pain
A mountain of learning
A mountain of Hope.
My mountain has been a hard one to climb,
In my time have never reached the top.
Now with this day, my day of truth telling,
My mountain is not too high.
My mountain seems easier to climb.
My mountain now has hope.
My climb is just the beginning as with
many others this week.
Our mountain will be conquered.
With love, kindness and always together,
fighting the systems for Justice.
Photo submitted by Lorraine Clements; no copyright

31
In describing encounters that led to violence, almost all of the witnesses described a surrounding
context marked by the multigenerational and intergenerational trauma of colonial violence. This
trauma was inflicted through the loss of land, forced relocations, residential schools, and the
Sixties Scoop, and ultimately set the stage for further violence, including the ongoing crises of
over-incarceration and of child apprehension, along with systemic poverty and other critical
factors.
Witness Carol B. shared her perspective about the impact of intergenerational trauma on her
relationship with herself and others: “The intergenerational trauma brought on by the residential
schools has really impacted our families in a negative way. How can you possibly learn to love
and value yourself when you’re told consistently — daily, that you’re of no value. And that we
need to take the Indian out of you. How could you value or love yourself?”36
As Bombay pointed out,
After generations of children … experienced … this residential school context, children
went back to their community with neither traditional skills nor access to dominant
group resources. Victims and perpetrators were sent back to the same communities, and
the effects of trauma and altered social norms also contributed to these ongoing cycles
that were catalyzed in residential schools.37
As the National Inquiry listened to the voices of the sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, sisters,
brothers, parents, and grandparents who have lost loved ones, it became clear that the crisis of
missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGLBTQQIA people is yet another way
in which the historic and collective trauma of Indigenous Peoples continues. In her testimony,
Eva P. described the trauma she carries following the disappearance of her older sister:
You know, I’ve been going to counselling for the past two years. I’ve been seeing two
different therapists. I go through my ups and downs. I isolated myself for six months
after Misty went missing. I almost – I almost died. It’s tough. And, I can’t even imagine,
like, this is a … Canada-wide issue, and there’s more people. Like, there’s a lot of people
in my situation.38
“THE INTERGENERATIONAL TRAUMA BROUGHT ON BY THE RESIDENTIAL

SCHOOLS HAS REALLY IMPACTED OUR FAMILIES IN A NEGATIVE WAY. HOW CAN
YOU POSSIBLY LEARN TO LOVE AND VALUE YOURSELF WHEN YOU’RE TOLD
CONSISTENTLY — DAILY, THAT YOU’RE OF NO VALUE. AND THAT WE NEED TO
TAKE THE INDIAN OUT OF YOU. HOW COULD YOU VALUE OR LOVE YOURSELF?”
Carol B.
113
FOREWORD
Our Women and Girls Are Sacred:

Reflections from the National Inquiry
Elders and Grandmothers Circle
Introduction
Early on in the National Inquiry process, the Commissioners’ Elder
Advisors, or “Grandmothers,” gathered in a sweatlodge in Quebec. They
went into this ceremony asking themselves, what should the National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls look
like? What is the best way to do this work?
The sweatlodge was part of the Missinak Community Home, a safe house
in Quebec City co-founded by Elder Pénélope Guay, Commissioner
Audette’s spiritual grandmother. As Pénélope shares, “We all got together
there. And we came up with a plan, in our own way. We came up with a
plan to see how the National Inquiry would proceed. For the Grandmothers
[and Elders], for the Commissioners. What will our work be? That’s how
it went. We decided on everything you see. Our role, our involvement.
That was when we decided on how it would all be done.”1
33
FOREWORD
Members of the Elders and

Grandmothers Circle. Left to right:
Leslie Spillett, Laureen “Blu”
Waters, Audrey Siegl, Louise Haulli,
and Bernie Williams. Not pictured:
Kathy Louis and Pénélope Guay.
Elder Laureen “Blu” Waters, Grandmother to Commissioner Brian Eyolfson, was there as well:
“When we came out of that sweat, one of the most important and profound things that came to
being was that we needed to have something that showed our Indigeneity and that blanket idea
came out of that. Those blankets that are hung up around the rooms [at the hearings]. Those
blankets that identify people, identify their Nations, their names, their land masses, the things
that they used for their cultures…. That was one of the most important things that I remember, is
doing that sweat and coming out with that idea. And, that helped shape us and to make sure that
we never forget about ceremony, to incorporate ceremony into everything that we do.”2
Ceremony, whatever it looks like, is deeply rooted in a people’s cultural identity. Incorporating
ceremony into such a legal structure as a public inquiry is a way of reminding Indigenous
families and survivors that this National Inquiry is to honour the sacred in them and in their lost
loved ones. As a National Inquiry, we have faced criticism for a seemingly rigid and legalistic
structure. Yet, within the limitations of our mandate, these words from the Grandmothers who
have led us through the process remind us of the National Inquiry’s guiding principle: that our
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are sacred.
To honour their work, the National Inquiry asked the National Inquiry Elders and Grandmothers
to sit down with the Research team, to include their reflections of this journey in the Final
Report.3 This is one small way to acknowledge their incredible contributions, which often
happen behind the scenes, as well as the work of mothers, grandmothers, aunties and caregivers
guiding similar work across this land.
The National Inquiry Elders and Grandmothers Circle
The idea for an Elders or Grandmothers Circle first started in the fall of 2016. The Commission-
ers decided to each seek an Elder from their community to provide them with advice. Blu recalls
that when Commissioner Eyolfson first offered tobacco to Blu, he explained that “he needed
34
FOREWORD
somebody to be there as support for him, to help him with this important work that’s being done
and to make sure that we incorporate spirituality.”4
The Commissioners decided to use the term “Grandmother” to represent the closer, kinship
relationship that was developing between themselves and their Elders. While not all the Elders
are biological grandmothers, they fill those traditional roles.
The current members of the Elders and Grandmothers Circle are: Pénélope Guay, French-
speaking Innu Grandmother to Commissioner Audette; Louise Haulli, Inuk Elder to Commis-
sioner Robinson; Kathy Louis, Cree Elder to Chief Commissioner Buller; Laureen “Blu” Waters,
Cree/Métis/Mi'kmaw Grandmother to Commissioner Eyolfson; and Bernie Williams, English-
speaking Haida/Nuu-chah-nulth/Coast Salish Grandmother to Commissioner Audette. Leslie
Spillett, Cree/Métis Grandmother to Executive Director Jennifer Rattray, joined the National
Inquiry in the spring of 2018, and Audrey Siegl, Bernie’s niece and a member of the National
Inquiry’s health support team, also supports the Elders and Grandmothers Circle.
As Indigenous women who are survivors and family members themselves, the Elders and
Grandmothers are witnesses to the many ways Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people
have been devalued and dehumanized, making them prime targets for violence. Working with
the National Inquiry has given the Grandmothers another way to do the same work they were
already doing, but in a new way. Each of the Commissioners’ Grandmothers bring deep commu-
nity knowledge and practical expertise to their roles.
Grandmother Pénélope is a proud Innu woman from Mashteuiatsh in Quebec, who strongly
believes in the power of reconnecting with your culture to heal the wounds of history. Her
Innu mother was deprived of her First Nations status when she married a métis man, as stipulated
by the Indian Act. As an adult, Pénélope has had to recover her culture through healing and
reclaim her identity as an Indigenous woman.
Pénélope co-founded the Missinak Community Home (la Maison Communautaire Missinak),
a safe house for Indigenous women in Quebec City, with her daughter 20 years ago. There she
sees many young women who are deeply affected by the trauma of residential schools, as well
as by substance use and homelessness, the consequences of residential schools today. With
nowhere to go, many of them end up being exploited on the streets. However, Pénélope also gets
to witness what she calls “miracles”5 – the extraordinary change that can happen when you give
people time and space to heal.
Elder Louise lives in Igloolik, Nunavut, a small community of less than 2,000 people. Much of
Louise’s work in the past has been focused on strengthening Inuit traditional values and making
Inuit knowledge and skills more accessible to the Nunavut government. She has worked as the
Inuit Societal Value Project Coordinator for Igloolik, where she offered traditional Inuit coun-
selling and did radio shows on Inuit family values. She worked on community wellness projects
for Igloolik and Nunavut, and was a Nunavut Human Rights Tribunal member from 2004 to
2013. She was also an Inuktitut language specialist in elementary schools and visits Elders in
Igloolik to make sure they get some help around the house.
35
FOREWORD
Louise shares that violence is a significant issue in the Arctic, just as it is for so many First
Nations and Métis communities, although the culture of silence is even stronger: “For those of us
living in the Arctic, we have experienced this, but we are less vocal…. Indeed, Inuit too have
gone through exactly the same experience of mistreatment.”6 She emphasizes how much she has
learned from hearing the stories of so many other Indigenous women in Canada, and how impor-
tant it is not to feel that we know it all, but to really pause, listen to the families and survivors,
and learn from what they have to share.
Elder Kathy says: “My name is Kathy Louis. My views as an Elder from Samson Cree Nation
are mine and those of my Ancestors who were Leaders and Healers. Growing up on the reserve
was a lived experience throughout my life.” She was raised by parents and ancestors steeped in
strong traditional values. She is a residential school survivor and has spent her life helping her
people heal, especially men and women involved in the criminal justice system. Kathy was the
Pacific Regional Vice-Chair of the National Parole Board, where she served for many years, and
successfully helped introduce Elder-assisted parole hearings in Canada along with two male First
Nations Elders. She has also been awarded Canada’s Meritorious Service Medal and the Order of
British Columbia. In her work, Kathy saw many women who had acted violently in their lives,
but: “I observed that as the way they may have been treated as children and young adults grow-
ing up, and this was their lived experience in adult relationships. All this stems from racism,
oppression and colonization.”7
When she isn’t working with the National Inquiry, Kathy volunteers with several urban Aborigi-
nal organizations in Vancouver. In particular, she is working on the development of an Aboriginal
Family Healing Court Conference project. This is an Elder-driven project that focuses on helping
families involved with the child welfare system develop healing plans, to re-connect with their
own Indigenous cultural values and keep families together.
Grandmother Leslie (or Giizhigooweyaabikwe, Painted Sky Woman, White Bear Clan) is a
Cree/Métis woman from northern Manitoba. She began her career as a journalist and photogra-
pher before dedicating herself to what some people call “community development,” but she calls
Nation-building.
Leslie was one of the principle founders of Mother of Red Nations Women’s Council of Mani-
toba, sat on the Native Women’s Association of Canada Board of Directors, and is the founder of
Ka Ni Kanichihk, a Winnipeg organization that provides Indigenous-led programming, including
for family members of missing and murdered women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Leslie,
who has been raising awareness on this issue since the early 2000s, says: “One of the most ex-
treme forms of the colonial project has been about violence against Indigenous women and girls.
So that includes all kinds of violence, including state violence and discrimination, which has
caused so much trauma. And at its most extreme is, of course, the missing and murdered women
who just have been murdered because they were Indigenous, or who have disappeared, again,
because they were Indigenous.”8
36
This message is woven within our approach to analyzing the encounters and relationships that
are significant to understanding violence: encounters not only teach us about the causes of
violence, they also show us how Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s
Indigenous and human rights are either protected or denied.
As we will develop throughout the Final Report, positioning our discussion of these encounters
and their root causes in relation to the inherent Indigenous and human rights we will explore re-
veals significant historical and ongoing rights violations in four areas: the right to culture, the
right to health, the right to security, and the right to justice. These themes are prominent ones
within both human and Indigenous rights contexts, and affirm the importance of addressing the
crisis of violence. They are not presented in order of priority or of importance: in fact, what our
testimony demonstrates is the interconnectedness of all of these ideas and priorities, and the need
to look at these as interdependent and indivisible.
For each of these four areas of rights violations, we consider both international human rights-
based and Indigenous-based understandings of the rights of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. These rights encompass the full range of socio-economic and political rights that signifi-
cant and meaningful change requires. When we talk about culture, we are also talking about all
of the necessary tools, supports, and resources required to enable the full realization of these
rights – including social, economic, and political rights. These rights areas are also necessarily
broad because of the great diversity of Indigenous Peoples who shared their truths concerning
the need for basic rights in addition to specific supports in key areas like education, housing,
standard of living, and health services. Indigenous Peoples have their own understandings of
rights based on their own laws, traditional knowledge systems, and world views, which are often
expressed through stories. These rights are not determined by international agreements, Canadian
legislation, or Supreme Court rulings. These are expressions of Indigenous women’s, girls’and
2SLGBTQQIA people’s proper power and place.
At the same time, a variety of human rights instruments dealing with these themes can offer a
tool for accountability and decolonization, if the solutions are placed within the context of the
four root causes of violence: intergenerational trauma through colonization, marginalization, lack
of institutional will, and the failure to recognize the expertise and capacity of Indigenous women
themselves.
While we will look in depth at what family members’ and survivors’ testimonies reveal about
each of these rights in later chapters, here we will provide a brief overview of how looking at
encounters and the relationships they engender, in relation to human rights, Indigenous rights,
and Indigenous laws and ways of knowing as expressed through stories, offers a new and power-
ful way to address the historic, ongoing, and current root causes that lead to violence against
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people today.
118
Right to Culture
Cultural rights are inseparable from human rights, as recognized in the 2001 UNESCO United
Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s Declaration on Cultural Diversity,
as well as from Indigenous rights, as articulated in various instruments including, most recently,
the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). They are also
inseparable from the social and political rights necessary to their full enjoyment.
A young jingle dress dancer dances for those in

attendance in Winnipeg, Manitoba. She is the
cousin of Nicole Ashley Daniels, an MMIW family
member. Used with permission from the family.
Generally, the right to culture and identity can

be defined as the right to access, participate in,
and enjoy one’s culture. This includes the
right of individuals and communities to know,
understand, visit, make use of, maintain,
exchange, and develop cultural heritage and
cultural expressions, as well as to benefit from
the cultural heritage and cultural expressions of
others. It also includes the right to participate
in the identification, interpretation, and devel-
opment of cultural heritage, as well as in the design and implementation of policies and programs
that keep that culture and identity safe. Other human rights, such as the right to freedom of
expression, the right to information, and the right to education, are also key to fully realizing
cultural rights. As the testimonies reveal, the right to culture and identity relates directly to the
crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people through the
separation of families, the historical and contemporary realities of assimilationist and genocidal
colonial policies, and the lack of culturally appropriate services in healing, justice, and other
areas that continues to put Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people at risk. Racism,
along with the attempted disruption of culture, promotes violence against Indigenous women,
119
As we will examine more closely in the next chapter, most Indigenous societies place cultural
knowledge at the heart of Indigenous world views. Within our framework, women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people’s right to culture and identity connects to their roles and responsibilities
as leaders and teachers within communities. Traditional stories from Nations across Canada
show us that women and 2SLGBTQQIA people have leadership and teaching roles as those
who pass on culture and identity to their people. They help strengthen and maintain collective
identity. This role is placed in jeopardy in many instances, as we heard much about how
contemporary child welfare practices, for example, directly work against this important task,
whereas understanding one’s culture can directly contribute to safety.
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have the inherent right to their own culture
and identity, and to foster culture and identity within their families and communities through the
full implementation of economic, social, and political rights that can help protect these practices
and this knowledge.
Right to Health
When rights to culture and identity are in jeopardy, the right to health is also under threat. We
define “health” as a holistic state of well-being, which includes mental, emotional, physical, and
spiritual well-being, particularly within Indigenous world views. In this way, health is not simply
an absence of illness or disability.
The right to health is linked to other fundamental human rights, such as access to clean water and
adequate infrastructure in communities. On a more general level, however, the right to health
speaks to preventing harm to others, to protecting the health of children and families, and to
fostering mental health. We recognize that an absence of services, or a lack of culturally appro-
priate services in communities, as well as other factors linked to health place women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in vulnerable situations where they become targeted for violence.
For many groups, Indigenous understandings of women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s
right to health are based on their roles, responsibilities, and related rights as healers. Stories
show us that women and gender-diverse people have critical responsibilities in creating healthier
communities. As healers and medicine people, they have specific expertise in addressing physical,
mental, emotional, and spiritual needs. This includes addressing their own unique needs as
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and bringing much-needed perspectives to keep
communities healthy and whole.
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have the inherent right to their own health
and well-being, and the right to use their expertise, and the tools necessary for health, to con-
tribute to the health and well-being of their families and communities, within the full spectrum
of human rights in the areas of health.
120
Right to Security
Many encounters we heard about concerned the basic right to security. We understand the right to
security as a physical right, as well as a social right.
Physically, the right to security includes the right to life, liberty, and personal safety. This includes
control over one’s own physical and mental health, as well the protection of one’s own psycholog-
ical integrity. In Canada, the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms protects individuals from
grave psychological harm perpetrated by the state. On an international level, in the area of social
security, the right to security means that the state must ensure protective services or social serv-
ice assistance and guarantee the protection of the entire population through essential services
such as health, housing, and access to water, food, employment, livelihood, and education.
Because of its redistributive nature, the right to social security is an important factor in commu-
nity health and harmony and in reducing poverty.
Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s right to security connects to their roles,
responsibilities, and rights as providers and defenders. Traditional stories show us that Indige-
nous women, girls, and gender-diverse people have critical responsibilities in fostering a safe,
secure community. They do this by providing for themselves and their communities, by protect-
ing the vulnerable, by managing and redistributing resources as necessary, and by being the
keepers and defenders of the water, land, plants, and animals on which we depend.
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have the inherent right to security in their
own lives as well as the right to directly participate in maintaining that security for themselves
and others, within their own understandings and within the full spectrum of economic, social,
and political rights that can contribute to increasing security.
Right to Justice
As many of the testimonies demonstrate, the problematic relationships between Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and the judicial system are also very significant. Barri-
ers to justice take many forms, including the isolation of victims through inadequate victim serv-
ices, the failure to accommodate language barriers, and the way Indigenous victims are either
portrayed or ignored in the media. Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are also
overpoliced and overincarcerated as potential offenders, yet under-protected as victims of crime.
All of these barriers demonstrate important moments of disconnection between Indigenous
Peoples and the Canadian justice system, between the promises of blind justice that the system is
meant to deliver and the actual functioning of this system. In the upcoming chapters, we will
bring forward transformational encounters Indigenous people have had with the justice system,
as well as ongoing issues with access and institutional constraints that present barriers to justice
for Indigenous Peoples and that threaten the legitimacy of the process for Indigenous communi-
ties.
Indigenous women’s, girls’, and gender-diverse people’s right to justice also connects to their
roles in protecting their communities. Stories show us that they fought to keep themselves and
121
others safe from violence. Many women, girls, and gender-diverse people in stories are also sur-
vivors and heroes – those who put themselves in danger to save others.
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have the inherent right to live free from
violence or injustice. If this does not happen, they have the right to have this violence stopped
and condemned, with others’ support as they confront it as needed. These rights exist both in
Indigenous Peoples’ own terms, as well as within the basic human rights framework that exists to
eliminate violence against women in general and Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people in particular.
Promoting and Maintaining Healthy Encounters

All of these themes – along with the encounters that Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people have in the areas of culture, health, safety, and justice – show how
imposed solutions created by governments or agencies that don’t prioritize the knowledge of
Indigenous Peoples don’t work. Rights to culture, health, security, and justice are based
on another foundational right: the right to self-determination. We understand the right to self-
determination in Indigenous terms, in terms specific to Nations, communities, and, most
importantly, to women themselves.
That’s why this report will also address how, embedded within these stories of the encounters
that families and survivors see as significant, are also the strong voices and acts of resilience and
strength – the encounters and relationships leading to healing. In sharing their stories of these
encounters, as well as the broader relationships that are an important part of their identity,
witnesses also reminded the Commissioners of, or provided teachings that assert, the strength,
resistance, creativity, and power of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people even
within a system of relationships that makes every effort to deny them those qualities.
We can return to Carol’s description of her initial encounter with the police to witness this resist-
ance. When faced with the officer’s indifference, Carol, in fact, did not simply walk away, as
the officer may have hoped. Instead, as she stated, “I banged my hand hard on the counter,”
demanding attention. When he continued to ignore her, Carol said, “Once again, I slammed my
hand hard on the desk.” The next day, she returned to the police station with an interpreter, and
went on over the next five years to become a powerful and vocal advocate for the families of
missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.
Her resistance and strength do not diminish the pain of losing her daughter to violence, or the
anger she expresses at the officer’s refusal to act during that crucial first meeting. However, her
story shared with the National Inquiry does send a powerful message to those who may choose to
act in a similarly dismissive way: relationships in which those in authority or power abuse that
power to silence Indigenous women or prevent them from protecting themselves and their loved
ones from violence will no longer be tolerated. Transforming these relationships will no longer
be left in the hands of those who have for too long done nothing to create change.
122
As Fay Blaney, a Xwémalhkwu (Homalco) Knowledge Keeper, asserts, “I fully believe in the
power of Indigenous women working together and being able to come up with solutions.”45
She continues:
Whenever … we talk about women’s issues, they bring up, “Well, what about balance?” And
I think that we really need to look at the fact that there is zero balance in our community.
Somebody’s got to open their mouth and say that, but there is no balance right now.
It’s – men control the private sphere and the public sphere, and the private sphere is the
family unit where, you know, we have our Indian Status because of the men in our lives. I
have Status because of my husband, and before that, I had Status because of my father. And
so, in our world, men hold all the cards and we hold none.
So I think it’s really important to look at what are we talking about when we say balance, and
let’s bring balance back, I say. Let’s decolonize by bringing our matriarchal traditions back.46
As Fay’s testimony reveals, part of understanding the right to self-determination is understanding

how patriarchal institutions have worked, over the course of colonization and today, to keep
women and 2SLGBTQQIA people out of the decision-making process.
In the sphere of rights, the right to self-determination can take several forms. It includes, among
many other things, the authority to keep hold of one’s culture in the face of threatened assimila-
tion, and right of children to be raised in their own language and culture. The right to self-deter-
mination also includes the ability to make choices in the interest of one’s own group and within
one’s own group, and includes socio-economic and political rights. For women, self-determina-
tion also means that women themselves should be able to actively construct solutions that work
for them and are according to their own experiences. This doesn’t mean that men aren’t a part of
this conversation – to the contrary – but it does mean, as Fay Blaney shared, that solutions must
come from the women themselves.
Within our framework for building better encounters, self-determination also means that we
must fundamentally reconsider how to frame relationships that embrace the full enjoyment of
rights in ways that go beyond simple state structures and a simple “us–them” approach, and that
can extend to all aspects of community and individual life. In many of the testimonies, witnesses
talked about work that needs to happen in communities and within Indigenous governments, as
well as within settler governments.
Because of this, finding self-determined solutions for addressing the crisis of missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people means conceptualizing rights as
founded in all relationships, rather than in contracts, and understanding that at the centre of it all,
we begin with our relationships to each other.
Understanding the crisis of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
as one based in key relationships provides a new way to look at how systems, structures, poli-
cies, and people work to target Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The frame-
123
work of encounter and of relationship also emphasizes the potential for change at all levels, not
just at the state or government level. At the same time, it also provides a powerful lens – a call
for justice – through which we can imagine a new and brighter future, with safety, health, and
healing for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and the families who have lost
those most important to them.
Encounters and relationships, within the right to self-determination, present potential for change
at all levels. While state-supported human rights can be helpful in keeping governments account-
able, a full understanding of both Indigenous and human rights concepts is important to also
understanding how solutions must be based in new relationships that are reciprocal and renew-
ing, and that acknowledge how we are all connected. This is where we find power and place.
“I FULLY BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF INDIGENOUS WOMEN WORKING

TOGETHER AND BEING ABLE TO COME UP WITH SOLUTIONS.”
Fay Blaney
Conclusion: Bringing It All Together

This chapter has outlined the National Inquiry’s framework and approach for understanding the
truths we heard throughout this process. This includes understanding that Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are holders of rights, as human beings and as Indigenous
Peoples, in key areas that relate to their safety and to justice and that also link to Indigenous ways
of knowing, understanding, and engaging in relationship. This framework has identified four root
causes of violence, including intergenerational trauma; social and economic marginalization; a
lack of institutional and political will; and the failure to recognize the expertise and capacity of
Indigenous women themselves in creating self-determined solutions.
But understanding all of these causes in relation to only one aspect of government or service
delivery won’t fully address the targeting of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. Of all of the threads that run through the truths the National Inquiry heard, one that
remains extremely powerful in understanding every story is that relationships matter.
Relationships matter because they can contribute to health or to harm – relationships can be the
difference between life and death. And when they are formed – in the moments of encounter that so
many people identified as harmful or damaging – there is also a new opportunity to create some-
thing better, and to improve outcomes for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Indigenous girls, women, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are targeted by colonial violence embedded
within institutions, structures, and systems, as well as interpersonal violence, where these
encounters occur. In many cases, this violence was forced on people in unexpected ways. In
other cases, a combination of oppressive systems and actions created circumstances that ulti-
mately targeted women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. As a family physician specializing in
124
FOREWORD
Leslie sees these challenges in Winnipeg, as well – particularly how women are blamed for the
violence they experience: “We know that they’ve been called prostitutes, drug addicts. And then
there’s always the polite terminology, which is coded, racially coded, like ‘at-risk,’ or those kinds
of things. There’s ways of people washing their hands as if to say, ‘Well… that has really noth-
ing to do with us.’ They’ve caused their own disappearances. They’ve contributed to their own
disappearances, and/or rapes, and/or murders, by their personal behaviours – by the way that
they are dressed, by what they were doing, by being Indigenous, and by being women. Many
people don’t see the system as violence. But in fact, missing and murdered Indigenous women
and girls is the result of imposed poverty, legal and individual racism, discrimination and the
patriarchy.”48
However, the Grandmothers also recognized some of the changes already starting as a result
of this National Inquiry. For Louise, one of the biggest impacts has been that more and more
Inuit are speaking out: “Recently we have broken the silence, given the recent ability to tell our
stories. Through the First Nations’ willingness to open their stories by sharing them, our stories
are being heard. The Commissioners’ Inquiry is what opened this.”49
Pénélope sees these commonalities between our stories, too: “It’s striking too, all their stories.
They show how fragile we are, and at the same time, how strong we are. And it still continues
today. That’s what strikes me, and how resilient we are.”50
She sees that we are at a critical juncture: “With the National Inquiry, that’s what I say. We’re at
a turning point here in Quebec just as we are in every community in Canada. Every Indigenous
person in the country knows now that it’s not normal to be second-class citizens in your own
country. This will make us stronger. That’s what the National Inquiry will produce.”51
Most important is the support, comfort and healing the National Inquiry has been able to provide
to families and survivors – work the Grandmothers will carry on past the life of the National In-
quiry. As Bernie says, “Being asked to be part of the National Inquiry has been one of the biggest
responsibilities of my life, and one of the hardest. I’ve met amazing Elders, family members and
survivors all across our beautiful nation and it’s given me the opportunity to walk shoulder to
shoulder with families and be part of the change. I’m amazed at how resilient we all are –
through our journey, we still have a sense of humour and we’re still standing together. This has
been a healing journey for me…. It’s been tough sometimes, but that’s what made us stronger
and closer through the process.”52
Bernie also makes a point to single out the Commissioners. “I have never seen a group of four
more incredible human beings, who have taken on so much starting with nothing. They are the
true warriors. They have put in long hours, long days, time spent away from their families. The
Creator doesn’t make mistakes, and he knew exactly who was fittest for this journey. Now, I’ve
going to support them right to the very end.”
As Elder Kathy says, “Right from the start of the National Inquiry it appears to have been held
to a different standard by the government and mainstream society. However, I strongly believe
that our Spiritual ancestors have guided us in powerful ways to attain what our Creator and our
44
Notes
1 Institute for the Advancement of Aboriginal Women 13 Barbara H. (Ebb and Flow First Nation), Part 1, Public
(IAAW) and the Women’s Legal Education and Action Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 114.
Fund (LEAF), “Submission: Independent Review of
14 Barbara H. (Ebb and Flow First Nation), Part 1, Public
Circumstances Surrounding the Treatment of ‘Angela
Cardinal’ in R. v. Blanchard,” 15 October 2017, 1.
Accessed September 8, 2018. https://www.leaf.ca/wp- 15 Carol W. (Muskeg Lake Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
content/uploads/2017/11/Cardinal-Inquiry-IAAW Volume 31, Saskatoon, SK, pp. 55-56.
-and-LEAF-Final-Submission-Oct-15.pdf
16 Carol W. (Muskeg Lake Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
2 First Nations, Métis and Inuit societies have their own Volume 31, Saskatoon, SK, p. 56.
understandings of gender and sexual diversity that are
17 Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Part 3, Pubic Volume 17,
different from Western ones. Because there is such a
St. John’s, NFLD, p. 37. During her testimony,
wide range of understandings within Indigenous
Dr. Bourgeois explained that this question is one she
Peoples, the National Inquiry uses the umbrella term
has adapted from an article by Sharene Razack called
“gender-diverse people” for examples of gender
“Race, Space, and Prostitution: The Making of the
diversity across different time periods, contexts, and
Bourgeois Subject” in which Razack asks: “What is the
Peoples. The term “Two-Spirit” comes out of a Native
source of the ideas that make it okay to abuse people
American/First Nations gay and lesbian conference in
involved in the sex trade?” (See Razack, “Race, Space,
1990, and was chosen to be a culturally appropriate
and Prostitution.”)
umbrella term for First Nations that could replace the
more derogatory term of “berdache.” The National 18 Hankivsky, Cormier and de Merich, “Intersectionality,”
Inquiry uses the acronym of 2SLGBTQQIA (Two- 3.
Spirit, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer,
19 Crenshaw, “Demarginalizing the Intersection.”
questioning, intersex and asexual) to refer to a modern-
day community of gender diverse people across all 20 Hankivsky, Cormier and de Merich, “Intersectionality,”
Indigenous people groups, including gender-diverse 3.
Inuit, while recognizing the limitations of any acronym.
21 Hancock, “When Multiplication,” as cited in
3 Mavis Windsor (Heiltsuk Nation), Part 1, Public Hankivsky, Cormier, and de Merich,
Volume 90, Vancouver, BC, p. 21. “Intersectionality,” 3.
4 Sandra Montour (Turtle Clan, Mohawk), Part 2, Public 22 Dhamoon, “Considerations,” as cited in Hankivsky,
Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 211. Cormier, and de Merich, “Intersectionality,” p. 6.
5 Marilyn W. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 30, 23 Morris and Bunjun, “Using Intersectional Feminist
Saskatoon, SK, p. 18. Frameworks,” 1.
6 Wilson, Research Is Ceremony. 24 See, for example, Browne and Fiske, “First Nations
Women’s Encounters” and Smye and Browne,
7 Percy P. (Alexis Nakota Sioux Nation), Part 1, Public
“‘Cultural Safety’.”
Volume 31, Saskatoon, SK, pp. 15-16.
25 Alaya M. (Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation), Part 1,
8 Ermine, “Ethical Space,” p. 195.
Public Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 8-9.
9 Cheryl M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18,
26 Beverly Jacobs, quoted in University of Alberta Faculty
Membertou, NS, p. 17.
of Law Blog, “Intersectional Marginalization.”
10 Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume
27 Clark, “Perseverance, Determination and Resistance,”
78, Vancouver, BC, pp. 12-13.
135–36.
11 Anni P. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 80, Vancouver,
28 Fanon, Les Damnés de la terre, 9–12.
BC, pp. 16-17.
29 Bourdieu, Masculine Domination, 23, 34–35, 83;
12 Darlene G. (Annapolis Valley First Nation), Part 1,
Bourdieu and Thompson, Language and Symbolic
Public Volume 18, Part 1, Membertou, NS, pp. 54-55.
Power, 239–43.
126
30 Duran, Transforming the Soul Wound. 39 Marlene J., Part 1, Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC,
pp. 42-43.
31 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First
Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, 40 Connie Greyeyes (Bigstone Cree Nation), Mixed Parts
Winnipeg, MB, p. 148. 2 & 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC. p. 50.
32 Linklater, Decolonizing Trauma Work, 34. 41 Connie Greyeyes (Bigstone Cree Nation), Mixed Parts
2 & 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 60.
33 “Multigenerational” trauma “points to the multiple
types of trauma understood as current, ancestral, 42 Delores S. (Saulteaux, Yellow Quill First Nation),
historical, individual or collective experiences” (Ibid., Part 1, Public Volume 26, Saskatoon, SK, p. 28.
23). “Intergenerational” trauma looks more to the way
43 For a thematic list of all previous recommendations
trauma is “passed from one generation to the next,
made on this issue, see the “Master List of Previous
behaviourally and observationally and through
Recommendations” at http://www.mmiwg-
memory” (Ibid., p. 23).
ffada.ca/publications/. For an overview of culturally
34 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First relevant gender-based analysis, see Native Women’s
Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Association of Canada, “Culturally Relevant.”
Winnipeg, MB, p. 147.
44 National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered
35 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First Indigenous Women and Girls, Interim Report, p.13.
Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10,
45 Fay Blaney (Xwémalhkwu of the Coast Salish), Part 3,
Public Volume 4, Quebec City, QC, p. 110.
36 Carol B. (Ermineskin Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 20, Edmonton, AB, p. 75.
47 Dr. Barry Lavallee (First Nations/Métis), Part 3, Public
Volume 9, Toronto, ON, pp. 62-63.
38 Eva P. (Alexis Nakota Sioux Nation), Part 1, Public
127
CHAPTER 1
2
Indigenous Recognitions of
Power and Place
Introduction: Women Are the Heart of Their Communities
In the beginning, there was nothing but water, nothing but a wide, wide sea. The only
people in the world were the animals that lived in and on water.
Then down from the sky world a woman fell, a divine person. Two loons flying over the
water happened to look up and see her falling. Quickly they placed themselves beneath
her and joined their bodies to make a cushion for her to rest upon. Thus they saved her
from drowning.
While they held her, they cried with a loud voice to the other animals, asking their help.
Now the cry of the loon can be heard at a great distance over water, and so the other
creatures gathered quickly.
As soon as Great Turtle learned the reason for the call, he stepped forth from the
council.
“Give her to me,” he said to the loons. “Put her on my back. My back is broad.”1
Women are the heart of their Nations and communities.

Through countless testimonies to the National Inquiry, we heard how the absence of women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people has a profound and ongoing impact on communities, and how
their gifts, as shared in distinctive roles and responsibilities, are crucial to community wellness,
to help communities thrive. As a whole, these roles and responsibilities are linked to various
systems of Indigenous laws and rights that flow from them.
129
INTRODUCTION
The RCMP report also stated that Indigenous women made up roughly 16% of all female homi-
cides between 1980 and 2012, despite making up only 4% of the female population.24 Statistics,
however, can be misleading: this number represents an average over a long time span, which
obscures the increasing severity of the problem – namely, that Indigenous women and girls now
make up 24% of female homicide victims.25
Lisa Meeches, an acclaimed Anishinaabe filmmaker from Long Plain First Nation in Manitoba,
co-created the true crime documentary series TAKEN a few years ago to help resolve the tragic
reality of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.26 As part of their advocacy,
Meeches’s production company, Eagle Vision, partnered with Maryanne Pearce and Tracey Peter,
an associate professor in the Department of Sociology at the University of Manitoba, to
transform an updated (2016) version of Pearce’s data into an odds ratio. They found that the
odds were much higher than previously imagined.
According to their calculations, Indigenous women and girls are 12 times more likely to be
murdered or missing than any other women in Canada, and 16 times more likely than Caucasian
women.27 Sharing these statistics – as well as the truths of families and survivors behind
them – has been another of their advocacy tools.
As more and more studies show, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are being
targeted from all sides, from partners and family members, acquaintances, and serial killers.
Rates of domestic and family violence are extremely high,28 but so is stranger violence. Indige-
nous women are also more likely to be killed by acquaintances than non-Indigenous women,29
and are seven times as likely to be targeted by serial killers.30 In the words of James Anaya,
United Nations Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, the rates of missing and
murdered Indigenous women and girls are “epidemic.”31
Other than murder, statistics also reveal how Indigenous women consistently experience higher
rates and more severe forms of physical assault and robbery than other groups in Canada.32
Sexual violence is a huge problem in all its forms: Indigenous women are sexually assaulted
three times more often than non-Indigenous women,33 and most of the women and children
trafficked in Canada are Indigenous.34 According to researchers Cherry Kingsley and Melanie
Mark, in some communities, sexually exploited Indigenous children and youth make up more
than 90% of the visible sex trade, even where Indigenous people make up less than 10% of the
population.35 The majority of Indigenous women who are later sexually exploited or trafficked
were sexually abused at an early age, making them easy targets for traffickers who prey on this
vulnerability and count on society’s turning a blind eye.36
55
You know, every stage of life has a gift, has a purpose, has a role. You know, little
babies, they bring joy to the world. Little kids, they have curiosity. They teach us about
safety. You know, every single age group has a gift…. If we recognize all of those gifts
and all of those responsibilities and all of those roles in every age group, then every child
will have the kind of life that will allow them to share their gift of joy and to keep that,
because it’s meant for the world.4
Inuk mother gives her child a kunik, or

kiss, n.d. Source: Library and Archives
Canada/Department of Indian Affairs and
Northern Development fonds/e006609837.
Because these responsibilities are relational and reciprocal, they tell us what people should be
able to expect from others. They are also rooted in certain underlying values or principles within
Indigenous laws and value systems that are shared across Indigenous communities, such as re-
spect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness. Understanding how these values shape the roles and
responsibilities of Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people is particularly important be-
cause we can use these values to create healing encounters today. In addition, understanding the
distinctions among Nations and communities in key areas is important in understanding that
there is no one solution to implementing measures to promote safety and justice.
Each testimony we heard provided unique perspectives of roles and responsibilities in various
Nations and communities, and, in doing so, demonstrated how women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people hold rights, within diverse Indigenous laws, related to culture, health, safety, and justice.
These rights come from the knowledge and wisdom of distinct Nations and Peoples. In predomi-
nantly oral Indigenous traditions, this wisdom is most often shared through stories like the one
that begins this chapter.
131
INTRODUCTION
Tamara’s observation that Jennifer’s death – and the violence, disappearances, and deaths of
many other Indigenous women – was not a “random act” points to another important part of the
story that Indigenous families, friends, and loved ones told about the relationships and encoun-
ters that violated the safety and security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
In her testimony, Danielle E. described how even in their daily lives when physical or sexual
violence may not be immediately present, Indigenous women and girls experience a constant
threat of violence and the fear that accompanies this.
I have hope that something good will come out of this, that as an Indigenous woman,
I don’t have to walk on the street and be afraid because, today, when I go somewhere,
I’m afraid, and it’s a fear that we all carry every day and you get so used to it that it’s
like it’s part of you, and it shouldn’t have to be because not everybody in society today
has to walk around and be afraid the way Indigenous women are and girls. I have seven
As these testimonies demonstrate, the normalization of violence – or, put another way, the nor-
malization of the loss of safety and security – becomes another way in which Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are targeted for further violence. The fact that there is little, if
any, response when Indigenous women experience violence makes it easier for those who choose
to commit violence to do so, without fear of detection, prosecution or penalty.
Interpreting the Mandate

As these testimonies suggest, the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women and Girls heard about a huge range of issues that impact the safety and wellness of
Indigenous women and girls. The National Inquiry itself is the result of mounting pressure from
grassroots family members and survivors, community organizations and national Indigenous
organizations, international human rights organizations, and the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission of Canada to launch a public inquiry into the disproportionate levels of violence
against Indigenous women and girls. After pointed resistance from the previous federal govern-
ment, a new federal government announced a public inquiry into missing and murdered
Indigenous women in 2015, and the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women and Girls formally began its work in September 2016.
The terms of the National Inquiry’s mandate (what we are meant to accomplish) is set out in our
Terms of Reference. Specifically, the National Inquiry is mandated to report on:
i. Systemic causes of all forms of violence – including sexual violence – against Indige-
nous women and girls in Canada, including underlying social, economic, cultural,
institutional and historical causes contributing to the ongoing violence and particular
vulnerabilities of Indigenous women and girls in Canada, and
57
An important component of this work is understanding that there exist other legal orders in
Canada, beyond those that most people know. Indigenous laws include principles that come from
Indigenous ways of understanding the world. They come from relationships and understandings
about how societies can function that include rights and responsibilities among people and be-
tween people and the world around us.
Relationships are the foundation of Indigenous law. As Val Napoleon explained, “It’s tools for
social ordering; it’s problem-solving; and it’s the way that we resolve conflicts and we manage
conflicts. And when our legal orders failed or we didn’t properly adhere to our own legal orders,
we can look at our oral histories and see what happened in our societies during those times.”7
In other words, as legal scholars Emily Snyder, Val Napoleon, and John Borrows explain, Indige-
nous law and Indigenous societies are linked, as a “specific set of ideas and practices aimed at
generating the conditions for greater peace and order.”8
As they relate to the expression of rights, Indigenous laws and the ideas upon which they are
based are also linked to the idea of inherent rights. They are inherent because they are not West-
ern-based or state-centric. This means they can’t be taken away by provinces and territories, by
the government of Canada, or by the United Nations.9
Inherent Indigenous law belongs to all Indigenous communities and Nations. As Dawnis
Kennedy notes, a fundamental principle of Indigenous law is the idea that: “All peoples were
given a language, all peoples were given a law, all peoples were given songs. All peoples were
given gifts to live into the world, and those are gifts from spirit and they are necessary in the
world and they are necessary in building good relationships with each other.”10 Individually, too,
“a fundamental precept of our law is that everyone has a place. We might not know that but
everyone belongs. Everyone is here for a purpose. Everyone is here for a reason. Everyone
matters as much as the next, a fundamental law.”11
“AN ISSUE HAS TO BE LOOKED AT FROM TWO DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVES: THE

WESTERN PERSPECTIVE AND THE INDIGENOUS PERSPECTIVE, SO THAT THIS
PROVIDES THE WHOLE PICTURE FOR WHOEVER IS TRYING TO UNDERSTAND
THE PARTICULAR ISSUE.”
Tuma Young
133
INTRODUCTION
Sharing their truths in-camera, or privately, at a Community Hearing was another option. In this
case, families and survivors shared directly to a Commissioner with their supports, National
Inquiry staff members, and Parties with Standing present, but without any access by the general
public. This was for the safety of the people sharing their truth, in some cases, as well as within
the trauma-informed approach where people might have difficulty describing their stories in pub-
lic. Whether it was for physical safety, mental safety, or cultural safety, holding private hearings
was crucial to ensure we could hear the true stories of family members and survivors of violence.
Confidential transcripts of these sessions were created to help contribute to the National
Inquiry’s findings of fact and recommendations, and identify overall trends, but they will not be
released to the public and will not be made available after the life of the National Inquiry. While
truths shared in-camera have helped shape the National Inquiry’s findings and conclusions, no
direct quotes are used from in-camera testimony in this report to respect that person’s confiden-
tiality, except in exceptional circumstances where permission was granted by the witness for
portions of the testimony to be used.
Sharing with a Statement Gatherer was another option. In this case, Statement Gatherers
travelled to the family member or survivor and conducted an in-person, videotaped interview
with them, which would later be reviewed by one of the Commissioners in all jurisdictions but
Quebec, which required review by three. The person sharing could request that their transcripts
be made public or kept private. There were also statement-gathering events, where multiple
statements were collected from participants at one location.
Another option was to submit an artistic expression that represented that person’s response to,
or experience of, violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to the
National Inquiry’s Legacy Archive. Commissioners welcomed people’s testimony in more than
one form.
Another decolonizing and trauma-informed decision made was to include chosen families, or
“families of the heart,” in all of our definitions of “family members.” This includes a broad sense
of family that goes beyond a person’s nuclear, biological, or extended family to include others
who consider themselves family. These “families of the heart” have chosen to stay closely in-
volved and support each other out of mutual love and respect. This is especially important for
many 2SLGBTQQIA people, women who have had to leave their biological families and/or
communities due to violence, or those who have been separated from their birth families through
child welfare, adoption, and the Sixties Scoop.
Parts 2 and 3 of the Truth-Gathering Process involved Institutional Hearings and Expert and
Knowledge Keeper Hearings. Institutional Hearings inquired into the systemic causes of
institutionalized violence, as well institutional responses to violence, while those who shared as
part of the Expert and Knowledge Keeper Hearings – Elders, academics, legal experts, front-line
workers, young people, specialists, and others – provided their recommendations on systemic
causes of violence and possible solutions. As part of the hearing process, National Inquiry
lawyers and Parties with Standing had the opportunity to examine Parts 2 and 3 witnesses. The
topics covered during the Institutional and Expert and Knowledge Keeper Hearings grew out of
62
INTRODUCTION
Reclaiming Power and Place

The result of research conducted through the Truth-Gathering Process that privileges the voices
of those with lived experience, and that focuses on the sacred place of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people in their families, communities, and Nations, is a report that insists on
self-determined solutions distinctive to the needs of those most affected as rights bearers. And
while it is far from the first report released on violence against Indigenous Peoples, and it likely
won’t be the last, we maintain that the framework behind Reclaiming Power and Place: The
Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls is
both powerful and empowering in its calls to focus on rights and relationships at every level –
from the individual day-to-day encounters that feed violence and discrimination, to those larger
institutional and systemic structures that need to change.
In its presentation of findings, this report connects the testimony collected nationally during
the Truth-Gathering Process to violations of Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people’s human and Indigenous rights. By applying a human and Indigenous rights lens, as well
as a gendered lens, to the truths shared during the Truth-Gathering Process, we argue that the
violence experienced by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people – as well as all
forms of violence experienced by Indigenous Peoples – is a human rights issue. In sharing their
truths, families, loved ones, and survivors were not only sharing stories about the violence they
or their loved one endured but also sharing stories about human rights abuses and violations.
Making the changes required to end violence against them is not a matter of public policy but
one of domestic and international law.
Based on the findings from our Truth-Gathering Process and our analysis of previous reports, the
National Inquiry finds that the main reason these changes and recommendations haven’t been
implemented yet is that they rely on governments and bureaucracies to want to change their own
laws, contracts, and policies. While many of these should indeed be changed, they miss the
fundamental role of relationship. After all, Canadian laws are not set in stone; they are based
on the values and relationships of the people who write them.
In sharing their truths with the National Inquiry, family members and survivors told not only
stories about violence but also stories about the relationships through which violence takes place.
In this report, we focus on the role of relationships, and the significant encounters within rela-
tionships, that family members and survivors described as leading to or lessening harm, violence,
and suffering. Taking a basic lesson offered through the testimony – that relationships matter –
this report presents many examples that illustrate how relationships – whether those as small as
the relationship shared between two people or as large as the relationship between two world
views – offer important ways of understanding how violence continues and how violence may be
prevented. While the report and its recommendations argue for changes to the relationships that
colonial systems and structures are built on, it also strives to provide examples of the way indi-
vidual people and their day-to-day interactions can make a difference in ending violence.
64
INTRODUCTION
To date, this has been partially implemented, and we recognize that the National Inquiry into
Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls is in itself a fulfilled TRC Call to Action.
Other actions include endorsing and passing New Democratic MP and reconciliation critic
Romeo Saganash’s Bill 262, a private member’s bill aimed at ensuring that Canada’s laws are in
harmony with those rights set out in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous
Peoples – a declaration that Saganash himself helped to create. At time of this writing, the Bill
was in its second reading, in Senate. In 2018, the federal government had also agreed to work
toward the equivalent of Jordan’s Principle for Inuit children, to ensure health care for them
would not be delayed. In addition, Bill C-91, An Act Respecting Indigenous Languages, which
would establish measures for long-term and sustainable funding for the support and promotiong
Indigenous languages, was unveiled in early 2019.
Collectively, these are important pieces of work, which will require careful implementation and
reporting. In particular, ensuring that the principles that animate them are applied to all services
that can help to promote security and safety for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people is a complicated process, but one that we argue needs to move more urgently and quickly.
2. Full compliance with the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal ruling (2016) that found
that Canada was racially discriminating against First Nations children.
This has not been implemented. Canada has now received seven non-compliance orders from
the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal (CHRT).55 The First Nations Child and Family Caring
Society is back in court against Canada, which is now rejecting First Nations children’s claims
based on their lack of Status as determined by the Indian Act. Aside from the many problems
with assigning First Nations identity through colonial legislation such as the Indian Act, which
we cover in more detail elsewhere in this report, the CHRT decision makes no distinction be-
tween Status and non-Status First Nations children, and the Supreme Court of Canada recently
ruled that Ottawa has a fiduciary duty to non-Status First Nations people, and to Métis. As of
February 19, 2019, the tribunal issued interim relief orders for Jordan’s Principle in favour of the
Caring Society, stating that non-Status First Nations children in urgent situations will be covered
under Jordan’s Principle until the evidence has been heard regarding the definition of “First
Nations.”56
Given that the Canadian Human Rights Act forbids discrimination based on race, it is the Caring
Society’s position that Jordan’s Principle also applies to Inuit children where public services
have been delayed or denied.
The National Inquiry heartily agrees with Dr. Cindy Blackstock when she says: “When I look at
the wealth of this country, I think that equality for First Nations children should come in a leap,
not in a shuffle. And just frankly, if they can afford to spend five billion on a pipeline, they can
afford to eradicate inequalities in education and other areas for their kids.”57
67
Reciprocity is about give and take. When a relationship is reciprocal, both sides actively partici-
pate in giving what is needed and taking what is needed. Within many Indigenous world views,
the principle of reciprocity isn’t time-bound, because it exists not on a timeline but in a circle;
everything is linked and connected. This means that in everything, there is an exchange of ideas,
and one idea or gift leads to another. Social reciprocity is about obligations to other members of
the group, and is connected to reciprocity with the environment and the land. It creates rights and
obligations for people toward each other.
Interconnectedness is the idea that the rights of individuals and of the collective are connected
to rights of the land, water, animals, spirits, and all living things, including other communities or
Nations. Interconnectedness recognizes that everything and everyone has purpose and that each
is worthy of respect and holds a place within the circle of life. These roles and responsibilities, as
well as the principles of law within them, can be expressed in language, use of land, ceremony,
and in relationships.
Understanding How Laws Are Lived, in Community

Professor Jean Leclair, from the Faculty of Law at the University of Montréal, testified in Que-
bec City, pointing out, “For thousands of years, Aboriginal people had legal orders that worked
very well, thank you. So how is it that for 150 years they would not be able to do it anymore?”13
A key feature of understanding Indigenous laws is also understanding that these were important
in a very practical way within the lives of community members.
Speaking of Onaakonigewin, or Anishinaabe law, Dawnis Kennedy noted:
Our law we carry in our hearts and we live into the world through the decisions that we
make. That’s how we live our law. But our law is not human-made. I’m glad it wasn’t
left up to us. Our law is a law of life and how life flows, and it’s up to us as humankind
to look at all of our relations to figure out that law, to know that law, to connect that law,
to live that law.14
Examples of living the law can be found in many different places, including the natural world.
Some family members and survivors told the National Inquiry about drawing legal principles
from the animal world, from the rain, from the movement of river water, and from the cycles of
the moon. In her presentation to the National Inquiry, Val Napoleon said: “Natural law is also a
source of law and John Borrows gives examples of his mother watching butterflies and milk-
weed. And she would observe that there would be fewer butterflies if the … land wasn’t being
taken care of. So she was drawing lessons about that.”15
Drawing from the lessons of the natural world, as well as from necessary rules about social order
and organization, Indigenous laws served to promote safety and justice. Val Napoleon continued:
137
Indigenous law has to be accessible, it has to be understandable, and it has to be
applicable. It can’t just exist in people’s talk. It has to be a part of how we manage our
behaviour with one another…. And when we look at oral histories or we look at stories,
the different kinds of oral histories that people had, those formed a public memory. They
formed legal precedent from which we can draw on to solve present-day problems.16
In many cases, obeying Indigenous laws was a matter of life and death. These laws were not
crucial just in terms of cultural knowledge, but at a basic level of survival. This is especially
evident within stories shared by Inuit, whose environment strongly dictated the importance of
the laws. As Sandra Omik, legal counsel at Nunavut Tunngavik Inc., explained:
The people, the community, there were couples, children, and grandparents, a sister,
brother, an Elder, grandfather, grandmother; they would help each other elaborately so
that they survive. So it’s the same thing. Every day, daily they would help each other and
it’s part of their society in the North to survive the day so they work together. They live
in harmony.… If something happens or if a terrible thing happens or if there is a problem
they would – they would get closer and resolve it and just to try to survive, for survival if
somebody is stingy or if somebody is hungry. And the same with their minds. With their
minds there is also peace and that was very collaborative.17
Collaboration, planning for the future, and being prepared were not necessarily laws, according
to Sandra Omik, but were principles that were always followed, because “if the plan was not
followed, we could have famine. We could freeze to death. We could not have seal to heat our
lamps and therefore freeze.”18
Laws were also important when dealing with behaviour that wasn’t accepted by the community,
including violence. Communities’ and Nations’ own stories, both traditional and oral histories,
feature key moments of violence, as the next section of this chapter will show, where members
were banished, punished, or otherwise held to account for violence inflicted on other members
of the community.
As Snyder, Napoleon, and Borrows argue, the failure to acknowledge that violence did exist
within Indigenous communities in the past, and that sexism also existed, is dangerous. It disem-
powers Indigenous societies’ ability to deal with these issues by insisting they are all new and all
flow from colonization. While a great deal of the violence has links within the history of colo-
nization, the tendency to sanitize the past makes the existing resources in the area of Indigenous
laws seem invisible and irrelevant. Snyder, Napoleon, and Borrows explain, “It is possible to
work with the idea that colonialism has negatively impacted gender norms and is reliant on gen-
dered violence, without necessarily having also to claim that gender relations prior to contact
were perfect.”19
138
Indigenous laws recognize that society is dynamic, and that every person is an individual whose
role is also to contribute to the community. As Elder Kunuk Muckpalook explained, “Not every-
one was perfect but in the old days we had … sayings that we had to live by that were the beliefs.
We had customs to live by. We were asked to help our people. Those who were in need, our job
was to help them.”20 Despite the changing circumstances of life in the North, as Sandra Omik
points out, these principles are still important today.21 Dr. Hadley Friedland explains, “Rebuild-
ing Indigenous laws is about rebuilding and strengthening conditions of peace, safety, dignity,
and justice.”22
Carolyn Kaye, Dene, carrying her son Selwyn, in a

beaded baby belt, 1947. Source: Library and Archives
Canada/Department of Indian Affairs and Northern
Development fonds/a185627.
This is why, in part, the conditions for peace, safety, dignity, and justice can be found in under-
standing some of these principles. Dawnis Kennedy states:
We need to know ourselves and who we are as Anishinaabe so that we can show
mino-bimaadiziwin to all of our relatives in creation and the other sacred colours of
humankind that life is about life. It is about life. And honouring one life is about
honouring all life. Protecting one life is about protecting every life and all life.23
Indigenous laws, and the rights articulated within them, can also provide concrete paths forward
for communities and for Nations. Val Napoleon argues, “The issue of missing and murdered In-
digenous women and girls is not only a legal issue within Canadian law. It’s an issue within our
different Indigenous legal orders. And the work of Indigenous law includes that of rebuilding
139
INTRODUCTION
Successes and Challenges of the National Inquiry

In reflecting on where we are today, the National Inquiry recognizes it has had many successes
as well as many challenges.
One of the most important successes of the National Inquiry is how many people entrusted us
with their stories. We see these stories as sacred. The National Inquiry made some mistakes
along the way, but family members and survivors of violence were able to work one-on-one with
our Health and Legal teams to share their stories, and continued to receive support through the
National Inquiry’s aftercare program for several months after they shared their truths. We are
humbled by the sheer number of people who shared their stories in order to help others truly
understand the levels of violence in this country.
Having so many people break the silence has already created a momentum much bigger than the
National Inquiry, and has continued to build. Trauma has widespread effects, but so does healing.
As one Inuk Elder told the members of the National Inquiry’s internal Inuit Working Group, their
work was “already saving lives.” These healing effects are still rippling gently through families
and communities. It is one of Canada’s most important jobs in the months and years ahead to
ensure that these ripples build into waves of change.
One of our biggest challenges was working under the federal government’s rules and procedures,
which are designed for government departments with long lifespans, not two-year public in-
quiries working in a culturally safe and trauma-informed way. Finding ways to navigate these
rules designed for a completely different context was particularly critical, given our other biggest
challenge: the lack of time.
The two years and four months’ mandate given to the National Inquiry at its outset was not
enough. With the broadest mandate of any public inquiry in Canadian history, and given the time
required simply to hire staff, get the infrastructure in place, and begin to build key relationships,
this time frame significantly hampered our ability to fully work according to families-first,
decolonizing, and trauma-informed approaches. Processes that would normally take months in a
government department needed to be compressed into weeks to fit our schedule. Many of our
hearings were held back-to-back, and we were never able to give as much notice for hearings and
events as we would have liked. It was very difficult to get the appropriate systems and policies in
place until well into our mandate. It was also very difficult to build relationships with Indigenous
communities with enough lead time to allow them to report back to, and work collectively
within, their families, communities, and governance structures. In some cases, family members
felt rushed, and received short notice for when they were scheduled to testify.
From an organizational perspective, National Inquiry staff members experienced delays in
receiving computers, phones, Internet connections, email access, and access to a central shared
drive – extremely important for a National Inquiry working from coast to coast to coast. Many
staff members worked from home, across all time zones and in remote locations, or spent a great
deal of time on the road. Ongoing technology and IT problems, along with the complex require-
72
As many testimonies demonstrated, accessing adequate housing, food, employment, and oppor-
tunities within both community and urban settings can be complicated by assumptions that are
made about Indigenous Peoples generally and women in particular. Stories can help ground the
perceptions of Indigenous rights as historical and contemporary understandings about the rela-
tionships upon which traditional and contemporary roles and responsibilities of women depend.
They help anchor the testimony that we have analyzed in a context that is relevant to witnesses,
and that can help us understand how very far we have departed, as a society, in our understand-
ings about women and girls.
For Dawnis Kennedy, regardless of their origin, stories also animate an understanding of power
and place. As she explains, “Our stories are – oral history tells us, you know, there was other
times that we almost lost all of who we were, some of it just all by ourselves. And the spirit loves
us so much that they will always find a way to answer our request to find our way back to life.”29
In this next section, we will look at key stories from a diversity of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis
Peoples as a way to demonstrate some general principles, articulated within the testimonies as
well as within some stories, that can help to promote safety and justice in Indigenous terms. For
Indigenous societies, the point is not whether or not the events in a story actually happened. First
Nations, Métis, and Inuit societies rely on stories to illustrate lessons, values, and laws in a way
everyone can understand. Indigenous stories teach local history and land-based science,30 provide
examples of how to live out traditional values in real life,31 and act as case studies for law.32 As
Val Napoleon explains, “We have to make sure that our laws are accessible in this so that all of
our members – women, children, people from different sexual orientations, and trans and so on –
that all of us can see ourselves as mattering within that legal order.”33
Stories aren’t made this way without hard work and careful thought – both for the storyteller
and the person listening. They may have a lesson, but they don’t come with a rule book. Val
Napoleon and Hadley Friedland, who are using stories to explore Indigenous law, point out that
stories are not “passively passed on by infallible elders in some immaculate … form. Rather,
stories are part of a serious public intellectual and interactive dialogue involving listeners and
learners, elders and other storytellers – as they have been for generations.”34
141
“Yamozha and His Beaver Wife”
through a Dene Woman’s Perspective
Cindy A. originally came to the National Inquiry to speak about her grandmother, Mary Adele D., a strong
Dene woman who was killed in a violent attack. However, Cindy also came to share the importance of reviv-
ing Dene laws to help address the crisis of missing and murdered women and girls: “We have our Indigenous
laws, and we need to revive those, talk about them, teach them to our children and our families. Through col-
onization we have lost a lot of those teachings. People don’t understand what they mean, our Dene laws.
And I think that needs to happen.” I
Cindy is Weledeh, a Yellowknives Dene Tlicho woman need to be here speaking about it, because we’d
originally from Yellowknife, Northwest Territories. She all be around the campfire. We would be in the
is also a lawyer with a degree in Indigenous Law from circle. You’d have men and women together,
the University of British Columbia. She advocates that standing together.II
as part of reviving Dene laws, we need to pay partic-
ular attention to Indigenous women’s stories. She In the story Cindy shares, Yamozha asks a beaver
offers a Dene woman’s perspective on the well- woman to be his wife. She agrees, on the condition
known story of “Yamozha and His Beaver Wife” as an that he never let her feet get wet. He agrees as well,
example. and for many years, they live happily together.
Yamozha (also known as Yamoria, the Lawmaker) is Then, one day, he breaks his promise. She leaves him
one of the most important figures in ancient Dene and returns to her beaver form. This enrages Yamozha
stories. He travelled widely when the world was new, so much that he chases her across the land, kills and
killing giant monsters, making the land safe, and eats their beaver child, and eventually turns her into an
teaching the Dene their sacred laws. island when she makes one last escape into the ocean.
At one time, everyone would have known these laws, Cindy points out that this story, and most other sto-
which include sharing what you have, and helping ries recorded by anthropologists and published in the
and loving one another. Now, mostly due to assimila- Northwest Territories, are “men’s stories” that focus on
tive policies like residential schools, many Dene peo- the male perspective. She emphasizes the need to
ple are missing these critical tools. “Some Dene “widen our gaze”III and uncover more stories showing
people, they just implicitly practice our Indigenous Indigenous women’s perspectives:
laws, our Dene laws,” Cindy said.
Because if you look at it with a critical eye, an
They do share, they do care for other peoples, Indigenous woman perspective, a Dene woman
they do help, and they are respectful. But then, perspective, you’ll see that the stories condone
as we know, this Inquiry is here to tell the story violence, death, murder.... I would really like for
of Indigenous women and girls. There’s a break our Indigenous women’s stories, our Indigenous
in the laws. There’s a break in the traditions. laws as women come forward and be taught.
Things are unbalanced, because if people fol- And that those teachings, those teachings will
lowed these laws from Yamozha, then we’d not help us live in the future.IV
142
Cindy then offers her interpretation of “Yamozha and critical eye to gender can actually lift up women and
His Beaver Wife”: 2SLGBTQQIA people facing violence today.
If you look critically at it, Yamoria had a marriage Cindy’s example shows us what the ongoing work of
contract, a marriage promise to his beaver wife. law-making can look like for different Indigenous
He broke that. He did not put the branches down Peoples. This work is underway in many communities,
for her. One of the roles that I understand Dene but federal, provincial, and territorial governments
men have actually is for breaking trail. And to rarely recognize that Indigenous Peoples have
take care and protect your wife. He did not do distinct legal systems. As Cindy said:
that. He broke his marriage contract with her. So
she had a right to leave. But when she stood up We should embrace our Indigenous laws, as we
and said, no, you broke my promise, he became are Nations, and we have our own laws as Indige-
violent. He stalked her, chased her all over the nous people. We were here first. This is our coun-
country, all over Denendeh [Dene land]…. try, this is my land, and we should have that
recognition. As we move towards self-govern-
What is missing is the Indigenous and Dene ment in land claims, Indigenous governments
teachings that go along with this, that would will have the right to pass their own laws. I’d like
give context to the story and would inform those laws to be informed by Indigenous teach-
about the teachings … and the importance of ings, our Dene laws. Because that will help guide
the Dene laws. My view on this in part about this us in a good way in the future.VII
story is that Yamozha, besides being our law-
maker for Dene people, he also was a man, a Cindy closed her testimony on this subject by under-
human man with failings.V scoring her call to uncover, revive, and share widely
the stories of Indigenous women. “I would strongly
Cindy argues that looking at these stories with a crit- encourage that we start telling our stories as women
ical eye does not mean we can’t use Dene law to ad- and girls,” Cindy said.
dress violence against Indigenous women and girls.
She uses the example of talking circles with Elders to I’m very grateful to be here, and the Inquiry
address family violence. “The parties would be given starting that process. We are telling our stories of
traditional teachings to bring them back into har- trauma, but we have to move beyond the stories
mony and balance,” she explains. “It’s maybe by talking of trauma into stories that give us guidance and
to an Elder and grandmothers and grandfathers that hope into the future. And it’s by including not
you learn the teachings that you’re supposed to know, only the men in the circle, but the women and
and then you’ll realize the error of your ways and go the girls, that that will happen. Then you’ll have
on a right path.”VI Looking at stories, traditional teach- the community behind you, if you include every-
ings, and other sources of Indigenous law with a body around the fire, and I encourage that.VIII
I Cindy A. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NWT, p. 54.

II Cindy A. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NWT, p. 58.
III Cindy A. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NWT, p. 64.
IV Cindy A. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NWT, pp.56, 66.
V Cindy A. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NWT, pp. 65, 66.
VI Cindy A. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NWT, pp. 70-71.
VII Cindy A. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NWT, p. 71.
VIII Cindy A. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NWT, p. 67.
143
This central idea – the notion that appeals to the past must be contextualized within the context
of ongoing violence against Indigenous women and girls – is key, as well as the need for meas-
ures and teachings that affirm, rather than deny, rights. As Indigenous Studies scholar Emma
LaRocque argues:
Culture is not immutable, and tradition cannot be expected to be always of value or
relevant even in our times. As Native women, we are faced with very difficult and
painful choices, but, nonetheless, we are challenged to change, create, and embrace
“traditions” consistent with contemporary and international human rights standards.35
In some cases, appeals to what is “traditional” are still used to question women’s demands for a
place in modern discussions about their own lives. As Canada Research Chair in Indigenous
Relationships Kim Anderson asserts, any call to the concept of “tradition” must recognize that
traditions are created within and adapted to a particular place and time, and do not exist in a
vacuum: “As we begin to reclaim our ways, we must question how these traditions are framed,
and whether they are empowering to us.”36
This is why, in our selection of stories, we include those that demonstrate harmful encounters
and those that demonstrate healing ones, drawing on the strength and resilience of Indigenous
women themselves.
A few comments on our interpretation of the stories is in order. We do not claim that these stories
contain traditional teachings that are common to all Indigenous societies, and neither do we view
tradition as static or unchanging. Our interpretation isn’t focused on identifying the lessons or
morals intended by the storytellers. Instead, we use stories as illustrative metaphors to help
explain the roles, responsibilities, and rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people in their communities in a dynamic sense. Within this work, we have included stories
featuring violence, understanding that these stories can show us how Indigenous Peoples resist
violence and find important solutions to problems within their own communities and Nations.37
Like the languages and Peoples they reflect, these stories represent dynamic encounters between
storyteller and listener, and offer important insights into respecting the rights of Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as sacred.
144
Indigenous Expressions of the Right to Culture,
Health, Safety, and Justice
As the previous chapter outlines, the National Inquiry has heard testimony that connects to
four broad categories of rights, and to women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as rights holders.
In our analysis of Indigenous stories from across Canada, we identified several key areas in
which rights are manifest for Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people: as teachers, leaders,
healers, providers, and protectors. These labels aren’t intended to trap people in static ideas about
culture; they aren’t labels at all. Instead, we acknowledge, as Snyder, Napoleon, and Borrows
have pointed out, that “Indigenous women deserve the right to safety and bodily integrity
simply because they are human.”38 We don’t offer these stories to burden women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, either; we look to highlight ways in which their own strengths are
brought forward in stories, and within the spectrum of Indigenous law, as ways to imagine
decolonizing the path forward.
In addition, we believe that understanding some of these ideas can help in moving beyond the
idea of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls as being simple “victims,” and be-
yond other labels that many people have rejected. As Eva P. shared about her loved one: “I don’t
like how they always talk about that substance abuse. She was much more than that. Misty was
an amazing person. She was the organizer of our family, but she was also a leader back home in
Alberta. She did a lot of great things.”39
Rather, these roles – teachers, leaders, healers, providers, protectors, and so many others – are
therefore brought forward as sites of power and of healing that were shared with the National
Inquiry and that carry across diverse Indigenous groups, including First Nations, Métis, and
Inuit. Toni C., survivor and family member, told us that what really helped her was “starting to
know who I really am … as a woman, as a First Nations woman – that I am a gift. And I do have
gifts to offer.”40 It is for these reasons that we embrace the importance of stories in defining
Indigenous rights and understanding what meaning they might hold in the context of addressing
violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. In this case, stories offer
both instruction and medicine, helping us to see the inherent Indigenous rights women hold and
how we might ultimately achieve safety and justice for families.
We apply these ideas in nuanced ways that bring forward many of the elements that those who
testified shared in relation to their loved ones. As Ann M. R. said:
Our people, our community want to heal, they want to learn their culture. They want to
go on the land. That’s where they want to be. That’s where they want to heal…. Culture
has to be lived. There is nothing that makes us happier than seeing our children dance.
Nothing makes us happier than seeing our children sing. Nothing makes us happier than
seeing our children speak and hearing them speak our language. Our parents are so
proud. It brings us to life. And that’s what we need is life and culture does that. Culture,
culture, culture. I cannot emphasize that enough is culture.41
145
As Fay Blaney explained, “Our rights and responsibilities are really important to us as Indige-
nous Peoples. It’s not just about individual rights. It is about our responsibility to community.”42
These stories illustrate rights as manifest in roles and responsibilities, to self and to community,
that come together to create safety, or can offer solutions to enhance safety.
Women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s place in culture connects to stories about women
and gender-diverse people as teachers and as leaders. Ann M. R. shared:
My mom lived on land and she would live at Simpson Creek, dry fish. Every summer
when we came out of that prison camp [residential school], she was drying fish, making
dry meat, making moose hide. I would sit in the little mosquito tent and read my True
Confessions and my mom would be working very hard to feed me. And people would
come on the highway and she taught us how to be generous. She gave. She gave fish.
She gave dry meat…. They stopped for coffee, they stopped for tea. She’d feed them,
she’d cook them bannock. That’s who we are as Dene. You don’t teach these things, you
live these things.43
Within families and within communities, women and 2SLGBTQQIA people have held roles as
mothers, grandmothers, and caregivers who work to educate future generations, and to preserve
knowledge and traditions, alongside but distinctive of men. In many societies, women’s roles in
governance roles as chiefs, Elders, clan mothers, and advisors help strengthen and maintain
collective identity.
“OUR PEOPLE, OUR COMMUNITY WANT TO HEAL, THEY WANT TO LEARN THEIR
CULTURE. THEY WANT TO GO ON THE LAND. THAT’S WHERE THEY WANT TO BE.
THAT’S WHERE THEY WANT TO HEAL … CULTURE HAS TO BE LIVED. THERE IS
NOTHING THAT MAKES US HAPPIER THAN SEEING OUR CHILDREN DANCE. NOTHING
MAKES US HAPPIER THAN SEEING OUR CHILDREN SING. NOTHING MAKES US HAPPIER
THAN SEEING OUR CHILDREN SPEAK AND HEARING THEM SPEAK OUR LANGUAGE. OUR
PARENTS ARE SO PROUD. IT BRINGS US TO LIFE. AND THAT’S WHAT WE NEED IS LIFE
AND CULTURE DOES THAT. CULTURE, CULTURE, CULTURE. I CANNOT EMPHASIZE
THAT ENOUGH IS CULTURE.”
Ann M. R.
For many of our witnesses, this connection to identity also offers protection and strength. It re-
lates to some of the various roles that women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have with respect
to security, within stories and in life, and also relates to their roles as providers and protectors.
Women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people contribute to a safe, secure community in many ways,
including by providing physical necessities, by protecting those in need through the management
of resources or their redistribution, and as defenders of the water, land, plants, and animals.
The National Inquiry’s Audrey Siegl shared the following about her work in Vancouver’s Down-
town Eastside: “When we walk down through the Downtown Eastside just with the sage, just
with the cedar, with a drum…. You see they’re dying for it, they’re starving for it, they don’t
146
INTRODUCTION
Chapter 9, “Wellness and Healing,” takes a closer look at the National Inquiry’s own health and
wellness approach for family members and survivors, and what we have learned from families
and survivors who participated in the National Inquiry who discussed their own healing journeys.
In Chapter 10, “Commemoration and Calling Forth,” we turn to the National Inquiry’s efforts to
raise awareness and engage in public education through our Legacy Archive, art outreach, and
youth engagement guide. Altogether, we assert, these actions, engagements, and interactions will
help reclaim the role of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as powerful cultural carriers
and sacred knowledge holders who are capable of shaping a safer future for the next generation
In Chapter 11, “On the Front Lines: Valuing the Insight of Front-line Workers,” we provide a
summary of four Guided Dialogue sessions, held in the fall of 2018. These dialogues brought
together people of diverse perspectives to discuss best practices and solutions for change. These
service providers, organizers, people with lived experience, Elders, academics, and outreach
support to fill in gaps and discuss best practices related to their own backgrounds within specific
Inuit, Métis, 2SLGBTQQIA, and Quebec contexts. Over the course of three days, participants
identified barriers and discussed what best practices and solutions look like through the lenses of
culture, health, security, and justice.
Calls for Justice
We end with our Calls for Justice. These Calls are anchored in human and Indigenous rights in-
struments, Indigenous laws, and principles shared through the testimonies of family members,
survivors, Knowledge Keepers, and Expert Witnesses, along with the National Inquiry’s advisory
groups, both internal and external. These Calls for Justice, as their name implies, demand action
that reflects, respects, and actively works to create relationships where Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people are recognized as rights bearers and have those rights upheld – work-
ing to address where justice, seen in the larger context of dispossession and marginalization,
has failed.
These Calls for Justice are based on the findings of fact found at the end of each chapter and in
the Deeper Dives, where applicable, as well as the overarching findings we lay out at the begin-
ning of Section 4. In addition, they are undergirded by important Principles for Justice – lenses
through which all Calls for Justice must be interpreted, applied and implemented, for change to
materialize.
Restoring safety for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is an urgent responsi-
bility for us all. These Calls are not simply moral principles; they are legal imperatives.
84
National Inquiry Grandmother Pénélope Guay speaks
to those in attendance in Quebec City, Quebec.
National Inquiry Grandmother Pénélope Guay

explained, “It’s really important for Indigenous
women to speak up. I tell myself the more they
speak, the more they regain their strength. The
more of us women who speak up, it’s strength.
It also shows our place. We have to take it, this
place.”46
These roles in teaching, in leadership, in health, in provision, and in protection are not mutually
exclusive. They are fluid, interdependent, and interconnected. Women and 2SLGBTQQIA people
may be leaders and healers, providers and protectors. They may take up different roles and re-
sponsibilities at different stages of life, and end up taking on them all.
What is most important, though, is that, like the human rights to which they are connected, these
roles and responsibilities are indivisible. For example, Indigenous women’s right to health cannot
be upheld without their culture and identity. Similarly, access to justice may be compromised in
the absence of culturally appropriate victim services to support mental health or because of the
lack of ability to file a complaint safely.
As a National Inquiry, our vision has always been to help build a foundation for Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to reclaim their rights as Indigenous Peoples – to
reclaim their “power and place.” This is based on a common principle we take to heart: “our
women and girls are sacred.” This is not a place beyond human understanding, but a reflection of
what every single life we heard about meant to those who testified. We use these stories to bring
together some of these ideas, and some of why, to those families who shared their truths, these
lives are sacred, and why there is such a void in the absence of loved ones.
These stories and some of the principles therein show us how the underlying principles of
Indigenous laws across many communities – respect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness – shape
the roles, responsibilities, and manifest rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
148
INTRODUCTION
Notes
1 Lemkin, Axis Rule in Occupied Europe, 79; 82-89; 89. 26 TAKEN, “About the series.”
2 Ibid., 79. 27 TAKEN, “Infographic.”
3 Ibid. 28 Boyce, “Victimization of Aboriginal People in Canada,
2014.”
29 Bruser et al., “Nearly half of murdered Indigenous
5 Ibid.
women.”
6 United Nations, Convention on the Prevention and
30 Blaze and McClearn, “Prime target.”
Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, Article II.
31 Anaya, “Statement upon Conclusion of the Visit to
7 Schabas, Genocide in International Law, 46.
Canada.”
8 Bjørnland, Markuson, and Mennecke, “What Is Geno-
32 Boyce, “Victimization of Aboriginal People in Canada,
cide?” as cited in Feierstein, “Defining the Concept of
2014.”
Genocide,” 12.
33 Conroy and Cotter, “Self-reported Sexual Assault in
9 Semelin, “Around the ‘G’ Word,” 27.
Canada, 2014.”
34 Canada, Public Safety Canada, National Action Plan to
11 Ibid. Combat Human Trafficking.
12 Krotz, “A Canadian genocide?” 35 National Aboriginal Consultation Project, Sacred Lives.
13 Woolford and Benvenuto, “Canada and Colonial 36 Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Boyfriend or
Genocide,” 375. Not.”
14 Ibid. 37 Bucik, “Canada: Discrimination and Violence,” 4.
15 Krotz, “A Canadian genocide?” 38 Pyne et al., “Barriers to Well-Being.”
16 Palmater, “Sexualized Genocide.” 39 Boyce, “Victimization of Aboriginal People in Canada,
2014.”
17 Palmater, “The Ongoing Legacies.”
40 Kohkom (Piapot First Nation), Part 1, Statement
18 Fontaine and Farber, “What Canada committed against
First Nations.”
41 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public
19 Woolford and Benvenuto, “Canada and Colonial
Genocide,” 380.
42 Tamara S., Part 1, Public Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, pp.
20 Danny P. (Membertou First Nation), Part 1, Statement
51-52.
Volume 69, Membertou, NS, pp. 2, 4.
21 Native Women’s Association of Canada, “What Their
Stories Tell Us.”
44 Canada, Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern
22 Pearce, “An Awkward Silence.”
Affairs Canada,”Terms of Reference for the National
23 Royal Canadian Mounted Police, “Missing and Inquiry.” See also, National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Aboriginal Women.” Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, Legal Path,
24 Ibid. Rules of Respectful Practice, available at www.mmiwg-
ffada.ca/files/legal-path-rules-of
25 Mahony, Jacob, and Hobson, “Women and the Criminal -respectful-practice.pdf.
Justice System.”
87
In some testimonies, many family members discussed the lessons they learned from their female
family members, or the gap that was left when they were taken. As Grace T. shared about her
mother: “She was so proud. She – she created me, and this is the person that I am because of her
– articulate, beautiful, smart, educated, fearless – is because of her.”48
First Nations and Inuit stories of how the world began, or how people came to be, often show
mothers and grandmothers in leadership roles.49 These are powerful stories that show how
women are instrumental in shaping the actions, beliefs, and values of their people’s culture,
including their earliest relationship with water or land.
One of the most widely known Indigenous Creation stories is that of Sky Woman, or Awe(n)ha’i’
(“mature blossoms”). This is the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) story of the pregnant woman who
fell from the sky.50 In this story, many animals of the world help cushion her fall, with the great
Turtle giving her a place to land on his back. After she turns a tiny bit of mud into vast land all
along the Turtle’s back, Sky Woman takes seeds from her hair and dances, sings, and drums the
first plants and medicines into creation. She does this as an act of reciprocity, to show thanks to
the animals who treated her with kindness and respect.
The fact that Sky Woman is pregnant can symbolize the critical role life-givers continue to play
in shaping Nations. But Sky Woman also sets in motion, as Kim Anderson explains, “a creative
process that results in the completion of our first mother, the earth,”51 which creates a mother–
child bond between people and the land. Sky Woman’s daughter, She Who Always Leads, then
gifts the Haudenosaunee with their three staple foods: corn, beans, and squash.52 These are criti-
cal formative encounters that tie the Haudenosaunee cultural identity firmly to the leadership of
their women, beyond a simple “giver of life” biology, but within the context of complete provi-
sion for the world the people face.
Another origin story, this time from the Inuit world, is that of Nuliajuq, the Mother of the Sea
Mammals. She is also known as Sedna, Uinigumissuitung, and Avilayoq.53 This story takes place
when the world was very new, and people lived by eating rocks and dirt because there were no
animals to eat.
In one version of the story, she is a young woman trapped in a bad marriage to a bird. When
her father attempts to rescue her and bring her home, her bird husband causes large waves that
threaten to capsize their boat. Fearing for his life, he throws his daughter into the sea. She tries to
climb back into the boat, but her father, still fearful for his life, chops off her fingers.
In another version, she is an orphan girl who gets pushed into the sea. Her limbs are transformed
into the sea mammals, and she becomes their keeper.
150
That wickedness turned her into a great spirit, the greatest of all spirits. She became
Nuliajuq and made the animals that we hunt. Now everything comes from her –
everything that people love or fear – food and clothes, hunger and bad hunting,
abundance or lack of caribou, seals, meat, and blubber. Because of her, people have to
forever think out all the taboos [prohibitions] that make life difficult. For now people can
no longer live eating rocks and dirt. Now we depend on timid and cunning animals.54
Across different versions, Nuliajuq subsequently becomes the mother of the sea animals that
form the basis of the Inuit diet. She lives under the sea, and, when angered, will withhold game
from Inuit, causing hardship. As a result, Inuit went to great lengths to honour and show their re-
spect for Nuliajuq and the animals that belong to her, lest they starve.55
Naulaq Ledrew performs a traditional drum dance in

Toronto, Ontario.
The story of Nuliajuq is a challenging one, in

that Nuliajuq survives many forms of violence
or neglect before finding her place of leader-
ship. Similarly, her gifts to the Inuit are mixed:
the sea mammals provide food, clothing, and tools, but with these gifts come responsibilities –
rules Inuit would traditionally follow to show Nuliajuq respect.
In this way, we can see this story as a powerful metaphor for the position many Indigenous
women are in today: survivors of violence, but in the process of re-establishing themselves as
respected leaders who have their own solutions to share, with the many rights and responsibili-
ties that entails.
151
Women in Leadership
Dawnis Kennedy shared:
I think one of the first things that I could share is that women are life-givers and from
that flows so much. It is women who carry life, women who give life. Women are – it is
upon women that all life depends. And for Anishinaabe Onaakonigewin, that carries
many different consequences. You know, because women are the life-givers in our
Nation it is the women who carry the water. It’s our grandmother, the moon, who
governs the water, but it’s the women who carry the water and who work with the water,
who work for the water. And so any decision that impacts the water or impacts life is a
decision that requires women. And that’s a huge consequence and that’s a huge thing
because that means that any decision that we make that will affect life, we must ask
women.56
In many stories, women are also the bringers or keepers of sacred ceremonies.57 Ceremonies are
meant to strengthen people’s relationship to the Creator, to each other, and to the natural world
around them. They also help guide people through important transition points in their lives, and
provide a way for communities to recognize each other’s accomplishments. In these stories, such
as the one of White Buffalo Calf Women, who brings the Sacred Pipe and the Sundance, women
as leaders and as teachers are essential to an Indigenous People’s identity as a people.58
Women in stories can also be seen to have important roles in negotiating rights for their commu-
nities through cross-cultural marriages between a human and a non-human being (such as an
animal, plant, star, or other being from the natural world). Many women in First Nations, Inuit,
and Métis stories become diplomats or ambassadors for their communities by marrying
one of these non-human beings. In these roles, they either bring their people’s knowledge to
other cultures, or bring new skills back home – sometimes with great difficulty.
“INUIT WOMEN LEADERS ARE ALL AROUND US. THEIR LEADERSHIP STARTS IN THE
HOME, WITH THE MOTHERS AND GRANDMOTHERS, AND OF COURSE MANY INUIT
WOMEN AND GIRLS VOLUNTEER THEIR TIME IN THE COMMUNITY.”
Okalik Eegeesiak
The Métis story “The Fiddle I Give” emphasizes the enduring power of the skills and knowledge
of Indigenous mothers, while also recognizing the new gifts cultural exchanges can bring. In this
story, a young man from the Red River Colony (also known as the Selkirk Settlement) sets out
on a journey to find a cow with glowing horns (i.e., cattle). Along the way, he runs into three
grandmothers, found in traditional tipis. The first grandmother offers him a tiny thimble with a
kernel of corn and a pinch of pemmican, which, at first, he thinks will never fill him up.
152
His grandma gave him the thimble and said, “My grandson,” she said, “You eat. Eat this
until you get full.” By gosh, he took that thimble and he emptied it in his mouth, chewed.
By gosh, again that thing refilled, keep on refilling, all the time. When he got full, “Ah,
grandma,” he said. “I’m full,” he said. “You’re full,” she said. “Yeah, I’m full.” He gave
it to his grandma. Grandma took that little thimble and dumped it in her mouth. “It’s
empty, empty.” Didn’t refill no more.59
The next morning, the first grandma gives him a flint to help him on his journey. The second
grandmother gives him a rope, and the third, a fiddle. With all three items and the wisdom of the
grandmothers, the hero succeeds in his quest.
In this story, the kernel of corn and pinch of pemmican offered represent the “unending and ever
sustaining … substance of Indigenous culture.”60 It’s this nourishment, as well as the grandmoth-
ers’ knowledge, that ultimately saves his life. But this story also includes the fiddle, something
that was originally a piece of European technology, but has now become associated with the
Métis. The gifts that come from those connections, grounded in Indigenous matrilineal lines, are
at the heart of the Métis identity.
Mrs.Oman, a Métis cook with the Hudson’s Bay

Company, pictures in the Northwest Territories, 1926.
Source: Library and Archives Canada/ Department of
Indian Affairs and Northern Development
fonds/a099520.
153
As these brief examples demonstrate, and as our testimony highlights, these and many other sto-
ries emphasize women’s Indigenous rights and roles as cultural carriers of their communities and
as the centre of their families. This provides the foundation for individual and group leadership
across many Indigenous cultures. As Inuk leader Okalik Eegeesiak explains, “Inuit women lead-
ers are all around us. Their leadership starts in the home, with the mothers and grandmothers, and
of course many Inuit women and girls volunteer their time in the community.”61
Métis women Audreen Hourie and Anne Carrière-Acco assert similar leadership roles: “Métis
women, together with their spouses, always considered the well-being of the whole commu-
nity…. A strong and healthy Métis community will always have women in decision-making
roles.”62
The inclusion of women in the direct or indirect leadership of their people is an important key-
stone in the protection and promotion of safety and justice for Indigenous women and girls.
Women as Healers
In many testimonies we heard, the inability to access adequate or culturally appropriate health
services was a key cause of violence against women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people, particu-
larly in more remote communities where women were transported to receive treatment into
locations unfamiliar to them and, as a result, unsafe.
In many understandings within Indigenous storytelling, however, First Nations, Métis, and Inuit
women are the healers themselves; without them, healing is placed in jeopardy in families, in
communities, and in Nations. As Trudy S. shared,
My mother was a very beautiful lady…. She fought the system to bring back all the First
Nation children that were adopted, and she reunited a lot of families together and
brought their kids back to their biological family, and she had taken a lot of – she had
12 of us kids, but she took a lot of other kids in the house that didn’t have family. So, she
always had different kids that we called brother and sister, because she didn’t want to see
them put into foster homes, you know? She’s a great lady, my late mom.63
One of the important roles that Indigenous women and gender-diverse people have most consis-
tently played across Indigenous societies is in healing and medicine. This includes as “Indian
doctors,” midwives, medicine people, counsellors, and shamans. In these roles, healers generally
care for all aspects of a person’s health: physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional. Physical ail-
ments are often understood as an outward symptom of a problem with any of these four aspects
of self. This means that healers are not limited to addressing aches and pains, but also provide
teachings and support to address what they understand to be the root of the disease itself.64
154
As we heard from Heiltsuk leader Joann Green:
Medicine gathering is such an important part of who we are…. We open our back door
and we have our pharmacy. That’s where we get all of our medicine, you can walk up in
the bush and you can pick … salal berry leaves, those are medicine. You can go up into
the forest and you can get cedar bark, you go in there and you get the hemlock branches
… we’re very rich. We’re very rich.65
Stories like the Seneca story “How the Real People Got Medicine” show that Indigenous women
have long been regarded as experts in this field.66 In this story, Ha-wen-nee-yoh (the Great Spirit)
takes pity on the Ongweh-onh-weh (Real People), who did not know how to heal sickness. He
sends one of his messengers to take the form of a sick old man. He goes door to door, looking
for someone who will take him in, but everyone refuses except one old woman of the Bear Clan,
who “was kind to everyone, and always helped those who came to her in trouble.”67 When she
takes him in, he begins to instruct her on what kind of roots and bark to gather.
The woman did as he asked and she remembered what he had told her to gather for him.
When she returned to her house, the old man told her how to prepare the things which
she had brought, which she did. He said, “This is On-noh-qua-se (medicine)” and told
her what illness it would cure.
The woman asked him to remain with her until he was well enough to travel again, and
he agreed. The old man stayed many moons with the woman and during this time
became ill many times. Each time, the illness was different, and each time the old man
told the woman what to get that would cure the illness and how to prepare it. All these
things the woman remembered.68
At the end of the story, the old man declares that the Bear Clan People will become the healers of
the people in her honour, since she was the only person who would help.
This story is an example of Indigenous women’s historical and contemporary attachment to the
land. Women in most First Nations and Métis societies worked most closely with plants, berries,
and roots. For example, Naskapi men had some plant knowledge, but would acknowledge that
“that knowledge belonged to women, and it was their authority to dispense and apply it.”69
“MÉTIS WOMEN, TOGETHER WITH THEIR SPOUSES, ALWAYS CONSIDERED THE WELL-
BEING OF THE WHOLE COMMUNITY…. A STRONG AND HEALTHY MÉTIS COMMUNITY
WILL ALWAYS HAVE WOMEN IN DECISION-MAKING ROLES.”
Audreen Hourie and Anne Carrière-Acco
155
munities and Nations, and actively sought to disempower women through the application of
state-sanctioned violence on a number of different levels. In addition, laying down these impor-
tant roots helps to convey how the structures and processes of colonization, which are often rele-
gated to the past, are very much factors today.
This wooden star blanket is a collaborative community art

piece. It is a mosaic made up of 128 individual tiles, each
one hand-painted by survivors of violence and families of
2SLGBTQQIA people during a statement-gathering event
in British Columbia. It is a symbol of the importance of
centring the voices of survivors and of families who
shared their truths with the National Inquiry.
This framework also provides insight into how

Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people experience discrimination and violence in
a way that is intersectional. In other words, this means that the structure of oppression, for those
who are targets of violence, includes many factors that influence the outcome of their lives and
those of their families.
We look to the past, and to these intersectional systems of oppression as they were developed,
as a way to look toward how to transform the present and the future, engaging with tools that
promote basic human rights in key areas such as culture, health, security, and justice, within
Indigenous understandings. These understandings are not uniform, and neither are they static.
Instead, they develop in relationship to those rights-bearers – Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people – to whom this report is devoted. The themes we address through a rights
lens are those most represented in the various systems and institutions people reported dealing with,
as well as those systems, institutions, and people perceived to have most contributed to harm.
Commissioner Audette hugs a participant

during hearings in Regina, Saskatchewan.
90
He then took his snow knife and strongly hit the bedding skins to scare her. But due to
her [angakkuq] power, Arnatsiaq pushed the blow against him and he went out. In the
morning, someone came to tell her: “The man who tried to scare you with his knife hit
himself and is dead.” It was she who, through her magic power, had caused him to hit
himself…. Arnatsiaq received many gifts, as she healed many a sick person. She was a
powerful [angakkuq].74
The National Inquiry’s testimonies reveal how one of the keys to healing is the requirement to
respect the needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people with respect to finding
their own path toward personal and collective health. This can, in turn, influence the whole
community. As Mi’kmaw Elder Miigam’agan shared:
We all know that when, when a mother, when a grandmother, when an auntie, when a
sister is in, in a healthy and a secure setting and that she is not stressful and not in crisis,
we can see immediately the influence and the shift of the children in the house. And the
whole household shifts. So when she is feeling worthy, and that worthiness can only
come from if you have a secure solid cultural foundation and our identity, a positive
identity about ourselves, then we have a sense of self, a sense of pride.75
Women as Providers
Families and survivors told us over and over again about the profound lack of security in their
lives. This includes everything from poverty to food insecurity to personal safety. When they have
advocated for themselves, their families, or their communities, many government authorities,
Indian agents, and sometimes their own band councils or communities have ignored their needs.
In fact, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have long had critical rights and re-
sponsibilities in creating safe communities by contributing to the provision and distribution of
resources, creating social security nets, and through their special connections to water and land.
First Nations women scraping and

stretching deer hide, Northwest
Territories, n.d. Source: Library and
Archives Canada/ Department of the
Interior fonds/a047987.
157
In many communities, one of the most important responsibilities related to women is food pro-
duction. Having a full store of food guards communities against hardship, which can come in
many forms: illness, natural disaster, famine. Many Indigenous Peoples clearly understood the
close ties women had to providing for their communities’ socio-economic security. This comes
out strongly in stories where the most important natural resource to that Indigenous society is
conceptualized as female.
For the Tsimshian, the most sacred source of sustenance, both nutritional and spiritual, is
oolichan oil. This is made from the fish that is the first major food source to arrive in the spring,
ending the long and lean winter months – sometimes ending a famine. This sacred oil is
portrayed as a woman in Tsimshian epic narratives.
Giant [Raven] camped at a certain place. He did not know how to cook his olachen. A
woman came to the place where he had camped, and Giant spoke kindly to her, like a
brother to his sister. Her name was Tsowatz. She was the Oil Woman, of dark
complexion. Giant asked her, “Tell me, how shall I cook my olachen?”
[Oil Woman gives him detailed instructions that contain the proper protocol for
respecting the oolichan fish.]
Thus spoke the Oil Woman to Giant, and Giant was glad to receive the instruction of Oil
Woman. He took her gladly to be his sister.76
Raven treats Oil Woman with honour and respect, asking her to be his sister, in recognition of the
great value she brings to the world.
Gathering and preparing food creates wealth for an entire community, and it can be redistributed
as needed to make sure everyone survives. Several stories show that women often extended that
social security net to people others had given up on.77
In stories, these people have usually consistently broken the rules or failed to contribute to the
community. The community moves on to their next seasonal home and leaves the person who
isn’t contributing behind. But a grandmother or another woman will make the decision to leave
that person a last little bit of resources, offering them a way back into the community if they’re
willing to take it. Using these resources, the people left behind are able to survive and learn the
lessons they needed to learn to become a better person. They often then use their new skills to
bring wealth and food to their communities. This shows that the women who shared their re-
sources made the right decision. Not only does this save people’s lives, it makes the whole
community safer, too.
Women and girls also have distinct roles in providing for a community’s security in their rela-
tionships with the natural elements. Some First Nations have conceptualized this responsibility
as seeing women as “water keepers” and “land defenders.” The Métis/Anishinaabe story of the
four spirits of the water illustrates this intimate connection with the source of all life.
158
I’ve been told that a long time ago, when water was first here … four beings stepped
forward – and I’m told that they were female – and they’re the ones who said they would
look after the different kinds of water. So one of them said [she] would look after the salt
water, and one of them said [she] would look after the fresh water, and one of them said
[she] would look after the fog, and one of them said [she] would look after the water our
babies grow in. So those are things I really believe in, and that we have to acknowledge
[and] ensure that those beings are honoured and thanked for stepping forward to look
after those four types of water.78
These water keeper roles may be formal or informal, but they are essential. Some women are
responsible for ceremonies on and with water.79 Others speak in front of the United Nations on
the rights of water, and its living spirit, which we need to protect.80 Water is life – nothing can
exist without it.
These stories of women as water keepers and land defenders are not universal to all Indigenous
societies, but women from all Indigenous communities have filled these roles. For example, there
are many Inuit women who have fought tirelessly for the land and water in Inuit Nunangat.
Prominent examples include activist Sheila Watt-Cloutier’s work on persistent organic pollutants
and climate change, leader Mary Simon’s protests of the militarization of Inuit Nunangat, organ-
izer Joan Scottie’s community organizing against uranium mining in Nunavut, and land protector
Beatrice Hunter’s resistance to the Muskrat Falls hydroelectric project.
At their heart, women’s roles and responsibilities and related rights as providers are based on the
principle of reciprocity. Indigenous women who hunt, snare, fish, and prepare the food for their
families do so in a spirit of close relationship with these animals, who have given themselves up
to feed people. In return, women treat their bones, hides, and other remains with utmost respect.
In turn, within a community, women help govern the redistribution of resources to make sure
everyone has enough. You never know when you or your family will be in need. Protecting the
land and water is part of being in respectful relationship with them, but it also recognizes that our
fates are bound up together, and Indigenous women in particular can suffer when these relation-
ships are harmed.
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Women as Protectors
The final set of roles we will look at relates to Indigenous women’s and gender-diverse people’s
responsibilities as protectors. In stories about these roles, women survive very difficult experi-
ences of violence themselves, and they fight for their families and communities, even at great
personal risk.
Stories show that even the people perceived as the “weakest,” or with the odds stacked highest
against them, can succeed.
In the Nlaka’pamux (Interior Salish) story “Elk,” Elk kidnaps a woman, while she bathes in a
river, to become his wife. But she is too smart for him, cleverly tricking him into giving her the
clothes and moccasins she needs to escape.
After a while the girl felt cold, and said to herself, “I shall perish of cold.” Elk knew her
thoughts, and said, “Here are some clothes: put them on.” … Soon she said to herself,
“My feet are cold” and the Elk gave her moccasins to put on. After running fast a day
and a night, Elk began to slacken his pace.
Now the woman said to herself, “I will leave him.” So she broke off fir-branches as they
passed along through the trees. These she placed on Elk’s head, between his antlers.
When she had thus disposed of a sufficient number of branches, she caught hold of the
limb of a tree as they passed underneath, and swung herself up. Elk passed on, thinking
that the girl was still there, for he felt the weight of the fir-branches between his antlers.81
She uses her wits to escape her pursuer several more times, before finally getting back home.
Other stories show women and gender-diverse people going to great lengths to protect others. In
the Haida story “The One They Hand Along,” a young woman is kidnapped by the killer whale
chief and taken to his home at the bottom of the ocean. Multiple members of her family go to
rescue her. Before they leave, her two brothers, one of whom is a prepubescent boy, marry two
female supernatural beings so that the beings can help them. These are Mouse Woman and a
woman who is likely the mythical Xaalajaat, or Copper Woman.82
There are many aspects of Copper Woman’s gendered presentation that support understanding her
as a Two-Spirit, or gender-diverse, woman: she wears her hair short and wears copper armour, a tra-
ditional male dress. She is also described as someone who likes to do things “backwards.” And, of
the two brothers, she allies herself with the brother who is still too young to be properly married.
While Mouse Woman takes charge at first, and leads the girl’s family to the chief’s house with the
help of a supernatural needle, it is Copper Woman who turns the tide at the critical moment.
160
When the family confronts the headman’s family under the sea, they begin to cower and lose faith.
Hwuuuuuuuuuuuu!
The house quivered, they say,
and the earth shook.
Together they all shied away.
No one looked upward.
But the youngest son’s wife raised her head

As the rest of them cowered, they say.
She looked to the rear of the house,
And she looked to the door.
“Raise yourselves up!

Have you no power?”
Those were her words.
The house quivered again,

And the earth shook.
Hwuuuuuuuuuuuu!
And again those in the house lowered their heads.…
As she lifted her chin,

Something powerful came to her,
And their heads rose like the tide.
“A powerful woman you are.”83
Copper Woman’s biggest gift to them was not a weapon, an item, or even secret knowledge. The
gift she gave them was to remind them of the power they had all along. Like the inevitable return
of the tide, their courage returned as well, and they were able to successfully negotiate their
daughter’s return.
Many Indigenous women continue to fill the role of protectors today. Gitxsan researcher
Dr. Cindy Blackstock’s advocacy for the rights of Indigenous children, Inuit leader and activist
Rosemary Kuptana’s work to end the sexual abuse of Inuit children, and Métis scholar Emma
LaRocque’s activism to fight violence against Indigenous women are all examples of
Indigenous women’s work as protectors.
161
Dr. Cindy Blackstock testifies at the National Inquiry’s
hearing on child welfare in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
Existing Systems of Relationship, Governance, and Identity

Women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s disappearances or violent deaths have ripple ef-
fects that throw entire communities out of balance, and into further danger. This also takes away
some of the people who are fighting hardest for change. Restoring the balance, in these kinds of
encounters, means seeing the right to justice of women, girls, 2SLGBTQQIA people, and their
loved ones as a fundamental right.
The examples shared are stories connected to the violence that women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people face today through the process of colonization, but are connected also to the strength of
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. As Michele G. shared:
I’m facing a powerful tribe – another powerful tribe, and a vibrant culture with tradi-
tional institutions that are still intact, and I feel like it hits me like a wave. I feel like I
shed tears and say, okay, Creator I’ve got it, I know what it’s like to be an Indian because
you just – these Nations are so beautiful and amazing.84
These stories are rooted in experience. Prior to colonization, the teachings, rights, roles, and
responsibilities associated with culture, health, safety, and justice were also lived in a practical
sense. As Val Napoleon shared in her testimony, “I do believe and it is my opinion that the
foundational undermining of Indigenous legal traditions is connected to the undermining of
Indigenous Peoples’ humanity, and that is the bedrock of any genocide.”85
162
While all Indigenous Peoples had unique and dynamic traditions that changed over time, in many
groups, women maintained the right to live free from violence, or had recourse to justice. Their
power and place were seen in the leadership of their communities, as articulations of their rights
as Indigenous women and as human beings, living in community.
Scholar Paula Gunn Allen has pointed out, “Although our traditions are as diverse as the tribes
who practice and live within them, they are all earth-based and wilderness centered; all are …
concerned with sacred or non-political power.”86 In this section, we explore principles position-
ing women and 2SLGBTQQIA people as people of value, power, and place in their families and
in communities. We engage in this work as a way to show that the principles in the context of
Indigenous and human rights existed prior to the onset of devastating colonial processes. Kim
Anderson asserts:
We should be aware that every Indigenous society had a sense of a woman’s power and
position within the community…. It is also important to know that life was certainly not
always good for all Native women. Yet what we shared was a common sense of power, a
power that was not part of the European woman’s experience.87
The general principles outlined in the following section are not meant to romanticize or to fix
First Nations, Inuit, and Métis in time or space. They are, however, a reflection of the need to
focus on the lessons from the past – on establishing how communities were organized, and how
women within them lived, governed, and protected themselves. In combination with traditional
stories, these histories encourage us to consider how those principles might relate to the safety of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in the present, within the context of rights.
Influence of Women on Lands and Economies
Kim Anderson has pointed out in her work that First Nations, from time immemorial, were land-
based peoples, whose relationships with other people, and with the land, structured the common
values that formed important principles for living. On the lands Jacques Cartier claimed for
France, many distinct First Nations were already living in societies. Their origin stories tell of
their existence on their lands since time immemorial, a history that was quickly discounted by
the explorers who came. Europeans colonized First Nations through interference in existing sys-
tems of land use and stewardship, and in trying to sever First Nations’ connection to the land.
As was explained in the previous section, some creation stories emphasize that the first human
being placed on the land was either a woman or a non-gendered person. However, many concrete
manifestations of the idea of the first human – living on the land since time immemorial – existed
in many First Nations. Because of this, understanding the principles of relationships between vari-
ous First Nations and the lands upon which they lived is an important part of understanding the
basis of rights rooted in both collectivity and individuality. In other words, women living on
the lands upon which their ancestors had lived had rights as a result of the relationship of their
people with the land, as well as a result of their individual relationship with the land as women
and gender-diverse people.
163
The Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba pointed out, “When Europeans came to the Americas
they were considered outsiders…. Elders have told us that, in the eyes of the Creator, the Euro-
peans as outsiders could not enjoy the same rights as the original inhabitants.”88 For many First
Nations, land represented a mother figure. As professor and lawyer Aimée Craft has explained in
her study of Treaty 1, the view of the land as mother was also a part of the traditional governance
structure of many communities, a structure that included women. In her study, she points to an
Anishinaabe understanding of “Mother Earth – and Earth as a Mother.”89 Craft, as quoted in an in-
terview on Treaties and traditional governance, says this leads “to the understanding of the ability
we have to share in the bounty of Earth, but not make decisions for the Earth and not to sell the
Earth – but to live in relationship with it.”90 The responsibility for her care and stewardship fell to
the Nations already living on the land, with important implications for the roles of women.
On a concrete level, the time women spend gathering berries, digging for clams, setting traps,
and gathering medicines gives them a different knowledge of the land from that of men. They
were and are also deeply connected to the land: pollution and chemicals impact women’s repro-
ductive abilities and rates of breastfeeding. Because they are also the most closely connected to
caregiving for the most vulnerable populations (children and elderly people), they are the early
warning system when something in the water or the land is threatened.91
In addition, although men and women had their own areas of work, this did not necessarily pre-
vent them from working in each other’s domain. Many First Nations women hunted, trapped,
and harvested, as well as performed the labour to turn these raw materials into things that were
necessary to community life, as did Inuit and Métis women.92 Knowledge of each other’s roles,
for any gender, had important implications. As has been pointed out, “this knowledge allowed
each gender to have respect for the work that was typically done by the other.”93
Women’s participation in economic labour and in land-based labour had important impacts on
the influence of women in community life. In many First Nations societies, women were farmers
– among the Hurons and Haudenosaunee especially – and were responsible for the distribution of
food. Sto:lo writer Lee Maracle explains, “Goods coming into the village belonged to the
women. It was determined what was essential to the survival of the nation, and then the excess
was handed over to the men, to engage in trade.”94 In Plains societies, because women made the
tipis, the physical home and its contents belonged to them. If there was a separation or divorce in
the family, the former husband acknowledged this by taking only his hunting gear with him.95
164
to fight for change. While their stories demonstrate the importance of understanding the ways
that geography, culture, tradition, and many other factors must be accounted for in devising
meaningful recommendations and community-led change, the stories of those who shared their
truths also gave voice to one shared teaching over and over again: in order to understand the
causes of violence and to make the changes necessary to ending violence, we must recognize the
power and responsibility of relationships.
In the words of Expert Witness Sandra Montour, a Mohawk woman and executive director
of Ganohkwasra Family Assault Support Services, where she has worked for over 30 years in
providing support to Indigenous women and their families experiencing violence:
[We] hav[e] to build relationships, and we have to because our livelihood depends on it.
Our livelihood depends on it and the lives of our women in our community depend on it,
so we have to be incredible fighters, we have to be incredibly diplomatic, we have to be
able to problem solve and develop relationships.4
“WE ARE THE LEGACY. DESPITE THE TRAUMA OUR COMMUNITIES CONTINUE TO LIVE
THROUGH, WE ARE CAPABLE OF ADDRESSING THE VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN IN OUR
COMMUNITIES. THE SOLUTION IS WITHIN US – WITHIN OUR COMMUNITIES.”
Mavis Windsor
In the following pages, we follow these two important teachings. We centre the voices of First
Nations, Métis, and Inuit families, survivors, and others whose truths contain wisdom and guid-
ance on ending violence that has been ignored or actively silenced for far too long; and, as we
listen to this wisdom and guidance, we focus specifically on those teachings about how, through
relationships, we can come to understand the underlying causes of violence and identify and
implement the steps that must be taken to end violence.
We all have an opportunity to transform relationships that continue to harm Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, but this work is not easy, and it is especially difficult for those
like Mavis, Sandra, and the many other strong Indigenous people we will hear from in the fol-
lowing pages who work to create change within relationships that continually deny their agency
and rights.
As Marilyn W., a First Nations woman who shared her story about losing her sister to violence,
observed:
Each and every one of us as individual people, every morning we wake up, we have a
choice that we could bring light into this world or we can feed that – that darkness that
we have to live with every day. And I’m trying, and it’s real hard not to sit here and be
angry. It’s really hard not to have hate in my heart because my culture is about equality
and love. This is about the genocide of our people. This just isn’t about Indigenous
women. This is a spiritual battle.5
94
Influence of Women on Structures of Governance
As the previous section demonstrated, many Indigenous stories show mothers and caregivers as
the first leaders, who shape a people’s identity as a Nation is born. Many Indigenous societies
replicate those kinship principles in their governance structures: just as motherhood is a leader-
ship role, leaders may take on mothering roles.101 Colonization’s interference in governance
directly challenged the quality of the encounters that leaders foster with and between people
from those based on respectful role modelling and persuasion (as in an Indigenous kinship rela-
tionship) to those based on enforceable authority (as in a more formal, structured hierarchy).
By way of example, First Nations in western Canada structured the Treaty encounters through a
kinship relationship with Queen Victoria. This also made the arriving European settlers their
brothers and sisters – the “red children” and “white children,” to be treated equally by their
shared “Great Mother across the Salt Sea.”102 Another example is in the Haida language. In
Haida, the root word for “chief” or “headman” literally translates as “town mother.”103 In highly
decentralized Inuit governance, the connections to family, extended family, and community were
and remain very important to group identities.104 Kinship ties (both biological and non-biologi-
cal, through customary adoption and naming traditions) were and still are important to creating a
broader identity within a particular region.
In many communities, the role of women in decision making was not only related to their posi-
tion as mothers or as relatives. As Anderson explains, “Native women were not traditionally
excluded from decision making, as has been the case for women in western politics.”105 While
some of this inclusion was in the spirit of respect for all members of the community as well as
being tied to kinship principles, women’s roles in relation to land and to property – to community
wellness overall – also predisposed them to leadership and to making decisions in the best inter-
est of all. Many who testified shared their own stories of women’s leadership in their communi-
ties, as well.
As we heard from Joann Green, who testified as part of the Heiltsuk Women’s Community
Perspectives Panel,
“Women are known to be the backbone of the community and play a large role in
Heiltsuk leadership…. The omux are a society of women of high standing in the
community who give advice to our Humas, our Chiefs. Their advice centres on
maintaining the unity and well-being of the community, including advice on justice,
family, and cultural practices.”106
Joseph Tanner, a white man adopted into an Anishinaabe family in the 1800s, said that his
adoptive mother, Net-no-kwa, was a “principal chief” of the Ottawas.
166
Everything belonged to Net-no-kwa, and she had direction in all affairs of any
moment…. I have never met with an Indian, either man or woman, who had so much
authority as Net-no-kwa. She could accomplish whatever she pleased, either with the
traders or the Indians; probably in some measure, because she never attempted to do any
thing which was not right and just.107
Some communities also had male and female chiefs, some of whom were hereditary. In Kim
Anderson’s interviews with 12 modern-day female chiefs, half of them explicitly tied their expe-
rience of being mothers to the experience of being chiefs. Chief Veronica Waboose, of Long Lac
#58 First Nation, said, “It’s like looking after your kids; you want them to be better and that’s the
way I think a lot of the women chiefs feel about the community members. Although they’re not
their kids, they’re definitely looking to them for good leadership, to take them in a good
direction.”108
Even in communities with no direct or formal authority exercised by women, women were able
to influence decision making through their relationships and relative influence. Within an Inuit
camp, for example, there was usually an isumataq. This “camp boss” was often a middle-aged
man who made decisions about when and where to hunt, travel, and move camps. At the same
time, women then had authority over many aspects of camp life, and Elders of all genders were
important advisors who were consulted before major decisions were made.109
Of course, early First Nations dealt with community and gendered violence – as in any society.
No discussion about the principles of respect and connection can ignore the idea that, in every
time and place, members of society are targeted for harm, either individual or collective. But
violence, as many writers explain, was subject to strong taboos. For example, there are historical
accounts of Plateau women punishing rapists in various ways. In one case, a man was handed
over to a group of women who physically molested and humiliated him, before expelling him
from the community.110 Within some Plains communities, including Cree Nations, women could
leave their partners if they were ever beaten, and the man could never again marry, because his
assault on one woman was an assault on all. That person could also be banished or expelled.111
While traditions vary, what they have in common is that the strict level of social control exer-
cised by women through governance within their own communities meant that redress – and
justice – could be found.
As this brief examination has demonstrated, the principles undergirding the inclusion of women
in leadership and decision making foundationally are respect for her insight, role, and knowledge.
While not all communities had formal positions for women, women contributed to governance in
other ways, as well. Colonization sought to displace women from these roles and, in time, served
to silence their leadership through the transformation of community structures, attitudes, and
mechanisms for decision making, primarily through the Indian Act, the history of which is dis-
cussed in greater detail in Chapter 4. As this chapter will demonstrate, the silencing of women
through various colonial measures is a contributor to the lack of safety and justice today.
167
Centrality of Women in Culture
Kim Anderson asserts, “Western culture has typically not promoted, documented, or explored the
culture(s) of its women.”112 On the other hand, First Nations cultures have generally contextual-
ized the existence of women in important and foundational ways. These cultural practices are
manifest in languages, in ceremony, and in the understanding of women as beings of power and
of place, who are instrumental to the literal and figurative lifeblood of their communities and
families. These practices, beliefs, and ways of being were fundamentally misunderstood or delib-
erately ignored within the context of colonization, which sought to erase and eradicate the power
of women and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
In many First Nations, creation was often understood within the context of childbirth. Birthing
traditions varied across Nations. Some Nations would, for example, bury the child’s placenta
as a way to keep the child’s spirit connected to Mother Earth. As Ininiw Elder Sarah Garrioch has
explained, youth should have “great respect for this gift of childbearing. I realize that it is our
responsibility as grandmothers to teach our young women about this thing. That is what my
grandmother used to tell me. That was what I was told. And today it is our turn to tell these to
our young women.”113
First Nations women with a baby in a cradleboard, Flying Post, Ontario, 1906.
Source: Library and Archives Canada/National Photography collection/a059608.
168
Prior to the interference of missionaries and, later, the state, many Indigenous women – both
First Nations and Inuit – acted as midwives. The critical encounters involved in birth – between
mother and child, and among the mother, child, and the midwife who guided the journey – were
key to setting up a child’s life in a secure, loving, and connected way. This role was focused on
many aspects of holistic health, for which women were responsible. As Janet Smylie, quoting
Cheryllee Bourgeois, explained:
Indigenous midwifery is not just about providing pre-natal care and attending births.
Historically and currently, it’s about medicines to treat sick children, counselling people,
including counselling people who were fighting. So, midwives in Métis communities
were important interveners when we did have family violence. And, [they were] teachers
of culture through storytelling. And, actually, not only did they attend birth, they also
attended death and prepared bodies after death.114
As Pauktuutit, a national organization representing Inuit women, has documented, “Traditional

childbirth practices were intrinsic to the Inuit way of life and crucial to maintaining the social
fabric of Inuit communities.”115 The participation of Inuit women, and other members of the fam-
ily including grandparents, helped to bond the family unit, and the importance of the midwife,
particularly in remote communities, can’t be overstated. In addition, the respect due to the person
who had helped in the birth itself translated into practices later on – for instance, in the gifting of
the child’s “first piece of sewing or the first animal hunted” to the midwife. The centralization of
colonization, documented in further detail in Chapter 4, specifically threatened these important
practices, and Inuit midwives could be threatened with legal action if they continued to practise.
Women’s connection to life and to Earth was manifest in other ways, as well. Specifically, both
First Nations and, later, Métis women were often involved in the protocol and ceremony neces-
sary to show respect for the animals being hunted, both before and after the hunt. For both First
Nations and Métis, this knowledge was grounded in the traditions of their First Nations mothers
and grandmothers, as well as, in the case of the Métis, in how these traditions were manifest
within particular communities and geographies. Without this protocol, it was believed, the ani-
mals would refuse to allow themselves to be given to people for their food. Inuit women also
held a special connection to the animals; for example, Iñupiat women in Alaska would carry out
certain ceremonies to show the whales respect before and after the men went out to hunt them.116
Many Métis communities owed their existence to strong networks of female kinship, which en-
couraged people to live near their maternal relations. These were connections of which Métis, in-
cluding leaders such as Charles Nolin and Louis Riel, were accurately aware. Apparent divisions
within the community – Protestant vs. Catholic, French vs. English – were, in fact, overcome by
bounds of a “web of blood relationships” that united the community around women and their
Indigenous practices. Métis have always made sense of their place in the world through their kin
connections – what has been called wahkohtowin. At the heart of these webs of relationships
were the women and girls who helped to establish strong and vibrant communities grounded in
their Indigenous knowledge and traditions.117
169
Women within Inuit societies also engaged in important and foundational cultural practices.
Lighting the qulliq (oil lamp) is an example of an important Inuit women’s ceremony. Although
it also serves the practical purposes of heating the igluvijaq (snow house), drying clothes, and
cooking food, Inuk Elder Sarah Anala explained at our Knowledge Keeper panel in Moncton that
“[Lighting the qulliq is] more a spiritual illumination that we pursue, and peace and harmony and
balance amongst all of us.”118 In addition, throat singing – the most complex human vocalization
on earth – is a game or competition between Inuit women. As Becky Kilabuk, who throat-sang
for the National Inquiry in Iqaluit, says, “You challenge each other. It keeps you sharp. It keeps
you alive.”119 It is also a different learning opportunity: because throat singing was almost lost,
more young people are now learning and teaching it to their parents and Elders in return.
Annie Bowkett tends the qulliq in Winnipeg,

Manitoba.
The link among cultural teachings, identity, and resilience was fractured through the process of
colonization – but not broken. The fact that ceremonies, teachings, and languages do survive
today is a testament to those women, those cultural carriers who, along with male, female, and
gender-diverse Elders, continue to carry the ancestors as a potential path forward toward healing
and safety.
170
My life really alters at [Uncle V.]. He’s been my rock, you know. He sat at a table one
day. At my Auntie [R.]’s funeral, we were all sitting out in the back of my Uncle [L.]’s
house and we’re around the table and I was clean and sober. I was five years. And he
looked at me, and he says, “Do you want to know why your mother was the way she was
with you? Do you want to know why your mother was the way your mother was, no
feeling, cold? Because she was raped by the priests.” I couldn’t understand that, but I
could understand why she was the way she was, why she drank, she – the way she drank.
Why I used and drank the way I used, it’s because of systemic abuse, generational abuse,
the government trying to change who we are.12
In sharing these significant moments in relationships important to them, Anni and Darlene
offered teachings on ways of engaging in relationships that had a profound impact on their own
healing journey from violence. In the following pages, we include similar accounts of specific
moments within relationships that families and survivors pointed to as important teachings about
what healing relationships can look like, and how a single conversation or action may be a pow-
erful opportunity to shape the terms of a relationship in a good way. These teachings provide
models upon which many of our Calls for Justice are based.
Commissioner Eyolfson shares a hug with

Charlotte Wolfrey in Regina, Saskatchewan.
Unfortunately, the encounters that many family members described during the National Inquiry
show that the responsibility to shape a relationship has been used to harm, rather than to honour,
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Most often, when families, supporters, and
survivors drew attention to specific interactions within relationships that they saw as holding dis-
tinct significance for understanding violence in their own or their loved ones’ lives, they pointed
to moments that, in their view, made violence more likely to happen. In many cases, these mo-
ments took place during a first encounter with someone to whom they or their loved one had
turned for support.
99
Similarly, with reference to Algonquian societies, Kim Anderson writes that after menopause,
older Algonquian women were considered “both genders” and could enter into men’s spaces.126
In some First Nations, gender bending was a way to ensure the survival of the clan, because it
helped to address population imbalances between women and men, particularly in smaller com-
munities. For instance, if there weren’t enough hunters, a woman or girl could take on that work,
or vice versa, where men could take on the work traditionally done by women.
In Inuit societies, the division between genders was blurred by the role of names, as well as prac-
tically by the role a person took on. When an Inuk is born, they are usually given the atiq (name)
of a deceased member of the community. The atiq, however, is more than just a name. The con-
cept bears some similarities to the western concept of “soul.” Through the atiq, the child inherits
tastes, personality, and social relationships from the deceased person. People will usually refer to
the child with their kinship terms they used for the deceased. Naming in Inuit culture is therefore
a form of reincarnation, whereby deceased members of the community “come back” in the child
who is given their name.127
This relationship between names and identity could have implications for gender. Boys named
after deceased women were initially raised as girls, while girls named after deceased men were
initially treated as boys. This gender fluidity included being dressed in clothing and learning skills
that were appropriate for the gender of their name, rather than their biological sex. At the onset of
puberty, their clothing and labour would be realigned to be consistent with their biological sex.128
In whatever way Indigenous people understood their gender and sexuality, gender-diverse
ancestors and people living today have valuable perspectives to share. As McNeil-Seymour
shared, “As we know, culture isn’t static and it is constantly in motion, so we have to also evolve
with that.… I feel like us Two-Spirit people are here to bring back balance and to be the go-
betweens in all of those traditional roles and identities that we have.”129 McLeod similarly
affirms: “And so for a Two-Spirit people, we come to that circle with our understanding of
those teachings and our contribution. And so when we’re present, it means the whole circle is
complete.”130 For some witnesses, the importance of completing this circle means that
2SLGBTQQIA people need to be welcomed once again into ceremony, to try to share more of
these teachings with communities or community members who have been taught to reject gender
fluidity through colonization and Christianity. This circle includes transgender people, to bring
attention to the cases of violence that can be ignored when they are excluded.
“INSTEAD OF SAYING, ‘WHAT ARE THE TRADITIONAL GENDER ROLES?’ AS IF THEY

ALWAYS HAVE TO BE THAT WAY AND ALWAYS WERE UNCHANGING IN THE PAST,
WE LOOK AT HOW DO OUR UNDERSTANDINGS ABOUT GENDER AND SEXUALITY
TODAY SHAPE THE WAY THAT WE WORK WITH LAW AND SHAPE OUR LEGAL
INTERPRETATIONS?”
Val Napoleon
172
As a whole, the process of colonization fundamentally tried to alter women’s and 2SLGBTQQIA
people’s identities and roles in their communities. Identity, as supported through language, story-
telling, ceremony, and connection, underwent assault from all sides through the processes of
colonization, including relocation, residential schools, and adoption, as well as the broader
processes of isolating Indigenous people and restricting access to traditional territories, as will be
explored in Chapter 4. The power and place accorded to women by virtue of their being women
– a “recognition of being,” to borrow the title of Kim Anderson’s book – were challenged by
encounters with colonizers who had little interest in according any privilege or protection to
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Conclusion: Finding Solutions through New Relationships

This chapter has outlined the principles of respect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness that are
foundational to many systems of Indigenous law and that represent an important way of under-
standing various rights, as articulated in Indigenous terms. These roles, responsibilities, and
related rights aren’t meant to trap Indigenous women, girls, or 2SLGBTQQIA people in any pre-
scribed form of identity. As Val Napoleon shared, in her testimony before the National Inquiry,
“Instead of saying, ‘What are the traditional gender roles?’ as if they always have to be that way
and always were unchanging in the past, we look at how do our understandings about gender and
sexuality today shape the way that we work with law and shape our legal interpretations?”131
Young Inuk woman carrying an infant

in her amauti, ca. 1947-1948.
Source: Library and Archives Canada/
Richard Harrington fonds/a147049
Credit: Richard Harrington.
And, as Dawnis Kennedy expressed, “You know, I think that if women were taking up their role,
we wouldn’t be worried about protecting women. We’d just be watching the women do their
work protecting life.”132
Specifically, we hope to highlight a combination of stories and histories that demonstrate power
and place for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as represented in the National
Inquiry’s own testimony and in the diverse landscape of Indigenous ways of knowing. Val
Napoleon asserts:
173
Indigenous law hasn’t gone anywhere in Canada. And it exists in the ways that people
are trying to work in their communities, but that it’s been undermined, and that the work
before us all is to rebuild it, and that there are structured critical ways that we can do
that, and that we have to put in the time and the mental work as well as emotional and
spiritual work to do that, so that we don’t idealize Indigenous law and so that it is
capable of dealing with the realities that our communities are living with. Some of those
communities are very dangerous places for women and girls.133
As we have illustrated, a fundamental element of safety rests in understanding the roles, respon-
sibilities, and inherent rights conveyed by women and for women in their own terms. The Indige-
nous laws and human rights that contribute to the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people vary from group to group, but are represented in land, stories, ceremony,
and world views that emphasize the importance of relationships among people and between peo-
ple and their environments. These roles, responsibilities, and rights were both collective and indi-
vidual. Professor Brenda Gunn explains, “When I think about collective governance in many
Indigenous communities, how I understand it, it was never sacrificing individual identity or
being or rights for the collective.… But, it was how the collective was responsible for protecting
the individuals, and how the individual contributed and was part of the collective.”134
As an Inquiry, we have operated on the premise that our women and girls are sacred, and that, in
their absence, it is not only family members, but entire communities and Nations, who are placed
at further risk and who lose irreplaceable pieces of themselves. This sacred dimension isn’t oth-
erworldly, or ungrounded. Rather, as our testimony shows, women as teachers, leaders, healers,
providers and protectors were and remain indispensable parts of the equation to generating solu-
tions for the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. As Audrey Siegl, a
member of the National Inquiry’s team, shared:
For our women … for our young women, for our grandmothers, for our women who
travel with us, who guide us, who love us, who share strength to do this heartbreaking
work … we are sacred because we exist. We are sacred because we have survived. We
survived when many did not. We watch our women die every day here in Canada. I don’t
know when safety, peace and justice are going to come for us. Just know that we love
you and that we are doing our best to honour and represent our women and our
experiences. We are doing this hard and ugly and necessary work so others don’t have
to … so they don’t have to carry so much.
And, where we leave off with this work now, inevitably, some are going to have to pick
it up and carry it on. I hope that it’s easier for them. I hope that it’s lighter for them.135
Respect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness – these principles can hold the keys toward under-
standing what was threatened through colonial encounters, and the transformational power for
harm, or for health, of each and every person, process, and institution involved in the crisis of
174
In explaining why she chose to testify before the Inquiry, Dawnis Kennedy notes the contempo-
rary importance of Indigenous law:
It is those who consider themselves the most powerful in modern society that also need
our law, our Onaakonigewin, our knowledge about life and how to live a good life in
harmony with each other and with all of our relations, not just humanity, with all our
relatives: the plants, the animals, the stars, the birds, the fish, the winds, the spirit; our
mother, the earth; our grandmother, the moon; our grandfather, the sun; all of our
relatives in the universe. That is what our law teaches us, how to live life in relationship
and how to ensure the continuation of life into the future seven generations ahead.136
In the historical Cree story “Gift of the Old Wives,” the old women of a community must stay
behind and die at their enemies’ hands to keep the rest of their community safe. Before the chief
eventually accepts this gift, he says, “But who will teach our children and our children’s chil-
dren? ... Without your wisdom, how will our young people learn the Cree ways?”137
Stories are medicine.138 As writers and scholars Leanne Simpson and Kiera Ladner explain,
grandmothers and aunties tell us stories and keep us alive: “Warmth in our hearts and warmth in
our bellies.”139 Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have stories of strength and
resilience. They continue to pass on these teachings, by example or by story. They represent an
irreplaceable facet of being part of, and of building, communities and Nations. Stories can also
help us, as a society, find our way “home”140 – and in doing so, create safer spaces and places for
“FOR OUR YOUNG WOMEN, FOR OUR GRANDMOTHERS, FOR OUR WOMEN WHO TRAVEL
WITH US, WHO GUIDE US, WHO LOVE US, WHO SHARE STRENGTH TO DO THIS HEART-
BREAKING WORK … WE ARE SACRED BECAUSE WE EXIST. WE ARE SACRED BECAUSE WE
HAVE SURVIVED. WE SURVIVED WHEN MANY DID NOT. WE WATCH OUR WOMEN DIE
EVERY DAY HERE IN CANADA. I DON’T KNOW WHEN SAFETY, PEACE AND JUSTICE ARE
GOING TO COME FOR US. JUST KNOW THAT WE LOVE YOU AND THAT WE ARE DOING
OUR BEST TO HONOUR AND REPRESENT OUR WOMEN AND OUR EXPERIENCES.”
Audrey Siegl
175
Notes
1 As cited in Monture, “Women’s Words,” 46; as 18 Sandra Omik (Inuit, Pond Inlet), Part 2, Public
appearing in Grant, Our Bit of Truth, 15. Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB, p. 118.
2 Tuma Young (L’nu, Malagawatch First Nation), Part 3, 19 Snyder, Napoleon, and Borrows, “Gender and
Public Volume 1, Winnipeg, MB, p. 201. Violence,” 596–97, and 610.
3 Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, 20 Elder Kunuk Muckpalook (Inuit), Part 3, Public
Public Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 117. Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB, p. 120.
4 Dawnis Kennedy (Minnawaanigogiizhigok) 21 Sandra Omik (Inuit, Pond Inlet), Part 3, Public
(Anishinaabe), Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB, Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB.
p. 191.
22 Dr. Hadley Friedland, Part 3, Public Volume 1,
5 Dr. Val Napoleon (Saulteau First Nation, Gitxsan), Winnipeg, MB, p. 79.
Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 49-50.
23 Dawnis Kennedy (Minnawaanigogiizhigok)
6 Tuma Young (L’nu, Malagawatch First Nation), Part 3, (Anishinaabe), Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB,
Public Volume 1, Winnipeg, MB, p. 148. p. 174.
7 Dr. Val Napoleon (Saulteau First Nation, Gitxsan), 24 Dr. Val Napoleon (Saulteau First Nation and Gitxsan),
Part 3, Public Volume 1, Winnipeg, MB, p. 87. Part 3, Public Volume 1, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 70-71.
8 Snyder, Napoleon, and Borrows, “Gender and 25 Dr. Val Napoleon (Saulteau First Nation and Gitxsan),
Violence,” 596. Part 3, Public Volume 1, Winnipeg, MB, p. 112.
9 Kulchyski, Aboriginal Rights. 26 Translation ours. Jean Leclair, Part 3, Public Volume 6,
Quebec City, QC, p. 218.
(Anishinaabe), Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB, 27 Dawnis Kennedy (Minnawaanigogiizhigok)
p. 200. (Anishinaabe), Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB,
p. 170.
(Anishinaabe), Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB, 28 For examples, see Law Society of Canada, ed.,
pp. 190-191. Indigenous Legal Traditions; Napoleon, “Thinking
About Indigenous Legal Orders”; and Borrows,
12 Tuma Young (L’nu, Malagawatch First Nation), Part 3,
“Eliminating Pre and Post-Contact Distinctions.”
Public Volume 1, Winnipeg, MB, p. 157.
13 Translation ours. Jean Leclair, Part 3, Public Volume 6,
(Anishinaabe), Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB,
p. 184.
30 Cruikshank, Life Lived Like a Story.
p. 174. 31 Whiteduck, “But It’s Our Story.”
15 Dr. Val Napoleon (Saulteau First Nation and Gitxsan), 32 Napoleon and Friedland, “An Inside Job.”
Part 3, Public Volume 1, Winnipeg, MB, p. 95. See also
33 Dr. Val Napoleon (Saulteau First Nation and Gitxsan),
Borrows, Canada's Indigenous Constitution.
Part 3, Public Volume 1, Winnipeg, MB, p. 81.
34 Napoleon and Friedland, “An Inside Job,” 738.
35 LaRocque, cited in Anderson, A Recognition of Being,
17 Sandra Omik (Inuit, Pond Inlet), Part 3, Public
36–37.
36 Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 37.
176
37 Many stories have been passed down orally for 49 Métis people who are of Anishinaabe or Cree origin
generations, while others have been recorded. The may also demonstrate some adoption of these belief
recording of these stories, especially historically, was systems, though many Métis are also strongly affiliated
often done by colonial European, often male, with the Catholic or Protestant churches. See Chantal
ethnographers who summarized stories or offered Fiola, Rekindling the Sacred Fire. Many Inuit would
interpretations according to their own world views. also hold largely Christian views of creation due to the
Even just reading stories in English loses the nuance history of their transition to Christianity in the late 19th
encoded in the original languages they are told in, and century, but more recent ethnographies argue that Inuit
many stories and teachings are either fractured or lost. incorporated ideas from Christianity into a broader
For this reason, we have prioritized stories told by Inuit cosmological framework. See Brody, The Other
Indigenous women and gender-diverse people them- Side of Eden and Oosten, Laugrand, and Remie,
selves, in as close a translation as possible. It also “Perceptions of Decline.”
wasn’t possible to look at Indigenous women’s roles
50 Horn-Miller, “Distortion and Healing.”
and responsibilities Nation by Nation in the space we
have, so we have chosen instead to draw broader 51 Anderson, “New Life Stirring,” p. 13.
conclusions and demonstrate with examples from
52 Horn-Miller, “Distortion and Healing.”
different Indigenous societies. These stories are not
intended to represent a pan-Indigenous set of beliefs, 53 Christopher, Flaherty, and McDermott, Unikkaaqtuat.
but to offer insight into some of the important prin-
54 Ibid., 42–43.
ciples they convey, which may vary from Nation to
Nation, and from community to community. 55 Laugrand and Oosten, The Sea Woman. See also
Bennett and Rowley, Uqalurait.
38 Snyder, Napoleon, and Borrows, “Gender and
Violence,” 612. 56 Dawnis Kennedy (Minnawaanigogiizhigok)
39 Eva P. (Alexis Nakota Sioux Nation), Part 1, Public
pp. 188-189.
57 There are also the Algonquian stories of the Woman
40 Toni C. (Cree), Part 1, Statement Volume 425, Onion
Who Built the First Sweatlodge and of the Grand-
Lake, SK, p. 7.
mother of Sacred Pipes; the Haida story of Cumulus
41 Ann M. R. (Kaska Dena), Part 1, Public Volume 3, Cloud Woman, who spreads tobacco seeds across Haida
Whitehorse, YT, p. 39. Gwaii, the medicine woman who calls to Sister Cedar
and makes cedar every woman’s sister; and the
Tsimshian tell the story of the woman who gave men
Public Volume 5, Quebec City, QC, pp. 334-335.
Devil’s Club, a very important ceremonial herb.
43 Ann M. R. (Kaska Dena), Part 1, Public Volume 3,
58 Dooling, The Sons of the Wind; Hazen-Hammond,
Whitehorse, YT, p. 38.
Spider Woman’s Web.
44 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
59 Barkwell, Dorion, and Hourie, Metis Legacy II, 35.
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 66-67.
60 Ibid., 38.
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 46. 61 Donna Adams et al., Inuit Leadership and Governance,
43.
46 Translation ours. Interview with Pénélope Guay,
September 30, 2018, by Annie Bergeron, p. 22. 62 Barkwell, Dorion, and Hourie, Metis Legacy II, 58–59.
47 Rhonda M. (Anishinaabe), Part 1, Public Volume 7, 63 Trudy S. (Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation), Part 1,
Smithers, BC, p. 26. Public Volume 95, Vancouver, BC, p. 23.
48 Grace T. (Eagle Clan, Tsimshian), Part 1, Public 64 Lee, “Defining Traditional Healing.”
Volume 118, Vancouver, BC, p. 18.
65 Joann Green (Heiltsuk), Part 1, Public Volume 90,
Vancouver, BC, pp. 66-67.
177
66 Ha-yen-doh-nees, Seneca Indian Stories. 92 Kermoal and Altamirano-Jiménez, Living on the Land;
Anderson, Life Stages and Native Women; Bennett and
67 Ibid., 58.
Rowley, Uqalurait.
68 Ibid., 58–59.
69 Lévesque, Geoffroy, and Polèse, “Naskapi Women,”
94 Ibid., 61.
79.
95 Brafford and Thom, Dancing Colors; Anderson, Life
70 Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour (Tk’emlups te
Stages and Native Women.
Secwepemc/English), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 225. 96 Joan Scottie, in Arnait Nipingit, 119.
71 Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis 97 Anderson, Life Stages and Native Women; Cruikshank,
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume Life Lived Like a Story.
8, Toronto, ON, p. 51.
98 Blackman and Davidson, During My Time.
72 Bennett and Rowley, Uqalurait. See also Aupilaarjuk
99 Turnbaugh and Turnbaugh, Basket Tales.
et al, Cosmology and Shamanism.
100 Wight, “Women and Art in Salluit”; Graburn, Eskimos
73 Koperqualuk, “Puvirniturmiut Religious and Political
Without Igloos; Roberts, The Inuit Artists of Sugluk.
Dynamics.”
101 Anderson, “Leading by Action.”
74 Bennett and Rowley, Uqalurait, 180.
102 Carter, “Your Great Mother”; Miller, “Victoria’s ‘Red
75 Elder Miigam’agan (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume
Children.’”
44(a), Moncton, NB, p. 126.
103 Bringhurst, A Story as Sharp.
76 Boas and Tate, Tsimshian Mythology, 66.
104 Amy Hudson (Inuit, NunatuKavut), Part 3, Public
77 For an example, see the “Story of Kuxka’in” in Teit,
Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 151.
The Shuswap.
78 Szack, “Keepers of the Water,” 69.
106 Joann Green (Heiltsuk), Part 1, Public Volume 90,
79 Szack, “Keepers of the Water.”
Vancouver, BC, p. 18.
80 Johnson, “13-year-old.”
107 Cited in Morris, “Gifted Woman,” 76.
81 Teit, Mythology of the Thompson Indians, 363.
108 Anderson, “Leading by Action,” 113.
82 Bringhurst, A Story as Sharp.
109 Bennett and Rowley, Uqalurait.
83 Ibid., 93–94.
84 Michele G. (Musqueam), Part 1, Public Volume 84,
111 For more on Plains marriage traditions, see Carter, The
Importance of Being Monogamous.
Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 97-98.
113 Pratt, Bone, and the Treaty and Dakota Elders of
86 Allen, The Sacred Hoop, 78.
Manitoba, with contributions by the AMC Council of
87 Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 57. Elders, Untuwe Pi Kin He, 104.
88 AJI, “Chapter 5: Aboriginal and Treaty Rights.” 114 Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
Public Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 160.
89 As interviewed by Wiebe, “The Role of Indigenous
Women.” See also Aimée Craft, Breathing Life into the 115 Pauktuutit, “Midwifery.”
Stone Fort Treaty.
116 Bodenhorn, “I’m Not the Great Hunter.”
90 Ibid.
117 Macdougall, One of the Family. See also Macdougall,
91 Szack, “Keepers of the Water.” “The Myth of Metis Cultural Ambivalence.”
178
118 Elder Sarah Anala (Inuit, Labrador), Part 1, Public 130 Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis
Volume 44(a), Moncton, NB, p. 2. community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume
8, Toronto, ON, p. 89.
119 Becky Kilabuk (Inuit, Pangnirtung), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
Public Volume 4, Iqaluit, NU, p. 241. 131 Dr. Val Napoleon (Saulteau First Nation and Gitxsan),
120 Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 132 Dawnis Kennedy (Minnawaanigogiizhigok)
8, Toronto, ON, p. 57. (Anishinaabe), Part 3, Public Volume 2, Winnipeg, MB,
p. 189.
121 Morris, “Gifted Woman.”
123 Boas, The Social Organization.
134 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec
124 Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour (Tk’emlups te City, QC, p. 71.
Secwepemc/English), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Volume 4,
Iqaluit, NU, p. 170.
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 81.
125 Armstrong and Cardinal, The Native Creative Process,
102.
126 Anderson, Life Stages and Native Women. pp. 169-170.
127 Brody, The Other Side of Eden. 137 Walsh, Beginnings, 26.
128 Trott, “The Gender of the Bear.” 138 Anderson, Life Stages of Native Women.
129 Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour (Tk’emlups te 139 Simpson and Ladner, This Is an Honour Song, 8.
Secwepemc/English), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
140 Whiteduck, “But It’s Our Story.”
Volume 4, Iqaluit, NU, pp. 189, 193.
179
Michelle S.
“The one I looked up to”
When Michelle first went missing, the newspapers didn’t even use her name. Her family came to the National
Inquiry to tell us about the strong, loving, driven person Michelle really was.
“My daughter, Michelle, she was 24 when she went “My oldest sister, Michelle, it’s hard to put into words
missing and she was a beautiful child. Like, from what she was and what she meant to my family
when she was a baby, she was just always smiling. and I. She was intelligent, caring, persistent, resilient,
And then when she got used to being a big sister, she beautiful, kind, and extremely soft-hearted. She was
just – she loved Dani to pieces and same with Tony. also so much more than that.
She was like the second mom when I wasn’t there,
you know…. She was my second mother. She was the one who
gave me haircuts, the one who made me dinner
She deserved better, you know. And you can’t ques- when I was hungry, the one who I looked up to, the
tion fate. I know that. I guess I’m just – I’m here also one who made my birthday special, the one who
just to remind [you] my daughter wasn’t just a work- loved and looked after me when no one else was
ing girl…. She was loved, you know. She has a lot of around to. She loved butterflies and the Little Mer-
people that still cry for her, you know.”I maid. She wanted to be a stylist. She wanted to be
somebody.
– Mona S., mother to Michelle S.
From the National Inquiry’s Around my 10th birthday my mother succumbed to
Community Hearing in Metro Vancouver,
April 6, 2018. the pull of addiction once more. She was not around
much during this time and it was up to Michelle to
take care of me. She did the best she could. She did a
fantastic job…. Michelle [S.] was my sister. I miss her
every day.”II
– Anthony S., brother to Michelle S.

From the National Inquiry’s Community
Hearing in Metro Vancouver,
April 6, 2018.
I Mona S. (Wuikinuxv Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 98, Metro Vancouver, BC, pp. 7-8.
II Anthony S. (Wuikinuxv Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 98, Metro Vancouver, BC, pp. 38 and 40.
109
CHAPTER 3
Emphasizing Accountability through

Human Rights Tools
Introduction: Why Human Rights?
Indigenous stories and histories from First Nations, Métis, and Inuit lay out the principles of
respect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness that are key to using principles of Indigenous law, as
articulated by various groups, as a way to begin to decolonize Western-based notions of rights.
This project also begins to dismantle some of the physical or ideological structures that have led
to the promotion of violence against Indigenous Peoples generally, and Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people specifically.
We heard, in the context of these relationships, how the basic rights of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people suffer from human rights abuses that manifest in the lack of services
or poor quality of services received, and in the lack of protection available to Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. We also heard of the urgent need for basic tools for accounta-
bility that will keep governments from perpetuating this crisis for many more generations.
Canada is signatory to a variety of human and Indigenous rights instruments, which represent
standards it has agreed to uphold. As Expert Witness Timothy Argetsinger, executive political
advisor with Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami (ITK), explained:
The human rights framework approach is important, linking Canada’s solemn
commitments and obligations to various human rights instruments, which implicate a
number of obligations related to some of the basic needs … such as housing, [the] right
to food, safety, and then the larger issue of violence against women and girls and how
gaps or failure to act on those obligations create vulnerability.1
181
In describing encounters that led to violence, almost all of the witnesses described a surrounding
context marked by the multigenerational and intergenerational trauma of colonial violence. This
trauma was inflicted through the loss of land, forced relocations, residential schools, and the
Sixties Scoop, and ultimately set the stage for further violence, including the ongoing crises of
over-incarceration and of child apprehension, along with systemic poverty and other critical
factors.
Witness Carol B. shared her perspective about the impact of intergenerational trauma on her
relationship with herself and others: “The intergenerational trauma brought on by the residential
schools has really impacted our families in a negative way. How can you possibly learn to love
and value yourself when you’re told consistently — daily, that you’re of no value. And that we
need to take the Indian out of you. How could you value or love yourself?”36
As Bombay pointed out,
the effects of trauma and altered social norms also contributed to these ongoing cycles
that were catalyzed in residential schools.37
As the National Inquiry listened to the voices of the sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, sisters,
brothers, parents, and grandparents who have lost loved ones, it became clear that the crisis of
missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGLBTQQIA people is yet another way
in which the historic and collective trauma of Indigenous Peoples continues. In her testimony,
Eva P. described the trauma she carries following the disappearance of her older sister:
You know, I’ve been going to counselling for the past two years. I’ve been seeing two
different therapists. I go through my ups and downs. I isolated myself for six months
after Misty went missing. I almost – I almost died. It’s tough. And, I can’t even imagine,
like, this is a … Canada-wide issue, and there’s more people. Like, there’s a lot of people
in my situation.38
“THE INTERGENERATIONAL TRAUMA BROUGHT ON BY THE RESIDENTIAL

SCHOOLS HAS REALLY IMPACTED OUR FAMILIES IN A NEGATIVE WAY. HOW CAN
YOU POSSIBLY LEARN TO LOVE AND VALUE YOURSELF WHEN YOU’RE TOLD
CONSISTENTLY — DAILY, THAT YOU’RE OF NO VALUE. AND THAT WE NEED TO
TAKE THE INDIAN OUT OF YOU. HOW COULD YOU VALUE OR LOVE YOURSELF?”
Carol B.
113
Anti-violence scholar Andrea Smith points out that human rights can work for the process of
decolonizing. She explains, “I contend that while the ultimate goal of Indigenous liberation is
decolonization rather than human rights protection, the human rights framework can potentially
be used as part of a strategy for decolonization.”8 Decolonization using human rights instruments
can work to increase safety for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, if those
instruments are understood in relation to the basic principles articulated in the previous chapter:
respect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness.
This chapter will, first, outline the contributions of a human rights approach, followed by a brief
examination of many of the key international instruments that may serve to promote safety and
justice for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This chapter will then explore
domestic rights instruments in Canada and principles established through the courts, before ex-
amining instances in which human and Indigenous rights approaches are conflicting. Ultimately,
this chapter will argue that reconciling the need to respect individual and collective rights, as
well as the unique needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in a variety of
distinct Indigenous contexts, means respecting the urgent need for self-determined solutions as
conceived, driven, and understood by those who are most targeted.
The International Human Rights Context

In Canada, there exists a robust international human rights framework that deals with rights for
all citizens, including Indigenous Peoples.9 This section will focus on the international human
rights instruments to which Canada has publicly committed in its protection of rights, and will
include discussions of both human and Indigenous rights. These rights can help to ensure ac-
countability in improving outcomes for First Nations, Métis, and Inuit within the context of
missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Throughout the testimony, the National Inquiry heard from witnesses who argued that contempo-
rary human and Indigenous rights instruments can play a role in the discussion on the rights
guaranteed in the areas of culture, health, security, and justice through the promotion of new
policies and principles, and the genuine commitment of all levels of government to addressing
the problem of violence and the violation of basic human rights, not only in words, but in
actions. These instruments are also public commitments, which can be useful standards for
assessing state action, or inaction, in key areas linked to promoting safety.
“WE WANT A WORKING RELATIONSHIP WITH THE REST OF SOCIETY. THIS IS OUR
LAND. WE WANT TO HAVE A GOOD WORKING RELATIONSHIP. WE WELCOMED
EVERYBODY IN. AND WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO US? OUR YOUNG MOTHERS ARE
GOING MISSING. OUR YOUNG MOTHERS ARE BEING MURDERED AT AN
ASTRONOMICAL RATE, MORE THAN ANY OTHER RACE IN THIS COUNTRY.”
Gladys R.
183
Hard and Soft Law: Assessing the Scope of Protections through
International Human Rights
International human rights instruments are treaties and other international documents relevant to
international human rights law and the protection of human rights in general. They can be classi-
fied into two categories: declarations, adopted by bodies such as the United Nations General
Assembly, which are considered “soft law” and are not strictly legally binding; and conventions,
covenants, or international treaties, which are “hard law,” legally binding instruments concluded
under international law.
Many of these instruments contain what are considered to be dual freedoms: they provide free-
dom from the state, when it doesn’t respect human rights; and freedom through the state, in the
state’s ability to protect or promote these rights. For example, the right to adequate housing cov-
ers a right to be free from forced evictions carried out by state agents (freedom from the state),
as well as a right to receive assistance to access adequate housing in certain situations (freedom
through the state). While they are important pieces of the human rights framework, declarations
don’t have binding power to compel states to respect the principles contained within them.
In terms of making sure that states meet their obligations, there does exist a variety of different
mechanisms that can be called upon to assess where countries stand. The Office of the High
Commissioner for Human Rights manages a variety of different human rights monitoring mecha-
nisms in the United Nations (UN) system, including UN Charter-based bodies as well as bodies
created under the international human rights treaties and made up of independent experts whose
job it is to monitor how countries are complying with their obligations under the various
covenants and treaties.
Charter bodies within the system include the Human Rights Council, which meets every year and
is composed of 47 elected nation-states who are members of the UN. The council is tasked with
preventing human rights abuses, as well as inequity and discrimination, and working to expose
those who are committing the abuses. In addition, Special Procedures bodies also fall under the
UN’s Charter-based bodies, and are often theme-specific or specific to human rights issues in a
particular country. Special Procedures bodies are composed of volunteer experts, and include
Special Rapporteurs or expert working groups who can examine, monitor, advise, and publicly
report on human rights issues. The Universal Periodic Review is a Charter-based process involv-
ing a review of human rights records for all UN member states, where each state explains what it
did to improve human rights issues in its own country. The Human Rights Council Complaints
Procedure addresses communications submitted by individuals, by groups, or by non-govern-
mental organizations who report being the targets of human rights violations.
In addition to its Charter-based bodies, the UN also has treaty bodies that monitor the implemen-
tation of core international human rights treaties and are made up of independent experts. Most
conventions establish mechanisms to oversee their implementation, and to allow individuals or
groups to take the state to an international complaints body, in order to enforce them. In some
184
cases, these mechanisms have relatively little power, and are often ignored by member states;
in other cases, these mechanisms have great political and legal authority, and their decisions are
almost always implemented. These mechanisms include human rights treaty bodies that monitor
implementation of core treaties. They include:
• Human Rights Committee (HRC)
• Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (CESCR)
• Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD)
• Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW)
• Committee Against Torture (CAT)
• Committee on the Rights of the Child (CRC)
• Committee on Migrant Workers (CMW)10
• Committee on Enforced Disappearances (CED)
In addition to these, there are other United Nations bodies working on the promotion and protec-
tion of human rights, including the General Assembly itself, the Third Committee of the General
Assembly, the Economic and Social Council, and the International Court of Justice.11 In addition,
the United Nations’ partners and agencies promote and protect human rights, working with the
other human rights bodies listed in this section. These other agencies and partners include:
• United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR)
• Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA)
• Inter-Agency Internal Displacement Division (IDD)
• International Labour Organization (ILO)
• World Health Organization (WHO)
• United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO)
• Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS)
• Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC)
• Department of Economic and Social Affairs (DESA)
• Commission on the Status of Women (CSW)
• Office of the Special Adviser on Gender Issues and the Advancement of Women
(OSAGI)
• Division for the Advancement of Women (DAW)
185
• United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA)
• United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF)
• United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women
(UN-Women)
• United Nations Development Programme (UNDP)
• Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO)
• United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-HABITAT)
• United Nations Mine Action Service (UNMAS)
International Covenants
Canada has ratified seven core international human rights instruments that are considered to be
enforceable as covenants or conventions. These are relevant to the crisis of missing and mur-
dered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Each instrument has established a
committee of experts to monitor implementation of its provisions by its States Parties, and
Canada and other signatory states are required to report periodically on the fulfillment of their
obligations under each.
The International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination
(ICERD) of 1966 was one of the first human rights treaties to be adopted by the United Nations.
It formally took effect in 1969. Under the ICERD, racial discrimination is where a person or a
group is treated differently from other people or groups because of their race, colour, descent, na-
tional origin, or ethnic origin, and this treatment impairs, or is intended to impair, their human
rights and fundamental freedoms. For example, an act is racially discriminatory if a person is de-
nied a service or employment because of their race or ethnicity, or when a law or policy impacts
unfairly on a particular racial or ethnic group. The convention permits distinctions between citi-
zens and non-citizens, but not between different groups of non-citizens. It asserts that all human
rights in political, economic, social, cultural, and other fields of public life are to be ensured to
everyone without racial discrimination.
The convention indicates that there is one type of act, called a “special measure,” that is not con-
sidered to be discriminatory even though it involves treating specific racial, ethnic, or national
peoples or individuals differently. Special measures are programs that aim to ensure the adequate
advancement of certain racial groups who require support to be able to enjoy their human rights
and fundamental freedoms in full equality. Special measures aren’t only allowed by the conven-
tion; they’re required when needed for all groups to be able to enjoy their rights.
186
This message is woven within our approach to analyzing the encounters and relationships that
are significant to understanding violence: encounters not only teach us about the causes of
violence, they also show us how Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s
Indigenous and human rights are either protected or denied.
As we will develop throughout the Final Report, positioning our discussion of these encounters
and their root causes in relation to the inherent Indigenous and human rights we will explore re-
veals significant historical and ongoing rights violations in four areas: the right to culture, the
right to health, the right to security, and the right to justice. These themes are prominent ones
within both human and Indigenous rights contexts, and affirm the importance of addressing the
crisis of violence. They are not presented in order of priority or of importance: in fact, what our
testimony demonstrates is the interconnectedness of all of these ideas and priorities, and the need
to look at these as interdependent and indivisible.
For each of these four areas of rights violations, we consider both international human rights-
based and Indigenous-based understandings of the rights of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. These rights encompass the full range of socio-economic and political rights that signifi-
cant and meaningful change requires. When we talk about culture, we are also talking about all
of the necessary tools, supports, and resources required to enable the full realization of these
rights – including social, economic, and political rights. These rights areas are also necessarily
broad because of the great diversity of Indigenous Peoples who shared their truths concerning
the need for basic rights in addition to specific supports in key areas like education, housing,
standard of living, and health services. Indigenous Peoples have their own understandings of
rights based on their own laws, traditional knowledge systems, and world views, which are often
expressed through stories. These rights are not determined by international agreements, Canadian
legislation, or Supreme Court rulings. These are expressions of Indigenous women’s, girls’and
2SLGBTQQIA people’s proper power and place.
At the same time, a variety of human rights instruments dealing with these themes can offer a
tool for accountability and decolonization, if the solutions are placed within the context of the
four root causes of violence: intergenerational trauma through colonization, marginalization, lack
of institutional will, and the failure to recognize the expertise and capacity of Indigenous women
themselves.
While we will look in depth at what family members’ and survivors’ testimonies reveal about
each of these rights in later chapters, here we will provide a brief overview of how looking at
encounters and the relationships they engender, in relation to human rights, Indigenous rights,
and Indigenous laws and ways of knowing as expressed through stories, offers a new and power-
ful way to address the historic, ongoing, and current root causes that lead to violence against
118
Right to Culture
Cultural rights are inseparable from human rights, as recognized in the 2001 UNESCO United
Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s Declaration on Cultural Diversity,
as well as from Indigenous rights, as articulated in various instruments including, most recently,
the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). They are also
inseparable from the social and political rights necessary to their full enjoyment.
A young jingle dress dancer dances for those in

attendance in Winnipeg, Manitoba. She is the
cousin of Nicole Ashley Daniels, an MMIW family
member. Used with permission from the family.
Generally, the right to culture and identity can

be defined as the right to access, participate in,
and enjoy one’s culture. This includes the
right of individuals and communities to know,
understand, visit, make use of, maintain,
exchange, and develop cultural heritage and
cultural expressions, as well as to benefit from
the cultural heritage and cultural expressions of
others. It also includes the right to participate
in the identification, interpretation, and devel-
opment of cultural heritage, as well as in the design and implementation of policies and programs
that keep that culture and identity safe. Other human rights, such as the right to freedom of
expression, the right to information, and the right to education, are also key to fully realizing
cultural rights. As the testimonies reveal, the right to culture and identity relates directly to the
crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people through the
separation of families, the historical and contemporary realities of assimilationist and genocidal
colonial policies, and the lack of culturally appropriate services in healing, justice, and other
areas that continues to put Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people at risk. Racism,
along with the attempted disruption of culture, promotes violence against Indigenous women,
119
In its preamble, the convention explicitly acknowledges that “extensive discrimination against
women continues to exist,” and emphasizes that such discrimination “violates the principles of
equality of rights and respect for human dignity.” The convention defines discrimination against
women as
any distinction, exclusion or restriction made on the basis of sex which has the effect or
purpose of impairing or nullifying the recognition, enjoyment or exercise by women,
irrespective of their marital status, on a basis of equality of men and women, of human
rights and fundamental freedoms in the political, economic, social, cultural, civil or any
other field.
In other words, it supports the idea of women as individual rights holders and as legal agents. It
directs States Parties to take any action necessary, including implementing legislation and legal
protections, for women to allow them to enjoy all of their rights.
Overall, the convention deals with civil rights and the legal status of women, as well as reproduc-
tive rights. It looks to affirm the rights of women as apart from the rights of men, understanding
the history of the way in which women’s rights have often been tied to that of their husband or
partner. The convention also insists that women’s role in having children shouldn’t be the basis
for ongoing discrimination or exclusion. Finally, the convention deals with how some interpreta-
tions of traditional culture can serve to limit women’s rights, and how men have an important
role to play in equality.
This convention has important implications for Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people’s intersectional experiences of discrimination and oppression. As Crystal F. shared:
Indigenous people, and in particular women, battle social misconceptions, stigma,
stereotypes, violence, in Canada, just for being an Indigenous woman. Indigenous
women and girls … are the carriers of life and teachings meant to be passed on to the
next generation, and this pivotal role has been nearly destroyed by the colonial actions of
Canada … and the continued active disengagement of this country at many levels.16
The Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) entered into force on September 2, 1990.
Parties to the UNCRC have committed to respecting the civil, political, economic, social, and
cultural rights of children, regardless of origin, ethnicity, religion, or ability. In some ways,
the UNCRC is a combination of the ICESCR and the ICCPR, along with the UDHR, oriented
towards the protection of children. The UNCRC celebrates the family as an important unit for
ensuring that the rights of children are respected and protected, and for ensuring healthy commu-
nities and societies. Its 54 articles place a duty on governments to meet children’s basic needs
and help them reach their full potential.
189
As we will examine more closely in the next chapter, most Indigenous societies place cultural
knowledge at the heart of Indigenous world views. Within our framework, women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people’s right to culture and identity connects to their roles and responsibilities
as leaders and teachers within communities. Traditional stories from Nations across Canada
show us that women and 2SLGBTQQIA people have leadership and teaching roles as those
who pass on culture and identity to their people. They help strengthen and maintain collective
identity. This role is placed in jeopardy in many instances, as we heard much about how
contemporary child welfare practices, for example, directly work against this important task,
whereas understanding one’s culture can directly contribute to safety.
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have the inherent right to their own culture
and identity, and to foster culture and identity within their families and communities through the
full implementation of economic, social, and political rights that can help protect these practices
and this knowledge.
Right to Health
When rights to culture and identity are in jeopardy, the right to health is also under threat. We
define “health” as a holistic state of well-being, which includes mental, emotional, physical, and
spiritual well-being, particularly within Indigenous world views. In this way, health is not simply
an absence of illness or disability.
The right to health is linked to other fundamental human rights, such as access to clean water and
adequate infrastructure in communities. On a more general level, however, the right to health
speaks to preventing harm to others, to protecting the health of children and families, and to
fostering mental health. We recognize that an absence of services, or a lack of culturally appro-
priate services in communities, as well as other factors linked to health place women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in vulnerable situations where they become targeted for violence.
For many groups, Indigenous understandings of women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s
right to health are based on their roles, responsibilities, and related rights as healers. Stories
show us that women and gender-diverse people have critical responsibilities in creating healthier
communities. As healers and medicine people, they have specific expertise in addressing physical,
mental, emotional, and spiritual needs. This includes addressing their own unique needs as
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and bringing much-needed perspectives to keep
communities healthy and whole.
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have the inherent right to their own health
and well-being, and the right to use their expertise, and the tools necessary for health, to con-
tribute to the health and well-being of their families and communities, within the full spectrum
of human rights in the areas of health.
120
Right to Security
Many encounters we heard about concerned the basic right to security. We understand the right to
security as a physical right, as well as a social right.
Physically, the right to security includes the right to life, liberty, and personal safety. This includes
control over one’s own physical and mental health, as well the protection of one’s own psycholog-
ical integrity. In Canada, the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms protects individuals from
grave psychological harm perpetrated by the state. On an international level, in the area of social
security, the right to security means that the state must ensure protective services or social serv-
ice assistance and guarantee the protection of the entire population through essential services
such as health, housing, and access to water, food, employment, livelihood, and education.
Because of its redistributive nature, the right to social security is an important factor in commu-
nity health and harmony and in reducing poverty.
Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s right to security connects to their roles,
responsibilities, and rights as providers and defenders. Traditional stories show us that Indige-
nous women, girls, and gender-diverse people have critical responsibilities in fostering a safe,
secure community. They do this by providing for themselves and their communities, by protect-
ing the vulnerable, by managing and redistributing resources as necessary, and by being the
keepers and defenders of the water, land, plants, and animals on which we depend.
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have the inherent right to security in their
own lives as well as the right to directly participate in maintaining that security for themselves
and others, within their own understandings and within the full spectrum of economic, social,
and political rights that can contribute to increasing security.
Right to Justice
As many of the testimonies demonstrate, the problematic relationships between Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and the judicial system are also very significant. Barri-
ers to justice take many forms, including the isolation of victims through inadequate victim serv-
ices, the failure to accommodate language barriers, and the way Indigenous victims are either
portrayed or ignored in the media. Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are also
overpoliced and overincarcerated as potential offenders, yet under-protected as victims of crime.
All of these barriers demonstrate important moments of disconnection between Indigenous
Peoples and the Canadian justice system, between the promises of blind justice that the system is
meant to deliver and the actual functioning of this system. In the upcoming chapters, we will
bring forward transformational encounters Indigenous people have had with the justice system,
as well as ongoing issues with access and institutional constraints that present barriers to justice
for Indigenous Peoples and that threaten the legitimacy of the process for Indigenous communi-
ties.
Indigenous women’s, girls’, and gender-diverse people’s right to justice also connects to their
roles in protecting their communities. Stories show us that they fought to keep themselves and
121
others safe from violence. Many women, girls, and gender-diverse people in stories are also sur-
vivors and heroes – those who put themselves in danger to save others.
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have the inherent right to live free from
violence or injustice. If this does not happen, they have the right to have this violence stopped
and condemned, with others’ support as they confront it as needed. These rights exist both in
Indigenous Peoples’ own terms, as well as within the basic human rights framework that exists to
eliminate violence against women in general and Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people in particular.
Promoting and Maintaining Healthy Encounters

All of these themes – along with the encounters that Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people have in the areas of culture, health, safety, and justice – show how
imposed solutions created by governments or agencies that don’t prioritize the knowledge of
Indigenous Peoples don’t work. Rights to culture, health, security, and justice are based
on another foundational right: the right to self-determination. We understand the right to self-
determination in Indigenous terms, in terms specific to Nations, communities, and, most
importantly, to women themselves.
That’s why this report will also address how, embedded within these stories of the encounters
that families and survivors see as significant, are also the strong voices and acts of resilience and
strength – the encounters and relationships leading to healing. In sharing their stories of these
encounters, as well as the broader relationships that are an important part of their identity,
witnesses also reminded the Commissioners of, or provided teachings that assert, the strength,
resistance, creativity, and power of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people even
within a system of relationships that makes every effort to deny them those qualities.
We can return to Carol’s description of her initial encounter with the police to witness this resist-
ance. When faced with the officer’s indifference, Carol, in fact, did not simply walk away, as
the officer may have hoped. Instead, as she stated, “I banged my hand hard on the counter,”
demanding attention. When he continued to ignore her, Carol said, “Once again, I slammed my
hand hard on the desk.” The next day, she returned to the police station with an interpreter, and
went on over the next five years to become a powerful and vocal advocate for the families of
Her resistance and strength do not diminish the pain of losing her daughter to violence, or the
anger she expresses at the officer’s refusal to act during that crucial first meeting. However, her
story shared with the National Inquiry does send a powerful message to those who may choose to
act in a similarly dismissive way: relationships in which those in authority or power abuse that
power to silence Indigenous women or prevent them from protecting themselves and their loved
ones from violence will no longer be tolerated. Transforming these relationships will no longer
be left in the hands of those who have for too long done nothing to create change.
122
The declaration urges member states of the United Nations to use the powers at their disposal to
combat violence through legislation, as well as to work to provide better services to women who
are victimized, and to prevent violence for the future. In Article 4(k), the DEVAW further directs
states, specifically, to
promote research, collect data and compile statistics … relating to the prevalence of
different forms of violence against women and encourage research on the causes, nature,
seriousness and consequences of violence against women and on the effectiveness of
measures implemented to prevent and redress violence against women.26
The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) was adopted by
the UN General Assembly in 2007, with several notable objectors, including Canada. In 1982,
the Economic and Social Council established the Working Group on Indigenous Populations
with the mandate to develop a set of minimum standards that would protect Indigenous Peoples.
The details of UNDRIP, as it has taken shape in debates within Canada and within the context of
discussions regarding missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls, will be addressed in
greater detail further within the chapter. UNDRIP is an important declaration overall. It pro-
claims a historic body of collective rights and human rights of Indigenous Peoples and
individuals that specifically points to the legacies of colonization and dispossession as human
rights issues. Its very first article “asserts the rights of both individuals and collectives to the full
scope of protection for human rights and fundamental freedoms existing in other international
human rights instruments, including international human rights law.”27
The declaration deals largely with the rights of Indigenous Peoples as they relate to culture, reli-
gion, and language, as well as economic, social, and political development and territory. Signifi-
cantly, the declaration promotes the principle of self-determination without necessarily making
comment on the foundation or legitimacy of colonizing nations themselves, who are positioned,
within the declaration, as ensuring their own compliance with upholding these rights.
The Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action (VDPA) is a human rights declaration
adopted by consensus at the World Conference on Human Rights on June 25, 1993, in Vienna,
Austria. The creation of the position of United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights
was a result of this declaration, which reaffirmed the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and
the United Nations Charter. Its preamble states:
The World Conference on Human Rights, considering that the promotion and protection
of human rights is a matter of priority for the international community, and that the
Conference affords a unique opportunity to carry out a comprehensive analysis of the
international human rights system and of the machinery for the protection of human
rights, in order to enhance and thus promote a fuller observance of those rights, in a just
and balanced manner.28
193
The VDPA reaffirms human rights as a universal and relevant standard “for all peoples and all
nations.”29 It cites the ICCPR and the ICESCR and particularly relevant instruments to the
achievement of this standard, and calls for increased investment in education about human rights
principles. It cites all human rights as equally important, and makes specific mention of factors
that may represent obstacles to attaining the enjoyment of human rights, including poverty, un-
derdevelopment, and racism. In addition, the VDPA pays special attention to the need to address
gender-based violence and ongoing discrimination. It maintains that this type of violence can be
addressed through “national action and international cooperation in such fields as economic and
social development, education, safe maternity and health care, and social support.”30
The Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action (BDPA) was the result of the 1995 Fourth
World Conference on Women, reaffirming the VDPA’s assertion that the human rights of women
and girls are inalienable, integral, and indivisible as part of the field of universal human rights.
The Beijing Platform emphasizes the commonality of women’s experiences, urging states to be-
come further involved in creating equality around the world. It is described as “an agenda for
women’s empowerment”31 that sets up a necessary partnership for long-term development of
peoples around the world. Its many and broad recommendations deal with key issues such as
poverty, education, health, environment, and women in positions of power and decision making.
Defining and Locating “Indigenous Rights” in Human Rights Law
While many conventions and declarations do relate to the rights of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, they don’t necessarily specifically address the particular context of colo-
nialism, its contemporary legacies, and its current form today. The need to address this kind of
legacy is particularly what animated the development of the United Nations Declaration on the
Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). While the declaration has many critics, some also see
it as an instrument of great potential for the future, one that might be grounded in Indigenous
understandings about rights. As Brenda Gunn noted:
The UN Declaration grounds Indigenous Peoples’ inherent human rights in Indigenous
Peoples’ own customs, laws and traditions. And so this instrument makes it really clear
that when we’re talking about international human rights and the rights of Indigenous
Peoples that we need to make specific reference to Indigenous Peoples’ laws.32
For decades, allies and activists have been working on the creation of an instrument devoted to
Indigenous rights. While it is a declaration, not a convention, UNDRIP represents an important
first step in recognizing and addressing the particularities of Indigenous Peoples’ rights, and how
they might be protected.
The efforts to draft a specific instrument dealing with the protection of Indigenous Peoples
worldwide date back over several decades.
194
In 1982, UN Special Rapporteur of the Subcommission on the Prevention of Discrimination and
Protection of Minorities, José R. Martinez Cobo, released a study about the systemic discrimina-
tion faced by Indigenous Peoples worldwide. His findings were released as the “Study of the
Problem of Discrimination against Indigenous Populations.” The UN Economic and Social
Council created the Working Group on Indigenous Populations (WGIP), comprised of five
independent experts as well as Indigenous advisors, in order to focus exclusively on Indigenous
issues around the globe. It began to draft a declaration of Indigenous rights in 1985.
The draft declaration was subject to a series of reviews to assure UN member states that it
remained consistent with established human rights, and did not contradict or override them.
UNDRIP deals with many Indigenous rights, a consideration much debated during initial
discussions. Many UN member states worried that accepting UNDRIP as drafted would
undermine their own political autonomy. Of particular concern were the articles affirming
Indigenous Peoples’ right to self-determination and their right to give or withhold consent to
actions that may impact lands, territories, and natural resources. For countries with resource-rich
economies and running large-scale development projects, in particular, the extent of this right,
and of the protections for it, has generated concern.
However, many Indigenous representatives refused to change the draft, arguing that the docu-
ment simply extended to Indigenous Peoples the rights already guaranteed to colonialists.33 As
human rights lawyer James Sákéj Youngblood Henderson observes, “[Member states] worried
about the implications of Indigenous rights, refusing to acknowledge the privileges they had
appropriated for themselves.”34
The WGIP’s final draft represented a compromise between UN member states and Indigenous
representatives. In 2006, the draft was accepted by the UN Human Rights Council, and on
September 13, 2007, the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples was adopted by a
majority of 144 states in favour, four votes against (Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the
United States), and 11 abstentions.35 The four countries who voted against it share very similar
colonial histories and, as a result, shared common concerns. Each nation argued that the level of
autonomy recognized for Indigenous Peoples would undermine their own states, particularly in
the context of land disputes and natural resources. Some governments claimed that UNDRIP
might override existing human rights obligations, even though the document itself explicitly
gives precedence to international human rights.
“THE UN DECLARATION GROUNDS INDIGENOUS PEOPLES’ INHERENT HUMAN

RIGHTS IN INDIGENOUS PEOPLES’ OWN CUSTOMS, LAWS AND TRADITIONS. AND
SO THIS INSTRUMENT MAKES IT REALLY CLEAR THAT WHEN WE’RE TALKING
ABOUT INTERNATIONAL HUMAN RIGHTS AND THE RIGHTS OF INDIGENOUS
PEOPLES THAT WE NEED TO MAKE SPECIFIC REFERENCE TO INDIGENOUS
PEOPLES’ LAWS.”
Brenda Gunn
195
In its own refusal, Canada, represented by Chuck Strahl, then the minister of Indian Affairs,
explained the government’s reasoning: “By signing on, you default to this document by saying
that the only rights in play here are the rights of First Nations. And, of course, in Canada, that’s
inconsistent with our Constitution.”36 Strahl further maintained that Canada already respects
Indigenous rights, as laid down in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms and the Constitution,
which, he said, reflects a much more tangible commitment than the “aspirational” UNDRIP.
Indigenous and human rights organizations and activists continued to lobby for Canada to sign
UNDRIP, and in March 2010, Governor General Michaëlle Jean announced that the Canadian
government “will take steps to endorse this aspirational document in a manner fully consistent
with Canada’s Constitution and laws.”37 Although it was progress, this did not represent an
official change in position.
In November 2010, Canada announced it would officially support UNDRIP. While this move
was celebrated by many people as a positive step forward, the continued use of qualifiers in offi-
cial speeches left many others skeptical of Canada’s true commitment. Canada suggested that its
endorsement of UNDRIP would not change Canadian laws: “Although the Declaration is a non-
legally binding document that does not reflect customary international law nor change Canadian
laws, our endorsement gives us the opportunity to reiterate our commitment to continue working
in partnership with Aboriginal peoples in creating a better Canada.”38
Brenda Gunn, Métis professor of law at the University

of Manitoba.
In May 2016, however, Canada formally announced

its full support, and adopted plans to implement it
in accordance to the Canadian Constitution.
The first of UNDRIP’s 46 articles declares that
“Indigenous Peoples have the right to the full
enjoyment, as a collective or as individuals, of all
human rights and fundamental freedoms as recognized in the Charter of the United Nations, the
Universal Declaration of Human Rights and international human rights law.”39 Significantly, in
Article 3, UNDRIP also recognizes Indigenous Peoples’ right to self-determination, which
includes the right “to freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic,
196
social and cultural development.”40 Article 4 affirms Indigenous Peoples’ right “to autonomy or
self-government in matters relating to their internal and local affairs,” and Article 5 protects their
right “to maintain and strengthen their distinct political, legal, economic, social and cultural
institutions.”41 Article 26 states that “Indigenous Peoples have the right to the lands, territories
and resources which they have traditionally owned, occupied or otherwise used or acquired,”42
and it directs states to give legal recognition to these territories.
The declaration also guarantees the rights of Indigenous Peoples to enjoy and practise their
cultures and customs, their religions, and their languages, and to develop and strengthen their
economies and their social and political institutions. It states that Indigenous Peoples have the
right to be free from discrimination, and the right to a nationality.
As it relates to the difficult conditions of economic and social marginalization that many of
our witnesses cited, Article 21 posits that special measures should be taken to improve social
and economic conditions, and that extra attention should be paid to the rights and means of
Indigenous women and youth. Article 22 stresses that measures should be taken to guarantee the
protection of Indigenous women and children against all forms of violence and discrimination.
The declaration does not override the rights of Indigenous Peoples contained in their Treaties and
agreements with individual states, and it commands these states to observe and enforce the
agreements.
Women are referenced specifically in UNDRIP, but in only one clause. However, Brenda Gunn
explains: “I think it’s important to highlight that even though the gender lens isn’t explicitly
included throughout all of the articles, it is one of the interpretive approaches or the framework
that we need to be using when looking at it.”44
Dalee Sambo Dorough adds, regarding the declaration’s inclusion of individual and collective
rights:
That was the most compelling argument, that the UN Declaration on the Rights of
Indigenous Peoples has to create a balance between individual rights of women,
Indigenous women, and the collective rights of Indigenous Peoples. And, at the end of
the day, that’s the argument that won, and I think that it’s important – it’s an important
moment in history that Indigenous women, based upon all of the experiences that
they’ve had until that moment, compelled them to raise their voices against a pretty
overwhelming and strong argument that we need our collective rights protected.45
Despite its important tenets, UNDRIP remains a declaration with no explicit enforcement
mechanisms, other than those working groups and Rapporteurs devoted, thematically, to the
monitoring of Indigenous rights. For this reason, there have been many critiques of UNDRIP as
a document without any “teeth,” especially when it comes to the estimated 5,000 distinct Indige-
nous communities worldwide and the estimated 375 million people who live in them, each with
their own cultural or religious institutions and forms of self-government, within diverse national
contexts.
197
UNDRIP also problematically and foundationally still assumes the sovereignty of the nation-
state. As scholar Duane Champagne points out, the nation-states still define who are Indigenous
Peoples, and the denial of basic rights to identity is a cornerstone of eliminating populations – as
the Canadian experience has demonstrated: “UNDRIP does not address indigenous political, cul-
tural, and territorial claims on a government-to-government or culture-to-culture basis.” 46 Within
the declaration, further, the colonizing state remains the protector and guarantor of Indigenous
rights, a task for which it has not demonstrated its commitment in the past – and, arguably, still
today. As National Inquiry Grandmother Bernie pointed out:
When we did those walks across Canada, we sat one day with the walkers and that. We
went through the [United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples]. It
took us a week to go through it, you know, for our study, little things, you know, at
nighttime and that. We counted 17 violations against our women and children….
Seventeen violations, and yet nothing’s done.47
For these reasons, while UNDRIP is an invitation to participate in more inclusive multicultural
nation-states and improve equality of access to economic opportunities, it should not be regarded
as the “be all, end all” of Indigenous rights.
Despite its limitations, there is potential in the declaration, especially if it were to become
customary international law. Even supporters of the declaration recognize that it is not the end of
the journey towards realizing Indigenous and human rights. As Jean Leclair pointed out at the
Inquiry’s hearing on human rights, “I think that we have to remind people of the importance of
this Declaration, of the need to implement it. It will not produce social reality on its own, but it’s
a great tool and we should not diminish its importance … because that’s very normative too.
These symbols are very powerful and they can bring change.”48
“THAT WAS THE MOST COMPELLING ARGUMENT, THAT THE UN DECLARATION ON

THE RIGHTS OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLES HAS TO CREATE A BALANCE BETWEEN
INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS OF WOMEN, INDIGENOUS WOMEN, AND THE COLLECTIVE
RIGHTS OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLES. AND, AT THE END OF THE DAY, THAT’S THE
ARGUMENT THAT WON, AND I THINK THAT IT’S IMPORTANT – IT’S AN IMPORTANT
MOMENT IN HISTORY THAT INDIGENOUS WOMEN, BASED UPON ALL OF THE
EXPERIENCES THAT THEY’VE HAD UNTIL THAT MOMENT, COMPELLED THEM TO
RAISE THEIR VOICES AGAINST A PRETTY OVERWHELMING AND STRONG ARGUMENT
THAT WE NEED OUR COLLECTIVE RIGHTS PROTECTED.”
Dalee Sambo Dorough
198
CHAPTER 1
2
Indigenous Recognitions of
Power and Place
Introduction: Women Are the Heart of Their Communities
In the beginning, there was nothing but water, nothing but a wide, wide sea. The only
people in the world were the animals that lived in and on water.
Then down from the sky world a woman fell, a divine person. Two loons flying over the
water happened to look up and see her falling. Quickly they placed themselves beneath
her and joined their bodies to make a cushion for her to rest upon. Thus they saved her
from drowning.
While they held her, they cried with a loud voice to the other animals, asking their help.
Now the cry of the loon can be heard at a great distance over water, and so the other
creatures gathered quickly.
As soon as Great Turtle learned the reason for the call, he stepped forth from the
council.
“Give her to me,” he said to the loons. “Put her on my back. My back is broad.”1
Women are the heart of their Nations and communities.

Through countless testimonies to the National Inquiry, we heard how the absence of women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people has a profound and ongoing impact on communities, and how
their gifts, as shared in distinctive roles and responsibilities, are crucial to community wellness,
to help communities thrive. As a whole, these roles and responsibilities are linked to various
systems of Indigenous laws and rights that flow from them.
129
As Dalee Sambo Dorough told the National Inquiry, the Special Rapporteur on Indigenous
Peoples for the United Nations has pointed out that even though the declaration itself is not
legally binding in the same way as a treaty might be, the declaration
reflects legal commitments that are related to the [UN] Charter, other treaty
commitments, and customary international law…. It builds upon the general human
rights obligations of states under the Charter and is grounded in fundamental human
rights principles such as non-discrimination, self-determination, and cultural integrity
that are incorporated into the widely ratified human rights treaties…. To that extent, the
declaration reflects customary international law.50
These obligations are normative, in the sense that they are built by norms generally accepted by
the international community. Normative obligations identified by witnesses for the National
Inquiry included the concepts of universality and inalienability. In other words, all people are
entitled to human rights, and those rights cannot be taken away. In addition, the understanding of
indivisibility, interdependence, and interrelatedness of human rights supports the principles that
human rights must be considered and deployed together to uphold the dignity of people. Of
significance to the issue of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people, this means that all rights are interrelated and cannot be considered in isolation. Brenda
Gunn pointed out:
We must look at the totality of human rights and human rights obligations so that we
can’t just look at civil and political rights, or look at economic, social, cultural rights, or
we can’t divorce the issues of the right to housing from the right to participate in public
life; that all of these actually work together.51
She added: “Very rarely is there a state action that violates merely one article of one convention.
The way in which human rights work together, they are so interconnected and to really under-
stand the breadth and the depth of the obligation, you really want to look at them together.”52
Viewing human rights as an indivisible whole also relates to two other important principles: non-
discrimination and substantive equality. Although all people have the same human rights, these
principles make the point that, as Brenda Gunn said, “this doesn’t mean that everyone is treated
the same.”53 International law, including UNDRIP, which Gunn cited in her testimony, makes it
clear that states may have to take special measures to ensure that these rights are realized for
every person, including Indigenous people. As Saskatchewan’s Advocate for Children and Youth
Corey O’Soup testified on the issue of health and educational supports, “We’ve been so far be-
hind for so long that we need special measures in order to bring us just to the level of non-In-
digenous kids in our provinces, in our country as well, you know.”54 International human rights
200
law also includes the need for participation and inclusion of Indigenous people in decision-
making processes, though it does not define the extent of the right, necessarily, which has
allowed states to try to circumvent this by saying that Indigenous Peoples’ interests or rights
are not engaged within an issue.
Due to the shortage of houses in

many First Nations communities,
often inadequate structures like this
are being used as homes. Pictured is
a structure being used as a home in
Attawapiskat, Ontario. Photo courtesy
of MCC (Mennonite Central
Committee) by Lyndsay Mollins Koene.
No copyright infringement intended.
Perhaps one of the strongest features of a human rights-based approach, as Brenda Gunn sees it,
is that it takes these basic issues, related to safety, out of the realm of policy and into the realm of
law. As she explained, using housing as an example:
This isn’t just a policy issue that can be prioritized or not prioritized in any sort of
budget, that every person has a right to an adequate house which includes a safe house,
not being afraid of being evicted, that it’s sort of adequate in condition, but also in the
security of tenure to that placement.55
This approach places Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as rights holders, to
whom Canada and other governments have obligations. While these rights may be articulated in
services, the fact that they are rights places an onus on governments to look at these
issues as beyond the level of simple policy making. Human rights instruments, Gunn argues,
provide the ability to create a list of obligations that Canada is required to fulfill, and to detail
the ways in which it has failed to act, or acted improperly, in fulfilling those obligations.56
201
“WE MUST LOOK AT THE TOTALITY OF HUMAN RIGHTS AND HUMAN RIGHTS
OBLIGATIONS SO THAT WE CAN’T JUST LOOK AT CIVIL AND POLITICAL RIGHTS,
OR LOOK AT ECONOMIC, SOCIAL, CULTURAL RIGHTS, OR WE CAN’T DIVORCE THE
ISSUES OF THE RIGHT TO HOUSING FROM THE RIGHT TO PARTICIPATE IN PUBLIC
LIFE; THAT ALL OF THESE ACTUALLY WORK TOGETHER.”
Brenda Gunn
Domestic Rights Instruments in Canada

The Canadian Human Rights Act
One of the ways that Canada has moved to adopt these rights in Canada is through the Canadian
Human Rights Act. The Act is the product of translating some of these international instruments
into domestic law. After the Second World War, the importance of introducing explicit human
rights instruments, brought to light with the atrocities of the Holocaust, became evident. Follow-
ing the formation of the United Nations in 1945 and the creation of the Universal Declaration of
Human Rights in 1948, many countries started to look at what kind of legislation, at a domestic
level, could be put in place to uphold the principles of this declaration.
The federal government didn’t lead the way, at least in Canada. Ontario passed the first legisla-
tion dedicated to anti-discrimination in 1944, and Saskatchewan followed with its own bill on
civil rights in 1947. Notably, the Saskatchewan Bill of Rights Act protected civil liberties such as
free speech, freedom of assembly, freedom of religion, freedom of association, and due process,
while also prohibiting discrimination on the basis of race, religion, and national origin. Over a
decade later, federal legislators enacted the Canadian Bill of Rights in 1960, which applied to the
federal government and which protected freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and equality
rights, among others. This was a limited piece of legislation: it didn’t apply to private industry
or to provincial governments, and never became an important tool for the protection of human
rights in Canada.57
During the same period, provinces also worked on strengthening their own human rights instru-
ments. In 1962, Ontario passed the Human Rights Code as a consolidation of other laws, as well
as created the Ontario Human Rights Commission with the mandate to prevent human rights
abuses and to educate the public about human rights across the province. As the Canadian
Human Rights Commission explains:
“In the years that followed, other jurisdictions across the country introduced similar
pieces of legislation. This cross-Canada development coincided with the growing
prominence of social movements, which sought to advance issues such as racial
justice and women’s rights at home and abroad.”58
202
In 1977 and within the context of the United Nations member states’ acceptance of both the
ICCPR and ICESCR, Parliament passed the Canadian Human Rights Act. The Act applies only
to people who work for or receive services from the federal government, to First Nations, and to
federally regulated private companies.
As the history of the issue shows, each province and territory in Canada has its own human rights
legislation that applies to provincially and territorially related services and areas of jurisdiction,
like schools, hospitals, or employment. This can be confusing. While the federal government has
responsibility for “Indians, and lands reserved for Indians”59 under section 91(24) of the Cana-
dian Constitution, many of the service areas where Indigenous people told us they faced violence
or discrimination were actually areas of service provided by provinces or territories, but funded
by the federal government.
The Canadian Human Rights Act prohibited discrimination on the basis of recognized grounds
of discrimination such as race, religion, and national origin, but also broke some new ground,
including standards regarding sex, ethnic origin, age, marital status, physical disability, and par-
doned conviction. The Canadian Human Rights Act also provided for the creation of two human
rights bodies: the Canadian Human Rights Commission and the Human Rights Tribunal Panel,
the latter created in 1985. It was renamed the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal in 1998.
In 1996, the Act was amended to include sexual orientation as a prohibited grounds of discrimi-
nation, and then amended to include gender identity or expression in 2017. Until 2013, the Act
also contained clauses prohibiting hate speech, which it defined as “any matter that is likely to
expose a person or persons to hatred or contempt by reason of the fact that that person or those
persons are identifiable on the basis of a prohibited ground of discrimination.”60 But, after
challenges to this provision and the publicity around it, this section was repealed in 2013.
In its current form, the Act lays out 13 prohibited grounds of discrimination: “race, national or
ethnic origin, colour, religion, age, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, marital
status, family status, genetic characteristics, disability and conviction for an offence for which
a pardon has been granted or in respect of which a record suspension has been ordered.”61
The Act also addresses discrimination, harassment, and the issue of bona fide justifications (an-
other way of saying that determining human rights complaints under the Act can’t create “undue
hardship” on the employer or provider of services). It prohibits discrimination in the workplace,
in employment application processes, in job advertisements, and in the provision of goods and
services. The Act also prohibits, but does not define, harassment.
203
First Nations woman at the annual Sun Dance cere-
mony at the Káínawa First Nation Reserve near
Cardston, Alberta, 1953. Source: Library and
Archives Canada/ National Film Board of Canada
fonds/e010949128.
These Indigenous laws and the roles, responsibilities, and rights they teach are distinct from the
concept of Indigenous rights as they have been defined by the courts, particularly since 1982. As
Tuma Young, Professor of Mi’kmaq Studies at Unama’ki College, explained in his testimony
before the Inquiry, “Aboriginal law, as taught in law school, is really Canadian law as it applies
to Indigenous people. It is not Indigenous law.”2 In this section, we first consider how the testi-
monies offered to the National Inquiry serve as indicators of different visions of roles and
responsibilities, and how the rights stemming from them can inform our priorities and our path
forward.
Families, survivors, and other witnesses have gifted us their stories and truths throughout the
Inquiry’s Truth-Gathering Process. They echoed over and over again what the National Inquiry
Grandmothers said at the very beginning: stay grounded in culture, which represents the strength
of Indigenous women and of their communities, however defined. Dr. Janet Smylie, a Cree/Métis
physician and Knowledge Keeper who spoke about strength-based approaches at the Inquiry’s
hearing in Iqaluit, quoted former National Chief Phil Fontaine when he said, “We have the an-
swers. The answers lie in our communities.” She continued in her own words: “[The answers are]
in our communities, in our stories, in our lived environments and in our blood memory. So we all
know, as First Nations, Inuit, Métis, urban Indigenous people, what we need. We have it still.”3
Indigenous Peoples have always had their own concepts of roles and responsibilities, linked to
the rights that women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people hold within their communities or
Nations. Dawnis Kennedy, whose traditional name is Minnawaanigogiizhigok, explained
about all members of the community:
130
Nova Scotia • Employment
Human Rights Act – 1967 • Housing or accommodation
• Services and facilities
• Purchase or sale of property
• Volunteer public service
• Publishing, broadcasting or advertising
• Membership in a professional, business or trade association, or employers’ or
employees’ organizations
Nunavut • Employment
Human Rights Act – 2003 • Obtaining or maintaining a membership in an employee organization
• Accessing goods, services, facilities or contracts available to the general public
• Renting or attempting to rent any residential or commercial building
• Publishing or displaying information or written material
Ontario • Accommodation (housing)

Human Rights Code – 1962 • Contracts
• Employment
• Goods, services and facilities
• Membership in unions, trade or professional associations
Prince Edward Island • All aspects of employment

Human Rights Act – 1968 • Leasing, purchasing or selling property
• Offering accommodations, services or facilities to the public
• Membership in professional, business or trade associations, employer or employee
organizations
• Publishing, broadcasting and advertising
• Volunteering
Quebec • Employment (includes hiring and pre-hiring, working conditions, professional

Charter of Human Rights training, promotion or transfer, lay-off, suspension or dismissal)
and Freedoms – 1975 • Housing (includes leasing of an apartment, occupancy of rented premises)
• Public services, public transport and public places (includes businesses, restaurants
and hotels, parks, camp sites, caravan sites and schools and churches)
• Juridical acts (includes contracts, collective agreements, wills, insurance or pensions
contracts, social benefit plans, retirement, pension or insurance plans, public pension
or public insurance plans)
Saskatchewan • Employment or occupation

Human Rights Code – 1979 • Education
• Housing
• Publications
• Public services (restaurants, stores, hotels, government services, etc.)
• Contracts or purchase of property
• Professional associations or trade unions
Yukon • Employment and any aspect of employment

Human Rights Act – 1987 • Receiving goods and services
• Housing, leasing or renting
• Membership in or representation by trade unions or professional associations
• Public contracts
205
Engaging the Canadian Human Rights Act to Defend Indigenous Rights
The Canadian Human Rights Act has been used successfully in many cases, including a recent
and significant case specific to First Nations communities known as the landmark First Nations
Child and Family Caring Society of Canada v. Canada decision, decided in 2016.
In this case, the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada successfully argued
that the Canadian government’s provision of child and family services to First Nations on-
reserve and in Yukon constituted discrimination by failing to provide the same level of
services that exist elsewhere in Canada. In short, under its constitutional obligations, the federal
government funds a number of services that are delivered by First Nations or, in some cases, by
the provinces or territories. In Yukon, this includes child and family services on-reserve delivered
by First Nations. The federal government’s rules require that First Nations child welfare agencies
use the provincial or territorial child welfare laws, and that is a primary condition of receiving
funding. The case demonstrated the comparatively low level of funding for First Nations child
welfare agencies: its own records show that provincial and territorial services are funded at an
amount between two to four times greater than First Nations services. This means that for every
child in care, First Nations have much less to work with – for every dollar spent on provincial or
territorial services, only a fraction is spent on First Nations.62
The case engaged the concept of Jordan’s Principle, named in memory of Jordan River Ander-
son, a Cree boy from Norway House Cree Nation who spent years of his short life in hospital
while the federal government and provinces argued over who would pay for his services. Born
with multiple disabilities, he was hospitalized from his birth, in 1999, and died in hospital in
2005. Jordan’s Principle “aims to ensure First Nations children can access ALL public services
normally available to other children on the same terms.”63 This can include cases where the
waiting list is too long for a given service, allowing children to access the service in the private
sector, instead. Jordan’s Principle is not limited to medical needs, but covers all First Nations
on- and off- reserve for all public services. In short, if a child has a need in areas such as health,
social services, and education, Jordan’s Principle works to cover the cost of the services required.
While the definition of Jordan’s Principle as passed in the Canadian Parliament only specifically
mentioned First Nations children, the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada
insists that the government should respect the Canadian Human Rights Act, which prevents
discrimination on the basis of race and ethnic or national origin, therefore making the principle
applicable to Inuit and Métis children, as well.
Despite this, the government’s narrow definition for the application of Jordan’s Principle had the
effect of disqualifying most children for services anyway, therefore limiting the federal govern-
ment’s obligation. In 2013, the Federal Court rejected the federal government’s approach, and, in
2016, the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal found it to be outright discrimination. It ordered the
federal government to stop its discrimination immediately, and to report on its progress in doing
so. The tribunal’s four-part decision also went further, pointing out that beyond ending the dis-
crimination immediately, the government should also engage in reform to address some of the
206
Just as the loons support Sky Woman as she falls from the sky, so, too, do the teachings offered
within traditional stories support our work in transforming relationships that harm Indigenous
women and girls into ones that recognize their power and place. As Law Foundation Chair of
Aboriginal Justice and Governance at the University of Victoria Dr. Val Napoleon explained
before the Inquiry:
We know that across Canada there are diverse legal orders and that people are
adaptable…. Our ancestors, our relatives, were pragmatic in terms of ensuring that their
children were able to survive in the world. And as Dr. Hadley Friedland has already said,
all law is meaningful, it’s messy, and it has to be in practice as well as in theory.5
This chapter will, first, articulate how Indigenous laws can serve as a foundation for a decoloniz-
ing strategy based in Indigenous ways of knowing and understanding relationships and social
order. It will then outline how the values of respect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness can help
connect principles across a diversity of Indigenous communities, as demonstrated in a variety of
stories that are still used in teaching today. With the understanding of the contemporary impor-
tance of these principles, this chapter then examines the historical roles, responsibilities, and
rights of women and gender-diverse people in their own terms, prior to colonization, as a way to
argue for a new foundation to understanding the rights of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people: as rooted in relationships.
“[THE ANSWERS ARE] IN OUR COMMUNITIES, IN OUR STORIES, IN OUR LIVED

ENVIRONMENTS AND IN OUR BLOOD MEMORY. SO WE ALL KNOW,
AS FIRST NATIONS, INUIT, MÉTIS, URBAN INDIGENOUS PEOPLE, WHAT WE NEED.
WE HAVE IT STILL.”
Dr. Janet Smylie
Two-Eyed Seeing: Diverse Legal Orders and

Inherent Indigenous Laws
In testimony before the National Inquiry, Tuma Young explained that, within his L’nu
(Mi’kmaq) world view, the concept of two-eyed seeing is very important: “An issue has to
be looked at from two different perspectives: the Western perspective and the Indigenous
perspective, so that this provides the whole picture for whoever is trying to understand the
particular issue.”6
In the context of our work at the Inquiry, this means grounding our analysis in Indigenous ways
of knowing and of understanding, as shared with the Commissioners and with Canadians.
132
According to many experts, this has profound implications in other service areas, including,
potentially, education. It also reveals the extent to which governments will go in order to
limit their obligations. Within the crisis of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, then, this case is illustrative of how human rights approaches can bring
the government to act on its obligations; but that those most affected must also be watchful and
ensure that the principles of these instruments are applied in a good way, in a full way, to realize
those principles. It also shows how, potentially, the government’s own human rights obligations,
according to rules it has set for itself, may, in fact, be grounds to pursue human rights-based
complaints regarding its failure to properly ensure the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, through both immediate and long-term measures aimed at addressing
some of the structural inequalities that target them.
While this case, and others like it in the future, have tremendous potential for engaging the
government to properly honour its commitments and responsibilities to all people living in
Canada, it is not without limitations. For instance, launching a complaint within the Canadian
Human Rights Act is complicated. First, the Canadian Human Rights Commission evaluates the
extent to which the person making the complaint has tried to resolve the dispute in any other
way. The legislation also allows only a 12-month window from when the discrimination happens
to filing a complaint, which means that, in many cases, the eligibility period may have expired.
This means that whether or not the situation engendering the complaint actually happened, no
formal complaint can be made.65
In addition, until 2008, complaints against the federal government about decisions or actions
arising from or pursuant to the Indian Act were not allowed under section 67. As family member
Wendy L. shared:
Before … if I wanted to go and file a Canadian human rights complaint because of what
was happening to me, or my mother, or other women, or other people [because of the
Indian Act], there was no ability for me to do that.… So, again, it’s just this constant
obstacles that are put in our place that are – we’re constantly being blocked, and
challenged, and stopped. And we don’t automatically have the same rights and freedoms
as all other Canadians, we just don’t.66
This provision was changed in 2008, but served to limit the access of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people to a complaint mechanism that might have helped to address some of
the systemic problems brought on by the Act’s provisions for over 30 years. The 2008 provision
immediately applied to decisions and actions of the federal government but was delayed for three
years with respect to First Nations, including band councils and related agencies, for things like
denying housing or other services on any of the prohibited grounds.
208
For many Indigenous people, the process of launching human rights complaints remains
intimidating. As Viola Thomas said:
Because what I find for a lot of our people who are ostracized is that they don’t ever
feel comfortable or confident enough to file human rights complaint because they’re –
they’re fearful of what will happen if it happens to be a member who is on chief and
council or if it’s a member who is in a power position at the Band Office and … they
don’t want it to affect their benefits, so, therefore, many of our people are silenced …
to be able to take action because of that imbalance of power within our communities
and how sexism is really played out.67
In addition, as Viola shared:

I think there is some real major challenges within current human rights law, whether it’s
federal or provincial jurisdictions of human rights. They individualize human rights.
They do not have a – a real systemic approach to addressing collective human rights
violations of Indigenous Peoples, which are multiple. It could be as a child, it could be as
a woman, it could be as a Two-Spirited, but you have to tick off the one box. Oh, today,
am I going file a complaint as a woman or as a Two-Spirited? I have to choose one over
the other. So it seems to me that that in itself, of human rights law polarizes our
collective human rights issues as Indigenous Peoples. And it’s also compounded by the
historic eradication of our distinctive roles as Indigenous women within our commu-
nities of whatever Nation that we come from.68
The Canadian Human Rights Commission demonstrates some awareness of the need for a partic-
ular approach to the issues regarding Indigenous communities. As it says in its public materials:
Human rights decisions involving First Nations need to recognize Aboriginal and Treaty
rights. For complaints about a First Nation government or service organization, the
Commission and the Tribunal can consider the customary law of the First Nation. They
need to balance collective and individual rights from a First Nation perspective, while
respecting gender equality.69
In addition, the Canadian Human Rights Commission has also acknowledged, with important
implications for Indigenous Peoples, that treating everyone the same does not automatically
result in equality. This question is about substantive equality. When substantive, or meaningful,
equality is lacking, corrective measures can and should be taken – these are principles in human
rights, Indigenous rights, and customary international law. As the Human Rights Commission
points out, “Aboriginal people should expect to be treated equally with other people. But equality
does not always mean treating everyone the same.”70
209
The Canadian Constitution and the Charter of Rights
In Canada and within a legal setting, those identified as Aboriginal peoples under the Constitution
– First Nations, Métis, and Inuit – have looked to three primary sources in defining their rights:
the Royal Proclamation of 1763 (as well as Treaties that have since followed), the common law
as defined in Canadian courts, and international law.71 Part of the way that Canada also deals
with issues regarding Indigenous rights is embedded within the Canadian Constitution, in
existence since 1867 and patriated in 1982.
Under the Canadian Constitution, “Indians, and Lands reserved for the Indians” falls under sec-
tion 91(24) and under exclusive federal authority. Section 91 outlines the powers of the federal
government as a whole, and section 92 delineates the areas reserved for the provinces to legis-
late. As the courts have pointed out, these are not watertight compartments, particularly when it
comes to Indigenous Peoples in Canada, who receive many services in crucial areas such as
health and education from provincial service providers, while being funded through Ottawa. In
part, the iteration of powers under the Constitution Act, or, as it was known in 1867, the British
North America Act, flows from the historical recognition of the relationship between Indigenous
Peoples and the Crown. Specifically, this idea is also represented in the Royal Proclamation of
1763, which predated the British North America Act, and which said that the Crown, or British
government, was responsible for protecting the lands of First Nations people, and ensuring their
welfare and protection.
Until 1982, section 91(24) was the only articulation of the presence of Indigenous Peoples
anywhere in Canada’s Constitution. And, when Pierre Elliot Trudeau took steps to patriate the
Constitution to Canada in 1982, he had no intention of adding any more references. However,
the addition of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms engaged many Indigenous organi-
zations who fought for the inclusion and protection of collective Indigenous and Treaty rights.
Part of the motivation behind the effort to entrench Aboriginal rights within the Constitution was
the idea that any transfer of power from Britain, which still held constitutional authority in
Canada, might jeopardize Aboriginal rights – at least the few that were recognized at the time.
In addition, the fact that any rights held by First Nations, Métis, and Inuit were subject to extin-
guishment through legislation meant that there were few protections for the limited rights that
had been gained by that time. Indigenous organizations felt that securing constitutional protec-
tion for their rights was the most sensible and safe route to make sure they wouldn’t lose any
ground that had been gained so far.
“HUMAN RIGHTS DECISIONS INVOLVING FIRST NATIONS NEED TO RECOGNIZE

ABORIGINAL AND TREATY RIGHTS. FOR COMPLAINTS ABOUT A FIRST NATION
GOVERNMENT OR SERVICE ORGANIZATION, THE COMMISSION AND THE TRIBUNAL
CAN CONSIDER THE CUSTOMARY LAW OF THE FIRST NATION. THEY NEED TO
BALANCE COLLECTIVE AND INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS FROM A FIRST NATION
PERSPECTIVE, WHILE RESPECTING GENDER EQUALITY.”
The Canadian Human Rights Commission
210
As a result of this resistance, the government acquiesced and included a section that “recognizes
and affirms” Aboriginal and Treaty rights. As a result of lengthy campaigns by Indigenous
women, the 1983 Constitutional Conference also agreed to amend the Constitution and add a
clause declaring that Aboriginal and Treaty rights are “guaranteed equally to male and female
persons.” However, aside from this new commitment to gender equality, little progress was made
towards defining “Aboriginal rights.” Subsequent conferences throughout the 1980s likewise
ended without agreement on the matter.
Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth

II with Prime Minister The
Rt. Hon. Pierre Elliott Trudeau
signing the Proclamation of
the Constitution Act, 1982.
© Government of Canada.
Reproduced with the permis-
sion of Library and Archives
Canada (2019).
Source: Library and Archives
Canada/National Archives
of Canada fonds/a141503.
As it was finally assented to, section 25 of the Constitution Act guarantees that no rights and
freedoms within the Charter should be interpreted as taking away from any Aboriginal rights or
Treaty rights flowing from the Royal Proclamation of 1763 and from land claims agreements.
Section 35 affirms existing Aboriginal and Treaty rights for “Indians,” Métis, and Inuit, and
specifies that “Treaty rights” include rights now existing in land claims agreements, or those
that might be acquired in the future. Subsection 4 of this clause expressly guarantees these rights
equally to male and to female persons.
In 1990, the Supreme Court of Canada (SCC) held, in Sparrow, that the federal government’s
power under section 91(24) must be read together with section 35(1). Section 35(1) places obli-
gations upon the federal government “to act in a fiduciary relationship with respect to aboriginal
peoples” within a framework that is “trust-like, rather than adversarial.” However, while the
Constitution recognized these Aboriginal and Treaty rights, it did not define them. Instead, it
committed to holding a constitutional conference involving the prime minister, the provincial
premiers, and Indigenous leaders to define the rights protected by the Constitution through the
domestic courts.
211
As it has evolved, Canadian jurisprudence has articulated important legal doctrines, especially
with regards to Aboriginal title, but also related to other Indigenous rights. These include the sui
generis rights, the Honour of the Crown, and fiduciary duty. These legal principles, and the over-
all narrative they share, is dominated by the idea that the Rule of Law – the idea that even the
Crown is subject to its own laws – must prevail when attempting to reconcile the pre-existence
of Indigenous Nations and their legal and cultural systems with the assumed sovereignty of
British settler society.72
Sui Generis – A Unique Relationship
The Latin term sui generis (“of its own kind”) is used to characterize something that is unique.
Within Aboriginal law as defined in the Supreme Court, judges apply this idea to point out the
differences between Indigenous rights to property and the rights that come from the non-
Indigenous common law. As lawyer Bruce Ziff explains, the idea of sui generis recognizes
pre-existing property rights of Aboriginal communities. Since sovereignty works
only as a potential trump over prior clams, the previous landholders, the Aboriginal
peoples of what is now Canada, retain their property until these are taken away by
legitimate state action. Indeed, current Canadian law recognizes land rights that were in
existence before colonial acquisition.73
This means that Aboriginal and Treaty rights are set aside from other rights to acknowledge that
they are unique; and, even though domestic law interpretation is paramount here, international
law also recognizes the sui generis nature of Aboriginal title and many related rights. These
rights don’t depend on non-Indigenous principles. Instead, the Supreme Court has established
that even if inherent Aboriginal rights have never been affirmed by British or Canadian legisla-
tion, they are still constitutionally valid.74
212
The James Bay and Northern
Quebec Agreement and
Economic Security
The James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement (JBNQA) is the first “modern” Treaty in Canada. It was
signed in 1975 by the Government of Canada, the Government of Quebec, and the Cree and Inuit of north-
ern Quebec. Both Inuit and Cree sacrificed a great deal in exchange for promises of self-determination and
community development. However, because federal and provincial governments failed to properly imple-
ment the agreement, it would be almost three decades before Cree in northern Quebec began to enjoy
substantial community development on their terms. Failure to honour the commitments in the JBNQA in a
timely manner exacerbated many of the problems behind the crisis of violence against Indigenous women
in Quebec, including poverty, trauma, and access to government services.
Negotiations for the JBNQA were sparked by a that claimed to extinguish Aboriginal rights to land
conflict over hydroelectric development. In 1971, in northern Quebec. In exchange, both groups re-
Quebec Premier Robert Bourassa announced a ceived a one-time cash payment, as well as govern-
proposal for the James Bay Hydroelectric Project, a ment commitments to community, economic, and
multi-stage mega-project that called for dams and political development in northern Quebec.II
reservoirs on all of the major river systems flowing
into James Bay. Cree and Inuit groups resolved to Both federal and provincial governments were reluc-
stop the project. Because they were not consulted on tant to honour their commitments under the agree-
the project, they were in no position to benefit from ment. There were immediate disputes over which
it, and it would have significant negative effects on order of government should be funding community
their communities. When the Quebec government infrastructure and health services. While Canada and
ignored Indigenous opposition, the Cree and Inuit Quebec bickered, Cree communities were left with-
took legal action to stop the project. However, the out proper housing, public sanitation infrastructure,
Cree and Inuit were under an enormous amount of clean drinking water, and health services. Govern-
pressure to reach a negotiated agreement with gov- ment inaction led to numerous lawsuits. The Cree
ernment. Construction of the project continued dur- reached an out-of-court settlement with the federal
ing legal proceedings, effectively compromising the government in 1982. However, a change in govern-
ability of Indigenous groups to stop the project.I ment in 1984 resulted in major funding cuts to
services in Cree communities, leading to further liti-
In the agreement, the Cree and Inuit agreed to a gation.III
scaled-down hydroelectric project on the La Grande
River system, one that flooded vast swaths of Cree In the late 1980s, Quebec announced its intentions
territory and damaged Cree waters. The agreement to expand the James Bay project into the Great Whale
contained the now-infamous “extinguishment clause” River system. Because of the negative impacts they
213
With northern hydroelectric development at a stand-
still, and numerous issues related to the JBNQA be-
fore the courts, the Government of Quebec was
under considerable pressure to negotiate with the
Cree. In 2002, the Grand Council of the Crees and the
Government of Quebec signed the Agreement
Respecting a New Relationship Between the Cree
Nation and the Government of Quebec (popularly
known as the Paix des Braves or “Peace of the Braves”).
This massive out-of-court settlement has been cele-
brated by Cree leaders as a breakthrough in honour-
ing the spirit and intent of the JBNQA. For example,
as former director of Quebec and international rela-
tions for the Grand Council of the Crees (Eeyou
The James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement
Istchee) of James Bay, Romeo Saganash wrote: “We
was signed at a late-night ceremony in Quebec City on
believe that Paix des Braves … is an agreement based
Nov. ‘11, 1975, by Inuit leaders Charlie Watt and Zebedee
upon the significant recognition of the rights of
Nungak, then-Quebec Premier Robert Bourassa,
Indigenous Peoples to benefit meaningfully on a
and late Cree Chief Billy Diamond (far right).
nation-to-nation basis from the natural resources and
Source: Nunatsiaq News
wealth of their own traditional lands.”VII
While recent settlements like the Paix des Braves have

had already experienced from development on the resulted in improved service delivery and a more eq-
La Grande River, as well as the failure of government uitable sharing of the revenues produced by extrac-
to honour the JBNQA, the Cree sought to stop the tive industries, it took decades of litigation and public
project with a combination of court actions and pub- campaigning to have these commitments honoured.
lic campaigns. Their campaign was successful and the In the meantime, Cree communities paid the price
Quebec government cancelled the project in 1994.IV with high levels of poverty, insufficient social services,
and unresolved intergenerational trauma. The gov-
Tensions between the Cree and the Government of ernment’s failure to uphold its Treaty promises to
Quebec continued into the late 1990s. By 2000, the the Cree have therefore exacerbated the problem
Cree had initiated more than 30 lawsuits, alleging of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
that the governments of Quebec and Canada had 2SLGBTQQIA people.
breached the JBNQA.V Major conflicts in the late
1990s included disputes over logging and further
hydroelectric development.V1
I Feit, “Hunting and the Quest.”

II Morantz, “Aboriginal Land Claims.”
III Grand Council of the Crees, “Episode 2: Delivering the Promise.”
IV Feit, “Hunting and the Quest.”
V Tehan et al., “Sharing Lands and Resources,” in Settling with Indigenous People.
VI Grand Council of the Crees, “Episode 3: We Rise up!”
VII Saganash, “The Paix de Braves,” 205.
214
Honour of the Crown
Related to the idea of the unique nature of Aboriginal rights is the idea of the Honour of the
Crown. In 1967, the Nisga’a Tribal Council brought an action to the British Columbia Supreme
Court. Frank Calder and others (including the Nisga’a Tribal Council, Gitlakdamix Indian Band,
Canyon City Indian Band, Laxgalts’ap [Greenville] Band, and Kincolith Indian Band) sought
recognition of their Aboriginal title, comprising over 2,590 square kilometres (1,000 square
miles) in northwestern British Columbia. The BC Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal
rejected the Nisga’a claim. In response, the Nisga’a took their case to the Supreme Court of
Canada, where it was finally decided in 1973.
While the Nisga’a did not technically win the case in the Supreme Court of Canada, the decision
that was issued, named the Calder decision, broke new ground. The three justices who did affirm
the Nisga’a’s Aboriginal title maintained that Aboriginal title had existed at the time of the Royal
Proclamation of 1763, before colonial law was imposed. As Justices Hall, Spence, and Laskin
wrote: “The proposition accepted by the Courts below that after conquest or discovery the native
peoples have no rights at all except those subsequently granted or recognized by the conqueror or
discoverer was wholly wrong.”75
In this decision, the Supreme Court of Canada indicated that “in dealings between the govern-
ment [that is, the “Crown”] and aboriginals the honour of the Crown is at stake.”76 Further, the
Court noted, “The mandate to act with honour was brought to life the very instant that sover-
eignty over native people was asserted.”77 In other words, in claiming sovereignty over Indige-
nous Peoples, the nation-state also creates a duty to act honourably in all of the ways that it deals
with them.
Thus, the legal notion of Honour of the Crown came into focus in Canadian Aboriginal law
through Calder, and continued to be applied and refined in litigation that followed. Despite being
a “split” decision, Calder marked a significant change in the relationship between the Crown and
Indigenous Peoples in Canada, leading to negotiations that culminated in 1998, creating British
Columbia’s first modern Treaty, The Nisga’a Final Agreement Act.78
The Honour of the Crown applies to the interpretation of legislation and to the application of
Treaties.
“THE MANDATE TO ACT WITH HONOUR WAS BROUGHT TO LIFE THE VERY
INSTANT THAT SOVEREIGNTY OVER NATIVE PEOPLE WAS ASSERTED.”
The Supreme Court of Canada
215
Claiming Métis Rights:
The “Forgotten People” Demand
Recognition
For many Métis, the decades spent as the “forgotten people” include the fight to be recognized both as
Aboriginal people, under the Constitution, as well as specific challenges related to rights that mean services
and access for many Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people long denied due to their identity.
The question of Métis rights was first put before the lived on, used and occupied; and reconcile the
Supreme Court of Canada in the Powley case, decided hunting rights of Métis of the Northwest in a way
in 2003. In 1993, Steve and Roddy Powley had killed that provides the basis for a just and lasting
a moose near Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, without a li- settlement of their Aboriginal claims.II
cence, claiming that their right to hunt for food was
protected by the Constitution Act, 1982, under section The next challenge before the SCC of significance to
35. In its decision, the Supreme Court ruled unani- the Métis was in the MMF v the Queen decision of
mously that Métis people who were members of a 2013.III The case concerned the fact that after Con-
Métis community had the protected right to hunt for federation, the first government of Canada engaged
food under section 35. The Court found that the “test in attempts to manage the distribution of Métis
for Métis practices should focus on identifying those lands, as a part of Manitoba’s entry into Confedera-
practices, customs and traditions that are integral to tion under the Manitoba Act, 1870. In that Act,
the Métis community’s distinctive existence and rela- Canada agreed to grant 1.4 million acres of land to
tionship to the land.”I While the right was limited to the Métis children (section 31 of the Manitoba Act)
Sault Ste. Marie and neighbouring areas, the case set and to recognize existing landholdings (section 32 of
an important precedent for understanding Métis the Manitoba Act). The Canadian government began
rights within section 35. It also set out the “Powley the process of implementing section 31 in early 1871.
test,” as it is known today, which is used to define Although the land was set aside, a series of errors, de-
Métis rights, in the same way as the Van der Peet test lays, and mismanagement of the process interfered
is used to define those rights applying to First with dividing the land.IV
Nations:
The Métis, represented by the Manitoba Metis Feder-
To sum it up, the characterization of the right ation and several interested individuals, sought a
must take into account the perspective of Métis declaration “that a provision of the Manitoba Act –
people claiming the right; reflect the actual given constitutional authority by the Constitution Act,
pattern of exercise of Métis hunting prior to 1871 – was not implemented in accordance with the
effective control; characterize the practice in ac- honour of the Crown.” V In this case, the Métis were
cordance with the highly mobile way of life of the not seeking compensation or restoration of the lands.
Métis of the Northwest; give legal force to Métis They were seeking only a declaration setting out that
people’s traditional relationship to the land they the government had not fulfilled its obligations ho-
216
citizenries and rebuilding our lawfulness.”24 This work includes understanding how Indigenous
laws can serve to promote safety and justice, or, in other words, “ways that aren’t oppressive,
ways that are inclusive, and ways that are anti-colonial.”25
The basis of Indigenous laws, and the roles, responsibilities, and rights that animate them, rest in
these principles of respect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness, as lived in relationships. As Jean
Leclair explains, “In Aboriginal law, the law is considered in a relational perspective that ex-
cludes the all or nothing, that recognizes that things change over time, that admits that the law
is not an end point but a milestone on a path, [and] whether we know it or not, we are never
alone.”26
In her evaluation of Indigenous law, Dawnis Kennedy noted:
Money is not necessary for life. Degrees are not necessary for life. Power is not
necessary for life. Water is necessary for life. Our relatives are necessary for life.
The spirit is necessary for life. Love is necessary for life. Respect is necessary for life.
Honesty is necessary for life. Humility is necessary for life…. Courage is necessary
for life…. Wisdom is necessary for life.27
Stories as Rights, Stories as Medicine

Finding the wisdom and the teachings within Indigenous laws is a task beyond the scope of this
report, and for which work is already underway.28 At the same time, we believe that it is impor-
tant to understand how Indigenous principles, as drawn from a small sample of stories from
diverse communities and Nations, may provide a path for further research into how to promote
safety in a decolonizing way. As some witnesses pointed out, the loss of these stories and teach-
ings contributes to the loss of respect that women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people face within
their own communities, as well as in the non-Indigenous world.
“REBUILDING INDIGENOUS LAWS IS ABOUT REBUILDING AND STRENGTHENING

CONDITIONS OF PEACE, SAFETY, DIGNITY, AND JUSTICE.”
Dr. Hadley Friedland
This examination is not about highlighting traditional gender roles, but about identifying the
qualities that are absent from the lives of families and communities when Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people go missing. What are some of the important principles that their
stories illustrate, and how can understanding characters through a gendered lens help to address
the barriers facing Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, particularly in their
access to services that may help to enhance security and safety?
140
Fiduciary Duty
The principle of “fiduciary duty” is also key in understanding how the courts have defined
Aboriginal rights that are constitutionally protected. It comes from the common law.
A fiduciary is someone who is trusted to manage and protect property or money. The relationship
of a fiduciary is one in which that person is obligated to act in the other person’s interests. The
duties of a fiduciary include to act with “the utmost of loyalty to [its] principal” and in the “best
interests” of the principal or beneficiary.79 It exists, and applies to Aboriginal Peoples in Canada,
as a result of the important economic duties and social history between Indigenous Peoples and
the state, as well as the idea of the “peculiar vulnerability of the beneficiary to the fiduciary.”80
The concept of fiduciary duty isn’t fixed, and elements of the relationship evolve over time.
Sui generis (the unique nature of rights), the Honour of the Crown, and fiduciary duty are all in-
separably linked, and have appeared in case law revolving mostly around title and resource rights
– at least in Canada. At the same time, there is a growing recognition within the legal community
that these concepts may apply to other areas, with lawyers working in the area of corporate law,
for instance, considering how fiduciary duty may bind corporations with certain duties to em-
ployees. Considering how principles such as these can also engage governments in the protection
of the rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, along with international
covenants, declarations, and domestic human rights instruments, can present an important new
way to look at the potential legal paths towards justice.
Indigenous Rights and Human Rights:

A Complicated Relationship
While there is potential in all international and national human rights instruments to help end
violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, the National Inquiry
maintains that it is important to consider both Indigenous and human rights as representative
of linked, but distinct, ideas. This is important, because the solutions pursued must not harm
Indigenous women by violating some rights while trying to uphold others. For example, debates
about Indigenous rights in the 1960s show how appeals to human rights have been used to justify
the violation of Indigenous rights. The opposite is also true: in some cases, appeals to Indigenous
rights, specifically in the case of gender, have been used to justify the violation of the human
rights of Indigenous women.
In the first case, in 1969, Pierre Elliott Trudeau’s Liberal government released a White Paper
proposing to dismantle Indian Affairs. In the Canadian legislature, a policy paper is called a
“White Paper.” For many Indigenous Peoples, the term ironically implies a reference to racial
politics and the non-Indigenous majority.81
218
The White Paper proposed eliminating Indigenous Peoples’ collective rights in the name of
“equality.” The federal government’s intention, as described in the White Paper, was to achieve
equality among all Canadians by eliminating “Indian” as a distinct legal status and by regarding
Indigenous Peoples simply as citizens with the same rights, opportunities, and responsibilities as
other Canadians. In keeping with Trudeau’s vision of a “just society,” the government proposed
to repeal legislation that it considered discriminatory, or that would place any one group above
any other – regardless of the foundation upon which each group then stood. The White Paper
stated that removing these kinds of distinctions would “enable the Indian people to be free – free
to develop Indian cultures in an environment of legal, social and economic equality with other
Canadians.”82
To achieve its goal, the White Paper proposed to eliminate Indian Status, dissolve the Depart-
ment of Indian Affairs within five years, abolish the Indian Act, convert reserve land to private
property that could be sold by the band or its members, transfer responsibility for Indian Affairs
from the federal government to the provinces, and integrate services provided to First Nations
into those provided to other Canadian citizens. In addition, the government proposed funding for
economic development and the appointment of a commissioner to address outstanding land
claims and gradually terminate existing Treaties.83
Though the White Paper acknowledged the social inequality of Indigenous Peoples in Canada
and, to a lesser degree, the history of poor federal policy choices, many First Nations people
viewed the new policy statement as the culmination of Canada’s long-standing goal to assimilate
“Indians” into mainstream Canadian society rather than recognize their unique rights as the
original inhabitants of this land.
Trudeau’s political philosophy was based on the idea of one Canada, and linked to his rejection
of Quebec nationalism. Speaking in 1969, he argued:
We won’t recognize aboriginal rights. We can go on adding bricks of discrimination
around the ghetto in which Indians live, and at the same time helping them preserve
certain cultural traits and certain ancestral rights. Or we can say you are at a cross roads
– the time is now to decide whether the Indians will be a race apart in Canada, or
whether they will be Canadians of full status.… Indians should become Canadians as all
other Canadians. This is the only basis on which I see our society can develop as equals.
But aboriginal rights, this really means saying, “We were here before you. You came and
cheated us, by giving us some worthless things in return for vast expanses of land, and
we want to reopen this question. We want you to preserve our aboriginal rights and to
restore them to us.” And our answer – our answer is “no.” – We can’t recognize
aboriginal rights because no society can be built on historical “might-have-beens.”84
The legislative and policy changes proposed in the White Paper were not implemented.
219
First Nations across Canada responded to the document with spirited and ceaseless resistance.
Harold Cardinal’s Unjust Society – the book’s title is a play on Trudeau’s idea of the “just society”
– called the policy proposal “a thinly disguised programme of extermination through
assimilation. For the Indian to survive, says the government in effect, he must become a good
little brown white man.”85 In 1970, Cardinal and the Indian Association of Alberta published
another rejection, Citizens Plus, which became known as the “Red Paper” and which drew from
Cardinal’s Unjust Society arguments. The Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs issued its
own document, “A Declaration of Indian Rights: The B.C. Indian Position Paper,” or “Brown
Paper,” of 1970, which rejected the 1969 White Paper’s proposals and asserted that Indigenous
Peoples continued to hold Indigenous title to the land.86
The debate over the White Paper illustrates the tension that can exist between universal human
rights and particular Indigenous rights. Although Trudeau explained that he saw individual
human rights as basic, rather than substantive, equality as a way to move forward, this approach
ignored the important collective nature of Indigenous rights, and the ways in which the rights,
opportunities, and security of Indigenous Peoples were historically, and in many respects still
are, tied to land.
The opposite has also occurred in Canadian history, where appeals to Indigenous rights have also
been used to dismiss Indigenous women’s human rights.
In the early 1970s, Jeannette Corbiere Lavell and Yvonne Bédard’s cases were heard in the
Supreme Court of Canada. Lavell charged that the Indian Act’s subsection 12(1)(b) violated the
Canadian Bill of Rights of 1960, because of discrimination on the grounds of sex. Bédard had
attempted to return to live on-reserve with her children after separating from her husband, and
was ordered by the band to sell her property within one year, as she had lost her Status by
marrying a non-Indian in 1964 and could no longer live on-reserve.
For the male-dominated leadership within the National Indian Brotherhood (NIB), the precursor
to the Assembly of First Nations (AFN), the threat that the case posed to invalidate the entire
Indian Act and, with it, the way to access Treaty rights and Aboriginal rights, was too great. The
NIB intervened in the case, siding with the Government of Canada and against Lavell and
Bedard, drawing the women into a “lengthy, bitter confrontation over the nature of ‘Indian rights’
and ‘women’s rights,’ asserting that women’s rights must not be obtained at the expense of self-
government powers.”87 The Supreme Court ruled against Lavell and Bedard in 1973. In the deci-
sion, however, Justice Bora Laskin deemed this “statutory excommunication.”88
Later, in the constitutional debates of the 1980s, the Assembly of First Nations argued that the
Charter of Rights and Freedoms should not apply to Indigenous governments, because its indi-
vidualistic conception of human rights was at odds with the collective rights of Indigenous
Peoples.89 This led to a political backlash from Indigenous women, represented by the Native
Women’s Association of Canada (NWAC). NWAC insisted that the Charter, or other similar
mechanisms to protect Indigenous women’s rights to gender equality, be applied to Indigenous
governments. NWAC, and the Indigenous women it represents, were looking to human rights to
protect them from discrimination and violence in their communities.90
220
Later, in 1981, Sandra Lovelace, along with other women from the Tobique First Nation, took
the issue to the United Nations Human Rights Committee in Lovelace v. Canada. Internationally,
the United Nations ruled in Lovelace’s favour, stating that Canada was in violation of the
International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.91
Conclusion: Understanding the Need

for Self-Determined Solutions
As these examples demonstrate, a one-dimensional approach to rights can serve to perpetuate
violence. Indigenous women’s rights include both individual human rights and collective Indige-
nous rights – with overlap between these two categories, where collective rights are also human
rights and Indigenous rights also belong to individuals. As a result, solutions do not rest only
within human or within Indigenous rights instruments, and neither do they rest only in govern-
ments. Addressing violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people requires
new solutions as conceived, driven, and managed by those affected. This is why it is important to
stress that the realization of these rights, both within Indigenous contexts and within the frame-
work of human rights, requires self-determined solutions. As Brenda Gunn told the National
Inquiry, “It’s really important that we realize that in order to fully realize all rights and self-deter-
mination, that they all need to work together and that they’re on the same field with that same
end goal.”92 In short, she says, “self-determination is really a starting point for the realization of
human rights.”93 Dalee Sambo Dorough agreed: “[Self-determination] is required in order for
Indigenous Peoples, either individually or collectively, to benefit from the exercise of the right
of self-determination of Indigenous Peoples.”94
Within the Truth-Gathering Process, many people testified about the need to consider context,
and to promote self-determined solutions appropriate for each Nation or community, according
to their own standards and needs. As Brenda Gunn testified, a national, step-by-step process is
not appropriate to apply to all. A good plan would account for the diversity among Nations, cre-
ating frameworks and steps to ensure that implementation is appropriate to specific regions and
issues. In addressing the challenges of Indian Act band governance, or self-government agree-
ments among other Indigenous Peoples, which will be explored in the next chapter, some wit-
nesses also suggested that human rights standards should also be operational within communities
and for Indigenous governments, urging those governments to take the initiative on adopting leg-
islation reflective of these instruments. Brenda Gunn explained: “We may need to have moments
where we also reflect to make sure that our own legal traditions are upholding current standards
of international human rights law in a way that’s appropriate for our traditions.”95
Jean Leclair considers it essential that Indigenous governments undertake the adoption of human
rights principles, founded upon their own Indigenous laws, particularly with respect to UNDRIP:
“For many of them, federal and provincial law suffers from a lack of legitimacy. But since the
declaration is the product of their own collaboration, they can certainly be inspired by it. They
are governments, after all.”96
221
Through the respect for these instruments, including both collective and individual rights,
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people can work to hold all governments account-
able for the measures they are taking, or are not taking, to address the crisis of violence.
But, as the testimonies before the National Inquiry assert, the state itself can’t guarantee the
safety of all Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. However, it can enact and en-
force laws and put greater emphasis on catching perpetrators; contribute to changing the perspec-
tive of those who would see the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as
somehow of less value than the lives of non-Indigenous people; and refine its own values and
service standards to honour Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Halie B.
pointed out:
I’m a lawyer. I’m educated. I speak to huge conferences of people about child protection,
about Gladue, about prisoners’ rights, about Aboriginal offenders, about the structural
racism and systemic racism that our people have suffered, and the laws, and policies, and
practices that have impacted our people over multiple generations.… And, I couldn’t
even get an RCMP officer to listen to me with any dignity and pride. And, I understood
even more profoundly the racism that my mother experienced throughout her life, from
the ’50s to now, to today.97
Barriers to rights happen in the everyday situations that women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA face in
trying to obtain services and to get help. For this reason, changes must go beyond law, towards
new relationships. As Anni P. said:
It’s all about building relationships, you know? Our family systems have been fractured,
so I got to learn how to build relationships again with my family. Healthy relationships.
And, I have to learn how to build relationships with non-Indigenous people.… It’s all
about building relationships. And so, we heal in our Indigenous community, and then the
non-Indigenous community is learning the truth, and then how do we come together?
How can we come together in a healthy and safe way to start to build relationships, to
start to heal all those lies that all sides have been told about each other? We need to
heal of that.98
“[SELF-DETERMINATION] IS REQUIRED IN ORDER FOR INDIGENOUS PEOPLES,

EITHER INDIVIDUALLY OR COLLECTIVELY, TO BENEFIT FROM THE EXERCISE
OF THE RIGHT OF SELF-DETERMINATION OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLES.”
Dalee Sambo Dorough
222
This central idea – the notion that appeals to the past must be contextualized within the context
of ongoing violence against Indigenous women and girls – is key, as well as the need for meas-
ures and teachings that affirm, rather than deny, rights. As Indigenous Studies scholar Emma
LaRocque argues:
Culture is not immutable, and tradition cannot be expected to be always of value or
relevant even in our times. As Native women, we are faced with very difficult and
painful choices, but, nonetheless, we are challenged to change, create, and embrace
“traditions” consistent with contemporary and international human rights standards.35
In some cases, appeals to what is “traditional” are still used to question women’s demands for a
place in modern discussions about their own lives. As Canada Research Chair in Indigenous
Relationships Kim Anderson asserts, any call to the concept of “tradition” must recognize that
traditions are created within and adapted to a particular place and time, and do not exist in a
vacuum: “As we begin to reclaim our ways, we must question how these traditions are framed,
and whether they are empowering to us.”36
This is why, in our selection of stories, we include those that demonstrate harmful encounters
and those that demonstrate healing ones, drawing on the strength and resilience of Indigenous
women themselves.
A few comments on our interpretation of the stories is in order. We do not claim that these stories
contain traditional teachings that are common to all Indigenous societies, and neither do we view
tradition as static or unchanging. Our interpretation isn’t focused on identifying the lessons or
morals intended by the storytellers. Instead, we use stories as illustrative metaphors to help
explain the roles, responsibilities, and rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people in their communities in a dynamic sense. Within this work, we have included stories
featuring violence, understanding that these stories can show us how Indigenous Peoples resist
violence and find important solutions to problems within their own communities and Nations.37
Like the languages and Peoples they reflect, these stories represent dynamic encounters between
storyteller and listener, and offer important insights into respecting the rights of Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as sacred.
144
Human rights frameworks, as interpreted within the spirit and context of Indigenous laws, are
important tools to begin to change the conversation about Indigenous roles, responsibilities,
rights, and, ultimately, self-determination. In this, we all have a role to play. We can restructure
our own relationships and transform our own encounters, all the while contributing to the
protection and restoration of Indigenous women’s and gender-diverse people’s power and place
through respect for Indigenous laws and principles, and human and Indigenous rights. When
Indigenous and human rights are respected fully, then Indigenous women and girls will be safer.
We can transform encounters that endanger women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people into ones
that can protect them.
Understanding the context of Indigenous and human rights is also important in understanding the
roots of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people – a crisis that is
not, as some might suggest, a recent phenomenon, but that is centuries in the making. The next
chapter will begin to tell a different story of colonization, one that understands that all Indigenous
Peoples were and are affected by colonization, but that the experience of Indigenous women,
girls, and gender-diverse people were distinct, with important implications into the present.
To look forward, we must first look back.
224
Notes
1 Timothy Argetsinger (Iñupiaq), Part 3, Public Volume 12 Delores S. (Saulteaux, Yellow Quill First Nation), Part
5, Quebec City, QC, p. 173. 1, Public Volume 26, Saskatoon, SK, p. 27.
2 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec 13 Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights,
City, QC, p. 10. “Frequently Asked Questions.”
3 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec 14 Virginia C. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 117,
City, QC, p. 11. Saskatoon, SK, p. 26
4 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec 15 Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights,
City, QC, p. 55. “Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of
Discrimination against Women.”
5 Eversole, McNeish, and Cimadamor, cited in Green,
Indivisible, 4. 16 Crystal F. (Yellow Quill First Nation) Part 1, Public
City, QC, p. 11. 17 Lorraine S. (Thunderchild First Nation and Mosquito
First Nation), Part 1, Statement Volume 112, Saskatoon,
7 Gladys R. (Gitxsan/Wet’suwet’en), Part 1, Public
SK, p. 36.
Volume 4, Smithers, BC, p. 154.
18 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
8 Smith, “Human Rights and Decolonization,” 83.
9 Relevant declaratory instruments to which Canada is
19 Dr. Dalee Sambo Dorough (Inuit, Alaska), Part 3,
party include the foundational United Nations
Declaration on Human Rights; the Vienna Declaration
and Programme of Action; the Declaration on the 20 Dr. Dalee Sambo Dorough (Inuit, Alaska), Part 3,
Elimination of Violence Against Women; the Beijing Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 254.
Declaration and Platform for Action; and the United
21 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous
Peoples. Conventions that Canada has ratified include
the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of 22 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
the Crime of Genocide, in 1948, the International Quebec City, QC, p. 13.
Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and its related
23 See Baker v. Canada (Minister of Citizenship and
Optional Protocol, both ratified in 1976; the
Immigration) [1999] 2 SCR 817.
International Covenant on Economic, Social and
Cultural Rights, ratified in 1976, and its related 24 United Nations, Universal Declaration of Human
Optional Protocol, ratified in 1984; the Convention on Rights.
the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against
25 United Nations General Assembly, Resolution 48/104,
Women, ratified in 1980 and 1981, and its Optional
Article 1.
Protocol, ratified in 2002; the Convention against
Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading 26 Ibid., Article 4(k).
Treatment or Punishment, ratified by Canada in 1985
and in 1987; the Convention on the Rights of the Child, 27 United Nations General Assembly, Resolution 66/290.
ratified in 1990 and 1991, and its Optional Protocol, 28 Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights,
ratified in 2000 and 2002; and the International “Vienna Declaration.”
Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial
Discrimination, ratified in 1966 and in 1971. 29 Ibid.
10 United Nations, “United Nations Human Rights 30 Ibid.

System.” 31 United Nations, Beijing Declaration.
11 Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, 32 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
“Other United Nations Bodies.” Quebec City, QC, p. 39.
225
know where to get it.There are a few people who go out and bring it, but it’s not enough. Our
connections to our ways, our teachings, our medicines ... we see time and time again ... those
connections save lives.”44
Evidenced by so much of our testimony, and through themes like culture, health, and security,
women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s right to justice connects to the key theme of protec-
tion, as illustrated in a number of stories and testimonies. Stories show us how women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people fight to protect themselves and others from violence, either in a
literal, physical sense, or from other forms of violence. Many women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people in stories are also survivors who, in overcoming the trauma inflicted upon them, can con-
demn the violence they experienced and give strength to others who need it. In other stories,
women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people take on the role of heroes – those who put themselves in
danger to save others. In addition, the various roles of women in traditional justice systems in
their communities, including in restorative justice work, are an important theme related to justice
as a basic human right.
Member of the National Inquiry’s Grandmothers

Circle and traditional medicine keeper Audrey Siegl
speaks before those in attendance in Ottawa, Ontario.
The importance that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people place on upholding
justice came forward in many of the testimonies. As medicine carrier Audrey Siegl shared,
regarding her role in the National Inquiry, it is important to speak out and to articulate why this
crisis matters:
Take it to The Hague, take it to the world courts. Push it. Don’t stop with Canada. Stand
and rise for every woman out there who is still marginalized, beaten, raped, murdered.
For all the little girls who grow up witnessing the violence. For the girls the violence is
normalized for the way it was normalized for us. You know ... what’s normal for me
should never be normal for another human being.45
147
76 See R. v. Marshall [1999] 3 SCR 456 at paras 49-52. 89 Rafoss, “The Application of the Canadian Charter,”
17-18. See also Romanow, Leeson and Whyte,
77 Mitchell v. M.N.R. 2001 SCC 33, 2001 SCR 911 at
Canada – Notwithstanding.
para 9.
90 For a more detailed account of NWAC’s views,
78 Nisga’a Final Agreement Act, RSBC 1999, c2c 2.
including those related to Bill C-31, see NWAC,
79 Guerin v. The Queen [1984] 2 SCR 335, p. 337. “Aboriginal Women’s Rights are Human Rights.”
80 Ibid., 942, with reference to Frankel, “Fiduciary Law.” 91 Conn, “Sandra Lovelace Nicholas.”
81 Lagace and Sinclair, “The White Paper, 1969.” 92 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
82 Canada, Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada,
“Statement of the Government of Canada on Indian 93 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
Policy.” Quebec City, QC, p. 57.
83 Ibid. 94 Dr. Dalee Sambo Dorough (Inuit, Alaska), Part 3,

84 Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, speaking to the Liberal
Association of Vancouver, Seaforth Armories, 95 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
Vancouver, 1969. “Transcript of the Prime Minister's Quebec City, QC, p. 73.
Remarks at the Vancouver Liberal Association Dinner,”
Seaforth Armories, Vancouver, BC, 1969, 11-12.
http://publications.gc.ca/collections/collection_2018/aa
nc-inac/R32-429-1969-eng.pdf 97 Halie B. (Namgis/Kwa’kwa’kawakw/Tlingit/Scottish),
Part 1, Public Volume 111(a), Vancouver, BC, p. 33.
85 Cardinal, The Unjust Society, 1.
86 Lagace and Sinclair, “The White Paper, 1969.”
BC, pp. 30-31.
87 Shaw, “Creating/Negotiating Interstices,” 176.
88 Attorney General of Canada v. Lavell, Isaac et al. v.
Bédard, 1974 SCR 1386.
227
people as humans, and as Indigenous people. This is important because we can use these values
to create healing encounters, today.
Inuit, Métis, and First Nations Elders and Grandmothers have been teaching this truth for genera-
tions, but it has become more and more difficult to hear through the deafening noise of coloniza-
tion. Instead, much more harmful stories of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
have taken over. These stories devalue women and girls and reduce them to stereotypes, con-
tributing directly to the violence they face.
Understanding why women and girls are sacred through various Indigenous perspectives is an
important part of seeing Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as rights holders. It
is also a starting point to addressing some of the historical and contemporary negative encounters
that incite violence or create harmful spaces for those who are so important. What roles and re-
sponsibilities do women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have? What happens to their commu-
nities when they’re taken away? And how can understanding why women and girls are sacred
help us understand how to create new, healing encounters, founded upon stories handed down
over generations?
Women and girls are sacred; they carry their Peoples and their communities with them. Without
them, whole communities suffer.
The First Teachers
As we’ve discussed, stories show that Indigenous women’s rights to culture and identity are
rooted not only in basic human rights, but in the ways they lead their people forward. Rhonda M.
explained:
When I think about all the grandmothers who have come ahead of me and those grand-
mothers that stand behind me and the grandmothers that stand in all the directions, I think
that they’re leaders and that, as leaders, as water carriers, as women that give birth to the
next generations, that they all have those leadership qualities in them.47
Cree woman on Charlton Island, James Bay, Northwest

Territories, 1926. Source: Library and Archives
Canada/National Photography collection/a096660.
149
In this section, we provide a brief overview of some of the historical events and contexts that are
at the root of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. We identify
a number of factors as foundational in the ongoing violation of cultural, health, security, and
justice-related rights. But the violation of these rights also has deep historical roots.
In the area of culture, for instance, some of the most egregious rights violations include the
early logic of discovery and the assertion of Canadian sovereignty, the regulation of Indigenous
identities and governance, and the attempt to assimilate Indigenous Peoples in the context of
residential schools and, later on, within the Sixties Scoop and child welfare systems.
In the area of health, the impact of colonization in northern communities is particularly impor-
tant, as it is connected to relocations and the lack of food security. Other examples include forced
sterilization, lack of access to mental health services and addictions treatment, and overall inter-
ference with existing Indigenous health systems.
Within the context of the right to security, a basic lack of opportunity in areas such as education,
employment, and the failure to provide a basic standard of living are rooted, in particular, in
colonial interventions in ways of life and in removal from ancestral or home lands.
In the area of justice, persistent harmful beliefs, as rooted in colonization regarding Indigenous
women and girls, and the policing of them through legislation and through law enforcement,
have important implications for justice – or the lack thereof – that we see today.
The gendered lens we apply to these contexts is important; while Indigenous men and boys
suffered enormously under colonization, with respect to land and governance in particular,
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people were impacted in distinct, though related,
ways. As Kwagiulth (Kwakwaka’wakw) scholar Sarah Hunt explains:
Colonialism relies on the widespread dehumanization of all Indigenous people – our
children, two-spirits, men and women – so colonial violence could be understood to
impact all of us at the level of our denied humanity. Yet this dehumanization is felt most
acutely in the bodies of Indigenous girls, women, two-spirit and transgender people, as
physical and sexual violence against us continues to be accepted as normal.2
In addition, the distinct and intersectional experiences of women and girls in remote and urban
centres, or from First Nations, Inuit, or Métis perspectives, are an important part of examining
the gendered history of colonization. From policies oriented toward assimilation of First
Nations through the Indian Act and the residential school system, to those targeting Métis fami-
lies through the denial of key services and rights, the structures and institutions of colonization
set up the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
we understand today. In the case of Inuit communities, the relatively later arrival of colonization
to Inuit Nunangat continues to leave important scars on communities and on families who were
often forcibly relocated from their lands and targeted by the residential school system as well,
within a relatively recent time period. How different systems of oppression impacted different
230
groups of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people with respect to their basic human
and inherent Indigenous rights is an important part of many of the life stories we heard within the
National Inquiry, particularly those dealing with the root cause of intergenerational trauma. This
trauma is enforced by the lack of basic economic, social, and political rights, by the lack of
institutional will for change – then and now – and by the failure to recognize the expertise and
capacity of women in their own lives in historical and contemporary perspective.
In short, the history of colonization is gendered, and must be considered in relation to the crisis
of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls as a series of encounters that has ulti-
mately rendered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as targets. This chapter
does not provide an exhaustive account of colonization; rather, it seeks to reposition the experi-
ences of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people within the larger context of colonization to
argue that the very structures and attitudes that inspired historical abuses of human and Indige-
nous rights continue today. As a result, the ongoing crisis of violence against Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is a crisis centuries in the making, and continues into the
present.
Understanding Colonization as a Structure

“Colonization” refers to the processes by which Indigenous Peoples were dispossessed of their
lands and resources, subjected to external control, and targeted for assimilation and, in some
cases, extermination. As defined by Mohawk scholar Gerald Taiaiake Alfred, colonialism repre-
sents the process of building a new reality for Europeans and Indigenous Peoples in North
America, through the development of institutions and policies toward Indigenous Peoples by
European imperial or settler governments. This involved both actual policies and legislation, as
well as the creation of larger religious and secular justifications, or reasons, for enacting them.3
It also includes policies, practices, and institutions that targeted Indigenous people, and women
in particular, in ways that knowingly discriminated against them. The processes of colonization
– its very structure, as this chapter will explore – live on and are replicated in the present,
through different means.
Within the First Nations context, for instance, this meant identifying who was and was not con-
sidered an “Indian” – which involved the process of excluding Métis from Treaties and from the
services – albeit meagre – provided to First Nations.4 Within an Inuit context, this also included
the process of assigning numbered tags to Inuit in order to keep track of people, and renaming
them to make it easier for government officials to monitor them, therefore denying important
naming traditions.5 Broadly seen, colonial processes were often set up around what genocide
scholar Patrick Wolfe has called “the organizing grammar of race.”6 In other words, only by
categorizing Indigenous Peoples through legislation and other means could colonial forces begin
to control them, as well as to dispossess them. As Wolfe maintains, “Settler colonizers come to
stay: invasion is a structure, not an event.”7
231
Women in Leadership
Dawnis Kennedy shared:
I think one of the first things that I could share is that women are life-givers and from
that flows so much. It is women who carry life, women who give life. Women are – it is
upon women that all life depends. And for Anishinaabe Onaakonigewin, that carries
many different consequences. You know, because women are the life-givers in our
Nation it is the women who carry the water. It’s our grandmother, the moon, who
governs the water, but it’s the women who carry the water and who work with the water,
who work for the water. And so any decision that impacts the water or impacts life is a
decision that requires women. And that’s a huge consequence and that’s a huge thing
because that means that any decision that we make that will affect life, we must ask
women.56
In many stories, women are also the bringers or keepers of sacred ceremonies.57 Ceremonies are
meant to strengthen people’s relationship to the Creator, to each other, and to the natural world
around them. They also help guide people through important transition points in their lives, and
provide a way for communities to recognize each other’s accomplishments. In these stories, such
as the one of White Buffalo Calf Women, who brings the Sacred Pipe and the Sundance, women
as leaders and as teachers are essential to an Indigenous People’s identity as a people.58
Women in stories can also be seen to have important roles in negotiating rights for their commu-
nities through cross-cultural marriages between a human and a non-human being (such as an
animal, plant, star, or other being from the natural world). Many women in First Nations, Inuit,
and Métis stories become diplomats or ambassadors for their communities by marrying
one of these non-human beings. In these roles, they either bring their people’s knowledge to
other cultures, or bring new skills back home – sometimes with great difficulty.
“INUIT WOMEN LEADERS ARE ALL AROUND US. THEIR LEADERSHIP STARTS IN THE
HOME, WITH THE MOTHERS AND GRANDMOTHERS, AND OF COURSE MANY INUIT
WOMEN AND GIRLS VOLUNTEER THEIR TIME IN THE COMMUNITY.”
Okalik Eegeesiak
The Métis story “The Fiddle I Give” emphasizes the enduring power of the skills and knowledge
of Indigenous mothers, while also recognizing the new gifts cultural exchanges can bring. In this
story, a young man from the Red River Colony (also known as the Selkirk Settlement) sets out
on a journey to find a cow with glowing horns (i.e., cattle). Along the way, he runs into three
grandmothers, found in traditional tipis. The first grandmother offers him a tiny thimble with a
kernel of corn and a pinch of pemmican, which, at first, he thinks will never fill him up.
152
As these brief examples show, and as this chapter will develop, the structures of settler colonial-
ism engage in the destruction of existing cultures and peoples, both physically and structurally,
and seek to replace existing structures with their own. Violent colonial encounters were not one-
off events, but were part of a larger strategy of conquest. In Canada, this process meant under-
mining the position of Indigenous women, girls, and gender-diverse people, in particular, as well
as impacting whole communities, including men and boys, in an attempt to eradicate, replace,
and destroy Indigenous Peoples and cultures.
This point is important because it provides links with the present and still-existing structures that
contribute to targeting Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. These aren’t just
things that happened in the past. Viewing colonization as a structure means that we can’t dismiss
events as parts of the past, or as elements of someone else’s history. If viewed as a structure,
these colonial pieces aren’t things people can just “get over,” because many of these ideas – these
structures – still exist. We see them in the failure to properly consult with Indigenous groups over
environmental or land issues, or in the lack of services in remote communities. We see these
structures at play in interactions women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have with justice sys-
tems or with child welfare. We see these structures in the ongoing poverty and lack of resources
for addressing violence. Seeing colonization as a structure makes plain the connections between
structures of the past – both physical and ideological – and the structures of today. Through this
lens, we can see how these structures still play a role in controlling which services people can
access and which laws communities can make, and in creating conditions that are unsafe.
Combatting these structures requires understanding the foundation upon which they have been
built, and an understanding of who built them and why. Viewing settler colonialism as a structure
includes many different events – all created under the same destructive logic. In short, as Wolfe
says, “settler colonialism destroys to replace.”9 Where colonizers sought to create a new nation in
North America, they first set out to destroy the old ones that were already here.
As we heard in testimony from Robert C.:
Canada is quite uncomfortable with the word “genocide.” But genocide is what has
happened in Canada and the United States for First Nations people. What else can you
call it when you attack and diminish a people based upon their colour of their skin, their
language, their traditions, remove them from their lands, target their children, break up
the family? How is that not genocide? And that's the uncomfortable truth that Canada, I
believe, is on the cusp of coming to terms with. And it's going to take a lot of uncomfort-
able dialogue to get there.10
As a structural process, and under its various systems, colonization targeted whole communities
through policies designed to undermine and challenge what people knew and who they were.
Contrary to the rights and responsibilities illustrated in the stories and testimonies we heard, the
impacts of colonization historically, and of continued colonial attitudes, structures, and systems
today, directly contribute to the rights violations of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people.
233
As these brief examples demonstrate, and as our testimony highlights, these and many other sto-
ries emphasize women’s Indigenous rights and roles as cultural carriers of their communities and
as the centre of their families. This provides the foundation for individual and group leadership
across many Indigenous cultures. As Inuk leader Okalik Eegeesiak explains, “Inuit women lead-
ers are all around us. Their leadership starts in the home, with the mothers and grandmothers, and
of course many Inuit women and girls volunteer their time in the community.”61
Métis women Audreen Hourie and Anne Carrière-Acco assert similar leadership roles: “Métis
women, together with their spouses, always considered the well-being of the whole commu-
nity…. A strong and healthy Métis community will always have women in decision-making
roles.”62
The inclusion of women in the direct or indirect leadership of their people is an important key-
stone in the protection and promotion of safety and justice for Indigenous women and girls.
Women as Healers
In many testimonies we heard, the inability to access adequate or culturally appropriate health
services was a key cause of violence against women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people, particu-
larly in more remote communities where women were transported to receive treatment into
locations unfamiliar to them and, as a result, unsafe.
In many understandings within Indigenous storytelling, however, First Nations, Métis, and Inuit
women are the healers themselves; without them, healing is placed in jeopardy in families, in
communities, and in Nations. As Trudy S. shared,
My mother was a very beautiful lady…. She fought the system to bring back all the First
Nation children that were adopted, and she reunited a lot of families together and
brought their kids back to their biological family, and she had taken a lot of – she had
12 of us kids, but she took a lot of other kids in the house that didn’t have family. So, she
always had different kids that we called brother and sister, because she didn’t want to see
them put into foster homes, you know? She’s a great lady, my late mom.63
One of the important roles that Indigenous women and gender-diverse people have most consis-
tently played across Indigenous societies is in healing and medicine. This includes as “Indian
doctors,” midwives, medicine people, counsellors, and shamans. In these roles, healers generally
care for all aspects of a person’s health: physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional. Physical ail-
ments are often understood as an outward symptom of a problem with any of these four aspects
of self. This means that healers are not limited to addressing aches and pains, but also provide
teachings and support to address what they understand to be the root of the disease itself.64
154
system, landowners became very powerful, living from the labour of their tenants. With the help
of the church, whose hierarchical or top-down structure in some ways mirrored that of the feudal
order, social order was maintained through a system of those who had, and those who had not.
Europe’s own stories were full of tales of the conquering of other peoples, within the context of
the expansion of the Holy Roman Empire, beginning in the ninth century. In order to be able to
lay claim or ownership to newly “discovered” land, European explorers used a legal doctrine
called terra nullius – meaning “nobody’s land” or “empty land,” discounting those whom they
found there already as mere “barbarians” or “savages,” like those they believed had been
defeated on the European continent before that.
French colonist Samuel de

Champlain’s first detailed
map of the territory he
claimed for New France,
1612.
Even though Canadian law has held that the terra nullius doctrine never applied in Canada,12 the
legal argument was required: at that time, it was against international law to occupy a territory if
it was already occupied by other peoples or nations. Wolfe argues:
Through all the diversity among the theorists of discovery, a constant theme is the clear
distinction between dominion, which inhered in European sovereigns alone, and natives’
right of occupancy, also expressed in terms of possession or usufruct, which entitled
natives to pragmatic use (understood as hunting and gathering rather than agriculture) of
a territory Europeans had discovered. The distinction between dominion and occupancy
illuminates the settler-colonial project’s reliance in the elimination of native societies.13
In simpler terms, European explorers made various claims that bolstered their desired control of
the land, including the idea that Indigenous Peoples living on the lands were simply using them,
but not occupying them, within the context of a European view of title. These claims were
supported by European kings and queens, whose ideas about their own divine appointments
created a partnership between church and state, which worked hand in hand within the project
of colonization.
235
This argument about so-called empty lands, along with the Papal Bull “Inter Caetera,” issued by
Pope Alexander VI on May 4, 1493, provided even more justification for aggressive coloniza-
tion. This Bull, popularly known as the “Doctrine of Discovery,” stated that any land not inhab-
ited by Christians could be “discovered” and claimed by Christian rulers. It claimed ownership
over all of it, regardless of the claims of those already living there, based on the idea that they
were “barbarians.” The Bull further decreed that barbarian nations should be overthrown and
Christianity spread everywhere. Such ethnocentric views centred Christianity as the cornerstone
of humanity, so that to be without a Christian god was to be considered less than human.14
Explorers also retained these religious ideas. For example, Samuel de Champlain, who, in 1608,
established a fortress at what is now Quebec City, described Indigenous people as “savages”
or “barbarians.” He commented further: “I believe that they would quickly be brought round to
being good Christians, if their lands were colonized.”15 In the eyes of European colonizers, this
was enough of a justification to declare terra nullius and, within the Doctrine of Discovery, to
engage in an aggressive policy of colonization that included the exploitation of resources for
international trade and the eventual deployment of European settlers to occupy the newly
claimed lands.
Europeans also used colonization to seize the power of pre-emption, which said that: “Through
being the first European to visit and properly claim a given territory, a discoverer acquired the
right, on behalf of his sovereign and vis-à-vis other Europeans who came after him, to buy land
from the natives.”16 Simply, it meant that Indigenous Peoples could deal only with the Crown
that had, at any given time, claimed sovereignty over discovered territory, which left very little
room for appeal or justice in that respect. This directly went against the right of those communi-
ties to determine their own futures, based on their rights to the lands, and was one of the first
steps in establishing the structures of colonial violence linked with denying culture, health,
security, and justice.
A Religious Enterprise: Early Colonization among

First Nations and Métis
Claiming land for European monarchs was also tied to the practice of claiming souls for God. In
the case of Christianity, and, in particular, early Catholicism, core beliefs brought to communities
by missionaries challenged Indigenous notions of gender and relationships between men, women
and gender-diverse people, as well as their leadership, as well as women’s leadership within
communities. They directly impacted the rights to culture, as well as associated political and
social rights as enjoyed by women and gender-diverse people within their communities prior to
colonization.
236
The content of Christianity itself during this period, with specific reference to women, generated
even more dangerous encounters. Early Christian ideals included explicit gendered violence that
placed women squarely in separate and lesser spheres. For example, Jesuit missionaries in the
17th century laid the foundation for how Europeans would encounter traditional female Indige-
nous medical practices. In the eyes of the Jesuits, both male and female healers were seen as evil
and corrupt. In 1632, Paul Le Jeune wrote that it was “strange that the Savages have so much
faith in these charlatans! I do not know why falsehood is worshipped more than truth.”17 For
Le Jeune and other Jesuits, these sorcerers and sorceresses represented the work of the devil.18
In 1635, Jean de Brébeuf described one such female healer as performing the work of the devil
through pyromancy and other superstitions.19 Similarly, Paul Ragueneau, in 1646, described a
female healer as deceitful in her attempts to take advantage of a mother whose son was an
invalid. In his account, though the mother was tempted, her faith gave her resolve to resist
the “sorceress.”20
Mr. and Mrs. Dam, Moravian missionaries,

in Hopedale, Labrador, 1886. Source: Library
and Archives Canada/Newfoundland and
Labrador album of photographs by
Simeon H. Parsons/a139015.
Conversion thus went hand in hand with displacing the traditional role of women healers and
replacing Indigenous medicine practices with European medical knowledge. The descriptions
offered by Jesuits like Le Jeune were based primarily in the stark differences between how
women lived in Europe as compared with the Indigenous societies they would encounter in
North America. Briefly summarized, the role of women in Europe in the late 16th century and
well into the 19th century was one of subjugation. The Catholic Church interpreted the Bible as
saying that the first human created was a man, Adam, and that Adam was made in the image of
God, implying that God was a man as well. Woman was created second, to be a partner to man.
Eve was made from Adam’s rib, and in this way owed her very existence to a man. Furthermore,
Eve was first to eat the fruit from the Garden of Eden, which created the Christian doctrine of
“original sin.” As the Malleus Maleficarum, regarded as the standard book on witchcraft, first
published in 1487, asserted:
237
Women as Protectors
The final set of roles we will look at relates to Indigenous women’s and gender-diverse people’s
responsibilities as protectors. In stories about these roles, women survive very difficult experi-
ences of violence themselves, and they fight for their families and communities, even at great
personal risk.
Stories show that even the people perceived as the “weakest,” or with the odds stacked highest
against them, can succeed.
In the Nlaka’pamux (Interior Salish) story “Elk,” Elk kidnaps a woman, while she bathes in a
river, to become his wife. But she is too smart for him, cleverly tricking him into giving her the
clothes and moccasins she needs to escape.
After a while the girl felt cold, and said to herself, “I shall perish of cold.” Elk knew her
thoughts, and said, “Here are some clothes: put them on.” … Soon she said to herself,
“My feet are cold” and the Elk gave her moccasins to put on. After running fast a day
and a night, Elk began to slacken his pace.
Now the woman said to herself, “I will leave him.” So she broke off fir-branches as they
passed along through the trees. These she placed on Elk’s head, between his antlers.
When she had thus disposed of a sufficient number of branches, she caught hold of the
limb of a tree as they passed underneath, and swung herself up. Elk passed on, thinking
that the girl was still there, for he felt the weight of the fir-branches between his antlers.81
She uses her wits to escape her pursuer several more times, before finally getting back home.
Other stories show women and gender-diverse people going to great lengths to protect others. In
the Haida story “The One They Hand Along,” a young woman is kidnapped by the killer whale
chief and taken to his home at the bottom of the ocean. Multiple members of her family go to
rescue her. Before they leave, her two brothers, one of whom is a prepubescent boy, marry two
female supernatural beings so that the beings can help them. These are Mouse Woman and a
woman who is likely the mythical Xaalajaat, or Copper Woman.82
There are many aspects of Copper Woman’s gendered presentation that support understanding her
as a Two-Spirit, or gender-diverse, woman: she wears her hair short and wears copper armour, a tra-
ditional male dress. She is also described as someone who likes to do things “backwards.” And, of
the two brothers, she allies herself with the brother who is still too young to be properly married.
While Mouse Woman takes charge at first, and leads the girl’s family to the chief’s house with the
help of a supernatural needle, it is Copper Woman who turns the tide at the critical moment.
160
When the family confronts the headman’s family under the sea, they begin to cower and lose faith.
Hwuuuuuuuuuuuu!
The house quivered, they say,
and the earth shook.
Together they all shied away.
No one looked upward.
But the youngest son’s wife raised her head

As the rest of them cowered, they say.
She looked to the rear of the house,
And she looked to the door.
“Raise yourselves up!

Have you no power?”
Those were her words.
The house quivered again,

And the earth shook.
Hwuuuuuuuuuuuu!
And again those in the house lowered their heads.…
As she lifted her chin,

Something powerful came to her,
And their heads rose like the tide.
“A powerful woman you are.”83
Copper Woman’s biggest gift to them was not a weapon, an item, or even secret knowledge. The
gift she gave them was to remind them of the power they had all along. Like the inevitable return
of the tide, their courage returned as well, and they were able to successfully negotiate their
daughter’s return.
Many Indigenous women continue to fill the role of protectors today. Gitxsan researcher
Dr. Cindy Blackstock’s advocacy for the rights of Indigenous children, Inuit leader and activist
Rosemary Kuptana’s work to end the sexual abuse of Inuit children, and Métis scholar Emma
LaRocque’s activism to fight violence against Indigenous women are all examples of
Indigenous women’s work as protectors.
161
Dr. Cindy Blackstock testifies at the National Inquiry’s
hearing on child welfare in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
Existing Systems of Relationship, Governance, and Identity

Women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s disappearances or violent deaths have ripple ef-
fects that throw entire communities out of balance, and into further danger. This also takes away
some of the people who are fighting hardest for change. Restoring the balance, in these kinds of
encounters, means seeing the right to justice of women, girls, 2SLGBTQQIA people, and their
loved ones as a fundamental right.
The examples shared are stories connected to the violence that women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people face today through the process of colonization, but are connected also to the strength of
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. As Michele G. shared:
I’m facing a powerful tribe – another powerful tribe, and a vibrant culture with tradi-
tional institutions that are still intact, and I feel like it hits me like a wave. I feel like I
shed tears and say, okay, Creator I’ve got it, I know what it’s like to be an Indian because
you just – these Nations are so beautiful and amazing.84
These stories are rooted in experience. Prior to colonization, the teachings, rights, roles, and
responsibilities associated with culture, health, safety, and justice were also lived in a practical
sense. As Val Napoleon shared in her testimony, “I do believe and it is my opinion that the
foundational undermining of Indigenous legal traditions is connected to the undermining of
Indigenous Peoples’ humanity, and that is the bedrock of any genocide.”85
162
The Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba pointed out, “When Europeans came to the Americas
they were considered outsiders…. Elders have told us that, in the eyes of the Creator, the Euro-
peans as outsiders could not enjoy the same rights as the original inhabitants.”88 For many First
Nations, land represented a mother figure. As professor and lawyer Aimée Craft has explained in
her study of Treaty 1, the view of the land as mother was also a part of the traditional governance
structure of many communities, a structure that included women. In her study, she points to an
Anishinaabe understanding of “Mother Earth – and Earth as a Mother.”89 Craft, as quoted in an in-
terview on Treaties and traditional governance, says this leads “to the understanding of the ability
we have to share in the bounty of Earth, but not make decisions for the Earth and not to sell the
Earth – but to live in relationship with it.”90 The responsibility for her care and stewardship fell to
the Nations already living on the land, with important implications for the roles of women.
On a concrete level, the time women spend gathering berries, digging for clams, setting traps,
and gathering medicines gives them a different knowledge of the land from that of men. They
were and are also deeply connected to the land: pollution and chemicals impact women’s repro-
ductive abilities and rates of breastfeeding. Because they are also the most closely connected to
caregiving for the most vulnerable populations (children and elderly people), they are the early
warning system when something in the water or the land is threatened.91
In addition, although men and women had their own areas of work, this did not necessarily pre-
vent them from working in each other’s domain. Many First Nations women hunted, trapped,
and harvested, as well as performed the labour to turn these raw materials into things that were
necessary to community life, as did Inuit and Métis women.92 Knowledge of each other’s roles,
for any gender, had important implications. As has been pointed out, “this knowledge allowed
each gender to have respect for the work that was typically done by the other.”93
Women’s participation in economic labour and in land-based labour had important impacts on
the influence of women in community life. In many First Nations societies, women were farmers
– among the Hurons and Haudenosaunee especially – and were responsible for the distribution of
food. Sto:lo writer Lee Maracle explains, “Goods coming into the village belonged to the
women. It was determined what was essential to the survival of the nation, and then the excess
was handed over to the men, to engage in trade.”94 In Plains societies, because women made the
tipis, the physical home and its contents belonged to them. If there was a separation or divorce in
the family, the former husband acknowledged this by taking only his hunting gear with him.95
164
First Nations women, along with Métis women, whose roles will be explored further on in this
chapter, had several important roles in the trade. They literally supplied the trade and worked as
traders themselves. First Nations women were active in day-to-day tasks such as producing food,
clothing, and staples like wild rice and maple syrup, and in snaring game. Many First Nations
women also worked as traders themselves, working with their husbands or on their own.
Nonetheless, despite the contributions First Nations women made to ensuring the health and
well-being of settlers, a similar willingness to respect and value this wisdom of First Nations
women was not being built into or reflected in the institutions and relationships taking shape
during this period. In fact, as Cree grassroots organizer and scholar Michelle Good explains,
some First Nations women were held hostage as ransom and used as sex slaves within the trade,
in a male-dominated and resource-dependent economy.36
Gwichya Gwich’in woman

preparing caribou hide, Tsiige-
htchic, Northwest Territories,
ca. 1921. Source: Library and
Archives Canada/Department
of Indian Affairs and Northern
As trade became entrenched into the economy for many First Nations, one of the ways in which
First Nations women became involved was marriage. Within the context of both trade and reli-
gion, and because the first explorers and settlers were predominantly crews of men, marriages of
fur traders to First Nations women were seen as a viable method of diplomacy, and First Nations
women, whose responsibilities might include care for her family or community, could also find
the arrangement to be of value. The church approved of these marriages “as long as brides first
converted to Catholicism.”37
European expectations of marriage were different from those already existing in First Nations
communities. Both marriages by choice and arranged marriages existed in First Nations
communities, whose traditions were diverse. In some Nations, polygamy was acceptable. In
others, marriage was relatively easy to end. In others still, marriage was mostly an economic
arrangement divorced from rules about fidelity, which meant that partners were free to engage
in models of relationships that met their needs. In Plains society, for example, and as historian
Sarah Carter explains, marriages were much more flexible: “People could be either monogamous
or polygamous, and the choice was theirs. The ease with which divorce was acquired precluded
242
coercion…. Once married either party could terminate a marriage.”38 As a general rule, however,
and as part of a family unit, Indigenous women were interdependent, retaining autonomy as
individuals within the unit.39 Carter notes that among the Huron, in particular, an overwhelming
commitment to individual freedom meant no expectation to “obey” the husband, as in the
Christian tradition.40
As they developed in fur-trade country, and in the wake of the 1670 charter, the quality and
longevity of marriages – especially those not sanctioned by the church – varied across time and
space. These were known as marriages “à la façon du pays,” and they blended Indigenous and
European traditions. Although these marriages were not as confining as the church-sanctioned
marriages that came later, many European husbands came with expectations of a monogamous
and Christian-inspired relationship that was difficult for First Nations women to leave, but which
many men left at will, rendering their country wives vulnerable. This was especially true within
the shifting policies of the Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC) and of the North West Company
(NWC). The HBC actively discouraged women from the forts, without much success, from the
1740s to the 1760s. Still, HBC traders continued to marry First Nations women, and some even
married several. On the other hand, within the NWC, marriage was encouraged, and could in
fact be used as a tool to keep traders renewing their contracts to stay close to wives and children.
By 1806, though, the policy had worked too well: since the NWC fed and clothed employees’
families, and competition was reaching a pitch, it declared that NWC employees should not
marry First Nations women.
Before priests sanctioned marriages in the Northwest, beginning in 1818, marriages à la façon du
pays had important implications for women, especially in terms of setting out treatment different
from those that would be afforded in traditional European marriages. From the perspective of
traders themselves, the impermanence of their posting often led to the idea of marriages as tem-
porary arrangements. Daniel Williams Harmon, a NWC trader, described his acceptance of a new
“country wife” in the following way:
In case we can live in harmony together, my intentions are now to keep her as long as I
remain in this uncivilized part of the world, but when I return to my native land shall
endeavor to place her into the hands of some good honest Man, with whom she can pass
the remainder of her Days in this Country much more agreeable, than it would be
possible for her to do, were she to be taken down into the civilized world, where she
would be a stranger to the People, their manners, customs and Language.41
These marriages, in some respects, also worried officials and missionaries. Colonizers recon-
ceived these sorts of arrangements, in time, as representing a real threat to women themselves,
and used this to justify the establishment of increasingly restrictive definitions of marriage. For
women, this could serve to separate them from the safety offered by their own kinship systems,
through patriarchal conceptions of marriage.
243
within the Context of Canada
As the early history of exploration and trade demonstrates, while First Nations and Métis
Peoples, along with Inuit, share some common experiences of colonization, it is important to
distinguish the experiences of each group within its own historical context. This is because the
same laws, policies, and regulations were not applied to each group, although the overarching
logic of assimilation and destruction inherent in colonization was common to all groups.
The transition from colonies to country changed how colonial authorities would manage First
Nations people, and women in particular, because destroying existing Nations was a precursor to
forming new ones. In this project, women were an important focus through a variety of measures
designed to reduce and eventually eliminate First Nations.
In 1867, Canada established itself as a nation through the enactment of a constitution called the
British North America Act.42 Confederation federally united the British North American colonies
of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and the Province of Canada to form the Dominion of Canada as
a new country. At its creation in 1867, the Dominion of Canada included four provinces: Nova
Scotia, New Brunswick, Quebec, and Ontario. Between then and 1999, six more provinces and
three territories joined Confederation.
As explained briefly in a previous chapter, within the new Confederation, the responsibility for
“Indians and lands reserved for Indians” was delegated to the federal government in section
91(24) of the Constitution Act, 1867. If it had been at all unclear prior to Confederation, it was
now constitutionally entrenched that Indians were considered wards of the Canadian state.
First Nations men receive their

Treaty annuity, 1930. Source:
Library and Archives Canada/
Canadian National Railway
Company fonds/e010861493.
244
Understanding the True Spirit
and Intent of Treaty Relationships
While not all First Nations in Canada have historical treaties with the Government of Canada, those who do
have long insisted that the way that Treaties are interpreted today are not in accordance with the intent and
the spirit of the agreements as they were made. The connection to the tragedy of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people lies in the way that Treaty provisions intended to secure a
good, safe and healthy way of life for future generations. Instead, they have been interpreted so narrowly
that they have served to further dispossess First Nations, and to place their membership in further jeopardy.
Understanding the true spirit and intent of historical Treaties, then, is an important way to see First Nations
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as rights holders whose ancestors sought to protect them through
the true spirit and intent of Treaty.
According to Anishinaabe Elder Harry Bone, ment about sharing resources and making sure
understanding the original spirit and intent of Treaty the “dish” – the land – would always provide for both
includes understanding who First Nations were at the parties, for generations to come. It was an agreement
time Treaties were negotiated, and the relationships about sharing the land, and taking care of it – and in
these First Nations had to settlers and to the land.I turn, through the values of reciprocity, respect and
Elder Bone of the Keeseekoowenin Ojibway First interconnectedness – the land would also take care
Nation in Manitoba argues that First Nations are “the of the people. These dynamic agreements weren’t set
first owners and occupants of the land; they protect for a year, or several years – they represented princi-
their languages, beliefs, and teachings and honour ples that would be re-articulated, re- understood, and
the Creator. Treaties are part of the first law — the respected from one generation to the next.
constitution of First Nations — that involves the idea
of entering into peaceful arrangements with new- When the historical Treaties between the Crown and
comers on an equal, nation-to-nation basis.” II The First Nations were negotiated, this kind of relation-
idea of protecting languages, beliefs and teachings ship is what First Nations sought. The act of making
is not a static idea, stuck at a historical point in time; Treaty was an act of accepting these new people – as
instead, protecting these vitally important resources Nihiyaw (Cree) legal scholar Harold Johnson calls
is a project that is dynamic, and that is about today them, kiciwamanawak, or cousins – who became new
and about the future, as well. relatives through Treaty. The obligations on new rel-
atives and around kinship were based on protection,
The original spirit and intent of Treaties is not rooted care, and mutual aid. As Johnson explains, “no one
in some unknowable past; it is actually concrete, in thought you would try to take everything for
many agreements that First Nations made with each yourselves, and that we would have to beg for left-
other, prior to European contact. For instance, the overs…. The Treaties that gave your family the right
Dish with One Spoon Treaty, negotiated between the to occupy this territory were also an opportunity for
Anishinaabe and the Haudenosaunee, was an agree- you to learn how to live in this territory.” III
245
When Treaty rights are interpreted narrowly, these
rights are not respected in the way signatories
intended. Extinguishing rights means taking them
away, or surrendering them, but many First Nations
who signed Treaty insist that a surrender was
never intended. All courts have recognized the power
of Parliament to extinguish Aboriginal rights and
title up to 1982, and while this hasn’t been done, it
remains a looming threat. The Supreme Court has not
ruled out extinguishment after 1982, despite section
35 of the Constitution Act.IV In some cases, it has also
held that that delay in bringing a court action is suffi-
cient to defeat a claim to Aboriginal title.V Aboriginal
rights to hunt and fish have also been limited by con-
stitutional amendment, federal legislation, and in
some instances by provincial laws.VI
The true spirit and intent of Treaties, for those

Nations who signed them, is not about limits; it is
about the possibility that lies within them for framing
Governor General Vanier paying Treaty money to
a new relationship based in mutual aid, respect, and
Indigenous Peoples at Cold Lake, Alberta, 1961.
a good life for future generations. This is the obliga-
Source: Library and Archives Canada/National
tion that continues to First Nations as rights holders.
Film Board of Canada fonds/e010976122.
If properly interpreted, Treaties can also support the
obligations of governments to implement measures
to address violence against Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
As Johnson explains, “To get to the future, we need a

vision, then we must imagine the steps we must take
to get to that vision…. We cannot ignore our
vision because it seems utopian, too grand, unachiev-
able. Neither can we refuse to take the first steps
because they are too small, too inconsequential….
We will both be part of whatever future we create,
kiciwamanawak.”VII
I Treaty Relations Commision of Manitoba, "Let's Talk Treaty, Episode 2: The Spirit and Intent of Treaties with Elder Harry Bone.”
II Duhamel, “Gakina Gidagwi’igoomin Anishinaabewiyang.”
III Johnson, Two Families, p. 21.
IV Beaudoin, “Delgamuukw Case”; Delgamuukw v. British Columbia, [1997] 3 SCR 1010.
V Ontario (Attorney General) v. Bear Island Foundation, [1991] 2 SCR 570; Blueberry River Indian Band v. Canada (Department of Indian Affairs and
Northern Development), [1995] 4 SCR 344.
VI See, for example, R. v. Sparrow, [1990] 1 SCR 1075.
VII Johnson, Two Families, p. 85.
246
The justification for this status of wardship was pursued by officials on many fronts, using some
of the problems they themselves had prompted to blame First Nations for their own hardship. In
reality, the reasons were both administrative and economic. Under the Royal Proclamation of
1763, the government was duty-bound to respect Aboriginal title through the making of Treaty,
and having various First Nations groups scattered across a huge expanse was seen as an ad-
ministrative and financial burden. In other ways, though, a changing way of life for many First
Nations meant that the government thought they would soon disappear. On the Plains, for instance,
the elimination of the bison contributed to poverty and to dispossession, due to the reliance of
many groups on its trade and products. While the reliance on bison was not static or uniform
across all Plains groups, its position as a primary source of livelihood, and its uses in almost all
realms of life including food, lodging, clothing, and the like, meant that the loss of this resource
would have grave consequences, including on the health and lifespan of First Nations in these
areas.43 The killing of bison in mass numbers also fed a growing focus on building an agrarian or
farming economy, which required the removal of the bison, the people who depended on it, and
the redivision of the land.44 As survivor Paula P. told the National Inquiry:
Us First Nations carry pain … the land was taken away from us, our way of life.
We used to follow the buffalo, and the buffalo was taken. We can no longer just go
nomadically around because of the fences that were put up. We had freedom to go
whenever we wanted on Turtle Island, and they took that away.45
Encouraging immigration through policies directed by the federal government was one way that
First Nations were displaced from their lands. Settlement and railway building went hand in hand
within the larger project of nation building. For instance, the promise of a railway had been a
guarantee that pushed British Columbia to join Confederation in 1871. Between 1896 and 1914,
the federal government, led by Minister of Immigration Clifford Sifton, also marketed the land
under the slogan “The Last Best West!” and took out full-page ads in the United States and parts
of Europe to attract farming immigrants.46
To clear the land for these projects, the government was bound by the Crown’s promise, con-
tained in the 1763 Royal Proclamation, which had established the need to make Treaty with First
Nations to deal with their pre-existing title to the lands. There were some pre-Confederation
Treaties dealing with land, notably the Robinson Treaties, signed by the Crown and First Nations
around Lake Superior in 1850, which represented huge tracts of land much larger than those
covered by the 27 signed between 1764 and 1836 in Upper Canada.47 The Robinson Treaties laid
the groundwork for the Numbered Treaties, signed as a way to open up lands for settlement,
particularly on the Prairies.
247
Eleven numbered Treaties were negotiated in western Canada between 1871 and 1921. According
to government, these Treaties extinguished Indigenous ownership of land. However, like their
cousins in southern Ontario, Indigenous Nations in western Canada maintain that they agreed to
share, not sell, their lands. Moreover, the rights contained in these Treaties are disputed, in large
part because government negotiators made oral promises that were not always reflected in written
versions. Generally, the Numbered Treaties included rights to hunting/fishing, reserve lands,
annual cash payments, education, and, in some cases, health care. The federal government ceased
these particular Treaty negotiations in 1921, so that most of British Columbia, the Northern
Territories, Quebec, and the Maritimes was not covered by these historic agreements.
Community members gather

to negotiate Treaty in Flying
Post, Ontario, 1906.
Canada/National Photography
collection/e003894500.
These have been interpreted narrowly by government. For instance, the five-dollar annuity
promised in early agreements continues to be paid at five dollars every year. But First Nations
insist this is not in keeping with the spirit and intent of the Treaties, which were meant to provide
security and a future in uncertain and changing times, and were promises of mutual aid and
respect. Recently, signatories representing descendants of the Robinson Huron Treaty, whose
annuities were set at four dollars over 140 years ago, have won a court case against the federal
and provincial governments to reopen negotiations.48
“US FIRST NATIONS CARRY PAIN … THE LAND WAS TAKEN AWAY FROM US,
OUR WAY OF LIFE. WE USED TO FOLLOW THE BUFFALO, AND THE BUFFALO
WAS TAKEN. WE CAN NO LONGER JUST GO NOMADICALLY AROUND BECAUSE
OF THE FENCES THAT WERE PUT UP. WE HAD FREEDOM TO GO WHENEVER WE
WANTED ON TURTLE ISLAND, AND THEY TOOK THAT AWAY.”
Paula P.
248
Within our Truth-Gathering Process, one witness explained how the failure to respect Treaty
rights can contribute to a lack of safety for First Nations communities, particularly women. As
Cheryl M. explained,
Unfortunately … in the Mi’kmaq territory, the failure of the Government of Canada to
implement the 1999 Supreme Court of Canada decision of Marshall to allow access to
fishery resources, especially for women, Mi’kmaw women, is one such example of
historic and continued denial of economic opportunities. The denial of our resources and
our rights in this country keeps Aboriginal women and Peoples in poverty. We are worth
less over and over again because of governments’ policies, laws, and inaction.49
Overall, the government pursued Treaties when and where it needed to, based on a combination
of policies geared toward industrial development (for example, railroads) as well as agriculture
(for example, needs of immigrant settlers). In many cases, Treaty negotiations were opened after
pressure from the bands, who had heard about these agreements in other communities. This
resulted in government’s pursuing Treaties with certain First Nations, while ignoring others.
In this context, colonial management became geared toward removing First Nations and Métis
from their lands to make way for settlement and to ensure segregation. Building on the history
of the fur trade and trade relationships, policy makers began to insist on even greater separation
between Europeans and First Nations, and new modes of control were implemented to further
separate Indigenous Peoples by perceived racial or cultural groupings. They included laws and
policies targeting First Nations and Métis people, enforced by a close relationship between
administrative and judicial forces. Both First Nations and Métis were particular targets of early
colonial policing, and women in particular.
The Indian Act: A Tool of Exclusion for First Nations Women, Girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA People
Early pre-Confederation legislation included An Act to Encourage the Gradual Civilization of
Indian Tribes of 1857, the Management of Indian Lands and Properties Act of 1860, and the
Gradual Enfranchisement Act of 1869. The first, An Act to Encourage the Gradual Civilization
of Indian Tribes, was a way to extend British citizenship to those people the government consid-
ered to be “Indians.” Conditions of citizenship included being male, over the age of 21, literate in
English or French, free of debt, and of good moral character. Successful applicants would receive
20 hectares of reserve land in individual freehold, taken from the band’s communal allotment,
but would be required to surrender their “Indian Status.”50 The Management of Indian Lands and
Properties Act transferred responsibility for Indian lands from the British colonial office to the
Province of Canada, and transferred all authority for Indians and lands reserved for Indians to the
Chief Superintendent, in a move that failed to account for the direct relationship between the
249
“IN THE MI’KMAQ TERRITORY, THE FAILURE OF THE GOVERNMENT OF CANADA
TO IMPLEMENT THE 1999 SUPREME COURT OF CANADA DECISION OF
MARSHALL TO ALLOW ACCESS TO FISHERY RESOURCES, ESPECIALLY FOR
WOMEN, MI’KMAW WOMEN, IS ONE SUCH EXAMPLE OF HISTORIC AND
CONTINUED DENIAL OF ECONOMIC OPPORTUNITIES. THE DENIAL OF OUR
RESOURCES AND OUR RIGHTS IN THIS COUNTRY KEEPS ABORIGINAL WOMEN
AND PEOPLES IN POVERTY. WE ARE WORTH LESS OVER AND OVER AGAIN
BECAUSE OF GOVERNMENTS’ POLICIES, LAWS AND INACTION.”
Cheryl M.
Crown and Indigenous Peoples as guaranteed by the Royal Proclamation of 1763.51 The Gradual
Enfranchisement Act of 1869 was a reaction to the almost complete failure of 1857’s Gradual
Civilization Act, and aimed to speed up assimilation. This Act restricted the definition of who
was to be considered “Indian” and established the elective band council system that sought to
replace existing First Nations governance systems.52
Upon Confederation in 1867, the Constitution Act included section 91(24), which would em-
power the federal government to enact its most comprehensive Indian legislation to date. An Act
to amend and consolidate the laws respecting Indians – commonly known as the Indian Act53 –
would have lasting, sweeping effects on Indigenous Peoples for generations to come. And, like
the pre-Confederation legislation before it, the Indian Act legislated differential treatment for
women in ways that were clearly sexist and demeaning.
The 1876 Indian Act included the 1851 definition of “Indian” that had become tied to a male
bloodline, even though many Nations traced lineage through the mother, or through both blood-
lines. Its definition of “Indian” maintained that the Status of an Indian woman depended on the
Status of her husband. So, if her husband was an Indian, she would maintain her Indian Status. If
her husband was enfranchised (or was a Canadian subject), she, too, would become a Canadian
subject. At the same time, if a non-Indigenous woman married a Status Indian man, she would
acquire Indian Status. These laws ensured that encounters between First Nations women and
“Canadians” resulted in dramatically reducing the number of people for whom the government
claimed responsibility.
For those who became “non-Status” through this process, the dangers of being expelled from
their communities often compounded existing dangers. As a result of this legislation and its ap-
plication over a century, there is today a vast number of people in Canada (roughly one-third of
First Nations) who are considered to be “non-Status” and who have deep ties to their historic
communities and Indigenous identities, or, conversely, who may have been alienated from them
through the deliberate actions of the state. In many of these cases, “Status” varies within the
same family, regardless of the family tree. This issue, and contemporary developments related
to it, are explored in a later chapter.
250
Indigenous law hasn’t gone anywhere in Canada. And it exists in the ways that people
are trying to work in their communities, but that it’s been undermined, and that the work
before us all is to rebuild it, and that there are structured critical ways that we can do
that, and that we have to put in the time and the mental work as well as emotional and
spiritual work to do that, so that we don’t idealize Indigenous law and so that it is
capable of dealing with the realities that our communities are living with. Some of those
communities are very dangerous places for women and girls.133
As we have illustrated, a fundamental element of safety rests in understanding the roles, respon-
sibilities, and inherent rights conveyed by women and for women in their own terms. The Indige-
nous laws and human rights that contribute to the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people vary from group to group, but are represented in land, stories, ceremony,
and world views that emphasize the importance of relationships among people and between peo-
ple and their environments. These roles, responsibilities, and rights were both collective and indi-
vidual. Professor Brenda Gunn explains, “When I think about collective governance in many
Indigenous communities, how I understand it, it was never sacrificing individual identity or
being or rights for the collective.… But, it was how the collective was responsible for protecting
the individuals, and how the individual contributed and was part of the collective.”134
As an Inquiry, we have operated on the premise that our women and girls are sacred, and that, in
their absence, it is not only family members, but entire communities and Nations, who are placed
at further risk and who lose irreplaceable pieces of themselves. This sacred dimension isn’t oth-
erworldly, or ungrounded. Rather, as our testimony shows, women as teachers, leaders, healers,
providers and protectors were and remain indispensable parts of the equation to generating solu-
tions for the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. As Audrey Siegl, a
member of the National Inquiry’s team, shared:
For our women … for our young women, for our grandmothers, for our women who
travel with us, who guide us, who love us, who share strength to do this heartbreaking
work … we are sacred because we exist. We are sacred because we have survived. We
survived when many did not. We watch our women die every day here in Canada. I don’t
know when safety, peace and justice are going to come for us. Just know that we love
you and that we are doing our best to honour and represent our women and our
experiences. We are doing this hard and ugly and necessary work so others don’t have
to … so they don’t have to carry so much.
And, where we leave off with this work now, inevitably, some are going to have to pick
it up and carry it on. I hope that it’s easier for them. I hope that it’s lighter for them.135
Respect, reciprocity, and interconnectedness – these principles can hold the keys toward under-
standing what was threatened through colonial encounters, and the transformational power for
harm, or for health, of each and every person, process, and institution involved in the crisis of
174
In explaining why she chose to testify before the Inquiry, Dawnis Kennedy notes the contempo-
rary importance of Indigenous law:
It is those who consider themselves the most powerful in modern society that also need
our law, our Onaakonigewin, our knowledge about life and how to live a good life in
harmony with each other and with all of our relations, not just humanity, with all our
relatives: the plants, the animals, the stars, the birds, the fish, the winds, the spirit; our
mother, the earth; our grandmother, the moon; our grandfather, the sun; all of our
relatives in the universe. That is what our law teaches us, how to live life in relationship
and how to ensure the continuation of life into the future seven generations ahead.136
In the historical Cree story “Gift of the Old Wives,” the old women of a community must stay
behind and die at their enemies’ hands to keep the rest of their community safe. Before the chief
eventually accepts this gift, he says, “But who will teach our children and our children’s chil-
dren? ... Without your wisdom, how will our young people learn the Cree ways?”137
Stories are medicine.138 As writers and scholars Leanne Simpson and Kiera Ladner explain,
grandmothers and aunties tell us stories and keep us alive: “Warmth in our hearts and warmth in
our bellies.”139 Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have stories of strength and
resilience. They continue to pass on these teachings, by example or by story. They represent an
irreplaceable facet of being part of, and of building, communities and Nations. Stories can also
help us, as a society, find our way “home”140 – and in doing so, create safer spaces and places for
“FOR OUR YOUNG WOMEN, FOR OUR GRANDMOTHERS, FOR OUR WOMEN WHO TRAVEL
WITH US, WHO GUIDE US, WHO LOVE US, WHO SHARE STRENGTH TO DO THIS HEART-
BREAKING WORK … WE ARE SACRED BECAUSE WE EXIST. WE ARE SACRED BECAUSE WE
HAVE SURVIVED. WE SURVIVED WHEN MANY DID NOT. WE WATCH OUR WOMEN DIE
EVERY DAY HERE IN CANADA. I DON’T KNOW WHEN SAFETY, PEACE AND JUSTICE ARE
GOING TO COME FOR US. JUST KNOW THAT WE LOVE YOU AND THAT WE ARE DOING
OUR BEST TO HONOUR AND REPRESENT OUR WOMEN AND OUR EXPERIENCES.”
Audrey Siegl
175
A System of Total Control: Policing First Nations and Métis
Policing was established as another institution – like marriage – that worked to exert colonial
control over Indigenous women and gender-diverse people through negatively transforming rela-
tionships between the genders, by intervening in intimate aspects of women’s lives, by enabling
sexual abuse, and through the implementation and perpetuation of beliefs and policies at the root
of the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. The physical and social re-
organization of communities represents violence, both historic and ongoing, against Indigenous
Northwest Mounted Police pose outside

of their tent in 1898. Location unknown.
Henry Joseph Woodside fonds/a016083.
As historian Greg Marquis explains, early British administrators saw a parallel in Canada with
Irish society, as being harsh and rebellious and desperately in need of a strong police presence.59
It was this model – that of the Royal Irish Constabulary – that was brought to the Northwest
Territories after the federal government acquired Rupert’s Land from the Hudson’s Bay Company
in 1870.60 The land in Canada presented an important challenge to established ways of enforcing
law and order with its lesser concentrations of populations. Toward this end, the North-West
Mounted Police (NWMP) was a pan-Canadian police force, established in 1873 by Prime
Minister Sir John A. Macdonald, to maintain order in these newly acquired lands – and to clear
those still inhabited by Indigenous Peoples. It combined military, police, and judicial functions.
By the 1880s, the NWMP became even more involved in policing First Nations women, as
attitudes had begun to harden toward Indigenous Peoples on the Prairies in particular. Sarah
Carter explains, “Whereas before then they were regarded as ‘nuisances’ but relatively harmless,
afterwards they were depicted as a distinct threat to the property and lives of white settlers.”61
A new influx of settlement, coupled with the federal government’s desire to build a fruitful
agricultural basin in the Prairies, meant renewed calls for segregation of both First Nations and
Métis women.
253
First Nations women, in particular, were cast by government and by society as a menace to the
emerging non-Indigenous community.62 Métis women, whose distinctive experiences are dis-
cussed later in the chapter, also fared poorly – after the Red River and the North-West resistance
movements, the Métis as a whole came to be viewed as a dangerous element. Like First Nations
women, they were described as a threat to public security through accusations regarding their
own health and contagion, and alleged sexual promiscuity.63
Indian agents and police actively pursued the regulation of movement for Indigenous women,
girls, and gender-diverse people, particularly in the wake of the 1886 panic over the idea of
“Traffic in Indian Girls.”64 When newspapers ran an article raising concerns over the trafficking
of Indigenous girls, police blamed First Nations men for running an active racket on young
women rather than investigate the crime. The police then used racist fears around “mixing races”
to further drive a wedge between First Nations and European settlers.
In addition, police began to more actively enforce the prostitution clauses within the Indian Act,
criminalizing First Nations women and girls. John A. Macdonald is on record as having said,
“The depravity existing among the Indian women … is greatly to be deplored. They repair, on
arriving at years of puberty to the white centres and enter into lives of prostitution.”65 Despite
little to no evidence that Indigenous women were engaging in the sex trade more frequently than
other women, the Indian Act was amended to directly criminalize Indigenous women and those
who kept or frequented a “wigwam”66 to purchase sex. The consolidation of the Criminal Code
in 1892 further made it easier to convict First Nations women of the crime of prostitution.67 This
is because prior to 1892, the Dominion of Canada did not have its own consolidated criminal
code, and prostitution laws were unevenly enforced. The laws governing prostitution were in-
herited from the English common law, although several provinces had passed statutes to crimi-
nalize the keeping of bawdy houses. In many places, prostitution was commonly dealt with under
the crime of vagrancy. For many people, the belief was that because prostitution couldn’t be
stamped out, it had to be tolerated. But, as a reflection of a focus on contagious disease, of
“social purity” campaigns, and of the focus on Indigenous women as disruptive elements, the
situation changed. After 1892, armed with the Criminal Code, as well as the realities of a grow-
ing population in growing settlements, the application of the law was made much clearer and
more efficient.68
For First Nations people of all genders, the NWMP also enforced the illegal pass system, which
required all First Nations people to obtain a pass from their farm instructor or Indian agent before
leaving the reserve. As one witness, Rande C., described of enforcement during this period:
I think about the early stories from that time when my gran said chiefs [were] dragged
out of their homes and thrown on the ground and forced to shovel, like, pig shit and stuff
like that, and beat, and RCMPs … just like, standing around every day waiting for them
to even just say one word in our language so they could beat them and throw them and
haul them to jail or whatever. You know, never allowed to leave the reserve, never
allowed to shop in the same stores, never allowed to do anything. And my gran said that
was her reality of her whole life growing up.69
254
Among other reasons, the pass system was partially justified by those who enforced it as the
need to prevent the loitering of Indigenous women as threats to public safety.
If First Nations people were found in local towns without a valid pass, they could summarily be
arrested and sent back to their reserves. But for many, including women, sometimes even worse
repercussions followed. Reports from Battleford, Saskatchewan, in 1886 described the case of a
woman who had refused to leave town. In response, the officers had taken her to their barracks
and cut off some of her hair. The action apparently had important consequences. Two years later,
the Saskatchewan Herald reported, “During the early part of the week the Mounted Police
ordered out of town a number of squaws who had come in from time to time and settled here.
The promise to take them to the barracks and cut off their hair had a wonderful effect in hasten-
ing their movements.”70 Some women did work in towns in various jobs, as well as in prostitu-
tion, but the threat of physical harm and violence upon their bodies had the impact of driving
many away.
As historian and health scholar Dr. James Daschuk has argued, the Canadian state’s growing
presence on the Plains, in concert with a variety of measures as part of the effort to manage
First Nations “as economically as possible,” including withholding rations and cutting off
vaccinations, left many women with little choice in terms of trying to secure income to feed,
clothe, and protect their families.71
“A Hindrance to the Advancement of Men”: The Hypersexualization
of Indigenous Women
As a whole, these policies and laws endorsed the idea that settler encounters with Indigenous
women should be viewed as suspicious and potentially immoral. They inscribed into Canadian
law the objectification of Indigenous women as hypersexual and criminal, such as within the
amendments to the Criminal Code. In addition, these stereotypes were often recorded in the
House of Commons Sessional Papers, such as this one, in 1909:
The women, here, as on nearly every reserve, are a hindrance to the advancement of the
men. No sooner do the men earn some money than the women want to go and visit their
relations on some other reserve, or else give a feast or dance to their friends…. The
majority of (the women) are discontented, dirty, lazy and slovenly.72
In applying these stereotypes, late 19th-century settlers tended to blame First Nations people
themselves for their economic difficulties, instead of poorly designed policies of assimilation
such as agricultural programs and the confinement of First Nations on reserves. For instance,
Indian agents and other instructors blamed the failure of agricultural reserves on the laziness of
the people doing the work, rather than on the quality of the tools, the soil, or the instruction. First
Nations women living on-reserve often had their mothering skills called into question, as well as
their hygienic habits, by farm instructors or other outsiders to the community.73
255
Blaming communities or family members was one of the many ways that police misconduct was
ignored in the Northwest. Officers frequently attended community dances or gatherings, and
many who engaged in relationships, consensual or non-consensual, insisted that the NWMP
needed to promote an image of aggressive masculinity and virility.74 However, the question of
police impropriety had been raised by government officials early on in regards to officers of the
NWMP. In 1878, David Laird, Lieutenant-Governor for the Northwest Territories, had written to
NWMP Commissioner James Macleod regarding some allegations against officers:
I fear from what reports are brought me, that some of your officers at Fort Walsh are
making rather free with the women around there. It is to be hoped that the good name of
the Force will not be hurt through too open indulgence of that kind. And I sincerely hope
that Indian women will not be treated in a way that hereafter may give trouble.75
Within the year, further accusations were made against police at Fort Macleod for “seducing
squaws,” among other acts.76
As a whole, these stereotypes called upon the images of the so-called squaw-drudge and were
used as justification for the invasion of lands and Nations.77 As Carter points out, these negative
stereotypes also served to justify the behaviour of those who would mistreat Indigenous women
and girls, as well as to justify the policies deployed against them.78 The images were deliberately
promoted in the late 1800s. As a result, many responses to accusations by police, or by other
non-Indigenous settlers, stressed that the injustices suffered were largely “due to the character
of Aboriginal women, who behaved in an abandoned and wanton manner and, in their own
society, were accustomed to being treated with contempt and to being bought and sold as com-
modities.”79 In turn, these beliefs and discriminatory stereotypes relieved officials, police, and
non-Indigenous settlers of all blame – or at least of any crime. Within this belief system, First
Nations women and girls were targeted because they failed to live up to a normative standard
that imposed non-Indigenous beliefs and expectations about women that came from very
patriarchal and oppressive societies in Europe.
These expectations also served to discount allegations of violence or wrong-doing by the police
or by settlers. A former member of the NWMP and editor of the Macleod Gazette pointed out in
1886: “Nothing is said about the fact that many of these women were prostitutes before they
went to live with the white man, and that in the majority of cases the overtures for this so-called
immorality come from the woman or Indians themselves.”80 He was responding to accusations
by a local missionary about white men living with, then abandoning, Indigenous women, and
urging the formal Christian sanction of these marriages. The editor’s response to the situation
spoke to a context within which white men were presented as bewitched and helpless victims
of Indigenous women and girls themselves, and Plains Indigenous societies were characterized
as guilty of human trafficking and worse, because of their supposed disregard for their own
community members.
256
The following year, in 1880, Manitoba Member of Parliament (MP) Joseph Royal asserted that
members of the NWMP were behaving with “disgraceful immorality” throughout the West,
through early human trafficking of Indigenous women. In 1886, Liberal MP Malcolm Cameron
delivered a speech in which he accused Indian agents and other agents of the government of
acting to “humiliate, to lower, to degrade and debase the virgin daughters of the wards of the
nation.”81 He also mused about why over 45% of officers within the NWMP were being treated
for venereal disease.82 His comments echoed those of many others who accused the NWMP and
its officers of abusing their authority. However, as Sarah Carter explains, in many of these cases,
the NWMP were, in fact, policing themselves, and allegations of police misbehaviour against
their own members were often dismissed.83
Within formal allegations of police misconduct, there are few existing records in which First
Nations women attempted to lay charges against officers for offences such as assault or rape. As
Carter points out, in these cases, “the claims seem to have been dismissed as efforts to discredit
or blackmail.”84
The efficacy of police enforcement to prevent crimes against Indigenous women was also
questionable. For instance, a Manitoba Free Press article from 1876 describes a case of rape in
the village of Fort Macleod by a local trader. The article reports, “Though the Mounted Police
were brought to the house by the cries of the Indian woman subjected to the outrage, the non-
commissioned officer with them hesitated to break in the door to seize the offender.”85
The 1888 murder of Mrs. Only Kill, described as a member of the Blood Tribe, was dismissed.
The accused, Constable Alfred Symonds of the NWMP detachment at Stand Off, Alberta, was
tried for giving Mrs. Only Kill a lethal dose of iodine. It was reported that she had also eaten
some sour beans on the same day. Mrs. Only Kill died on Wednesday morning, but her body was
not discovered or examined until Friday. By then, the heat had severely compromised the investi-
gation and the body was too decomposed to conduct a proper post-mortem. The initial investiga-
tion decided that either the beans or the iodine had ultimately killed her, but Symonds was tried
anyway. His supervisor, Superintendent P. R. Neale, informed superiors that he did not believe
any jury in the West would convict Symonds.86 They never got the chance. Appearing in August
1888 before the former commissioner of the NWMP, James F. Macleod, the Crown prosecutor
made application not to prosecute, and it was granted. Symonds was immediately released.
Another case, in 1889, brought to light public attitudes toward Indigenous women in more urban
centres. The Cree victim, identified only as “Rosalie,” had been working as a prostitute in Calgary
and described as “only a squaw.”87 The accused in her brutal murder, William “Jumbo” Fisk, was
described by the prosecutor as a “genial, accomodating and upright young man”88 from an
upstanding family. Rosalie, a baptized Catholic, was refused burial in the mission graveyard
because of her time spent in prostitution.
257
Fisk was supported by the vast majority of residents and by the popular press. He confessed to
the crime and turned himself in, yet was found not guilty by the all-white jury. To his credit, the
judge, Charles Rouleau, refused the jury’s verdict and promptly ordered a retrial, giving specific
instructions to that jury to forget the victim’s race. At the second trial, Fisk was convicted of
manslaughter and sentenced to 14 years’ hard labour. This was better than expected: the judge,
who wanted him to be sentenced for life, had received correspondence written by elected officials
and people of influence urging him to convey a lighter sentence.
It is difficult to assess the extent of First Nations women’s views on policing or police forces at
this time, but, as Métis scholar and activist Howard Adams has explained:
Indians suffered brutality under the Mounties, who frequently paraded through native
settlements in order to intimidate the people and remind the natives they had to “stay in
their place.” … The Mounties were not ambassadors of goodwill or uniformed men sent
to protect Indians; they were the colonizer’s occupational forces and hence the
oppressors of Indians and Métis.89
This connects with what we heard in our testimonies. As Audrey Siegl expressed, “Safety and
justice and peace are just words to us. Since its inception, we've never been safe in ‘Canada.’ The
RCMP was created to quash the Indian rebellions. The police were created to protect and serve the
colonial state.”90
The early tone set by the nature and extent of the policing of Indigenous women, including abuse
by the police, continues to permeate modern encounters with a deep sense of suspicion and
distrust.
A Strawberry Ceremony for missing and

murdered Indigenous women and girls takes
place outside Toronto police headquarters,
February 2015. Credit: R. Jeanette Martin.
258
The Indian Residential School System: A Theatre of Abuse
A key piece of enforcing segregation and of promoting assimilation was the participation of First
Nations, Métis and Inuit children in the Indian residential school system between 1883 and 1996.
Throughout the testimonies offered to the National Inquiry, attendance within the school system,
as well as the intergenerational trauma of family members who may have attended, was a key
driver in the contributing causes to the crisis of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
Morley Indian Residential

School and McDougall
orphanage wards in Morley,
Alberta, ca. 1890-1895.
Canada/David Ewens
collection/a182269.
Although residential schools were not a mandated part of the Indian Act until the 1880s, when
officials threatened parents who failed to send their children to the schools with fines or jail time,
the practice of “educating” Indigenous children began as early as the 1600s.91 In addition, before
attendance was mandated through the Act, Indian agents on reserves, as well as police forces,
delivered children to the church-run schools by applying pressure in the form of withholding
rations or supplies, threatening members of the family, or straight-up seizure without consent.92
In a letter dated July 24, 1935, Indian agent, N. P. L’Heureux instructs a store clerk in Saddle
Lake, Alberta, to have an Indigenous man’s monthly ration “cut off entirely,” since he had
taken his children out of residential school. The Indian agent explained that the ration would be
restored once the man, J. B. Gambler, brought his children back to the residential school in
Wabasca, and presented his “amends” to the principal and magistrate there.93
“SAFETY AND JUSTICE AND PEACE ARE JUST WORDS TO US. SINCE ITS INCEPTION,
WE'VE NEVER BEEN SAFE IN ‘CANADA.’ THE RCMP WAS CREATED TO QUASH THE
INDIAN REBELLIONS. THE POLICE WERE CREATED TO PROTECT AND SERVE THE
COLONIAL STATE.”
Audrey Siegl
259
Understanding Indian Residential
Schools in Quebec
Due to Quebec’s unique socio-historical and political context, the history of Indian residential schools there has
significant differences from that in the rest of Canada. One of the main distinctions is that the residential
schools were established later than in the rest of the country. In Quebec, with the exception of two institutions,
all opened their doors in the 1950s, coinciding with the period of their gradual closure in the rest of Canada.I
In Quebec, reserves were created in several waves, so 10 Indian residential schools and federal homes in
that in some cases, the settlement of First Nations Quebec.VII
populations was later than elsewhere in the country.
At the start of 20th century, most First Nations In comparison with the rest of Canada, there are few
families were living in seasonal settlements and studies centring on the realities of residential school
pursuing a traditional way of life.II Few First Nations experiences in Quebec. As in the rest of Canada,
were enrolled in school, and those who were chose residential schools had the purpose of “civilizing,”
among mission schools, day schools, and sometimes through rudimentary education, First Nations
Indian residential schools outside of Quebec.III In fact, children. However, the Christianizing impulse that
the province of Quebec had long ignored the animated many of the schools in the rest of Canada
changes to the Indian Act that made school wasn’t as big a priority in Quebec, since most
attendance of First Nations children mandatory. In Indigenous children had already converted to
Quebec, school attendance for all children between Catholicism or Anglicanism by the time they opened.
the ages of six and 14 became compulsory only in The teaching of French (for Catholic boarding
1943, whereas these laws were already in place in schools) and English (for Anglican boarding schools)
many other provinces in Canada in the early 20th as well as the learning of the morals, values, and
century. customs of Quebec society remained important
goals,VIII however, conveyed in Eurocentric terms.
The residential schools of Quebec, with the exception
of two that were led by the Anglican Church, were led Although the educational project of the Oblates did
mainly by the Oblates of Mary Immaculate. According not necessarily seek to eradicate Indigenous identity
to the Indian Residential Schools Settlement in First Nations children, the children still encoun-
Agreement, there were six residential schools and tered various stereotypes that did not correspond to
two non-denominational homes in Quebec, as well their cultural realities. Within the schools, the
as four non-denominational federal homes for Inuit. traditional lifestyle of their parents was often
A significant number of First Nations children also denigrated in favour of the values of Quebec, as
attended residential schools outside Quebec, articulated by the religious orders. Many First Nations
including in Ontario and in Nova Scotia.IV The people returned to their own communities after
boarding school of Pointe-BleueV was the last to close being in residential schools, rather than integrate into
in 1991.VI Approximately 13,000 children attended the Quebec’s non-Indigenous society.IX
260
From the perspective of intergenerational trauma,
the Quebec experience of residential schools is
similar to that in the rest of Canada, but in fewer and
more recent generations, given the timing of the
residential schools’ lifespan there. Given their
relatively recent closures as a whole, at least two
generations of residential school survivors are still
alive, so these traumas are palpable within the
communities.
We can’t ignore the importance of the French

language learned by many First Nations people in
Quebec, which has served, in some cases, to erect
language barriers to promoting solidarity with
other First Nations across Canada. While this is
not universally the case, the particular voices of Pointe-Bleue opened in 1960, and was the last of
francophone First Nations survivors from Quebec are Quebec's residential schools to close, in 1991.
heard in a very limited way, nationally. This reality The institution's relatively short life span reflects
means that more research is needed to better the reality in much of Quebec, where residential
understand the context of these particular schools were established much later than
experiences. in the rest of Canada.
I Bousquet, “L’histoire scolaire des Autochtones du Québec : un chantier à défricher,” 117–23.

II Bousquet, “L’histoire scolaire.”
III Ibid.
IV Ibid.
V Pointe-Bleue is known today as the community of Mashteuiatsh.
VI Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, Summary Report; see also Bousquet,
“Êtres libres ou sauvages à civiliser?”
VII There is some dispute regarding the number of schools operating in Quebec; see Bousquet,
“Le projet des pensionnats autochtones du Québec.”
VIII Bousquet, “Le projet des pensionnats.”
IX Ibid.
261
Various incarnations of policies regarding “Indian” education exist in government records, and
detailed descriptions and reports about the history and daily life at residential schools have been
documented in the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. A gendered analy-
sis here is not meant to discount the experiences of Indigenous boys and men or to imply that
those experiences were any less impactful; the intent is to understand the specific ways in which
the residential school system participated in the larger structures of imposing Western gender
roles. The connection between residential school experiences and the internalization of abuse
will also be addressed more specifically as it appears within our testimonies, in the contemporary
discussions of gendered violence.
This brief examination also demonstrates the ways in which the lives of men and boys within
communities were brought to bear on women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in legacies of
abuse and shame that have directly contributed to the violence experienced by those who testi-
fied before us and by their loved ones.
The residential school system in Canada was a devastating, blunt tool aimed at assimilating the
most vulnerable people in Indigenous Nations: the children. We examine the specific effects on
women and girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in order to better understand how they have become
the target of disproportionate violence today.
Although eventually legislated and funded by Canada, residential schools were initially run
primarily by Christian churches, including the Anglican, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Catholic
churches. Catholic orders such as the Jesuits and the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate
had a long history of working closely with British authorities to maintain social order,94 and
Protestant churches were often seen as supporting an Anglo-Canadian hierarchy.95 In 1931, over
half of all residential schools in Canada were administered by Catholic orders (55%). The next
largest was the Church of England, which operated just over a quarter of all schools (26.25%).
The United Church ran 16.25%, and the Presbyterian Church operated 2.5%.96
Children and a nun in a

classroom at Cross Lake
Indian Residential School,
Cross Lake, Manitoba,
1940. Source: Library
and Archives Canada/
Department of Indian
Affairs and Northern
Development fonds/
e011080274.
262
Because federally funded residential schools operated on a per capita basis, from 1869, residen-
tial schools received an amount per child enrolled. It was therefore in the school’s best interest to
keep its roster full. Toward this aim, child apprehension for the purposes of residential schooling
was an important part of the jobs of Indian agents and of police, which placed countless girls and
gender-diverse children in danger and caused indescribable harm to their mothers.
The doctrines of Christianity were central to the curriculum of the schools, guiding not only what
was taught, but also the manner in which it was taught. Like the first early attempts of colonial
religious conversion, Christian dogma reinforced a patriarchal system that envisioned God as
male and women as a secondary creation meant to keep the company of men. The education of
girls was focused mostly on domestic duties: cleaning, sewing, gardening, and cooking.97 While
boys might be encouraged to continue school until they were 16 or older, girls were often en-
couraged to leave school early to participate in domestic “apprenticeships.”98 Even after spend-
ing many years at residential schools, students would learn that they had obtained little more than
an elementary education.99 This result failed to equip all students for jobs beyond any kind of
low-level employment; for women, it ensured that their choices would be limited to working
within the home, or to few and low-paying opportunities in the outside world, after they were
released from the schools.
Female children are taught to

sew at residential school in
Resolution, Northwest Territories,
n.d. Source: Library and
Archives Canada/Department
of the Interior fonds/a043181.
Overwhelmingly, schools were separated by the sexes – boys and girls had different dormitories,
entrances, classes, chores, recesses, and playgrounds. This separation had many effects. Families
were separated – brothers, sisters, and male and female cousins were forbidden from interacting
with each other. Not only were children taken from their parents, extended families, and commu-
nities to attend school, but they were then forbidden from finding comfort with their relatives
of other genders while they were there. This practice was completely foreign to Indigenous
children’s experiences at home, and it undermined the development of basic skills for maintaining
healthy multigendered relationships.
263
In addition, residential schools also entrenched the Christian and Western gender binary for
gender-diverse students. There is little documentation about the experience of queer or Two-
Spirit people in residential schools, but homosexuality was considered a sin by the churches and
would have been punished. In particular, the concepts of “sin” and “Hell” were used to shame
and coerce all students, but had particularly poignant effects on Two-Spirit students.
As Expert Witness Albert McLeod explained in his testimony:
The inherited homophobia and transphobia in these churches has resulted in the
continuing silencing, shaming and alienation of Two-Spirit people. The fact that some of
this church staff were secretly sexually abusing the children created another level of
silencing and shame that has lasted for generations.… [In] the last 150 years generally in
Canadian society, the existence of queer settler people [and] queer Indigenous people has
ultimately been erased within this construction of Christianity and how government saw
itself as patriarchal.100
Children were also denied the spiritual and cultural teachings that would have traditionally
accompanied their coming of age and would have emphasized the importance of respectful rela-
tionships and encounters. By denying children these essential community encounters, residential
school robbed them of their right to find a meaningful place in their communities and in the
world. For example, instead of being taught by loving mothers, aunties, and grandmothers about
the power of women’s bodies, girls at school became scared and ashamed when they experienced
their first menstruation: “I told one of the older girls, ‘Sister is gonna really spank me now.’ I
said, ‘I don’t know, I must have cut myself down there because I’m bleeding now. My pyjamas
is full of blood, and my sheets, and I was so scared. I thought this time they’re gonna kill me.”101
In this example, the importance of what some First Nations know as “moon time” – a time of
purification, of great power, connectivity, and strength – was reduced to something dirty and
shameful.
The natural sexual curiosity that accompanies puberty was also shunned by Christian dogma,
and the staff at schools accused and punished female students for being “boy crazy”102 if they
were caught talking to boys. Former students spoke about not having a basic understanding of
their own bodies and not knowing “the facts of life.”103
Despite the intentional repression of students’ sexuality, an astounding hypocrisy and tragic real-
ity of residential schools was the rampant sexual abuse that took place. Students were victimized
not only by staff and clergy, but also by other students. The abuse of girls by women and of boys
by men contributed to a sentiment of homophobia and to the association of same-sex relationships
with pedophilia and abuse. A culture of silence and helplessness further entrenched widespread
self-hatred and shame. Many of the families and survivors we heard from pointed to these early
264
inculcations of shame and worthlessness as something that normalized violence for the rest of
their lives. Some of them directly connected the abuse they experienced in these schools to the
sexual violence they experienced later in life. As Elaine D. remembered:
The priest in the school was making us, my sister and I, go into this canteen and touch
his penis for candy. So when I didn’t want to because I didn’t want it to smell, then my
sister would take over. It was like – it was like they set pace for myself to know what to
do when I was ten years old and on the highway hitchhiking that when the men would
pick me up, Caucasian men, and want to have sex with me, well, eventually I learned to
ask for money or food or lodging or something because this is what the priest had taught
us in this little store at the residential school. “You do this to me, I’ll give you that.” So it
set the pace for our life.104
There is another devastating effect of residential school connected to missing and murdered
women. After Indigenous women went missing or were murdered, their children were much
more likely to be sent to residential or foster care than the children of non-Indigenous women,
creating even more trauma and abuse as a result. As Shaun L., whose mother was murdered,
explains:
In 1970 my mom, Jane [D.], was violently taken from her five children and the outcomes
were devastating for us. We were 2, 4, 6, 8, and 10 years old. My grandparents were
forced, under threat of jail, to send my three oldest siblings to residential school at
Lower Post. My brother Terry and I were in foster care.
The theory behind interfering with our family was it was for the best interests of the
child. Was it best for my siblings and I to endure years of separation and isolation?
Collectively we have experienced the following: mental health issues, alcoholism, drug
addiction, homelessness, limited education, family violence, fetal alcohol spectrum
children, children in care, a sense of dislocation, criminal activity, shortened lifespan,
suicidal ideations and attempts, jail and prison time, chronic illness, limited social
connections, limited employment opportunities, sexual abuse, physical abuse, mental
abuse, emotional abuse, loss of traditional knowledge, loss of language, loss of culture,
loss of history.
How is having five people endure that list in the best interests of them?105
Many survivors kept their experiences of abuse a secret from their friends and families. Not only
were children expected to cope with the violent removal from their homes and the breakdown of
familial relationships when they were forcefully sent away, but they later emerged from residen-
tial schools further alienated from their communities because of the pain and stigma of abuse.
For many, the opportunity and capacity to rebuild those relationships were placed in jeopardy.
265
As Rande C., raised by grandparents and an aunt after the murder of his mother, said:
My grandpa did [drink], he drank a lot. And it was to the point where I was actually the
one who would go get him beer. And I liked doing it because I got to sit with him.… And
it would get into the evening at times where he would start talking about residential
school and the abuse that he suffered and went through.… And I never seen my grandpa
cry until one time that he said, you know, he would wake up in the morning and they
were forced to eat their porridge with maggots. And they were forced. And they were hit
and they were whipped every day.
And he could hear his friends getting dragged out in the hallways at night and raped
throughout the evenings. And he said, you know, it was hard seeing his friends in the
morning all bruised and sitting there trembling, crying.106
The difficulty in forging connections within a space of trauma, as well as shame, is an experience
documented by many of the witnesses who appeared before the National Inquiry.
Forced Sterilization
In the eyes of the colonizer, the long-standing, misguided, and racist view of First Nations and
Métis women as promiscuous, un-Christian, and uncivilized justified the policy of eugenics.
Indeed, sterilization was viewed as a way to eventually eliminate the Indigenous population
entirely. Emily Murphy, a settler suffragette who became the first female magistrate court judge
in Canada, wrote about the intended effects of sterilization.
One hardly knows whether to take the Indian as a problem, a nuisance, or a
possibility.… Regarding his future we may give ourselves little uneasiness. This
question is solving itself. A few years hence there will be no Indians. They will exist
for posterity only in waxwork figures and in a few scant pages of history.107
In addition to trying to assimilate First Nations through residential schools, governments also
took other active measures to eliminate them physically, in accordance with self-serving pseudo-
scientific principles of the time. The word “eugenics” was coined in the late 19th century to
describe a philosophy that believed in selective breeding in order to rid the human population
of “undesirable qualities” that were passed on from one generation to the next.108
Policies of sterilization came to exist in Canada under the banner of public health in the 1920s.
Alberta’s 1928 Sexual Sterilization Act created a Eugenics Board empowered to recommend
sterilization as a condition for release from a mental health institution, targeted at those
considered “mentally defective.” An amendment in 1937 permitted the sterilization of “mental
defectives” without their consent.
266
As sociology professor Dr. Dominique Clément explains, “Between 1928 and 1972, the Alberta
Eugenics Board approved 99 percent of its 4,785 cases. Over time, increasing numbers of its
decisions involved people who did not give their consent.”109 The Act was clearly biased, says
Clément, against young adults, women, and First Nations and Métis.110 The people targeted for
sterilization were labelled “feeble-minded”or “mentally defective.”111 Although, on its face, the
Act and its amendment applied to both the male and female sexes and did not explicitly target
“Indians,” their effects were disproportionately visited on women and Indigenous Peoples. For
example, in Alberta, First Nations women were the most likely to be sterilized, in relation to their
per capita population in the province.112
Although only Alberta and British Columbia passed formal legislation regarding sterilization,
it was practised across the country. Both official provincial sterilization acts were repealed in
1972 (Alberta) and 1973 (British Columbia). However, Indigenous women across the country
tell stories of “coerced sterilization” that continues even today.113 For example, although
Saskatchewan never officially legislated sterilization, the province is nevertheless facing a class
action lawsuit on behalf of Indigenous women who have provided evidence that they were
sterilized without consent.114
The forced sterilization of women represents directed state violence against Indigenous women,
and contributes to the dehumanization and objectification of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
267
Indian Hospitals and Social
Dislocation
During the 20th century, Canada also developed a segregated system of health care in the form of Indian
hospitals for many First Nations women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as well as Inuit, many of whom were
removed from their communities in the name of public health. While there is no single experience of Indian
hospitals in Canada, the common features of some experiences, including fear, boredom, and physical and
psychological harm, are linked to the crisis of missing and murdered women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. In
our testimonies, many witnesses spoke about the challenges of medical relocation and about the questions left
unanswered when mothers, aunties, sisters, or children were removed, and never returned.
The system of Indian hospitals arose from missionary communities. Dr. David Stewart, superintendent of the
efforts to provide at least a basic level of hospital care Ninette sanitorium in Manitoba, asserted that reserves
on some reserves in the late 1800s and early 1900s. were not “disease-tight compartments” and that
These hospitals were part of the assimilation project tuberculosis spread in non-Indigenous communities
and part of missionary efforts to stamp out Indigenous through Indigenous trade goods. Further, he
ways of healing, especially when those healers were characterized First Nations as careless and ignorant, and
women. as “soaked with tuberculosis.” I As a result of Dr. Stewart’s
and others’ anxieties, including those from communities
Indian hospitals focused on biomedicine – that is, on near First Nations reserves, these hospitals and facilities
non-Indigenous medicine. By the 1930s, though, the were intended to address the threat to public health
need for more concentrated care arose because of and to provide “limited care to a ‘dying race’.” II
fears about tuberculosis spreading to non-Indigenous
Dr. Peter Bryce was Chief Medical Officer for the federal government
starting in 1904. In 1907, he raised a number of issues related to the deadly
conditions of residential schools and, in 1922, after leaving the public
service, published The Story of a National Crime: An Appeal for Justice
to the Indians of Canada, documenting the government’s role in the crisis
and its refusal to act on his previous reports. Source: Library and Archives
Canada/National Film Board of Canada fonds/e002265633.
268
Canada had 22 Indian hospitals by 1960, operated by
the Indian Health Service. Most were not in ideal
condition, having been erected in borrowed
facilities and abandoned military installations, like in
North Battleford in Saskatchewan, Miller Bay near
Prince Rupert in British Columbia, and Nanaimo on
Vancouver Island, also in British Columbia. They
operated at approximately half the cost of care as non-
Indian hospitals.
Hospital staff saw themselves largely as agents of

progress. As Brooke Claxton, minister of National
Health and Welfare, put it in 1946:
Neither law nor treaty impose an obligation on

the Dominion government to establish a health
service for the Indians and Eskimos … however,
for humanitarian reasons and as very necessary
protection to the rest of the population of Canada,
it is essential to do everything possible to stamp
out disease at its source, wherever it may be
within the confines of the country.III
A child undergoes physiotherapy at Charles
Camsell Hospital in Edmonton Alberta, 1958.
The idea that Indian hospitals, administered by the
Indian Health Service within the new department of
Film Board of Canada fonds/a111429.
National Health and Welfare and not by Indian
Affairs, were agents of humanity and progress was, for
many First Nations, simply an articulation of a Treaty
promise made decades prior. But for non-Indigenous of comfort to patients by acting as interpreters and
communities, the hospitals served as reassurance that speaking the patient’s language.VI The hospital built
their own access to modern medical care need not be by the Siksika in the 1920s became a target for
shared with Indigenous patients.IV government takeover in the 1940s and 1950s,
partially due to its policies, which included generous
Some communities wanted the facilities. The Siksika, visiting hours and the ability of Elders or children to
for instance, established the Blackfoot Hospital on its accompany ill parents to the hospital and stay with
reserve with funds from the sale of some reserve lands them.VII
to provide in-community care, on the condition that
Indigenous healers and midwives be allowed to attend For many First Nations who were transferred between
patients, alongside other forms of care offered there. residential schools and Indian hospitals – and there
Historian Maureen Lux points out, “Many communities were many, due to the poor conditions in many
saw nothing necessarily incompatible in incorporating residential schools that fed disease – Indian hospitals
Western biomedicine into their indigenous healing felt a lot like residential school, in both impact and
practices. Indeed, medical plurality is the norm in structure. For instance, Minnie Freeman, a former
much of the world.” V In many of these places, First patient and later, employee, notes the experience of a
Nations workers – though underpaid and often poorly child patient at the St. Boniface Hospital in 1957 who
treated by non-Indigenous staff – provided some level had completely forgotten his language and would be
269
unable to communicate with his own family upon
returning home.VIII The National Inquiry also heard
similar stories, including this one from Lina G.:
I was put in the hospital. And my leg was swollen

right up, and I was hospitalized because – I think
they had to operate on my leg, but I don't even
know if I have – if I have my two kidneys. I think I
just have only one, because I got to go [to the]
washroom, and I was put in Shaw Council Hospital
for operation when I was young. In five years of
being in Fort Smith school, I come back here in
1970s not knowing any Dogrib language. I lost it
in the hospital, being put in the hospital in Fort
Smith and lost my language, but I fought to get
it back.IX
Others noted systems for keeping patients “in line,”

including special privileges that could be withdrawn
in cases of non-cooperation, or, as a former nurse who Girls gather in their dormitory at Shingwauk
worked at Camsell Indian Hospital in the 1950s Residential School, n.d. © Government of
described it, “despairing resignation” not unlike the Canada. Reproduced with the permission of
residential school experience.X Library and Archives Canada (2019).
Extended absences from home, especially at any Canada/Department of Indian Affairs and
distance from their community, also left many patients Northern Development fonds/a185528.
to worry about the impact on loved ones. These fears
were compounded by fears of arrest, if treatment was
refused or abandoned: in 1951, the Indian Act’s section of support, but, as Lux reports, only after his two
72(1) was amended to allow for warrants to be issued children had died did the Department of Indian Affairs
for “compulsory treatment of venereal disease and arrange for a monthly ration and wood supply to
tuberculosis, including detention in a sanatorium, and ensure the rest of the family wouldn’t perish while
the compulsory return of patients who left against “Hamilton” was in treatment.XIII This particular situation
medical advice.”XI Further regulations in 1953 also was not the same for everyone, but RCMP records
provided for this measure if a province was deemed demonstrate that the enforcement provision for
unable or unwilling to take appropriate action.XII compulsory medical care was one they attended to,
That it was the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) especially in Manitoba, for sentences generally of
who served the warrants further contributed to one year.XIV
the relationship of distrust and animosity that
already existed due to their other involvement in In 1952, for example, two Inuuk women walked out
communities, particularly in the context of residential of the Parc Savard Hospital in Quebec City in
schools and of policing women. February, dressed only in their bathrobes and slippers.
Parc Savard was known by the Health Service as a
In 1946, a patient dubbed “George Hamilton” left the rat- and mouse-infested hospital with crumbling
Dynevor Indian Hospital in Manitoba to attend to infrastructure and limited medical care. The women
family matters. When he didn’t return, a warrant was were quickly returned to the hospital, but, as Maureen
issued and local RCMP arrested him to bring him back. Lux points out, for the women, who had been at Parc
The family he had gone to tend to had no other source Savard for four years without interpretation services,
270
“it is not clear where [they] hoped to go … but they all these Inuit. Some had children in the North from
could be forgiven for thinking they would be better whom they had not heard since they arrived. So many
off elsewhere.” XV worries….” XVII In addition, the lack of interpretation or
cultural understanding on behalf of southern medical
Among Inuit, the annual patrol ship known as staff was often used against Inuit patients. Minnie said
“Matavik,” or “where you strip,” also inspired fear and that, as she waited for weeks for treatment, “my culture
uncertainty. Inuit were treated like cattle as they told me not to ask, that in this situation I might cause
moved through the various stages of examination, the people who were taking care of me to alter their
only to be marked with a serial number on their hand behavior completely, that I should accept what was
that indicated which tests they had undergone. happening and not force the hands that held my
Without proper interpretation, those marked with destiny. I figured they would tell me when they were
“TB” on their hand often had no idea why they were ready.” XVIII This type of reaction was used by medical
being evacuated to the South, with no chance to say staff as representing consent, and led to many
goodbye.XVI instances where patients were treated without
understanding why, or where procedures were
At the hospital, as former patient and interpreter performed to which they would not necessarily have
Minnie Aodla Freeman recounts, “it was very sad to see agreed.XIX
I As chronicled in Lux, Separate Beds, 9.

II Ibid., 18.
III Ibid., 47.
IV Ibid., 4.
V Ibid., 5.
VI Ibid., 4.
VII Ibid., 139.
VIII Ibid., 119.
IX Lina G. (Dene Nation, Fort Rae Behchokǫ̀), Part 1, Statement Volume 197, Yellowknife, NWT, pp. 2-3.
X Lux, Separate Beds, 109.
XI Cited in ibid., 45.
XII Ibid., 116.
XIII Ibid., 114.
XIV Ibid.
XV Ibid., 115-16.
XVI Ibid., 99-100.
XVII Cited in ibid., 72.
XVIII Ibid., 111.
XIX Ibid., 111.
271
• United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA)
• United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF)
• United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women
(UN-Women)
• United Nations Development Programme (UNDP)
• Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO)
• United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-HABITAT)
• United Nations Mine Action Service (UNMAS)
International Covenants
Canada has ratified seven core international human rights instruments that are considered to be
enforceable as covenants or conventions. These are relevant to the crisis of missing and mur-
dered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Each instrument has established a
committee of experts to monitor implementation of its provisions by its States Parties, and
Canada and other signatory states are required to report periodically on the fulfillment of their
obligations under each.
(ICERD) of 1966 was one of the first human rights treaties to be adopted by the United Nations.
It formally took effect in 1969. Under the ICERD, racial discrimination is where a person or a
group is treated differently from other people or groups because of their race, colour, descent, na-
tional origin, or ethnic origin, and this treatment impairs, or is intended to impair, their human
rights and fundamental freedoms. For example, an act is racially discriminatory if a person is de-
nied a service or employment because of their race or ethnicity, or when a law or policy impacts
unfairly on a particular racial or ethnic group. The convention permits distinctions between citi-
zens and non-citizens, but not between different groups of non-citizens. It asserts that all human
rights in political, economic, social, cultural, and other fields of public life are to be ensured to
everyone without racial discrimination.
The convention indicates that there is one type of act, called a “special measure,” that is not con-
sidered to be discriminatory even though it involves treating specific racial, ethnic, or national
peoples or individuals differently. Special measures are programs that aim to ensure the adequate
advancement of certain racial groups who require support to be able to enjoy their human rights
and fundamental freedoms in full equality. Special measures aren’t only allowed by the conven-
tion; they’re required when needed for all groups to be able to enjoy their rights.
186
Proportion of Aboriginal Population Residing in Urban Areas, 1961-2006 (excluding 1986 and 1991)
80%
70%
Proportion Living in Urban Areas
60%
50%
40%
30%
20%
10%
0%
1961 1971 1981 1996 2001 2006
Métis First Nation Inuit
This is not to suggest, however, that the identity and connection of these relocatees were any
less “authentic,” as scholars Evelyn Peters and Chris Andersen point out. Rather, as Peters and
Andersen argue:
A focus on (non-urban) tribal homelands as the source of urban Indigenous identities
also ignores the ways many urban Indigenous people have created organizations
and communities across cultural and tribal groupings…. Viewing non-urban tribal
communities as the primary influence on Indigenous peoples’ lives in cities misses the
complex ways in and through which Indigenous peoples selectively interact with urban
societies to create meaningful lives in cities.119
Regardless of the source of increase, and as family members' and survivors' testimonies
demonstrated, the breakdown of familial relationships caused by residential schools and
enfranchisement policies meant that Indigenous women could find themselves alienated from
their home communities, sometimes as single parents and sole providers for their children. In
some of these cases, cities provided economic opportunities that were not available on reserves.
Indigenous women did create new lives in cities – but were not always faced with the oppor-
tunities they may have been promised.
As First Nations women began seeking employment in Canadian cities, they were met with
many challenges. They were often hundreds of kilometres from their homes and social support
systems, navigating racist barriers deeply embedded in urban services and experiences. While it
273
is true that these factors affected both Indigenous men and women who moved to urban centres,
sexism in the mid-20th century played a particular role in women’s experiences. As historian
Mary Jane McCallum states:
Native women workers, like all women workers, were subject to common understandings
about space which determined that the city – and thus also working in cities – was “bad”
for women. Also, Native women worked in occupational fields such as domestic service
that were racialized and gendered in a variety of ways. However, labour was also part of
a colonial apparatus meant to, among other things, extinguish Aboriginal title and status.
In regards to Aboriginal women, employment has been popularly paired with notions of
cultural decline and integration.120
It was common practice that Indigenous women were paid less for their labour than their non-
Indigenous counterparts, and their living conditions directly contributed to placing them in
harm’s way.
In the Home Economics class

at the Central School on the
St. Regis Reserve, Lucy Benedict
(left) and Dorothy Bush learn
how to knit. © Government of
Canada. Reproduced with the
permission of Library and
Archives Canada (2019).
Canada/Department of Indian
Development fonds/e010788128.
As historians Heidi Bohaker and Franca Iacovetta explore, Canada created specific programs to
encourage the relocation of Indigenous people to cities in an effort to assimilate and integrate
Indigenous people into Canadian society, which varied in success in enticing people to re-
locate.121 Specifically, these programs included vocational training for adults and education for
children. The Indian Placement and Relocation Program, for instance, was run by the Depart-
ment of Indian Affairs beginning in 1957, and built on the goals of the state for full integration.
The program was extended to men as well, but in different fields. In general, it promoted “social”
and “vocational” adjustment in professions like hairdressing, for instance, or clerical support.122
Regardless of the programs’ actual rates of success, “success stories” were often features in the
branch’s periodical, the Indian News, where stories like “Miss Hoff Proves Valuable Clerk” or
“Domestic Services Proves Useful Step” celebrated those who had relocated.123 These stories
were celebrations of a perceived anomaly between where Indigenous women “should” be, and
274
Canada has also ratified the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of
Genocide (PPCG), which was adopted by the United Nations General Assembly on December 9,
1948. The implications of the PPCG are explored more fully throughout Section 2, and in relation
to the four key rights areas that family members and survivors discussed. Ultimately, all of the
rights violations that the National Inquiry heard about were also related to what those who shared
their stories perceived as a targeted war of genocide perpetuated against Indigenous Peoples.
In the words of Dalee Sambo Dorough, the sum of all conventions and declarations, and their
status within customary international law as well as in concrete domestic legislation, means
that these tools can do a great deal to increase the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. As she explains:
All of the human rights standards affirmed in the UN Declaration [on the Rights of
Indigenous Peoples], and how they intersect with other international human rights
treaties, actually does create a pathway towards justice for Indigenous Peoples, that this
is one way to guarantee our access to justice in every possible context, whether it’s land
rights, self-government and self-determination, the right to health, the right to education,
gender equality, non-discrimination – you name it.
International Declarations and Customary Law

Many human rights declarations adopted by the UN have relevance to the rights of Indigenous
women and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Canada. Canada has agreed to support the declarations
described below, even though the declarations themselves don’t have specific binding powers
forcing Canada to comply with the principles within them.
However, as some of our witnesses pointed out, even declarations otherwise considered to be
“soft law” can, over time, obtain the status of customary international law. Customary interna-
tional law applies directly to Canada as law, unless there is a specific piece of legislation that
says that it won’t, in certain areas, and declarations are directly enforceable. But, as Brenda
Gunn pointed out, “What we do see the Supreme Court of Canada doing in multiple cases and
in different ways is always striving to interpret Canadian law along and in line with Canada’s
international human rights obligations.”21
The technical rule is that for international human rights treaties, including covenants, to apply in
Canada, the treaty must be transformed into an instrument of domestic law (a law of Canada).
However, that is not always how they have been interpreted in the courts, including the Supreme
Court. Brenda Gunn explained:
While we have these two categories, it’s particularly important, I think, to note that when
we’re referring to human rights, particularly in the application in Canada, there’s been a
decreased emphasis on the type of instrument – is it hard law or soft law? But we see
particularly Canadian courts far more concerned about the normative value of the
various instruments.22
191
Indigenous women graduate from the
practical nursing program at the
Vancouver Vocational Institute.
Here, they are pictured with Mr. Ratcliffe,
an Indian Affairs Branch employee.
© Government of Canada. Reproduced
with the permission of Library and
Archives Canada (2019). Source: Library
and Archives Canada/Department of
Indian Affairs and Northern Development
fonds/e007140515.
The naturalization of some spaces as violent contributed to the devaluation of the lives of the
people who inhabited those spaces.129 That is, there was (and still is) a presumption that people
who live in these spaces should not be surprised when violence occurs in their neighbourhood or
when they are victims of violence. This kind of victim blaming ignores the complicated history
of colonization that has consistently relegated Indigenous people to the margins of society. How-
ever, this logic is often used to justify the overrepresentation of Indigenous people in the justice
system. It is also used to minimize the impact of crimes committed against Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, by reducing their identities to criminalized labels (for example,
“prostitute,” “runaway,” “addict”). These labels focus on individuals and the violence they face,
instead of focusing on the systems that perpetuate danger and represent larger violations of the
rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
“WHEN I THINK ABOUT EVERYTHING, I THINK ABOUT MISPLACEMENT. FOR US AS

ABORIGINAL PEOPLE, IT'S ABOUT MISPLACEMENT. WE WERE STRIPPED OF EVERYTHING
THAT WE KNOW. WE'VE BEEN MISPLACED THIS ENTIRE TIME. URBAN SETTINGS SUCH AS
THE EASTSIDE WHERE MY MOM ENDED UP, IT'S BECAUSE SHE WAS MISPLACED, IDENTITY
STRIPPED AWAY FROM HER, EVERYTHING, THE ESSENCE OF WHO WE ARE AS
ABORIGINAL PEOPLE TAKEN.”
Rande C.
Their movements to and from the city, on the one hand, mark their self-identification with their
birthplaces despite their settlement in urban areas, suggesting that the development in cities is
not altogether disconnected from communities in rural areas. On the other hand, high mobility
reflects a push-pull effect or “conflict with the city,” whereby movement is due in part to the
numerous challenges they face, such as securing their cultural identity, finding culturally appro-
priate services, facing discrimination and violence, and acquiring stable housing. These issues
lead to a constant daily restructuring of their lives that can lead others to target them for violence.
276
In 1982, UN Special Rapporteur of the Subcommission on the Prevention of Discrimination and
Protection of Minorities, José R. Martinez Cobo, released a study about the systemic discrimina-
tion faced by Indigenous Peoples worldwide. His findings were released as the “Study of the
Problem of Discrimination against Indigenous Populations.” The UN Economic and Social
Council created the Working Group on Indigenous Populations (WGIP), comprised of five
independent experts as well as Indigenous advisors, in order to focus exclusively on Indigenous
issues around the globe. It began to draft a declaration of Indigenous rights in 1985.
The draft declaration was subject to a series of reviews to assure UN member states that it
remained consistent with established human rights, and did not contradict or override them.
UNDRIP deals with many Indigenous rights, a consideration much debated during initial
discussions. Many UN member states worried that accepting UNDRIP as drafted would
undermine their own political autonomy. Of particular concern were the articles affirming
Indigenous Peoples’ right to self-determination and their right to give or withhold consent to
actions that may impact lands, territories, and natural resources. For countries with resource-rich
economies and running large-scale development projects, in particular, the extent of this right,
and of the protections for it, has generated concern.
However, many Indigenous representatives refused to change the draft, arguing that the docu-
ment simply extended to Indigenous Peoples the rights already guaranteed to colonialists.33 As
human rights lawyer James Sákéj Youngblood Henderson observes, “[Member states] worried
about the implications of Indigenous rights, refusing to acknowledge the privileges they had
appropriated for themselves.”34
The WGIP’s final draft represented a compromise between UN member states and Indigenous
representatives. In 2006, the draft was accepted by the UN Human Rights Council, and on
September 13, 2007, the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples was adopted by a
majority of 144 states in favour, four votes against (Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the
United States), and 11 abstentions.35 The four countries who voted against it share very similar
colonial histories and, as a result, shared common concerns. Each nation argued that the level of
autonomy recognized for Indigenous Peoples would undermine their own states, particularly in
the context of land disputes and natural resources. Some governments claimed that UNDRIP
might override existing human rights obligations, even though the document itself explicitly
gives precedence to international human rights.
“THE UN DECLARATION GROUNDS INDIGENOUS PEOPLES’ INHERENT HUMAN

RIGHTS IN INDIGENOUS PEOPLES’ OWN CUSTOMS, LAWS AND TRADITIONS. AND
SO THIS INSTRUMENT MAKES IT REALLY CLEAR THAT WHEN WE’RE TALKING
ABOUT INTERNATIONAL HUMAN RIGHTS AND THE RIGHTS OF INDIGENOUS
PEOPLES THAT WE NEED TO MAKE SPECIFIC REFERENCE TO INDIGENOUS
PEOPLES’ LAWS.”
Brenda Gunn
195
couldn’t: the community’s own history documents
that “Indian Agents would often destroy Native
homes once they had been relocated to Eskasoni.” X
Conditions at Eskasoni were dire. As Marie Battiste

describes, many families lived in overcrowded situa-
tions, including her. Her parents moved in with her
mother’s cousin, and the two families, combined, had
eight children. Two or three families living in one
house created issues because many of the homes
were built only as shells, without insulation or any
interiors.XI
The economies of scale envisioned at Eskasoni didn’t

materialize, and efforts to expand agriculture were
stymied by poor decisions on the part of officials,
who, for instance, replaced cows with goats that ate
A Mi’kmaw family is pictured in Elmsdale,
the fruit trees, and sprinkled the potatoes with
Nova Scotia, 1891. Source: Library and
kerosene to keep people from eating them.XII
Archives Canada/Natural Resources Canada
fonds/ a039851.
For women who had worked to manage their small-
scale but successful farms prior to relocation, or who
had participated in seasonal berry harvesting in along with her partner and three children. Though
Maine, the relocation also placed them in a vulner- the landlord explained that the eviction was linked
able position. Dependent on their partner’s wage to a noise complaint, Patles said she never got any
labour, or on government assistance, many women warning. In addition, Patles was not able to obtain
were forced into unsafe situations created by any official or written reason for the eviction. She
government intervention. explained how the eviction would have serious
impacts for both her and her children: “I’m an
Today, Eskasoni continues to face problems. In 2017, indigenous woman who is being ostracized from my
APTN National News ran a story featuring Kiara community because I have nowhere to go…. One of
Denny Julian, 18 at the time, who reported how a my kids is in the [Mi'kmaq] immersion program; a
passerby in a truck harassed and scared her on her program that is not offered anywhere else in the
way home from work. Fellow Eskasoni resident entire world.”XIV Ultimately, Patles had to leave her
Sasha Doucette explained that these incidents were oldest children with her siblings so that they
not uncommon, and hoped the Royal Canadian wouldn’t be ripped from a community they knew
Mounted Police would take them more seriously. She and loved so much.
said, “I just don’t know what is being done about
them. They are trying their best to pick up little girls Youth suicide has also been a problem at Eskasoni,
and lord knows what they want them for.” XIII A recent as in many communities. In 2010, the Cape
rise in drug and sex trafficking in the community was Breton Post reported that there had been four
cited as a possible reason for the harassment. confirmed suicides and another five drug- and
alcohol-related deaths from 2008 to early 2010,
Eskasoni also struggles with housing, which places based on the statistics available. But band
many women in precarious situations. In 2017, administrators added that the actual numbers
Suzanne Patles, a Mi’kmaw anti-fracking activist and might be much higher, based on the number of
member of Eskasoni First Nation, was evicted from deaths ruled accidental. Maxine Stevens, then the
the apartment she had lived in for over 11 years, communications officer for Eskasoni, explained:
278
“When something like this happens in the children in Eskasoni was as high as 75.6%.XVIII As
community, it doesn't only affect a family, it affects Eskasoni resident Elizabeth Marshall explained, “I'm not
everybody around that family as well because it's shocked. I see the unemployment here, I see the
such a close-knit community. Everybody knows poverty, I see the people coming to ask for help. I don't
everyone.”XV The deaths were prevalent mostly like to talk about these things because it's painful to
among young people in their late teenage years until see people suffering.” She added that many people
their early 30s, with a reported average age at in Eskasoni, including herself, were surviving on
Eskasoni of 21. Jaime Battiste commented, “I'd say it's welfare – a reflection of the poor planning behind
more frequent than car accidents. It's either overdose centralization that took people from more secure
or suicide. That's the norm in the community, circumstances, in many cases. As Marshall noted, “You
unfortunately.”XVI see the malnutrition. You see children in poor health.
For my culture, where we always had an overabun-
At the time, the unemployment rate in Eskasoni was dance of food and where we share an abundance of
25%, and no crisis shelter existed. The community food, it's very strange that we have to be so poor.”XIX
received capital funds to build the facility, but it did
not receive any operational funds – meaning that As this case study has shown, many of the challenges
while the community might be able to build the engendered by centralization continue to haunt
shelter, it could not pay anyone to work there or to communities like Eskasoni today, and directly
operate it. In 2018, the Chronicle Herald reported two contribute to placing Indigenous women, girls, and
suicides in two weeks at Eskasoni. 2SLGBTQQIA people in danger in these communities.
But the issues go beyond interpersonal violence to
The income levels for residents remain among the engage colonization, institutional inaction, and
lowest average in the province.XVII In addition, the ongoing social, economic, and political marginalization
2016 “Report Card on Child and Family Poverty in that reinforces, rather than addresses, these barriers to
Nova Scotia” reported that the poverty rate for basic human rights.
I RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 397–98.

II Ibid., 400.
III Ibid., 401.
IV Eskasoni Mi’kmaw Nation, “History.”
V RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 401.
VI Ibid.
VII Ibid., 402.
VIII Eskasoni Mi’kmaw Nation, “History.”
IX RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 402.
X Eskasoni Mi’kmaw Nation, “History.”
XI Marie Battiste, quoted in Richardson, People of Terra Nullius, 67-68. Also cited in RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 403.
XII RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 403.
XIII Moore, “Precious ones.”
XIV Roach, “Prominent Mi’kmaq warrior evicted.”
XV Pottie, “Eskasoni struggling.”
XVI Ibid.
XVII Census Profile, 2016 Census, Eskasoni 3, Indian Reserve (Census subdivision), Nova Scotia.
XVIII Frank, “2016 Report Card,”12-13.
XIX Palmeter and Tattrie, “Child poverty numbers.”
279
social and cultural development.”40 Article 4 affirms Indigenous Peoples’ right “to autonomy or
self-government in matters relating to their internal and local affairs,” and Article 5 protects their
right “to maintain and strengthen their distinct political, legal, economic, social and cultural
institutions.”41 Article 26 states that “Indigenous Peoples have the right to the lands, territories
and resources which they have traditionally owned, occupied or otherwise used or acquired,”42
and it directs states to give legal recognition to these territories.
The declaration also guarantees the rights of Indigenous Peoples to enjoy and practise their
cultures and customs, their religions, and their languages, and to develop and strengthen their
economies and their social and political institutions. It states that Indigenous Peoples have the
right to be free from discrimination, and the right to a nationality.
As it relates to the difficult conditions of economic and social marginalization that many of
our witnesses cited, Article 21 posits that special measures should be taken to improve social
and economic conditions, and that extra attention should be paid to the rights and means of
Indigenous women and youth. Article 22 stresses that measures should be taken to guarantee the
protection of Indigenous women and children against all forms of violence and discrimination.
The declaration does not override the rights of Indigenous Peoples contained in their Treaties and
agreements with individual states, and it commands these states to observe and enforce the
agreements.
Women are referenced specifically in UNDRIP, but in only one clause. However, Brenda Gunn
explains: “I think it’s important to highlight that even though the gender lens isn’t explicitly
included throughout all of the articles, it is one of the interpretive approaches or the framework
that we need to be using when looking at it.”44
Dalee Sambo Dorough adds, regarding the declaration’s inclusion of individual and collective
rights:
That was the most compelling argument, that the UN Declaration on the Rights of
Indigenous Peoples has to create a balance between individual rights of women,
Indigenous women, and the collective rights of Indigenous Peoples. And, at the end of
the day, that’s the argument that won, and I think that it’s important – it’s an important
moment in history that Indigenous women, based upon all of the experiences that
they’ve had until that moment, compelled them to raise their voices against a pretty
overwhelming and strong argument that we need our collective rights protected.45
Despite its important tenets, UNDRIP remains a declaration with no explicit enforcement
mechanisms, other than those working groups and Rapporteurs devoted, thematically, to the
monitoring of Indigenous rights. For this reason, there have been many critiques of UNDRIP as
a document without any “teeth,” especially when it comes to the estimated 5,000 distinct Indige-
nous communities worldwide and the estimated 375 million people who live in them, each with
their own cultural or religious institutions and forms of self-government, within diverse national
contexts.
197
An unidentified Indigenous woman is
pictured in her home with her child in
Fort Smith, Northwest Territories, 1947.
Canada/Department of Indian Affairs
and Northern Development
fonds/e010750216.
The Sixties Scoop, as it is known now, marks a period from the late 1950s until 1990 during
which, it is estimated, more than 20,000 Indigenous children were taken from their mothers,
families, and communities.131 During this time, children were apprehended by the thousands,
swiftly, and with little to no regard for culture (both in assessing children’s situations and in their
placement with non-Indigenous families) and no regard for the children’s well-being, or the well-
being of their families and communities. The process of apprehending children varied across
jurisdictions. Some mothers were told their baby was stillborn;132 some were coerced into signing
adoption papers while medicated.133 As we heard in many testimonies, Indigenous mothers were
convinced or tricked into believing that the welfare of their newborn babies was better managed
by the Canadian state.
In Saskatchewan, the process was formalized into programs such as the Adopt Indian Métis pro-
gram, from 1967 to 1969, as a targeted program to increase adoptions of First Nations and Métis
children already overrepresented in the child welfare system. Initially funded by the Government
of Canada’s Department of Health and Welfare – which had, in the 1940s, expressed strong
opinions regarding the need for Indigenous Peoples to assimilate – it included advertisements
of First Nations and Métis children “on television, radio and newspapers across southeastern
Saskatchewan [that] would induce families to investigate transracial adoption.”134 The program
ignored underlying social and economic factors contributing to the inflated number of children
in care, and, instead, placed blame on Indigenous families as failing to provide loving homes.135
Many adoptees were told that their families no longer wanted them. Bonnie F. testified:
I recently received a file from child welfare, and I have been researching myself and
trying to make sense of the whole ordeal. I am still dealing with some of the issues I
endured during this time. I was saddened to read about my mother fighting for me in a
letter she wrote to get me back. On the other hand, I was so happy she did because the
281
letters proved her love for me after all these years I had been told that she hated me and
that she wanted me dead. I grew up fearing a monster and having my nightmares in my
younger years. My foster home completely brainwashed me that my mother was truly
evil and wanted to kill me, and I believed them.136
In this case, Bonnie also became subject to years of abuse within the foster home environment
that served to continued to impact her later in life.
In tandem with the residential school system, the child welfare system, therefore, became a site
of assimilation and colonization by forcibly removing children from their homes and placing
them with non-Indigenous families. Foster and adoptive families were consistently found out-
of-province, and often out-of-country. Out-of-province or out-of-country adoptions made it
extremely challenging for adoptees to be repatriated by their families and communities.
A nurse's aide feeds a baby at the Aklavik

Anglican Hospital in Aklavik, Northwest
Territories, n.d. © Library and Archives
Canada. Reproduced with the permission
of Library and Archives Canada.
Rosemary Gilliat Eatofonds/e010799871.
Many of our testimonies cite the direct connection between the Sixties Scoop and child apprehen-
sion and the violence they suffered as Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. As
Cynthia C. shared about herself and her siblings, “We were all part of the Sixties Scoop, so after
suffering abuse in foster homes, we all ran away and grew up on the streets, the same streets our
mother grew up on.”137 A form of violence in itself, as well as leading to more violence, these sys-
tems caused many of our witnesses to lose loved ones – both historically and today. As Shaun L.
explained:
The Sixties Scoop hurt my brother Terry and me. When it takes almost 50 years to heal
by someone else’s actions, that’s a steep price. To start living and enjoying life at 50
years of age, it’s a bit of a rip-off…. I don’t have any stories of my mom and me. I don't
have any sense of her in my life. There is a gap inside [me] that nothing will fill. I think
it is meant for her love.138
282
The events surrounding the Sixties Scoop and its effects are much less documented in Quebec
than in the rest of Canada because of Quebec’s different socio-political context. Indian residential
schools began to open in Quebec around the same time that the Sixties Scoop gained momentum
in the rest of Canada. Moreover, religious authorities still present in First Nations communities
held considerable power within the context of child welfare, and, until the early 1970s, several
hospitals were also administered by religious orders.139 In addition, the deployment of child
welfare and protection services came slightly later, with the Loi sur la protection de la jeunesse
coming into force in 1979.140
As a result of a combination of these factors, the Sixties Scoop was administered differently in
Quebec, and in much closer cooperation with representatives of the church, in communities and
in hospitals. Hospitals also denied parents the opportunity to see their children and to recover
their bodies if they were told they had passed away, and some families have never even received
a death certificate.141
As in the rest of Canada, the Sixties Scoop as manifested in Quebec has led to an overrepresenta-
tion of First Nations children in child welfare systems. Indeed, when the Loi sur la protection de
la jeunesse came into force in 1979, 6% of children in provincial care were First Nations while
they represented only 0.7% of children of Quebec.142 This overrepresentation has worsened over
time, and, as of 2016, stood at 17%, according to the 2016 census. While the rate is still lower
than in the rest of Canada, proportionally it is high, as it is all over the country.
Colonial Encounter: Distinctive Métis Experiences

Métis experiences in the context of colonization share much in common with those of First
Nations, with some notable exceptions. Linked through marriage to their First Nations parentage,
the Métis arose during the fur trade, when Métis women and girls suffered their own experiences
that were both similar, and distinctive, to those of their First Nations relatives. Primarily, the
distinctiveness of Métis experiences concerns the lack of services and supports offered to Métis
populations, as well as concerted efforts to separate them from First Nations relatives through the
apparatus of the state. In addition, the history of colonization has further generated a hierarchy of
identity, resulting in conflicts within the Métis community and drawing attention away from the
ongoing marginalization that Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people face.
Métis Women, the Fur Trade, and Early Settlement Life
Historians Sylvia Van Kirk and Jennifer Brown have explored how the process of becoming a
distinct Nation was, for Métis, structured around women's roles in the fur trade. Throughout the
17th and 18th centuries, as the fur trade expanded across central and western North America,
many unions were formed between European traders and Indigenous women. The children born
to these encounters were often raised with cultural knowledge of both their Indigenous and
283
As Dalee Sambo Dorough told the National Inquiry, the Special Rapporteur on Indigenous
Peoples for the United Nations has pointed out that even though the declaration itself is not
legally binding in the same way as a treaty might be, the declaration
reflects legal commitments that are related to the [UN] Charter, other treaty
commitments, and customary international law…. It builds upon the general human
rights obligations of states under the Charter and is grounded in fundamental human
rights principles such as non-discrimination, self-determination, and cultural integrity
that are incorporated into the widely ratified human rights treaties…. To that extent, the
declaration reflects customary international law.50
These obligations are normative, in the sense that they are built by norms generally accepted by
the international community. Normative obligations identified by witnesses for the National
Inquiry included the concepts of universality and inalienability. In other words, all people are
entitled to human rights, and those rights cannot be taken away. In addition, the understanding of
indivisibility, interdependence, and interrelatedness of human rights supports the principles that
human rights must be considered and deployed together to uphold the dignity of people. Of
significance to the issue of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people, this means that all rights are interrelated and cannot be considered in isolation. Brenda
Gunn pointed out:
We must look at the totality of human rights and human rights obligations so that we
can’t just look at civil and political rights, or look at economic, social, cultural rights, or
we can’t divorce the issues of the right to housing from the right to participate in public
life; that all of these actually work together.51
She added: “Very rarely is there a state action that violates merely one article of one convention.
The way in which human rights work together, they are so interconnected and to really under-
stand the breadth and the depth of the obligation, you really want to look at them together.”52
Viewing human rights as an indivisible whole also relates to two other important principles: non-
discrimination and substantive equality. Although all people have the same human rights, these
principles make the point that, as Brenda Gunn said, “this doesn’t mean that everyone is treated
the same.”53 International law, including UNDRIP, which Gunn cited in her testimony, makes it
clear that states may have to take special measures to ensure that these rights are realized for
every person, including Indigenous people. As Saskatchewan’s Advocate for Children and Youth
Corey O’Soup testified on the issue of health and educational supports, “We’ve been so far be-
hind for so long that we need special measures in order to bring us just to the level of non-In-
digenous kids in our provinces, in our country as well, you know.”54 International human rights
200
her, George Stewart and John Mackenzie. Frances, George Simpson’s new wife, was the
harbinger of things to come. After 1830, more European women started to arrive in the
Northwest, and the social status of Métis women as wives declined, leaving them vulnerable
to abandonment and poverty.145 However, European women remained a small minority in the
Northwest until the 1880s and were mostly concentrated at Red River.
As Métis communities such as those at Red River developed unique social and political cultures,
they faced constant pressure from European institutions, such as the HBC and Christian churches,
to conform to patriarchal land tenure and economic systems, as well as social relations. As the
power of the Canadian state formed and increased during the 19th century, friction arose between
this European paternalistic world view and the traditional practices of Métis rooted in their
maternal knowledge. The imposition of a Euro-Canadian system of race and gender happened in
different places at different times. People at Red River had a longer and more direct connection to
European institutions than those further west.
The first clergy arrived in 1818, and the HBC had established itself at Fort Garry in 1822. By
1820, Catholic and Protestant churches had been established at Red River. As Métis were in-
creasingly settled into agricultural communities, often centred on a Christian parish, the clergy
exerted more influence over their lives and restricted the influence of Métis women. Christian
doctrine was instrumental in forcing Métis women into roles defined by gendered European
expectations. Church fathers saw the husband as the head of the family and expected women to
adhere to masculine authority. Catholic priests, in particular, related women to biblical Eve and
constructed a view of them as naturally sinful.146
These gendered ideas would have a negative impact on the position of women in Métis society.147
In this world view, the position of women was domestic: they belonged in the home and in a
marriage. Priests often counselled women to remain subservient in a marriage, no matter the
conditions of the marriage, including abusive relationships.148 The emphasis on masculine au-
thority, as well as the racist attitudes associated with their First Nations or Métis mothers, led
many Métis families to assert the “male” heritage of their European ancestors and to hide the
origins of their Indigenous grandmothers.149
In part, colonial perspectives regarding the danger posed by Métis women were often wrapped
up in fears of miscegenation, or “race mixing,” overall, and were related to the idea of hiding
one’s heritage. Colonial authorities, particularly after 1840, used the fears surrounding misce-
genation and mixed marriages to promote a higher degree of segregation, or separation, between
First Nations and surrounding non-Indigenous communities, as well as between Métis settle-
ments and non-Indigenous communities.150
As Sarah Carter explains, miscegenation in this context, as well as in other colonial contexts, was
seen as an important source of degenerative behaviour and moral decay, and a threat to a model
Euro-normative way of life. Practically speaking, and in reference to the Métis, “Race-mixing also
potentially jeopardized Euro-Canadian efforts to acquire Indigenous land,” as seen in the Manitoba
Act of 1870 and in the scrip commissions’ works, examined in greater detail later in this chapter.151
For some people, it also contributed to generations of shame and guilt about their identity.
285
“WE MUST LOOK AT THE TOTALITY OF HUMAN RIGHTS AND HUMAN RIGHTS
OBLIGATIONS SO THAT WE CAN’T JUST LOOK AT CIVIL AND POLITICAL RIGHTS,
OR LOOK AT ECONOMIC, SOCIAL, CULTURAL RIGHTS, OR WE CAN’T DIVORCE THE
ISSUES OF THE RIGHT TO HOUSING FROM THE RIGHT TO PARTICIPATE IN PUBLIC
LIFE; THAT ALL OF THESE ACTUALLY WORK TOGETHER.”
Brenda Gunn
Domestic Rights Instruments in Canada

The Canadian Human Rights Act
One of the ways that Canada has moved to adopt these rights in Canada is through the Canadian
Human Rights Act. The Act is the product of translating some of these international instruments
into domestic law. After the Second World War, the importance of introducing explicit human
rights instruments, brought to light with the atrocities of the Holocaust, became evident. Follow-
ing the formation of the United Nations in 1945 and the creation of the Universal Declaration of
Human Rights in 1948, many countries started to look at what kind of legislation, at a domestic
level, could be put in place to uphold the principles of this declaration.
The federal government didn’t lead the way, at least in Canada. Ontario passed the first legisla-
tion dedicated to anti-discrimination in 1944, and Saskatchewan followed with its own bill on
civil rights in 1947. Notably, the Saskatchewan Bill of Rights Act protected civil liberties such as
free speech, freedom of assembly, freedom of religion, freedom of association, and due process,
while also prohibiting discrimination on the basis of race, religion, and national origin. Over a
decade later, federal legislators enacted the Canadian Bill of Rights in 1960, which applied to the
federal government and which protected freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and equality
rights, among others. This was a limited piece of legislation: it didn’t apply to private industry
or to provincial governments, and never became an important tool for the protection of human
rights in Canada.57
During the same period, provinces also worked on strengthening their own human rights instru-
ments. In 1962, Ontario passed the Human Rights Code as a consolidation of other laws, as well
as created the Ontario Human Rights Commission with the mandate to prevent human rights
abuses and to educate the public about human rights across the province. As the Canadian
Human Rights Commission explains:
“In the years that followed, other jurisdictions across the country introduced similar
pieces of legislation. This cross-Canada development coincided with the growing
prominence of social movements, which sought to advance issues such as racial
justice and women’s rights at home and abroad.”58
202
died from Canadian artillery fire had Riel not intervened.154 Others, including Marguerite Caron
and Josephte Tourond, actively participated in military planning and coordination of the resist-
ance.155 The violence perpetrated against the Métis both during the battle and in its aftermath
would stay with women such as Morrissette for their entire lives.156
For many Métis families, the violence of Canadian military intervention created a distrust of
Canadian institutions, and also increased prejudice against Métis.157 Defeat, and the subsequent
destitution, had the result of legitimizing sexist Canadian perceptions of Métis women and
dehumanizing them further.158 The memories of this violence and the perceptions within Canadian
society have led to intergenerational trauma that has negatively affected many Métis women and
their families.
A group of Métis
and First Nations
prisoners are photo-
graphed during the
North-West resistance,
and Archives
Canada/Gilbert
Bagnani
collection/a118760k.
The Gendered Dimensions of Métis Scrip

These violent dispersals would be codified into the process of scrip commissions, which had
implications for all Métis and for Métis women specifically. Métis scrip, which lasted from
1870 to 1924, was created by the federal government as a way to extinguish the Aboriginal title
of Métis communities throughout the Northwest.159 Scrip came in the form of a federally issued
document that entitled the recipient to either land or a cash payment, usually in the form of 80 to
240 acres, or $20 to $240.160 Scrip commissions were set up to treat only with the Métis of Mani-
toba. However, as Canada pushed further into the Prairies, it became apparent that it would have
to deal with Métis living throughout the region.
Even though women could apply for scrip, it was often issued in the name of their father or a
brother if they were not married. Those in marriages were not viewed by Canada as heads of
households and were thus dependent on their husbands in this patriarchal system. Scrip thus
became a means to corral Métis women into easily controlled bureaucratic categories, such as
wives without full property rights, that defined identity and gender expectations.161
287
Historians have shown how the process of assigning scrip was intentionally prolonged and un-
necessarily complex.162 The federal government also frequently and unilaterally changed the
rules of scrip regulations.163 Ultimately, these rule changes, as well as government delays in
implementing scrip proceedings, meant that most of the land promised to the Métis ended up in
the hands of speculators who then sold the land to new immigrants.164 Instead of providing a
solid economic foundation for the Métis, the scrip commissions further eroded Métis rights,
destabilized communities, and pushed Métis families further into poverty and marginalization.165
Despite these challenges, the life of Mary Norris provides an example of how Métis women
used scrip in times of constraint.166 A prominent fur-trade figure, Norris had married an important
European trader. However, as the fur trade diminished, she was cast out by her husband, leaving
her with few options. Scrip became a vehicle for Norris to survive (albeit meagerly) in difficult
circumstances.
Many Métis women also used the distinctions between the Indian Act and Métis scrip to survive
in a changing world, since they were able to use both identities. While Métis women found scrip
a useful category to navigate, the Canadian state became increasingly concerned with women
“taking advantage” of the system.167 Canada was especially concerned with those who, walking
the sometimes permeable line between Métis and First Nations, applied for scrip while in Treaty.
Many of those whom the government targeted for dispossession from scrip, labelling them as
frauds or as leechers, were women who had married non-Status (both Métis and white) men and
had lost their Status. One of the main goals of Canadian settler colonialism was to fully diverge
Métis and First Nations communities.168 Scholars have shown how groups such as the Edmonton
Stragglers – “women who received treaty annuity but left for scrip” – were predominantly tar-
geted by these administrative categorizations.169 This “stragglers’ list” specifically targeted
mixed-race women to police the boundaries of racial categories in Canada.170 Scrip thus became
a mechanism to enforce racial and gender boundaries on Métis women, while simultaneously
severing Métis families from their lands.
Métis Girls and Residential Schools
Like thousands of First Nations, many Métis also attended residential schools or day schools
designated for “Indians.” In some cases, the failure of their parents to pay property tax (as
so-called squatters, in Métis settlements adjacent or near to reserves) disqualified Métis children
from attending regular school. In other cases, the fact that Métis settlements had been created
near reserve communities meant that Métis students would also attend Indian residential schools.
As Métis historian Tricia Logan says, because schools were funded per student,
Métis children were used to manipulate this per capita system and secure more funding
for schools with low attendance. Métis children were the first to be removed or added to
attendance lists in order for churches to increase their schools’ attendance and therefore
access more funding from the federal government.171
288
Logan points out that school officials arguing to accept more Métis students reminded the federal
governments that “such schools were established not to meet treaty obligations towards Indians,
but as a means of preventing, in the public interest, a race of wild men growing up whose hands
would be against all men and all men’s hands against them.”172
In attempt to save money, the Department of Indian Affairs created a three-tiered social class
hierarchy of “half-breeds,” to determine which ones should be prioritized to attend residential
school. In general, the more “Indian” children looked visually, and the more closely their fami-
lies were “living an Indian mode of life,” the more likely it was that they would be accepted into
residential school.173
Residential school staff contributed to further divisions between Métis children and between
Métis and other First Nations children. Some nuns openly favoured the “better” Métis (from
families with money) over the “poor” Métis (who lived off the land). In another example,
Elaine D. shared how having European ancestry, along with Indigenous ancestry, made her a
target for the teachers at her residential school.
Because I was Métis, in their school, I should know a little more because I have white
blood in me. So when I got in trouble, they would use me as – as an example and I
would have to kneel in front of the classroom on my knees at age six, seven, and balance
books and they would put three books on my hands and the teacher would slam his – his
yardstick on the desk and I would shake and my ears would hurt and then I would cry
and I’d tell him I need to go pee and all he would do is put the yardstick under my hand
and tell me my hands are unbalanced. So I need to go pee and I need to go poo and he
wouldn’t let me, so I would just kneel in front of the class in my feces and in my urine
all day. All day I was an example.174
Métis children also suffered significant shame and abuse. Some Métis children were called
“le chien,” meaning “dog” or “mutt.” These students remember “being spoken to, fed, and
disciplined as dogs.”175 Elaine D. recalled:
First, we went to the [day] residential school and every day we were beaten. When
recess came, all of us four little Métis kids would run and hide in any crevice we could
find. I got caught – like, I don’t know about my sister, but when I got caught, the boys
would molest me. They’d pinch my nipples, knee me in the crotch, pull my pants down.
All I know is a lot of times I had wet panties and it wasn’t from peeing myself. So the
boys would do whatever they wanted.176
After the children left residential school, Indian agents were tasked with writing follow-up reports
on the former students. Logan writes, “Female students were reported as doing well if they were
married to a white man and doing poorly if they were married to a Métis man.”177 As many Métis
Elders and community members who survived residential school shared with Logan, Métis
students felt as though they were outsiders, and were taught to judge each other and internalize
their oppression.178
289
Métis Economic and Political Marginalization
Even before the financial crash known as the Great Depression, many Métis women and their
families were living in poverty on the margins of Canadian society. Despite all the issues with
scrip, it had served as a source of much-needed cash for Métis women and their families during
hard times.
After 1924, the federal government ended the work of scrip commissions, as it felt it had ade-
quately dealt with Métis Aboriginal title. Since Métis were not covered by the Indian Act, the
federal government believed it had no further obligations with respect to Métis rights. This belief
was further engrained as Canada began to transfer jurisdiction over lands and resources in the
three prairie provinces to their respective governments. The federal government thought that any
remaining responsibility to the Métis would pass to the provinces with rights to lands. However,
Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba refused to accept that they inherited any responsibility for
the Métis, especially if it entailed an additional financial burden.179
During the lean years of the Great Depression, both levels of government would take any
opportunity to reduce their budgets.180 In the political negotiations over what would become the
Natural Resources Act,181 which transferred responsibility to the provinces, the Métis became a
convenient group to ignore. It was at this time that the Métis became lost in the gap between
federal and provincial governments. Both levels of government were still aware of the plight of
Métis, but neither wanted to take responsibility for the financial obligations. This neglect struc-
tured the relationship Canadian governments had with Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. As Métis were further marginalized, their communities were increasingly targeted by
alcohol dealers who preyed on poverty and misery,182 conditions that exacerbated the abuse of
women and girls.183
“FIRST, WE WENT TO THE [DAY] RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL AND EVERY DAY WE WERE
BEATEN. WHEN RECESS CAME, ALL OF US FOUR LITTLE MÉTIS KIDS WOULD RUN AND
HIDE IN ANY CREVICE WE COULD FIND. I GOT CAUGHT – LIKE, I DON’T KNOW ABOUT
MY SISTER, BUT WHEN I GOT CAUGHT, THE BOYS WOULD MOLEST ME. THEY’D PINCH
MY NIPPLES, KNEE ME IN THE CROTCH, PULL MY PANTS DOWN. ALL I KNOW IS A LOT
OF TIMES I HAD WET PANTIES AND IT WASN’T FROM PEEING MYSELF. SO THE BOYS
WOULD DO WHATEVER THEY WANTED.”
Elaine D.
By the 1950s and 1960s, many Métis were living either on the urban fringes of cities in what
were condemned as shantytowns, such as Rooster Town in Winnipeg,184 or in rural communities
along government road allotments known as “road allowances.” Those living in the marginal
spaces at the edge of Canadian society became known as the “Road Allowance People.” Road
allowance communities were established by Métis in the aftermath of the failure of many families
to receive their lands guaranteed by the Manitoba Act, as well as within the context of the
290
Engaging the Canadian Human Rights Act to Defend Indigenous Rights
The Canadian Human Rights Act has been used successfully in many cases, including a recent
and significant case specific to First Nations communities known as the landmark First Nations
Child and Family Caring Society of Canada v. Canada decision, decided in 2016.
In this case, the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada successfully argued
that the Canadian government’s provision of child and family services to First Nations on-
reserve and in Yukon constituted discrimination by failing to provide the same level of
services that exist elsewhere in Canada. In short, under its constitutional obligations, the federal
government funds a number of services that are delivered by First Nations or, in some cases, by
the provinces or territories. In Yukon, this includes child and family services on-reserve delivered
by First Nations. The federal government’s rules require that First Nations child welfare agencies
use the provincial or territorial child welfare laws, and that is a primary condition of receiving
funding. The case demonstrated the comparatively low level of funding for First Nations child
welfare agencies: its own records show that provincial and territorial services are funded at an
amount between two to four times greater than First Nations services. This means that for every
child in care, First Nations have much less to work with – for every dollar spent on provincial or
territorial services, only a fraction is spent on First Nations.62
The case engaged the concept of Jordan’s Principle, named in memory of Jordan River Ander-
son, a Cree boy from Norway House Cree Nation who spent years of his short life in hospital
while the federal government and provinces argued over who would pay for his services. Born
with multiple disabilities, he was hospitalized from his birth, in 1999, and died in hospital in
2005. Jordan’s Principle “aims to ensure First Nations children can access ALL public services
normally available to other children on the same terms.”63 This can include cases where the
waiting list is too long for a given service, allowing children to access the service in the private
sector, instead. Jordan’s Principle is not limited to medical needs, but covers all First Nations
on- and off- reserve for all public services. In short, if a child has a need in areas such as health,
social services, and education, Jordan’s Principle works to cover the cost of the services required.
While the definition of Jordan’s Principle as passed in the Canadian Parliament only specifically
mentioned First Nations children, the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada
insists that the government should respect the Canadian Human Rights Act, which prevents
discrimination on the basis of race and ethnic or national origin, therefore making the principle
applicable to Inuit and Métis children, as well.
Despite this, the government’s narrow definition for the application of Jordan’s Principle had the
effect of disqualifying most children for services anyway, therefore limiting the federal govern-
ment’s obligation. In 2013, the Federal Court rejected the federal government’s approach, and, in
2016, the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal found it to be outright discrimination. It ordered the
federal government to stop its discrimination immediately, and to report on its progress in doing
so. The tribunal’s four-part decision also went further, pointing out that beyond ending the dis-
crimination immediately, the government should also engage in reform to address some of the
206
However, by the 1960s, the colony scheme had failed, partially because many Métis found them
to be “alienating and unworkable,” but also because many people within the government contin-
ued to blame the Métis for their own poverty. Despite the professed intentions of the CCF, many
officials continued to view the Métis within racial stereotypes that affected the expectations of
the project. These officials saw continued Métis failure to integrate into mainstream Canadian
society as due to an inherent flaw of the Métis character, and not due to the failures of govern-
ment social planning. The solutions that Tommy Douglas’s government attempted did not con-
sider a Métis perspective, and amounted to little more than a high-handed attempt to restructure
Métis life according to Canadian racial and gender expectations.185
The social, political, and economic marginalization of Métis women and girls created circum-
stances in which police mistrust and, in some cases, police abuse, took place. Maria Campbell’s
original version of Halfbreed included a description of a critical incident in Campbell’s life.
As she described it, at the age of 14, RCMP arrived at her home to question her family about
poaching. During this visit, Campbell was dragged by an RCMP officer into her grandmother’s
bedroom and raped. As she recounts, her grandmother found her and helped her to cover it up,
insisting that she not tell her father:
She told me not to tell Daddy what had happened, that if he knew he would kill those
Mounties for sure and be hung and we would all be placed in an orphanage. She said that
no one ever believed Halfbreeds in court; they would say that I had been fooling around
with some boys and tried to blame the Mounties instead.186
Many Métis women living in smaller communities, like First Nations women, migrated to different
Canadian centres, looking for better futures. As Maria Campbell describes of her arrival to
Vancouver:
The city was beyond my wildest imagination! It seemed to go on without end. As we
drove along in the cab, I pressed my face against the window and drank in everything
around me…. The people all looked rich and well-fed. The store windows were full of
beautiful displays, lots of food, clothes, and all the things a person could possibly need
to be happy.187
Yet, this is not the outcome of Campbell’s story, and her hopes for the city were soon replaced
by the need to engage in the sex industry as a means for survival and to provide for herself and
her children.
As this example demonstrates, the promise of the city wasn’t necessarily what many Métis
women encountered, and the anonymity and size of urban centres could often lead to the
exploitation of Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The resulting isolation, from
both family and community, could result in a greater likelihood of violence, without access to
certain services or supports that would have been provided by programs oriented toward urban
First Nations women.
292
Métis People, the Sixties Scoop, and Child Welfare Today
As was explained within the context of First Nations experiences, the “Sixties Scoop” refers to
the wholesale removal of children from their families, beginning in the 1960s and up to 1990.
The ongoing apprehension of Métis children within the child welfare system today also
contributes to violence against Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
In Logan's report, “A Métis Perspective on Reconciliation,” Michif Elder Rita Flamand said this
about the removal of Métis children from their communities during the Sixties Scoop:
“That’s the time when they started picking up kids later on, when the lake started to dry
up and there was no fish in the lake, the people were starting to have a real hard time in
the community and that’s when they took the kids. They should have helped the parents
to keep the kids … they just took the kids and didn’t help the people.”188
Métis children were not reliably identified as Métis, which means we can only guess at how
many Métis children were part of the Sixties Scoop. More importantly, many Métis children may
not even be aware of their heritage. This is a problem that continues today, since Métis children
adopted out may not be properly identified as Métis, or private adoption agencies without
cultural safety planning may allow adoptive families to “mask” the child’s Métis heritage.189
Manitoba, the “homeland of the Métis,” was the last province to put an end to out-of-country
adoptions during the Sixties Scoop.190 However, due to intense lobbying on the part of the
Manitoba Metis Federation (MMF), the Manitoba government put a moratorium on out-of-
province placements in 1982.191 The MMF increased its advocacy work on Métis control of
child welfare in the following decades, and Manitoba is currently now the only province to
have a designated Métis Child and Family Services Authority.192
Despite this progress, the numbers don’t lie. The loss of children within a system that is supposed
to be protecting them is an ongoing source of violence against Indigenous women and girls, includ-
ing the Métis. Elaine D. shared how this has had long-lasting impacts for her and her children.
I’m part of the foster care for the Sixties Scoop and part of the residential school. I’m part
of the healing process…. [My kids] didn’t understand. They didn’t know my story. I tell
my story so that my grandkids will understand, yeah. I want people to understand that
wounds – open wounds, they – they don’t heal, they just get scars. And believe me, I’ve
got enough of my scars, not only on my outside, but in my spirit, in my heart, in my
soul.193
In 1989, the Métis National Council published a national briefing paper that gave voice to what
so many Métis families had known all along: that provincial child welfare staff had “little
sensitivity to Métis culture or values.”194 As historians Lawrence Barkwell, Lyle Longclaws,
and David Chartrand argue:
293
The result is that a disproportionate number of Métis children are being taken into care,
many for no other reason than the real-life Métis situation of living in poverty and
overcrowded conditions.… Poverty has never been an acceptable reason for
depriving children of their natural parents and their place in the extended family. The
fact that the practice is so prevalent in Métis communities suggests the degree to which
the Métis are a devalued people as well as the degree to which provincial family and
child welfare institutions and Métis society are alienated from each other.195
Federal and provincial governments’ long history of denying the existence of Métis rights and
marginalizing Métis families has made it harder for Métis governments to gain control over child
welfare. Métis child and welfare services are generally funded by the province or territory, as
opposed to being federally funded, although, as Métis scholars Jeannine Carrière and Catherine
Richardson explain, “Métis children continue to receive strikingly low levels of funding for child
welfare and family service.”196
Most provincial and territorial child welfare legislation includes some kind of directive to include
Indigenous Peoples in cases involving Indigenous children. But the vast majority fail to name or
propose a way to work with the Métis, relying instead on the overarching term of “Aboriginal”
or “Indian.” For example, the most common Indigenous provision in child welfare legislation
is the requirement to notify an “Aboriginal” band of court hearings involving “Aboriginal”
children. However, there is no equivalent given for Métis.197
“I’M PART OF THE FOSTER CARE FOR THE SIXTIES SCOOP AND PART OF THE
RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL. I’M PART OF THE HEALING PROCESS.… [MY KIDS] DIDN’T
UNDERSTAND. THEY DIDN’T KNOW MY STORY. I TELL MY STORY SO THAT MY
GRANDKIDS WILL UNDERSTAND, YEAH. I WANT PEOPLE TO UNDERSTAND THAT
WOUNDS – OPEN WOUNDS, THEY – THEY DON’T HEAL, THEY JUST GET SCARS.
AND BELIEVE ME, I’VE GOT ENOUGH OF MY SCARS, NOT ONLY ON MY OUTSIDE,
BUT IN MY SPIRIT, IN MY HEART, IN MY SOUL.”
Elaine D.
Colonial Encounter: Distinctive Inuit Experiences

First Encounters with Qallunaat
While Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people share some similar experiences of coloni-
zation with other Indigenous Peoples, there are also many differences. For Inuit, important
distinctions in time and place are a key feature of their distinguishing experiences of violence.
As Director of Social Development Hagar Idlout-Sudlovenick recounted at the National Inquiry’s
hearing in Iqaluit, the arrival of the Qallunaat (white Europeans) was an important and
irreparable imposition in the North.
294
When Qallunaat first arrived to the North, they were very scary, such as RCMPs.…
When they tell people, Inuit people, to do this and that, we had to – we had no choice but
to say yes, and that’s from being scared, fear…. They came into the communities as if
they were higher than Inuit, and Inuit feared these Qallunaats.198
Inuit first interacted extensively with European whalers and fishermen, whom they called
“Qallunaat.” Labrador Inuit encountered fishers and whalers relatively early in the colonization
process (as early as the 16th century). In other regions of Inuit Nunangat, however, Inuit did not
interact with whalers until the second half of the 19th century.199
Over time, whalers began to hire Inuit to do various jobs, including working on whaling crews
and provisioning whalers with meat and clothing. By the late 19th century, bowhead whale
stocks had declined substantially, depriving Inuit of a resource that had been a cornerstone for
some communities. As a result, in the early 20th century, commercial whalers stopped visiting
most areas of Inuit Nunangat.200
The decline of commercial whaling coincided with the expansion of the fur trade into Inuit
Nunangat. Driven by a jump in the market value of Arctic fox furs, the Hudson’s Bay Company
expanded its network of trading posts into the Arctic in the early 20th century. In the 1920s and
1930s, rival companies and independent traders also established operations in the region. These
posts also hosted American military personnel, missionaries, and a variety of traders. Over time,
Inuit became dependent on the goods supplied by fur traders. This dependency was an important
factor in the power Qallunaat would later hold over Inuit.201
This wall inscription appears

at a school in the Northwest
Territories, 1959, citing the vision
of “those who first came north,”
including prospectors, miners,
missionaries, and others – without
mentioning those who were already
there, or the way they were
displaced. Source: Library and
Archives Canada/National Film
Board of Canada fonds/e011177356.
Sexual Encounters and Exploitation with the Qallunaat

Canada’s claims of sovereignty within the Arctic provided the grounds for the introduction of a
Canadian justice system, and laid the foundation for the role that the Royal Northwest Mounted
Police, and later the RCMP, would play in Inuit Nunangat in the early 20th century, by applying
295
The Canadian Constitution and the Charter of Rights
In Canada and within a legal setting, those identified as Aboriginal peoples under the Constitution
– First Nations, Métis, and Inuit – have looked to three primary sources in defining their rights:
the Royal Proclamation of 1763 (as well as Treaties that have since followed), the common law
as defined in Canadian courts, and international law.71 Part of the way that Canada also deals
with issues regarding Indigenous rights is embedded within the Canadian Constitution, in
existence since 1867 and patriated in 1982.
Under the Canadian Constitution, “Indians, and Lands reserved for the Indians” falls under sec-
tion 91(24) and under exclusive federal authority. Section 91 outlines the powers of the federal
government as a whole, and section 92 delineates the areas reserved for the provinces to legis-
late. As the courts have pointed out, these are not watertight compartments, particularly when it
comes to Indigenous Peoples in Canada, who receive many services in crucial areas such as
health and education from provincial service providers, while being funded through Ottawa. In
part, the iteration of powers under the Constitution Act, or, as it was known in 1867, the British
North America Act, flows from the historical recognition of the relationship between Indigenous
Peoples and the Crown. Specifically, this idea is also represented in the Royal Proclamation of
1763, which predated the British North America Act, and which said that the Crown, or British
government, was responsible for protecting the lands of First Nations people, and ensuring their
welfare and protection.
Until 1982, section 91(24) was the only articulation of the presence of Indigenous Peoples
anywhere in Canada’s Constitution. And, when Pierre Elliot Trudeau took steps to patriate the
Constitution to Canada in 1982, he had no intention of adding any more references. However,
the addition of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms engaged many Indigenous organi-
zations who fought for the inclusion and protection of collective Indigenous and Treaty rights.
Part of the motivation behind the effort to entrench Aboriginal rights within the Constitution was
the idea that any transfer of power from Britain, which still held constitutional authority in
Canada, might jeopardize Aboriginal rights – at least the few that were recognized at the time.
In addition, the fact that any rights held by First Nations, Métis, and Inuit were subject to extin-
guishment through legislation meant that there were few protections for the limited rights that
had been gained by that time. Indigenous organizations felt that securing constitutional protec-
tion for their rights was the most sensible and safe route to make sure they wouldn’t lose any
ground that had been gained so far.
“HUMAN RIGHTS DECISIONS INVOLVING FIRST NATIONS NEED TO RECOGNIZE

ABORIGINAL AND TREATY RIGHTS. FOR COMPLAINTS ABOUT A FIRST NATION
GOVERNMENT OR SERVICE ORGANIZATION, THE COMMISSION AND THE TRIBUNAL
CAN CONSIDER THE CUSTOMARY LAW OF THE FIRST NATION. THEY NEED TO
BALANCE COLLECTIVE AND INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS FROM A FIRST NATION
PERSPECTIVE, WHILE RESPECTING GENDER EQUALITY.”
The Canadian Human Rights Commission
210
As a result of this resistance, the government acquiesced and included a section that “recognizes
and affirms” Aboriginal and Treaty rights. As a result of lengthy campaigns by Indigenous
women, the 1983 Constitutional Conference also agreed to amend the Constitution and add a
clause declaring that Aboriginal and Treaty rights are “guaranteed equally to male and female
persons.” However, aside from this new commitment to gender equality, little progress was made
towards defining “Aboriginal rights.” Subsequent conferences throughout the 1980s likewise
ended without agreement on the matter.
Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth

II with Prime Minister The
Rt. Hon. Pierre Elliott Trudeau
signing the Proclamation of
© Government of Canada.
Reproduced with the permis-
sion of Library and Archives
Canada (2019).
Canada/National Archives
of Canada fonds/a141503.
As it was finally assented to, section 25 of the Constitution Act guarantees that no rights and
freedoms within the Charter should be interpreted as taking away from any Aboriginal rights or
Treaty rights flowing from the Royal Proclamation of 1763 and from land claims agreements.
Section 35 affirms existing Aboriginal and Treaty rights for “Indians,” Métis, and Inuit, and
specifies that “Treaty rights” include rights now existing in land claims agreements, or those
that might be acquired in the future. Subsection 4 of this clause expressly guarantees these rights
equally to male and to female persons.
In 1990, the Supreme Court of Canada (SCC) held, in Sparrow, that the federal government’s
power under section 91(24) must be read together with section 35(1). Section 35(1) places obli-
gations upon the federal government “to act in a fiduciary relationship with respect to aboriginal
peoples” within a framework that is “trust-like, rather than adversarial.” However, while the
Constitution recognized these Aboriginal and Treaty rights, it did not define them. Instead, it
committed to holding a constitutional conference involving the prime minister, the provincial
premiers, and Indigenous leaders to define the rights protected by the Constitution through the
domestic courts.
211
As it has evolved, Canadian jurisprudence has articulated important legal doctrines, especially
with regards to Aboriginal title, but also related to other Indigenous rights. These include the sui
generis rights, the Honour of the Crown, and fiduciary duty. These legal principles, and the over-
all narrative they share, is dominated by the idea that the Rule of Law – the idea that even the
Crown is subject to its own laws – must prevail when attempting to reconcile the pre-existence
of Indigenous Nations and their legal and cultural systems with the assumed sovereignty of
British settler society.72
Sui Generis – A Unique Relationship
The Latin term sui generis (“of its own kind”) is used to characterize something that is unique.
Within Aboriginal law as defined in the Supreme Court, judges apply this idea to point out the
differences between Indigenous rights to property and the rights that come from the non-
Indigenous common law. As lawyer Bruce Ziff explains, the idea of sui generis recognizes
pre-existing property rights of Aboriginal communities. Since sovereignty works
only as a potential trump over prior clams, the previous landholders, the Aboriginal
peoples of what is now Canada, retain their property until these are taken away by
legitimate state action. Indeed, current Canadian law recognizes land rights that were in
existence before colonial acquisition.73
This means that Aboriginal and Treaty rights are set aside from other rights to acknowledge that
they are unique; and, even though domestic law interpretation is paramount here, international
law also recognizes the sui generis nature of Aboriginal title and many related rights. These
rights don’t depend on non-Indigenous principles. Instead, the Supreme Court has established
that even if inherent Aboriginal rights have never been affirmed by British or Canadian legisla-
tion, they are still constitutionally valid.74
212
The low points of this one-sided relationship were experienced in the period when entire
family camps were wiped out by measles, when Inuit households were coerced into
relocating thousands of miles in order to serve agendas developed elsewhere, and when
Inuit children were taken away to residential schools.216
Inuit usually felt that they had no choice but to go along with the plans developed by government
officials. For example, a report by the Qikiqtani Truth Commission explained that Inuit felt they
were unable to say “no” when Qallunaat officials told them to send their children away to board-
ing schools.
Years after dealing with the trauma of being sent away for school at age 7, Jeannie Mike
recalled for the [Qikiqtani Truth Commission] a confrontation with her mother. Looking
at her own children at seven years old, Jeannie stated she felt compelled to ask her
mother, “how could you let me go?” In response, her mother replied, “When Qallunaat
asked for something there [was] no choice of refusal.”217
The power imbalance that had developed made it difficult, if not impossible, for most Inuit to
refuse instructions from government officials. Inuk author and politician Sheila Watt-Cloutier
explains that this power relation caused Inuit to view Qallunaat with a type of fear and apprehen-
sion that Inuit call ilira.218 This power relationship that made it difficult for Inuit to refuse orders
from Qallunaat underwrote all government activities in Inuit Nunangat in the 1940s, 1950s, and
1960s.
299
Working with Qallunat:
the RCMP Special Constable Program
in the Arctic
For the first 70 years of its operations in the Arctic, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) was wholly
dependent on Inuit special constables. A report by the Qikiqtani Truth Commission explained how RCMP
officers from the South relied on Inuit who filled these roles.
The capacity of RCMP to communicate with Inuit

and to survive in Arctic conditions required help
from Inuit, both as employees and simply as
neighbours providing support in times of need.
All regular police detachments were staffed by
at least one Inuk employee, normally serving
with his wife and children. Beginning in 1936 and
continuing until at least 1970, patrol reports
submitted to Ottawa officially referred to Inuit
staff as “special constables,” an official rank and
employment status within the RCMP. Men sent
north with the RCMP often received no special
training on northern survival, navigation, or
travelling; on patrol, they were entirely reliant on
Inuit special constables who hunted food for
qimmiit [sled dogs], built iglus, navigated, and
translated.I
The Qikiqtani Truth Commission found that the RCMP

also benefited from the unpaid labour of special
constables’ families.
The families of the Inuit special constables also Inuk Special Constable Minkyoo of the Twin
offered considerable and invaluable assistance Glacier Detachment of the RCMP erects the
to the RCMP, often without compensation. building for the post at Alexandra Fjord,
Women would make and mend the trail clothing, Nunavut, 1953. Source: Library and Archives
do household chores, and prepare meals. Canada/National Film Board of Canada
Children were expected to help with the fonds/a137757.
detachment chores.II
300
Honour of the Crown
Related to the idea of the unique nature of Aboriginal rights is the idea of the Honour of the
Crown. In 1967, the Nisga’a Tribal Council brought an action to the British Columbia Supreme
Court. Frank Calder and others (including the Nisga’a Tribal Council, Gitlakdamix Indian Band,
Canyon City Indian Band, Laxgalts’ap [Greenville] Band, and Kincolith Indian Band) sought
recognition of their Aboriginal title, comprising over 2,590 square kilometres (1,000 square
miles) in northwestern British Columbia. The BC Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal
rejected the Nisga’a claim. In response, the Nisga’a took their case to the Supreme Court of
Canada, where it was finally decided in 1973.
While the Nisga’a did not technically win the case in the Supreme Court of Canada, the decision
that was issued, named the Calder decision, broke new ground. The three justices who did affirm
the Nisga’a’s Aboriginal title maintained that Aboriginal title had existed at the time of the Royal
Proclamation of 1763, before colonial law was imposed. As Justices Hall, Spence, and Laskin
wrote: “The proposition accepted by the Courts below that after conquest or discovery the native
peoples have no rights at all except those subsequently granted or recognized by the conqueror or
discoverer was wholly wrong.”75
In this decision, the Supreme Court of Canada indicated that “in dealings between the govern-
ment [that is, the “Crown”] and aboriginals the honour of the Crown is at stake.”76 Further, the
Court noted, “The mandate to act with honour was brought to life the very instant that sover-
eignty over native people was asserted.”77 In other words, in claiming sovereignty over Indige-
nous Peoples, the nation-state also creates a duty to act honourably in all of the ways that it deals
with them.
Thus, the legal notion of Honour of the Crown came into focus in Canadian Aboriginal law
through Calder, and continued to be applied and refined in litigation that followed. Despite being
a “split” decision, Calder marked a significant change in the relationship between the Crown and
Indigenous Peoples in Canada, leading to negotiations that culminated in 1998, creating British
Columbia’s first modern Treaty, The Nisga’a Final Agreement Act.78
The Honour of the Crown applies to the interpretation of legislation and to the application of
Treaties.
“THE MANDATE TO ACT WITH HONOUR WAS BROUGHT TO LIFE THE VERY
INSTANT THAT SOVEREIGNTY OVER NATIVE PEOPLE WAS ASSERTED.”
The Supreme Court of Canada
215
Forced Relocations and the Slaughter of the Sled Dogs
Relocations are one of the most notorious government interventions from this period, with im-
portant social and economic implications for communities. Between 1940 and 1970, the govern-
ment of Canada relocated many groups of Inuit, as well as some First Nations. Some Inuit groups
were relocated repeatedly. Early relocations involving Inuit from Ennadai Lake (1949, 1957,
1958) and Nunavik (1953, 1958) were intended to reduce Inuit reliance on government assis-
tance after the collapse of the fur trade. Later relocations were intended to centralize Inuit into
permanent settlements to improve the efficiency of delivering social services.219 The government
of Newfoundland and Labrador also relocated several groups of Labrador Inuit to reduce the cost
of service delivery.220
Affaires indiennes Indian and Northern

et du Nord Canada Affairs Canada
OCÉAN ARCTIQUE
ARCTIC OCEAN •
Grise Fiord
Inuit Nunangat
Mer de Beaufort
Route de relocalisation
Beaufort Sea
Sachs Harbour
Parry Channel
•
Resolute Bay Baie de Baffin
Baffin Bay Relocation Route
• Pond Inlet
Arctic Bay
• •
• INUVIALUIT Clyde River
Inuvik
• Ulukhaktok (Holman Island) •
Paulatuk • Détroit Davis
• Davis Strait
•
!
Collectivité inuit
Inuit Community
Qikiqtarjuaq
Igloolik • Inuvialuit
Cambridge Bay
Taloyoak • Hall Beach
Kugluktuk • • • Pangnirtung Nunavut
• Kugaaruk (Pelly Bay) •
Umingmaktok •Gjoa Haven • Nunatsiavut
Grand Lac de l'Ours •
Great Bear Lake
Bathurst Inlet
• Repulse Bay Nunavik
• Iqaluit
•
TERRITOIRES DU NORD-OUEST NUNAVUT •
Cape Dorset
Kimmirut
NORTHWEST TERRITORIES
Coral Harbour • Mer du Labrador
Labrador Sea
Baker Lake •
• Kangiqsujuaq
Chesterfield Inlet Ivujivik
• Distance entre Inukjuak et Grise Fiord : 1 250 km (par avion) • • •Salluit • •
Quaqtaq
• Distance entre Grise Grand
FiordLacetdesResolute Bay : 250 km (par avion) Rankin Inlet
Esclaves • NUNATSIAVUT
Kangirsuk
• Distance entre Ottawa et Atlanta
Great Slave Lake: 1 300 km (par avion) Whale Cove •
• Calendrier • Akulivik Aupaluk
•Kangiqsualujjuaq
- Le transport par bateau des personnes réinstallées a commencé Puvirnituq
•
Tasiujaq Nain
à la fin juillet 1953 à Inukjuak, où elles sont montées à bord du Arviat
• • • •
Kuujjuaq
Hopedale
C.D. Howe.
- À la fin août, le C.D. Howe est arrivé à Pond Inlet, où trois familles
• •
Postville• Makkovik
inuites de ce village sont montées à bord.
Baie d'Hudson Inukjuak •
Rigolet
- Un premier groupe est arrivé à Grise Fiord à la fin août 1953. Hudson Bay • NUNAVIK
L’autre groupe, qui avait dû changer de bateau, est arrivé à
Resolute Bay le 7 septembre. Les passagers avaient quitté le Churchill !
C.D. Howe pour continuer leur voyage à bord du d'Iberville. Umiujaq TERRE-NEUVE ET LABRADOR
• NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR
• Distance between Inukjuak and Grise Fiord : 1,250 km (by plane) • Sanikiluaq
ALBERTA
• Distance between Grise Fiord and Resolute Bay : 250 km (by plane)
Kuujjuarapik QUÉBEC
• Distance between Ottawa and AtlantaSASKATCHEWAN
: 1,300 km (par avion)
• Time Frame • QUEBEC
GS08-01d_RelocationRoute_B
MANITOBA
- The relocatees' sea voyage began in late July 1953 in Inukjuak where they boarded the C.D. Howe.
- In late August the C.D. Howe arrived at Pond Inlet and picked up the 3 additional Inuit families from Pond Inlet.
- One group arrived at Grise Fiord in late August 1953 while the second group arrived at Resolute Bay on Chisasibi
September 7, 1953, as they had to change ships from the C.D. Howe to a ship called the d'Iberville. 0 150
•
300 600 Km Source: Secrétariat des relations avec les Inuit
Inuit Relations Secretariat
Services géomatiques, août 2010.

Geomatics Services, August 2010.
These relocations are now notorious for the social costs and disruptions they caused. It is now
well documented that many of these relocations were poorly planned and caused significant
hardship for the Inuit involved – in some cases, famine. Some families were divided, causing
significant emotional pain. Further, as we explain below, the movement into centralized, perma-
nent communities was deeply traumatic for some Inuit.221
302
Other disruptions also have had lasting impact. In addition to relocation, the killing of Inuit sled
dogs is perhaps the most controversial of the interventions in this period. In the 1950s and 1960s,
large numbers of Inuit sled dogs were shot by RCMP and federal government officials in the
Qikiqtani (Baffin Island) and Nunavik regions.222 As a result, many Inuit lost their dog teams and
were forced to move into the permanent communities that had been established by Quallunaat. In
Quebec, the Makivik Corporation and the Quebec government commissioned a retired Superior
Court judge to head an inquiry into the killing of Inuit sled dogs in Nunavik. His final report in
2009 concluded that Nunavik society had “suffered damaging consequences from the actions,
attitudes and mistakes of bureaucrats, agents and representatives of the two governments, who
killed at least 1,000 dogs in Nunavik during the 1950s and 1960s.” Sled dogs were not just ani-
mals that Inuit had for leisure – they were essential to preserving a certain way of life. Their
slaughter dramatically impacted the ability of Inuit to live on the land and to pursue their tradi-
tional lifestyles, and contributed to even greater social disruption and dependence on wage
labour, driving changes in social relationships and economic well-being for Inuit families, and
for Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Inuit children and

their dogs, a necessary
source of life and
livelihood, in Clyde
River, Northwest
Territories, 1943.
Source: Library
and Archives
Canada/Department
of Indian Affairs and
Northern Development
fonds/a102208.
Residential Schools and Hostels among the Inuit

Beginning in the late 1950s, the government of Canada made formal schooling compulsory for
Inuit children. Some Inuit were sent to church-operated residential schools while others attended
day schools operated by the federal government. Although Inuit children attending day schools
could technically go home to their parents for the evenings and weekends, in many cases, their par-
ents remained on the land. As such, day schools still required most Inuit children to live in boarding
homes, or hostels, and therefore involved the painful and traumatic separation of children from
their parents.223 In Saqiyuq: Stories from the Lives of Three Inuit Women, Rhoda Kaujak Katsak
recalls how painful it was to be separated from her parents while attending a federal day school.
303
The White Paper proposed eliminating Indigenous Peoples’ collective rights in the name of
“equality.” The federal government’s intention, as described in the White Paper, was to achieve
equality among all Canadians by eliminating “Indian” as a distinct legal status and by regarding
Indigenous Peoples simply as citizens with the same rights, opportunities, and responsibilities as
other Canadians. In keeping with Trudeau’s vision of a “just society,” the government proposed
to repeal legislation that it considered discriminatory, or that would place any one group above
any other – regardless of the foundation upon which each group then stood. The White Paper
stated that removing these kinds of distinctions would “enable the Indian people to be free – free
to develop Indian cultures in an environment of legal, social and economic equality with other
Canadians.”82
To achieve its goal, the White Paper proposed to eliminate Indian Status, dissolve the Depart-
ment of Indian Affairs within five years, abolish the Indian Act, convert reserve land to private
property that could be sold by the band or its members, transfer responsibility for Indian Affairs
from the federal government to the provinces, and integrate services provided to First Nations
into those provided to other Canadian citizens. In addition, the government proposed funding for
economic development and the appointment of a commissioner to address outstanding land
claims and gradually terminate existing Treaties.83
Though the White Paper acknowledged the social inequality of Indigenous Peoples in Canada
and, to a lesser degree, the history of poor federal policy choices, many First Nations people
viewed the new policy statement as the culmination of Canada’s long-standing goal to assimilate
“Indians” into mainstream Canadian society rather than recognize their unique rights as the
original inhabitants of this land.
Trudeau’s political philosophy was based on the idea of one Canada, and linked to his rejection
of Quebec nationalism. Speaking in 1969, he argued:
We won’t recognize aboriginal rights. We can go on adding bricks of discrimination
around the ghetto in which Indians live, and at the same time helping them preserve
certain cultural traits and certain ancestral rights. Or we can say you are at a cross roads
– the time is now to decide whether the Indians will be a race apart in Canada, or
whether they will be Canadians of full status.… Indians should become Canadians as all
other Canadians. This is the only basis on which I see our society can develop as equals.
But aboriginal rights, this really means saying, “We were here before you. You came and
cheated us, by giving us some worthless things in return for vast expanses of land, and
we want to reopen this question. We want you to preserve our aboriginal rights and to
restore them to us.” And our answer – our answer is “no.” – We can’t recognize
aboriginal rights because no society can be built on historical “might-have-beens.”84
The legislative and policy changes proposed in the White Paper were not implemented.
219
Children pictured on the S.S. Distributor, being taken to
Mission school at Fort Providence, Northwest Territories,
1928. Source: Library and Archives Canada/Department of
Indian Affairs and Northern Development fonds/a101061.
In 1961, the Child Welfare Ordinance imposed a

new rule: Inuit must have home assessments prior
to adopting, and submit documentation to Ottawa
within 30 days of the adoption. This meant that an
absence of “qualified” homes could increase the
number of Inuit students enrolled in government-
run institutions.
While they were not representative of the majority,
some officials rejected the ordinance, arguing that
custom adoption systems had been practised in
Inuit Nunangat for generations, and were working
well. Justice John Howard Sissons, who presided
over the first legally registered Inuit custom adoption in 1961, argued that the newly imposed
rules of the ordinance trampled on Inuit rights and kinship systems, as well as imposed barriers
on Inuit who wished to adopt. The barriers were based on geography and access to postal services,
since the documents had to be mailed. Language barriers were a further impediment to following
these official new rules. In Sissons’s petition for the adoption of a child named “Kitty” by a
Students attending class at the

Arviat Federal hostel in Nunavut,
n.d. Source: Library and Archives
Canada/Donald Benjamin Marsh
fonds/e007914491.
305
well-respected couple, Qiatsuk and Nuna Noah, he argued that custom adoption “is good and has
stood the test of many centuries and these people should not be forced to abandon it, and it
should be recognized by the Court.”227 Sissons was successful, and he continued to register
hundreds of custom adoptions in what is now Nunavut and Inuvialuit.
A representative from the

Department of Indian Affairs
speaks to two Inuuk women
about pablem, 1948.
Canada/Department of
Indian Affairs and Northern
As in other parts of Canada, though, the number of children in the state system grew. Today,
according to the Director of Youth Protection in Nunavik, since 2017, one in three Inuit youth
in Nunavik have come into contact with child protection services. Workers handle an average of
45 files, compared to 18 per intervention worker, meaning that resources and capacity may be
stretched thin.228
“I REMEMBER THAT FIRST CHRISTMAS THAT MY PARENTS CAME FOR THE HOLIDAYS, I
REMEMBER HAVING A REALLY DIFFICULT TIME. I WAS ENJOYING MYSELF BECAUSE MY
PARENTS WERE THERE, BEING WITH THEM AND STAYING WITH THEM, BUT WHEN THEY
WERE READY TO GO BACK TO THE CAMP, THAT WAS HEARTBREAKING FOR ME. I WAS
CRYING AND CRYING. I REMEMBER MY FATHER WAS SITTING UPRIGHT ON A CHAIR
AND I WAS KNEELING AT HIS KNEES, CRYING AND CRYING INTO HIS LAP. I STAYED LIKE
THAT FOR HOURS AND HOURS. I WAS CRYING AND BEGGING HIM TO LET ME GO WITH
HIM, BUT HE COULDN’T DO ANYTHING. EVEN IF HE HAD WANTED TO HE COULDN’T
DO ANYTHING. AT THAT TIME I WAS REALLY MAD AT HIM FOR NOT TAKING ME HOME
WITH HIM. LATER I REALIZED THAT WE HAD TO BE IN SCHOOL. HE HAD NO CHOICE.
THE QALLUNAAT AUTHORITIES IN THE SETTLEMENT SAID SO, AND THERE WAS
NOTHING HE COULD DO.”
Rhoda Akpaliapik Karetak
306
Medical Relocation among Inuit
The government also began to take greater responsibility for the delivery of health care to Inuit
after 1940. Like other interventions, the delivery of government health care was an aspect of
colonization. The government response to tuberculosis epidemics is an especially notorious
example of how Inuit experienced health care delivery as an externally imposed system that
caused extreme social suffering. Beginning in 1950, a patrol vessel called the C.D. Howe (which,
as discussed earlier, Inuit knew simply as “Matavik,” or “where you strip”) would visit coastal
Inuit camps each summer to administer health care. Inuit infected with tuberculosis were sent
to sanatoria in the South, where they were separated from family members for extended
periods (sometimes years).229 Inuk filmmaker and former Commissioner of Nunavut Ann
Meekitjuk Hanson explained that the patrol vessel quickly became notorious among Inuit.
The CD Howe inspired fear. Pure fear. If you had tuberculosis or any other sickness, they
would keep you aboard and take you away. You hardly had time to say goodbye to your
family, if they happened to be on board with you, and you didn’t know where you were
being taken. On top of that, you would have to sail around the Arctic for about three
months, until the ship finished doing its rounds of the communities and left for the
South. That ship is still talked about by the Elders today.230
These medical relocations resulted in many Inuit women going missing from their families. For
example, in her testimony before the National Inquiry, Micah A. explained that her grandmother
had been taken for tuberculosis treatment and never returned: “My mother’s mother, before I was
born, she was sent down south because of tuberculosis to a sanatorium. And she passed away
down there and she was buried in Winnipeg. We couldn’t find her for a long time and [she] never
came back home.”231
Qaqqaqtunaaq, an Inuk woman, looks out at the

C.D. Howe, anchored in Pangnirtung Fjord, n.d.
307
Colatah, age 2, is examined aboard the C.D. Howe
by a doctor of the medical survey party on patrol in
the Eastern Arctic, n.d. Source: Library and
Archives Canada/National Film Board of Canada
fonds/e005477090.
The introduction of Western health care is an example of how colonization was gendered, be-
cause of the way it intervened in aspects of life that are most intimate for Inuit women, such as
childbirth. By removing pregnant Inuit women from their community and sending them to hospi-
tals to give birth, the government disrupted the transmission of Inuit women’s knowledge about
midwifery.232 This process also caused considerable emotional pain for Inuit women. In Saqiyuq,
Elder Apphia Agalakti Awa describes the emotional difficulty involved in being sent away to a
hospital to deliver her baby.
That time I was pregnant and I had to be sent out for delivery, it was summertime and I
went down to Iqaluit to deliver my baby. I had never delivered in Iqaluit before. All of
my other children, I delivered them all on the land, in our sod-house or in igluviak or
tents.
I had trouble with my pregnancy that time, and the Qallunaat said I had to be sent out. It
was with Ida. She was my last baby I gave birth to and I had to be sent out with her. My
daughter Joanna, she was only five years old when I left, and Phillip and Salomie were
just babies, little babies. We went by boat to the plane and I remember looking out the
plane window. I remember staring out the window at my children, watching Martha
carrying Phillip in her amautik and Oopah carrying Salomie in her amautik. I felt so
horrible leaving my little ones behind, leaving them all alone. It was August and the ice
was all gone. I had tears in my eyes when I was leaving our camp and my children, my
little children. I was so sad. It was the beginning of August when I left. I didn’t get back
to our camp with Ida until January.
308
Human rights frameworks, as interpreted within the spirit and context of Indigenous laws, are
important tools to begin to change the conversation about Indigenous roles, responsibilities,
rights, and, ultimately, self-determination. In this, we all have a role to play. We can restructure
our own relationships and transform our own encounters, all the while contributing to the
protection and restoration of Indigenous women’s and gender-diverse people’s power and place
through respect for Indigenous laws and principles, and human and Indigenous rights. When
Indigenous and human rights are respected fully, then Indigenous women and girls will be safer.
We can transform encounters that endanger women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people into ones
that can protect them.
Understanding the context of Indigenous and human rights is also important in understanding the
roots of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people – a crisis that is
not, as some might suggest, a recent phenomenon, but that is centuries in the making. The next
chapter will begin to tell a different story of colonization, one that understands that all Indigenous
Peoples were and are affected by colonization, but that the experience of Indigenous women,
girls, and gender-diverse people were distinct, with important implications into the present.
To look forward, we must first look back.
224
76 See R. v. Marshall [1999] 3 SCR 456 at paras 49-52. 89 Rafoss, “The Application of the Canadian Charter,”
17-18. See also Romanow, Leeson and Whyte,
77 Mitchell v. M.N.R. 2001 SCC 33, 2001 SCR 911 at
Canada – Notwithstanding.
para 9.
90 For a more detailed account of NWAC’s views,
78 Nisga’a Final Agreement Act, RSBC 1999, c2c 2.
including those related to Bill C-31, see NWAC,
79 Guerin v. The Queen [1984] 2 SCR 335, p. 337. “Aboriginal Women’s Rights are Human Rights.”
80 Ibid., 942, with reference to Frankel, “Fiduciary Law.” 91 Conn, “Sandra Lovelace Nicholas.”
81 Lagace and Sinclair, “The White Paper, 1969.” 92 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
82 Canada, Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada,
“Statement of the Government of Canada on Indian 93 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
Policy.” Quebec City, QC, p. 57.
83 Ibid. 94 Dr. Dalee Sambo Dorough (Inuit, Alaska), Part 3,

84 Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, speaking to the Liberal
Association of Vancouver, Seaforth Armories, 95 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6,
Vancouver, 1969. “Transcript of the Prime Minister's Quebec City, QC, p. 73.
Remarks at the Vancouver Liberal Association Dinner,”
Seaforth Armories, Vancouver, BC, 1969, 11-12.
http://publications.gc.ca/collections/collection_2018/aa
nc-inac/R32-429-1969-eng.pdf 97 Halie B. (Namgis/Kwa’kwa’kawakw/Tlingit/Scottish),
85 Cardinal, The Unjust Society, 1.
86 Lagace and Sinclair, “The White Paper, 1969.”
BC, pp. 30-31.
87 Shaw, “Creating/Negotiating Interstices,” 176.
88 Attorney General of Canada v. Lavell, Isaac et al. v.
Bédard, 1974 SCR 1386.
227
Conclusion: A Crisis Centuries in the Making
This chapter has examined a brief history of colonization in Canada through a gendered and
intersectional lens, arguing that the policies, practices, and stereotypes confronting Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people today were put into place long ago. Understanding
colonization as a structure of encounter, rather than as a series of isolated events, we have
demonstrated how Indigenous knowledge systems and ways of understanding land, governance,
and identity were targeted by colonizers who wanted to possess the land and to rid it of its
people. In addition, we have focused our analysis on key encounters – policies and rules,
stereotypes and misconceptions – that were applied differently to First Nations, Métis, and Inuit
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and that have impacted them in harmful ways. At the
same time, this chapter is a testament to the strength and resilience of these women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people whose traditions and values continue to manifest at the individual, family,
and community levels.
A key point in all of this history is that it isn’t just “history.” Although they might look different
now, these policies and the structures and ideas that feed them are still around today and are still
forms of violence. We can’t brush off things like failures in policing, in health services, or in
child welfare as “the way things were done back then.” The reality is that many of the people
who testified before the National Inquiry have lived through, and continue to heal from, these
policies. Many more people are in current conflict with them. Many of the policies and ideas in
place today, as well as the structures they are associated with, are modern iterations of the same
historical atrocities.
Our analysis of these experiences brings us to three important conclusions.
First, the process of colonization was gendered, because Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA
people experienced these encounters differently from Indigenous men. The process of coloniza-
tion features multiple moments of encounter and transformation where fundamental rights to
culture, health, security, and justice are at stake, particularly for Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
European colonizers brought their own ideas about the roles of women and of men to Indigenous
lands and territories, and applied them to diverse communities with their own traditions, roles,
and values about women, girls, and gender-diverse people. European land tenure systems, as well
as legal and social orders, relied on patriarchy – the dominance of men. Early Europeans simply
could not see how Indigenous women’s roles supported entire communities, as well as their own
families, and helped to ensure continuity of culture, knowledge, language, and values from one
generation to the next. When they did come to understand some of these roles, they consistently
undermined the role of women in economic production and in governance in an effort to target
communities for assimilation and, ultimately, extermination.
312
Second, the targeting of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is not new, but has
been a common thread throughout the colonization process. Residential schools and various
types of relocations caused mothers, daughters, and aunties to go missing from their families,
sometimes permanently, and created conditions that feed, rather than prevent, violence. More-
over, violence against Indigenous women, including sexual abuse in residential schools and by
various colonial officials, is a common thread throughout the history of colonization, and con-
tributes directly to Indigenous Peoples’ distrust of many institutions today. This distrust, in turn,
makes it less likely for Indigenous women, girls, or 2SLGBTQQIA people to place faith in these
systems in their current state.
Third, the process of colonization created the conditions for the crisis of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people that we are confronting today, economi-
cally, socially, and politically. Indigenous Peoples were economically marginalized by the dis-
possession of their land and resources and the related destruction of their economies. Indigenous
women experienced political and social marginalization through the imposition of patriarchy by
Christian churches and the government of Canada. Colonization also gave rise to racist and
ethnocentric ideas that continue to dehumanize Indigenous women and make them targets of
violence. The cycles of intergenerational trauma, set in motion by colonization, are a root cause
of domestic violence in Indigenous communities today.
The crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is
centuries in the making. This is what families told us; it is what survivors told us. In considering
these histories, and as researchers Sarah Hunt, a member of the Kwakwaka’wakw Nation, and
Cindy Holmes assert, we should not be surprised that “the rhythm of today … is made possible
through the historic and ongoing processes and ideologies of colonialism.”246
Many witnesses before the National Inquiry discussed the need to learn more about the history of
colonization, even as targets of its policies.
Mike Metatawabin, Chairman for the Board of Directors of the Nishnawbe-Aski Police Services,
explained to the National Inquiry:
What we have to remember is the assimilation policies, the residential school policies,
and their impacts have left a lasting legacy which is violence, anger, unresolved
issues. And, I think for the most part, I, myself, as a survivor of residential school, did
not understand what happened, or what happened to us, or what is happening even
within our own families. Trying to understand the anger of why people are so angry with
each other. It took me until I was – I reached the age of 30 years before I began to
understand what had happened. And, for the most part, most of our people have never
had that chance or do not have that beginning yet. We are still a long ways to go. We
have a long ways to go before we understand what really happened to us with all these
policies.247
313
Family member and survivor Shaun L. explained why this history matters today:
After 500 years, these [colonial] ideas have not changed much. The First Nations
women and girls are thought of as disposable. They are not. They are the life-givers, the
storytellers, the history keepers, the prophets, and the matriarchs…. The fallout of
colonialism is like a fallout of a nuclear war, a winter without light.248
In this way, we position the following chapters, which focus on the more contemporary encounters
with culture, health, safety, and justice – or the lack thereof – as extensions of these historical
moments, and as expressions, in part, of a deep historic and contemporary web of limitations,
barriers, and challenges to basic Indigenous human rights – both collective and individual – that
continue to target women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people for harm.
314
Notes
1 Chief Judy Wilson (Secwépemc Nation), Part 1, Public 27 Maracle, “A Journey in Gender,” 39.
28 Ibid.
2 Hunt, “More than a Poster Campaign.”
29 For more on the contested nature and
3 Alfred, “Colonialism and State Dependency,” 45. misunderstandings regarding the use of the term
“berdache,” see Cannon, “The Regulation of First
4 For more on this, see Chartrand, “Métis Treaties in
Nations Sexuality.”
Canada.” See also Government of Ontario, “We Speak
for the Land.” 30 As cited in Martin Cannon, “The Regulation of First
Nations Sexuality,” 3.
5 See McDonald-Dupuis, “The little-known history.”
31 Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, vol. 59, 127.
6 Wolfe, “Settler Colonialism,” 387.
32 Prime Minister’s Office, “Remarks by Prime Minister
7 Ibid., 388.
Justin Trudeau to apologize to LBGTQ2 Canadians.”
8 Translation ours. Françoise R. (Pikogan), Part 1, Public
33 Rieger, “Activist says recognition.”
Volume 61, Montreal, QC, p. 48.
34 Alfred, “Colonialism and State Dependency,” 44.
9 Wolfe, “Settler Colonialism,” 388.
35 White, The Middle Ground.
10 Robert C. (Musgamagw Dzawada'enuxw First Nation),
Part 1, Public Volume 114, Vancouver, BC, p. 53. 36 Good, “A Tradition of Violence,” 94.
11 Fossett, In Order to Live Untroubled. 37 For a historical treatment of changing patterns of
marriage in colonial Canada, see Van Kirk, “From
12 See Harrington, “Canada Was Never Terra Nullius” and
‘Marrying-In’.”
Tsilhqot’in Nation v. British Columbia 2014 SCC 44 at
para. 69. 38 Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous, 142.
13 Wolfe, “Settler Colonialism,” 391. 39 Ibid.
14 Pope Alexander VI, “Inter caetera.” For more on this, 40 Ibid., 79–80.
see Assembly of First Nations, Dismantling the
41 Harmon, A Journal of Voyages.
Doctrine of Discovery; John, “Study on the impacts of
the Doctrine of Discovery”; and World Council of 42 The British North America Act, 1867, SS 1867, c 3.
Churches, “Statement on the Doctrine of Discovery.”
43 Feir, Gillezeau, and Jones, “The Slaughter of the
15 Heidenreich and Ritch, Samuel de Champlain, 281. Bison,” 1.
16 Wolfe, “Settler Colonialism,” 391. 44 Ibid., 11.
17 Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, vol. 5, 237. 45 Paula P. (Cree/Lakota/Scottish), Part 1, Statement
Volume 374, Vancouver, BC, pp. 41-42.
18 Ibid., vol. 8, 173.
46 Bruce, “The Last Best West.”
19 Ibid., 174-175.
47 Surtees, “The Robinson Treaties (1850).”
20 Ibid., vol. 29, 152-153.
48 CBC, “Northern Ontario First Nations win battle.”
21 Sprenger and Kramer, “Malleus Maleficarum.”
49 Cheryl M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18,
22 Davenport-Hines, Sex, Death, and Punishment.
23 Ethienne and Leacock, Women and Colonization, 30.
50 Robinson, “Gradual Civilization Act.”
24 Simpson, “Anger, Resentment and Love.”
51 An Act respecting Indians and Indian Lands. C.S.L.C.
25 Dua and Robertson, Scratching the Surface, 63. 1860, c. 14.
26 Pickles and Rutherdale, Contact Zones, 233. 52 Robinson, “Gradual Civilization Act.”
315
53 An Act to amend and consolidate the laws respecting 66 The Criminal Code of the Dominion of Canada, as
Indians, S.C. 1876, c. 18. Amended in 1893, s. 191 (a), (b), and (c).
54 Elder Miigam’agan (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 67 Backhouse, “Nineteenth-Century Canadian Prostitution
44(a), Moncton, NB, pp. 65-66, 67. Law”; Bourgeois, “Race, Space, and Prostitution.”
55 Indian Act, R.S., c. I-6, s. 18. 68 For more on this, see Shaver, “Prostitution”;
Backhouse, “Nineteenth-Century Canadian Prostitution
56 Cannon, “The Regulation of First Nations Sexuality,”
Law.”
11–12.
69 Rande C. (Kwakwaka'wakw), Part 1, Public Volume
57 For a useful summary of the emergence of the “new
94, Vancouver, BC, p. 37.
police” model, see Marquis, The Vigilant Eye, 7-15.
70 Saskatchewan Herald, 15 March 15, 1886, cited in
58 For a more detailed history of the work of various
Carter, Capturing Women, 188.
Indian agents, see, for example, Brownlie, A Fatherly
Eye; Satzewich, “Indian Agents”; Dyck, What Is the 71 Daschuk, Clearing the Plains, 122, 134.
Indian “Problem”; and Steckley, Indian Agents. For
72 In CHC, Sessional Papers 14 33, no 15 (1909): 110,
more on the general policy and operations, see Irwin,
cited in Carter, Capturing Women, 162.
“Indian Agents in Canada.” On the head of the Indian
Department for much of its time, and architect of many 73 Carter, Capturing Women.
of its most repressive policies, see Titley, A Narrow
74 Ibid., 172–174.
Vision.
75 Quoted in Morgan, “The North-West Mounted Police,”
59 Marquis, The Vigilant Eye, xix.
56.
60 Although the North-Western Territory and Rupert's
76 Ibid.
Land are two separate territories, they are often
confused. Originally, and in the transfer of 1869, 77 For a more detailed explanation, see Anderson, A
Rupert's Land included what is today northern Quebec Recognition of Being, 82–85.
and Ontario, the entire province of Manitoba, most of
78 Carter, Capturing Women, 165.
Saskatchewan, and part of southern Alberta. The North-
Western Territory was made up of areas to the north 79 Ibid., 183.
and west of Rupert's Land. But, in 1870, when Canada
purchased these territories from the Hudson's Bay 80 Macleod Gazette, March 16, 1886, cited in Carter,
Company, they were renamed the Northwest Territories Capturing Women, 183.
and combined. 81 Ibid.
61 Carter, Capturing Women, 21. 82 Carter, Capturing Women, 167–68.
62 Ibid., 53. 83 Ibid., 169.
63 Ibid. 84 Ibid., 181.
64 “Traffic in Indian Girls” was the title of a news article 85 Ibid.
that ran in the Morning Press (Toronto) on January 30,
1886, in which the writer alleged that Indian agents and 86 Macleod, The North-West Mounted Police, 145. See
contracts near Fort McLeod were smuggling whiskey also National Archives, RG 18, vol. 24, file 667-1888,
and human traffic into the territories and sending the cited in Carter, Capturing Women, 189.
women to “frontier towns for immoral purposes.” A 87 Smith, “Bloody Murder,” 13, cited in Carter, Capturing
copy of the article is available at Women, 189.
https://cdnc.ucr.edu/?a=d&d=MP18860130.2.5&e=-----
--en--20--1--txt-txIN--------1. 88 Gray, Talk to My Lawyer!, 7.
65 Dominion of Canada, Annual Report of the Department 89 Adams, Prison of Grass, 78.
of Indian Affairs, 1884, lix. 90 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 44-45.
316
91 See Miller, Shingwauk’s Vision. 114 M.R.L.P. and S.A.T. v. The Attorney General of Canada,
The Government of Saskatchewan, Saskatchewan
92 See also LeBeuf, The Role of the Royal Canadian
Health Authority et. al. (16 Feb. 2018), Q.B. No. 1485
Mounted Police.
of 2017 (Statement of Claim), accessed at
93 APTN Investigates, www.aptn.ca/news/wp- https://www.mauricelaw.com/upload/Class-Action-
content/uploads/sites/4/2014/10/SchoolLetter1.jpg. Docs/Notice-to-Defendants-Q.B.-No-1485-of-2017.pdf.
94 Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, 115 See Norris and Clatworthy, “Urbanization and
Volume 1, 28. Migration Patterns.”
95 Ibid., 681-685. 116 See Norris and Clatworthy, “Aboriginal Migration,”
3-5.
96 Ibid., 682.
117 Ibid.
97 McCallum, Indigenous Women, 32–33.
118 Price, Travato and Abada, “Urban Migration.”
98 Ibid.
119 Peters and Andersen, Indigenous in the City, 8-9.
99 Ibid., 31.
120 McCallum, Indigenous Women, Work, and History, 7.
100 Albert McLeod, (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 121 Bohaker and Iacovetta, “Making Aboriginal People
8, Toronto, ON, pp. 60-61. For more information about ‘Immigrants Too’,” 443.
the impact of residential schools on Two-Spirit people,
122 For more detail, see McCallum, Indigenous Women,
see the following video: Daily Xtra, “Residential
Work, and History, 66-119.
schools’ impact on two-spirit people.” November 5,
2014. https://youtu.be/SzT2ed8xRlU. 123 Bohaker and Iacovetta, “Making Aboriginal People
‘Immigrants Too’,” 443.
101 Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada,
The Survivors Speak, 98. 124 For more detail, see McCallum, Indigenous Women,
Work, and History, 66-119.
102 Ibid., 95.
125 Rande C. (Kwakwaka’wakw), Part 1, Public Volume
103 Ibid., 98.
104 Elaine D. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 13,
126 Razack, “Gendered Racial Violence,” 97.
Smithers, BC, p. 12
127 For an examination of how some regulations
105 Shaun L. (Kaska Dena, Crow Clan), Part 1, Public
exacerbate inequality in general, see White, “How
Volume 3, Whitehorse, YT, p. 7.
Zoning Laws Exacerbate Inequality” and Driedger,
106 Rande C. (Kwakwaka'wakw), Part 1, Public Volume “Residential Segregation.” The policies and laws
94, Vancouver, BC, pp. 28-29. associated with forced segregation are distinct from the
concept of ‘‘clustering,” which sometimes sees people
107 As quoted in Henderson, Settler Feminism, 179.
group themselves into communities within urban
108 For a more detailed discussion, see Crews, “Biological centres. The practices we refer to here specifically deal
Theory.” with criminalization of particular populations and
neighbourhoods as related to urban planning and to
109 Clément, “Eugenics.”
zoning and nuisance laws.
110 Ibid.
128 Ramachandran, “Indigenous peoples in the grip of
111 Eugenics Archive, “Feeble-mindedness.” ‘criminalization’.”
112 For more on the history of forced sterilization, see 129 Razack, “Gendered Racial Violence,” 117.
Stote, “The Coercive Sterilization.”
130 Tara Williamson, “Just what was the Sixties Scoop?”
113 Kirkup, “Indigenous women coerced.”
131 Johnston, Native Children and the Child Welfare
System; Truth and Reconciliation Commission of
Canada, Interim Report, 14–15.
317
In this section, we provide a brief overview of some of the historical events and contexts that are
at the root of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. We identify
a number of factors as foundational in the ongoing violation of cultural, health, security, and
justice-related rights. But the violation of these rights also has deep historical roots.
In the area of culture, for instance, some of the most egregious rights violations include the
early logic of discovery and the assertion of Canadian sovereignty, the regulation of Indigenous
identities and governance, and the attempt to assimilate Indigenous Peoples in the context of
residential schools and, later on, within the Sixties Scoop and child welfare systems.
In the area of health, the impact of colonization in northern communities is particularly impor-
tant, as it is connected to relocations and the lack of food security. Other examples include forced
sterilization, lack of access to mental health services and addictions treatment, and overall inter-
ference with existing Indigenous health systems.
Within the context of the right to security, a basic lack of opportunity in areas such as education,
employment, and the failure to provide a basic standard of living are rooted, in particular, in
colonial interventions in ways of life and in removal from ancestral or home lands.
In the area of justice, persistent harmful beliefs, as rooted in colonization regarding Indigenous
women and girls, and the policing of them through legislation and through law enforcement,
have important implications for justice – or the lack thereof – that we see today.
The gendered lens we apply to these contexts is important; while Indigenous men and boys
suffered enormously under colonization, with respect to land and governance in particular,
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people were impacted in distinct, though related,
ways. As Kwagiulth (Kwakwaka’wakw) scholar Sarah Hunt explains:
Colonialism relies on the widespread dehumanization of all Indigenous people – our
children, two-spirits, men and women – so colonial violence could be understood to
impact all of us at the level of our denied humanity. Yet this dehumanization is felt most
acutely in the bodies of Indigenous girls, women, two-spirit and transgender people, as
physical and sexual violence against us continues to be accepted as normal.2
In addition, the distinct and intersectional experiences of women and girls in remote and urban
centres, or from First Nations, Inuit, or Métis perspectives, are an important part of examining
the gendered history of colonization. From policies oriented toward assimilation of First
Nations through the Indian Act and the residential school system, to those targeting Métis fami-
lies through the denial of key services and rights, the structures and institutions of colonization
set up the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
we understand today. In the case of Inuit communities, the relatively later arrival of colonization
to Inuit Nunangat continues to leave important scars on communities and on families who were
often forcibly relocated from their lands and targeted by the residential school system as well,
within a relatively recent time period. How different systems of oppression impacted different
230
groups of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people with respect to their basic human
and inherent Indigenous rights is an important part of many of the life stories we heard within the
National Inquiry, particularly those dealing with the root cause of intergenerational trauma. This
trauma is enforced by the lack of basic economic, social, and political rights, by the lack of
institutional will for change – then and now – and by the failure to recognize the expertise and
capacity of women in their own lives in historical and contemporary perspective.
In short, the history of colonization is gendered, and must be considered in relation to the crisis
of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls as a series of encounters that has ulti-
mately rendered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as targets. This chapter
does not provide an exhaustive account of colonization; rather, it seeks to reposition the experi-
ences of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people within the larger context of colonization to
argue that the very structures and attitudes that inspired historical abuses of human and Indige-
nous rights continue today. As a result, the ongoing crisis of violence against Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is a crisis centuries in the making, and continues into the
present.
Understanding Colonization as a Structure

“Colonization” refers to the processes by which Indigenous Peoples were dispossessed of their
lands and resources, subjected to external control, and targeted for assimilation and, in some
cases, extermination. As defined by Mohawk scholar Gerald Taiaiake Alfred, colonialism repre-
sents the process of building a new reality for Europeans and Indigenous Peoples in North
America, through the development of institutions and policies toward Indigenous Peoples by
European imperial or settler governments. This involved both actual policies and legislation, as
well as the creation of larger religious and secular justifications, or reasons, for enacting them.3
It also includes policies, practices, and institutions that targeted Indigenous people, and women
in particular, in ways that knowingly discriminated against them. The processes of colonization
– its very structure, as this chapter will explore – live on and are replicated in the present,
through different means.
Within the First Nations context, for instance, this meant identifying who was and was not con-
sidered an “Indian” – which involved the process of excluding Métis from Treaties and from the
services – albeit meagre – provided to First Nations.4 Within an Inuit context, this also included
the process of assigning numbered tags to Inuit in order to keep track of people, and renaming
them to make it easier for government officials to monitor them, therefore denying important
naming traditions.5 Broadly seen, colonial processes were often set up around what genocide
scholar Patrick Wolfe has called “the organizing grammar of race.”6 In other words, only by
categorizing Indigenous Peoples through legislation and other means could colonial forces begin
to control them, as well as to dispossess them. As Wolfe maintains, “Settler colonizers come to
stay: invasion is a structure, not an event.”7
231
In Windy River, Northwest Territories, a government
official takes census information from Inuit families.
© Government of Canada. Reproduced with the
permission of Library and Archives Canada (2019).
Source: Library and Archives Canada/Department
of Indian Affairs and Northern Development
fonds/a102695.
The structures of colonialism are important to

begin to identify, especially as they relate to
the issue of violence against Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. On
the one hand, they include the idea of categoriz-
ing people, as described above. They also include processes related to the supervision and contain-
ment of people, such as those seen in moving people to reserves or to centralized communities.
But, on the other hand, structures of colonialism also dehumanize people – reducing individuals
to stereotypes to make them less than human and therefore easier to dismiss. Other physical
dimensions include segregating people to eliminate the bloodline or genetic strain, and the prac-
tices associated with physically removing markers of identity, such as in cutting hair, changing
clothing style, or removing or impeding important skills like trapping, hunting, or other practices
that would allow people to maintain their way of life.
Colonial structures go beyond the physical, though, and also include assaults on ways of knowing
and understanding. This includes, for example, the targeted elimination of Indigenous languages;
the dehumanization of Indigenous Peoples and especially women as animals, or as without worth,
through rape and sexualized violence; and the removal of structures that determine identity or
ways of organizing society that are specific to Indigenous Peoples and that help ensure the life of
the community. As Françoise R. shared:
My parents, the fact that they’ve been through this is like … it’s like they do not have a
life inside of them. It’s like they’re … they’ve been treated like animals. That’s how they
treated my parents: “We have the right to take your children as we want.” They are taken
to the boarding school and then taken to the hospital. You know, it’s them who decided.
It’s not up to them to decide. We have lives. My parents have feelings and then they have
emotions, and then I want there to be justice to that.8
These structures also impact alternative constructions of gender, the survival of ceremonies and
cultural practices, and the education of the younger generation.
232
INTRODUCTION TO SECTION 2
Encountering
Oppression
This section of the Final Report builds on the framework established in

Section 1, through an exploration of the many kinds of violence that
witnesses addressed in their testimonies in Parts 1, 2, and 3 of the Truth-
Gathering Process. Here, we centre the voices of families, friends, and
supporters of those whose lives have been taken by violence and those
who have survived violence themselves. We centre their voices in order to
honour the resilience, agency, and expertise of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people in issues that impact them the most. In addi-
tion, we centre the voices of those survivors and family members who are
learning to heal from their losses as a way to honour those who no longer
walk among us.
As Section 1 outlined, centring these voices as being those of authority is
part of our intersectional approach to understanding how lived experiences
best portray the complexities of the issues faced. The examples cited in
this section of the Final Report are not intended to paint all agencies,
departments, and institutions with the same brush, but these experiences,
in keeping with our approach to understanding encounters, help us to
explore moments of harm and trauma as those that also engage the best
potential for solutions, and for new paths forward.
321
In our Interim Report, we defined “violence” according to the definition of the World Health
Organization (WHO) as “the intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual,
against oneself, another person, or against a group or community that either results in or has a
high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, maldevelopment or depriva-
tion.”1 This definition includes violence between people, self-directed violence (suicide or self-
harm), and armed conflict. The National Inquiry also expands this definition of violence to
include colonial, cultural, and institutionalized violence. This is consistent with our Terms of
Reference and our companion Orders-in-Council and Administrative Decree.
As the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador’s Violence Prevention Initiative asserts,
“Violence is rooted in inequality, and may occur once or repeatedly over a lifetime.” It may also
occur, as is the case with many of our witnesses, over generations. Violence and abuse “are used
to establish and maintain power and control over another person, and often reflect an imbalance
of power between the victim and the abuser.”2
The Violence Prevention Initiative identifies nine different types of abuse:
Physical Violence Sexual Violence Emotional Violence

Physical violence occurs when Sexual violence occurs when a per- Emotional violence occurs when
someone uses a part of their body son is forced to unwillingly take someone says or does something
or an object to control a person’s part in sexual activity. to make a person feel stupid or
actions. worthless.
Psychological Violence Spiritual Violence Cultural Violence

Psychological violence occurs Spiritual (or religious) violence Cultural violence occurs when an
when someone uses threats and occurs when someone uses an individual is harmed as a result of
causes fear in an individual to individual’s spiritual beliefs to practices that are part of their
gain control. manipulate, dominate or control culture, religion or tradition.
that person.
Verbal Abuse Financial Abuse Neglect

Verbal abuse occurs when someone Financial abuse occurs when some- Neglect occurs when someone has
uses language, whether spoken or one controls an individual’s finan- the responsibility to provide care or
written, to cause harm to an indi- cial resources without the person’s assistance for an individual but
vidual. consent or misuses those resources. does not.
As such, this section takes on this definition of violence in an expansive way, understanding that
violence is structural, systemic, and institutional, and is an ingrained part of how Indigenous
people encounter everyday life. We view violence in all of its forms not only as an act, but as a
pattern and a structure, which must be dismantled to be properly understood.
322
This report builds on the work of scholars such as the late Patricia Monture Angus, who researcher
Cindy Holmes cites as calling for, in 1995, a new expansive definition of violence that “reflected
the complexities of colonial power relations and the intersecting and interrelated forms of vio-
lence experienced by Indigenous peoples.” The National Inquiry acknowledges state violence –
colonialism, patriarchy, misogyny, and racism – as inseparable from the everyday violence that
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people face. We use this kind of definition to
explain how there isn’t just a single form of violence against Indigenous women, or a single
reason Indigenous women and girls go missing or are murdered. Reducing the violence that
Indigenous women face to interpersonal violence only is far too narrow an understanding to
capture what feeds it. Relying simply on the idea of “male violence against Aboriginal women,”
as Cindy Holmes explains, recolonizes and erases many of the larger currents that work to
sustain the totality of violence that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
experience.3
We maintain that colonial violence is complicit in all of these types of abuse. Section 2 of our
Final Report is an examination of all of these forms of violence, as lived by those who experi-
ence them, in moments of encounter that set them on the path toward harm or toward healing. A
decolonizing lens helps us understand how all of these forms of violence connect for Indigenous
Peoples, and understand how the relationships that undergird them can be transformed.
Four Pathways that Maintain Colonial Violence

In each of the next four chapters, we have chosen to focus on a different theme that presented it-
self in the testimony. Rather than organizing each chapter according to an event, or to a moment
in time, we chose themes that could illustrate how the structures that serve to maintain colonial
violence do so in key areas relevant to the everyday experiences of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. In choosing thematic areas that reflect these experiences in areas of cul-
ture, health, security, and justice, we also deliberately connect to international human rights
instruments that Canada has pledged its support to as an important lens through which to view
these obligations and to ensure accountability. Indigenous women’s rights to culture, health,
security, and justice are not “extras,” but are basic human rights that are necessary and due.
In addition, each of these four chapters highlights how the pathways that maintain colonial
violence, in each thematic area, are the same. While the nature of experiences varied from group
to group, and we don’t use this lens to pan-Indigenize these experiences, highlighting their
commonalities can help reveal the underlying causes, as our mandate directs us to do.
In their descriptions of encounters that led loved ones to harm, families and survivors who spoke
at the National Inquiry consistently referred to four general ways that their experiences were
rooted in colonialism – both historic and modern forms. These four pathways continue to enforce
the historic and contemporary manifestations of colonialism in ways that lead to additional
violence over and across generations.
323
As Expert Witness and Executive Director of the Arctic Children and Youth Foundation Sarah
Clark testified:
Historical trauma is cumulative and intergenerational in its impacts, meaning its
cumulative effects are passed on. These various sources of trauma that originated from
outside Indigenous communities that I just discussed generated a wide range of
dysfunctional and hurtful behaviours, such as physical and sexual abuse, which is
recycled generation after generation within the community. As a result, we see negative
behaviour, such as alcohol abuse, sexual, physical and emotional abuse, child neglect
and violent crime. The link between the effects of past events like these and adverse
outcomes in the present have been well documented.4
Our four pathways are explained in Chapter 1, but we reiterate them now for ease of reference:
• Historical, multigenerational, and intergenerational trauma examines the context
of contemporary struggles with collective trauma or harm stemming from historic and
current policies, arguing that current systems often work to perpetuate this trauma,
instead of healing this generation. We maintain that intergenerational and multigenera-
tional trauma is directly connected to interpersonal violence, as well as to self-harm,
that ultimately places Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in danger.
• Social and economic marginalization ensures that the structures that are carried for-
ward from the past live on in the contemporary systems that cause marginalization. In
particular, the ongoing dispossession of Indigenous Peoples through policies that
worsen or maintain the poor conditions that people live in demonstrates how, in many
rights areas, social and economic marginalization, as also linked to political marginal-
ization, is a direct contributor to violence. In addition, the impact of this marginaliza-
tion on Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is especially significant in
terms of the violence that stems from it.
• Maintaining the status quo and institutional lack of will are ways in which govern-
ments, institutions, and other parties have obfuscated their responsibilities, legal and
other, toward Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Whether through
lack of will, inadequate funding, or a desire to maintain the status quo that marginalizes
Indigenous women, these policies – or the lack thereof – directly contribute to targeting
• Ignoring the agency and expertise of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people is a consistent theme, both historically and in contemporary ways, particularly
given the internalization of patriarchy and misogyny that, as many women have cited,
keeps them outside of formal political structures. To challenge the current status quo,
we maintain that agencies, institutions, and governments must be willing to work with
324
those who hold the most expertise – those impacted by violence – and to recognize their
agency and resilience, and the solutions they bring to the table.5
At the conclusion of each chapter, we link many of the problems we heard with international
human rights instruments as a way of highlighting the commitments Canada has made. As
Expert Witness and Indigenous human rights activist Ellen Gabriel pointed out in her testimony:
When we talk about human rights, and this is the thing that I want to stress is, this needs
to be based on a human rights end. And, human rights, as the UN says, are universal and
inalienable and indivisable, interdependent and interrelated, it promotes equality and
non-discrimination, participation and inclusion, accountability in the rule of law, none of
which have been offered up to Indigenous people. We are constantly being told that we
do not know what is best for us, that government policies are the best ones. We are
constantly told that third-party interests to develop our lands and territories, to extract
resources, are more important than our rights, that money will soothe the pain of losing
our land, which it does not.6
These standards established by human rights instruments aren’t meaningful unless they are
applied fully to upholding human rights, which did not occur in many of the stories shared in this
report. They need to be brought to life, and they need to live not only at an institutional or
systems level, but in every single relationship, encounter, and interaction that Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people may have.
We invite you to read through these next chapters with a view to the big picture, as well as with a
view to engaging your own beliefs and relationships – whether you are a survivor, a family mem-
ber, an ally, or a non-Indigenous person. These experiences show that we all have a role to play
in ensuring a full range of human rights for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
The negative encounters described in the following sections aren’t intended to suggest that every
person or institution holds the same discriminatory attitudes; they are intended to highlight how
change begins at the base. These attitudes are a remarkably consistent feature of the many
experiences we heard about in the way that Indigenous people experience them, and, for these
reasons, these relationships and encounters are precisely where we should begin in seeking to
restore safety for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
325
This argument about so-called empty lands, along with the Papal Bull “Inter Caetera,” issued by
Pope Alexander VI on May 4, 1493, provided even more justification for aggressive coloniza-
tion. This Bull, popularly known as the “Doctrine of Discovery,” stated that any land not inhab-
ited by Christians could be “discovered” and claimed by Christian rulers. It claimed ownership
over all of it, regardless of the claims of those already living there, based on the idea that they
were “barbarians.” The Bull further decreed that barbarian nations should be overthrown and
Christianity spread everywhere. Such ethnocentric views centred Christianity as the cornerstone
of humanity, so that to be without a Christian god was to be considered less than human.14
Explorers also retained these religious ideas. For example, Samuel de Champlain, who, in 1608,
established a fortress at what is now Quebec City, described Indigenous people as “savages”
or “barbarians.” He commented further: “I believe that they would quickly be brought round to
being good Christians, if their lands were colonized.”15 In the eyes of European colonizers, this
was enough of a justification to declare terra nullius and, within the Doctrine of Discovery, to
engage in an aggressive policy of colonization that included the exploitation of resources for
international trade and the eventual deployment of European settlers to occupy the newly
claimed lands.
Europeans also used colonization to seize the power of pre-emption, which said that: “Through
being the first European to visit and properly claim a given territory, a discoverer acquired the
right, on behalf of his sovereign and vis-à-vis other Europeans who came after him, to buy land
from the natives.”16 Simply, it meant that Indigenous Peoples could deal only with the Crown
that had, at any given time, claimed sovereignty over discovered territory, which left very little
room for appeal or justice in that respect. This directly went against the right of those communi-
ties to determine their own futures, based on their rights to the lands, and was one of the first
steps in establishing the structures of colonial violence linked with denying culture, health,
security, and justice.
A Religious Enterprise: Early Colonization among

First Nations and Métis
Claiming land for European monarchs was also tied to the practice of claiming souls for God. In
the case of Christianity, and, in particular, early Catholicism, core beliefs brought to communities
by missionaries challenged Indigenous notions of gender and relationships between men, women
and gender-diverse people, as well as their leadership, as well as women’s leadership within
communities. They directly impacted the rights to culture, as well as associated political and
social rights as enjoyed by women and gender-diverse people within their communities prior to
colonization.
236
A key part of our process over the
course of the National Inquiry has
been to invest in relationships and to
centre them as key in our analysis.
In Iqaluit, Commissioners speak
with Hagar Idlout-Sudlovenick and
Inukshuk Aksalnik of the Qikiqtani
Inuit Association.
Key to this discussion is racism, a particular form of colonial violence that seeks to undermine,
to minimize, and to set aside Indigenous cultural rights and to diminish Indigenous Peoples. In
particular, the experiences highlighted by many witnesses of their encounters with people and
with systems are important opportunities for reflection, because they are moments where out-
comes could have been transformed by a non-discriminatory approach that sets aside stereotypes
and biases in favour of the basic value of respect.
In this chapter, we first confront the way in which intergenerational and multigenerational trauma
works to maintain colonial violence in the present, as explained in stories about the loss of cul-
ture. The chapter then turns to the way in which the lack of access to full social, economic, and
political rights compromises access to culturally appropriate services and the right to live one’s
culture. The chapter describes instances in which lack of political will and insufficient institu-
tional responses have impacted the respect of Indigenous cultures. We examine how, in their tes-
timonies, those who offered their truths have also offered stories of agency, of resilience, and of
expertise as a way of restoring cultural rights. We identify the common experiences within these
pathways that maintain the colonial violence that we heard about from First Nations, Métis, and
Inuit testimonies, and we also highlight the distinctive expressions of violations of cultural rights
as they appeared before the National Inquiry.
While the moments of encounter identified and highlighted within this chapter do not represent
the entirety of Indigenous experiences within various institutions and systems, we maintain that
they are important and representative of the types of oppression with respect to culture that In-
digenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people face. They are opportunities to reflect on how
protecting cultural rights means beginning with respectful relationships, and understanding how
these kinds of encounters can contribute to harm, or to healing, in the lives of those who have
been most targeted by systemic, institutionalized, and interpersonal racism and violence.
328
Defining “Culture”
In sharing their truths with the National Inquiry, families, survivors, Knowledge Keepers, and
others made it clear that culture must be part of any undertaking to restore and protect Indige-
nous and human rights. In the same way, witnesses often cited racism and discrimination as im-
portant barriers to accessing these rights, including the most basic rights to personal security. As
such, many witnesses described cultural rights as a necessary condition for the enjoyment of all
rights. Many testimonies emphasized the importance of recognizing, respecting, and upholding
Indigenous culture, as understood by different Indigenous groups, within institutions and sys-
tems, such as child welfare, health care, justice, and many more. Central to the protection of cul-
tural rights in these contexts are respect for the importance of the family unit and a willingness to
address the ways in which contemporary violations against Indigenous families in terms of child
apprehension, in particular, place these rights in jeopardy. The testimonies also emphasized how
the violation of cultural rights, in many cases, serves to endanger loved ones and to create
situations in which women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are targeted for violence.
International organizations have emphasized the importance of cultural rights and, alongside
them, self-determination. As Professor of Law Alexandra Xanthaki explains, the concept of
“culture” has evolved in recent decades, along with the scope of what are now considered cul-
tural rights. For decades, international organizations tended to view culture as linked narrowly to
the protection of cultural artifacts belonging to the state or to individuals.7 But this definition fell
far short of what many communities, including Indigenous communities, understood by
“culture,” and, since the late 1980s, the definition has expanded.
In its broadest conception, “culture” is defined by Xanthaki as
the sum total of the material and spiritual activities and products of a given social group
which distinguishes it from other similar groups … a coherent self-contained system of
values and symbols as well as a set of practices that a specific cultural group reproduces
over time and which provides individuals with the required signposts and meanings for
behaviour and social relationships in everyday life.8
As Xanthaki explains, “in this broad sense, the right to culture covers all aspects of life.”9 Now,
in addition to cultural artifacts, “culture” includes elements such as ways of life, language,
histories or literatures (both oral and written), belief systems, ceremonies, environments, and
traditions “through which individuals, groups of individuals and communities express their
humanity and the meaning they give to their existence, and build their view representing their
encounters with the external forces affecting their lives.”10
In its current interpretation in international human rights law, Indigenous Peoples’ right to culture
includes several key aspects. For instance, the right to culture includes non-discrimination with
regards to participation in the cultural life of the state as a whole, but it also encompasses rights
to cultural autonomy, and to the protection of cultural objects, customs, practices, traditions, and
manifestations. In the international rights context, the United Nations’ Expert Mechanism on the
329
Rights of Indigenous Peoples has highlighted that Indigenous women and children are often hold-
ers of significant cultural knowledge, but can also be disproportionately affected by violations of
the right to culture.11
Within the international framework, cultural, economic, and social rights approaches highlight
the importance and centrality of the family unit. The World Population Plan of Action affirms the
family as the most fundamental unit in society, and the United Nations Population Information
Network (POPIN) notes, “In spite of the many changes that have altered their roles and func-
tions, families continue to provide the natural framework for the emotional, financial and mate-
rial support essential to the growth and development of their members…. The family in all its
forms is the cornerstone of the world.” The duties of families as primary agents of socialization
include key areas that are threatened when the family is placed in jeopardy, including the estab-
lishment of emotional, economic, and social bonds, protecting family members, especially
children, and providing care, socialization, and education of children.12
This explanation is indicative of a new weight and depth afforded to cultural rights by the inter-
national community, and the depth of dislocation and disruption that many witnesses reported
feeling in the context of policies and practices that threaten the family unit and the culture it
protects. As one witness from Vancouver, Patrick S., explained, “An Elder told me this once. You
know, our culture is as deep as the shells that have layered it up since the beginning of time on
the bottom of the ocean. If you work really, really hard you might make it through the first layer
in a lifetime. That’s how deep our culture is, you know.”13
In 2016, the Human Rights Council of the United Nations unanimously adopted a resolution call-
ing upon all states to “respect, promote and protect the right of everyone to take part in cultural
life, including the ability to access and enjoy cultural heritage, and to take relevant actions to
achieve this.”14 The Human Rights Committee has also noted that, for Indigenous Peoples, the
right to culture can require that a range of other rights are also fulfilled, including: the right to par-
ticipate in customary activities; the right to access lands, territories, and resources; the right to
family; and the right to participate in decision-making processes that affect their cultural rights.15
States are also under an obligation to take action to prevent and provide redress for any action that
deprives Indigenous Peoples of their integrity as distinct peoples and their cultural values or ethnic
identities, and that contains any form of forced assimilation or integration.16
As the United Nations points out, “Gross violations of economic, social and cultural rights have
been among the root causes of conflicts, and failure to address systematic discrimination and in-
equities in the enjoyment of these rights can undermine the recovery from conflict.” Further:
The denial of economic, social and cultural rights can lead to violations of other human
rights. For example, it is often harder for individuals who cannot read and write to find
work, to take part in political activity or to exercise their freedom of expression. Failing
to protect a woman’s right to adequate housing (such as lack of secure tenure) can make
her more vulnerable to domestic violence, as she might have to choose between
remaining in an abusive relationship or becoming homeless.17
330
Complex Relationships in Fur Trade Country
The colonization of what would become Canada didn’t happen only for religious purposes, how-
ever, and missionaries’ access to communities was enabled by the development of trade, as well.
As scholar Taiaiake Alfred maintains, the processes of colonization were inseparable from those
of mercantile capitalism, and industrial capitalism later on. And, as he observes, capitalist growth
and expansion depends on the dispossession of Indigenous lands.34 In other words, the economy
that developed in Canada was dependent on removing Indigenous Peoples from their lands.
In 1670, King Charles II of England granted the Hudson’s Bay Company exclusive trading rights
over a huge part of the continent, which required the labour of First Nations living on the terri-
tory as trappers, hunters, guides, and as providers for the various trading forts and posts. By the
end of the 17th century, the demand for the broad-rimmed beaver hat, made from beaver pelts,
fundamentally changed the trading landscape in Canada.
In this respect, it was also not lost on early colonizers that building alliances with First Nations
was an essential part of settlement. In his work, historian Richard White discusses the “middle
ground” from 1650 to 1815 as a period and a place of mutual accommodation, in the pays d’en
haut of the Great Lakes region. His work demonstrates how encounters among Algonquian-
speaking First Nations, French, British, and Americans were forged within the context of a weak
state authority and a fairly even distribution of power relationships – economic and military –
that helped to ensure roughly equitable relations and respect among groups.35
Within White’s “middle ground,” the encounters between First Nations women and European
men were important. First Nations women were not unaccustomed to being ambassadors, transla-
tors, representatives, and diplomats for their own Nations. For their home communities, they
could be symbols of friendship and alliance. These women were key to building strong trade
relationships.
Indigenous women packing out on Camsell

portage, Northwest Territories, 1926. Source:
Library and Archives Canada/Natural
Resources Canada fonds/a020008.
241
National Inquiry staff and members of
the Elders and Grandmothers Circle lead
the Strong Woman Song in Quebec City,
Quebec.
In describing contemporary experiences, witnesses also described how the violence directed
toward their communities that contributed to the loss of culture and cultural practices has, in its
simultaneous destruction of these value systems and world views, fundamentally changed the na-
ture of family and community, and, specifically, the position of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people within family and community. Patrick S. explained how, in today’s society, sexist and
racist belief systems that champion individualism, hierarchy, and the exercise of power over
others run counter to traditional Indigenous cultural systems of relating and organizing.
An Elder told me a story last week. And he said, “There’s white people – there’s white
men and there’s white people…. He said, “White people are the people we, you know,
the white nation we intersect with; our schoolteachers, our friends … [they] don’t try and
impress us, don’t try and change us, just accept us who we are and, you know, we’re –
we’re good neighbors with them, basically…. White men are those people, you know,
whatever gender they may be, who subjugate us, who oppress us, who still, you know,
cling blindly to that dominant, you know, that paradigm of power, of hierarchy, you
know. Those are, you know, white men.19
For many people, loss of culture contributes to, or is experienced as, a form of trauma that extends
across generations, and that is reinforced in many ways today. In the First Nations and Métis
context, stories shared by witnesses about cultural loss and the violation of cultural rights and the
ongoing impacts of that loss on their families and communities often begin with reference to the
residential and day school system, the Sixties Scoop, and/or child apprehensions within the
current child welfare system, all of which led to disconnection from community and culture. In
the case of Inuit, the violation of cultural rights is similar, but shifts to include the important
impacts of mass centralization and relocation, and a relatively recent change in way of life.
332
within the Context of Canada
As the early history of exploration and trade demonstrates, while First Nations and Métis
Peoples, along with Inuit, share some common experiences of colonization, it is important to
distinguish the experiences of each group within its own historical context. This is because the
same laws, policies, and regulations were not applied to each group, although the overarching
logic of assimilation and destruction inherent in colonization was common to all groups.
The transition from colonies to country changed how colonial authorities would manage First
Nations people, and women in particular, because destroying existing Nations was a precursor to
forming new ones. In this project, women were an important focus through a variety of measures
designed to reduce and eventually eliminate First Nations.
In 1867, Canada established itself as a nation through the enactment of a constitution called the
British North America Act.42 Confederation federally united the British North American colonies
of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and the Province of Canada to form the Dominion of Canada as
a new country. At its creation in 1867, the Dominion of Canada included four provinces: Nova
Scotia, New Brunswick, Quebec, and Ontario. Between then and 1999, six more provinces and
three territories joined Confederation.
As explained briefly in a previous chapter, within the new Confederation, the responsibility for
“Indians and lands reserved for Indians” was delegated to the federal government in section
91(24) of the Constitution Act, 1867. If it had been at all unclear prior to Confederation, it was
now constitutionally entrenched that Indians were considered wards of the Canadian state.
First Nations men receive their

Treaty annuity, 1930. Source:
Library and Archives Canada/
Canadian National Railway
Company fonds/e010861493.
244
Understanding the True Spirit
and Intent of Treaty Relationships
While not all First Nations in Canada have historical treaties with the Government of Canada, those who do
have long insisted that the way that Treaties are interpreted today are not in accordance with the intent and
the spirit of the agreements as they were made. The connection to the tragedy of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people lies in the way that Treaty provisions intended to secure a
good, safe and healthy way of life for future generations. Instead, they have been interpreted so narrowly
that they have served to further dispossess First Nations, and to place their membership in further jeopardy.
Understanding the true spirit and intent of historical Treaties, then, is an important way to see First Nations
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as rights holders whose ancestors sought to protect them through
the true spirit and intent of Treaty.
According to Anishinaabe Elder Harry Bone, ment about sharing resources and making sure
understanding the original spirit and intent of Treaty the “dish” – the land – would always provide for both
includes understanding who First Nations were at the parties, for generations to come. It was an agreement
time Treaties were negotiated, and the relationships about sharing the land, and taking care of it – and in
these First Nations had to settlers and to the land.I turn, through the values of reciprocity, respect and
Elder Bone of the Keeseekoowenin Ojibway First interconnectedness – the land would also take care
Nation in Manitoba argues that First Nations are “the of the people. These dynamic agreements weren’t set
first owners and occupants of the land; they protect for a year, or several years – they represented princi-
their languages, beliefs, and teachings and honour ples that would be re-articulated, re- understood, and
the Creator. Treaties are part of the first law — the respected from one generation to the next.
constitution of First Nations — that involves the idea
of entering into peaceful arrangements with new- When the historical Treaties between the Crown and
comers on an equal, nation-to-nation basis.” II The First Nations were negotiated, this kind of relation-
idea of protecting languages, beliefs and teachings ship is what First Nations sought. The act of making
is not a static idea, stuck at a historical point in time; Treaty was an act of accepting these new people – as
instead, protecting these vitally important resources Nihiyaw (Cree) legal scholar Harold Johnson calls
is a project that is dynamic, and that is about today them, kiciwamanawak, or cousins – who became new
and about the future, as well. relatives through Treaty. The obligations on new rel-
atives and around kinship were based on protection,
The original spirit and intent of Treaties is not rooted care, and mutual aid. As Johnson explains, “no one
in some unknowable past; it is actually concrete, in thought you would try to take everything for
many agreements that First Nations made with each yourselves, and that we would have to beg for left-
other, prior to European contact. For instance, the overs…. The Treaties that gave your family the right
Dish with One Spoon Treaty, negotiated between the to occupy this territory were also an opportunity for
Anishinaabe and the Haudenosaunee, was an agree- you to learn how to live in this territory.” III
245
have contributed to the loss of culture, language, and family. As Moses M. described, this loss of
culture, language, and family is accompanied by a loss of Indigenous ways of knowing and relat-
ing to each other that, in the past, fostered good relations among people.
My father always sat us down, and these are his words [speaking in Nuu-chah-nulth]. Very
few but very powerful words that as our people our very first law is respect, that you
always go by that in whatever you’re going to do, then there isn’t much that you’re going
to do wrong. He also knew that we as people are just human, that if we make a mistake that
we learn by it so that we don’t keep on doing the same wrongs.
My mother also taught us about respect in a different way [speaking in Nuu-chah-nulth].

My humble translation of that is that I as an individual cannot demand respect but I have to
earn it. And that’s the other part of our lives today is that I come from a tribe of around
1,250 people in our tribe, and there’s maybe 20 or 25 that can speak the language. So we
no longer understand what our old people were saying about things like respect
[speaking in Nuu-chah-nulth].22
Witnesses who attended residential school or who are children and grandchildren of residential
school survivors, as well as those impacted by the Sixties Scoop, emphasized how these particu-
lar systems, of which we heard about most, placed them in danger. Michele G. explained:
Maybe the government was beginning the process to close residential schools down, but
the Sixties Scoop policy was the replacement. In other words, they continued coming
onto our reserve, taking us children. The only thing that had changed was that they sent
us to middle-class white families across the country. Some of those families were good,
some bad, and some were horrific.23
Concrete effects of these experiences varied, but, for many people, the most severe and lasting
impacts are those that have fundamentally disrupted the sense of self-worth, family, and connec-
tion that had previously been nurtured and protected through culture and family. Carol B. shared
the following observation.
And I really feel that the intergenerational trauma brought on by the residential schools
has really impacted our families in a negative way. How can you possibly learn to love
and value yourself when you’re told consistently – daily, that you’re of no value. And
that we need to take the Indian out of you. How could you value or love yourself? And
how could you expect to love and value your children? And so for me, it was really
important that I speak on my mother’s behalf because if she were alive today, we would
have a loving relationship. Or she would love me the best … way that she knows how,
given the circumstances that she had to grow up in.24
335
The justification for this status of wardship was pursued by officials on many fronts, using some
of the problems they themselves had prompted to blame First Nations for their own hardship. In
reality, the reasons were both administrative and economic. Under the Royal Proclamation of
1763, the government was duty-bound to respect Aboriginal title through the making of Treaty,
and having various First Nations groups scattered across a huge expanse was seen as an ad-
ministrative and financial burden. In other ways, though, a changing way of life for many First
Nations meant that the government thought they would soon disappear. On the Plains, for instance,
the elimination of the bison contributed to poverty and to dispossession, due to the reliance of
many groups on its trade and products. While the reliance on bison was not static or uniform
across all Plains groups, its position as a primary source of livelihood, and its uses in almost all
realms of life including food, lodging, clothing, and the like, meant that the loss of this resource
would have grave consequences, including on the health and lifespan of First Nations in these
areas.43 The killing of bison in mass numbers also fed a growing focus on building an agrarian or
farming economy, which required the removal of the bison, the people who depended on it, and
the redivision of the land.44 As survivor Paula P. told the National Inquiry:
Us First Nations carry pain … the land was taken away from us, our way of life.
We used to follow the buffalo, and the buffalo was taken. We can no longer just go
nomadically around because of the fences that were put up. We had freedom to go
whenever we wanted on Turtle Island, and they took that away.45
Encouraging immigration through policies directed by the federal government was one way that
First Nations were displaced from their lands. Settlement and railway building went hand in hand
within the larger project of nation building. For instance, the promise of a railway had been a
guarantee that pushed British Columbia to join Confederation in 1871. Between 1896 and 1914,
the federal government, led by Minister of Immigration Clifford Sifton, also marketed the land
under the slogan “The Last Best West!” and took out full-page ads in the United States and parts
of Europe to attract farming immigrants.46
To clear the land for these projects, the government was bound by the Crown’s promise, con-
tained in the 1763 Royal Proclamation, which had established the need to make Treaty with First
Nations to deal with their pre-existing title to the lands. There were some pre-Confederation
Treaties dealing with land, notably the Robinson Treaties, signed by the Crown and First Nations
around Lake Superior in 1850, which represented huge tracts of land much larger than those
covered by the 27 signed between 1764 and 1836 in Upper Canada.47 The Robinson Treaties laid
the groundwork for the Numbered Treaties, signed as a way to open up lands for settlement,
particularly on the Prairies.
247
residential school survivors who participated in her study, these familial and cultural losses were
more widely identified as has having a negative impact than such things as lack of food (48.8%),
harsh living conditions such as lack of heat, for example (48.2%), and even sexual abuse (42.6%)
demonstrates the deep significance of those aspects of experience connected to culture and fam-
ily.28
The cumulative effects of this disruption of cultural and familial continuity are concrete – and
devastating. In addition to the impacts for survivors of the residential school system, Bombay
explained, “there is consistent evidence showing that the children and grandchildren of those
affected by residential schools are at risk for various negative mental, physical and social out-
comes.”29
In her testimony, Robin R. provided a powerful account of how these cycles of trauma over life-
times, and which manifest over generations, are so engrained and accepted that violence in the
lives of residential school survivors and their children or grandchildren seems “pre-determined.”
My future was pre-determined in many ways. All of my grandparents attended
residential school. They were severely alcoholic. And when I was a child growing up,
when I lived in Alberta, there’s not a time that I remember seeing one of my family
members sober. My mother was raised in violence, experiencing physical and sexual
abuse throughout her childhood. I don’t know much about my father because he left my
mother when I was very young. I vaguely remember my father’s father, but never really
knew him well. The only father figures I had were the men that came into my mother’s
life and continued the abuse she had already known her entire life. Thankfully, I had not
experienced abuse at the hands of my mother’s partners, but drug addiction was also an
issue with my mother and the men that came into our lives. In spite of this, when I was a
teenager, I was a scholarship student preparing for university and college. I was highly
academic and I wasn’t drinking or using drugs.
These are some of the things from my past that laid the path that brought me into this
situation where I shared my life with a man who could murder my child. I wanted to
escape from the pain of my childhood. I wanted a home of my own where I could feel
safe, would feel safe. I was 15 years old when I had Isabella. Her father was a 19-year-
old drug addict who was trying to live clean. Because I grew up watching my mother
being physically abused, I allowed this to be part of my relationships, too, believing it
was somewhat normal that I accepted it.30
Understandably, the cumulative effects of trauma have also resulted, for many of those who
shared their truths, in a sense of anger and displacement that doesn’t always heal with time. As
Verna W. explained:
337
This life wasn’t easy for any of us. But, you know, I don’t know if it [residential schools]
made me stronger or made me more pissed off with the people today because they’re
still not doing it – doing anything right for us, any of us, and that’s right across Canada. I
am still angry because I got nothing to reconcile with anybody for.31
Other witnesses described the loss of a sense of belonging. Chrystal S. said:

So you know, we really have not had … our home for so many generations, we’ve really
been displaced for so many generations. We’ve had generations who grew up in residential
schools, so further displaced from their homes. We have generations, from the grand-
parents, great-grandparents, who already didn’t have a home, but then were moved to
residential school, where there was nothing but horrors that are unimaginable to children,
and today, in Canada, today in Vancouver, the Downtown Eastside, you know, they don’t
even have their own homes in that community.
What’s the biggest problem for Indigenous people of Canada today is having a home. So
we have this long history of not having our home. Of not having a home to live in. How
can we raise our children if we don’t have a home to belong to? If we don’t have a home
that’s safe? That has our family around us? If we’re not even allowed to have that and
we’re not even allowed to even feel like we belong here, how can we raise our kids
in that?32
Amy Bombay believes an essential intervention in breaking this cycle comes in repairing the
ways in which the residential school system and the foster care system severed familial and
cultural ties. Based on her research, Bombay explained, “factors related to culture and cultural
identity are particularly protective in buffering against those negative effects of residential
schools and other aspects of colonization.”33 Unfortunately, as the National Inquiry heard from
many witnesses, the institutional systems with which Indigenous Peoples interact often ignore
the importance of culture and family. In doing so, they reinforce rather than dismantle the
harmful relationships and systems that continue to create traumatic conditions.
338
DEEPER DIVE
The Need for a Systems-Level Approach to

Transforming Child Welfare
The Final Report includes testimony that conveys the savage, you can’t look after the land, and so the
extent to which child welfare systems have worked civilized have to take over. And if you’re a savage,
to create the conditions that maintain violence in you can’t look out for your children, and the civ-
families, in communities, and within Indigenous ilized have to look after them.B
groups in Canada. The history of the child welfare sys-
tem, as well as many of its contemporary iterations, This kind of colonial violence – the removal of children
points to the need for a comprehensive, systems- from their families – violates fundamental human
level approach to transforming the ways that child rights and compromises culture, health, and security.
welfare operates in Canada, from its most fundamen- It is a direct attack on the survival of the group, cul-
tal level: the lack of respect for Indigenous families turally, biologically, physically, and overall. For those
and the rights of Indigenous children. As many wit- children left behind, children of women who are miss-
nesses identified, the apprehension of children that ing or who have been murdered, the significant con-
occurs unfettered on this scale represents the sequences of being placed in care are lifelong and
strongest form of violence against a mother, in critically important: they have implications for pro-
addition to the violence that it represents for the grams and initiatives related to healing and to a com-
children.A A system this broken and that places In- plete overhaul of the system as it exists.
digenous children at greater risk for violence, now
and in the future, requires nothing less than a com- Cindy Blackstock testified passionately on the sub-
plete paradigm shift. ject, pointing out that, by any measure, Indigenous
children are still the most likely to be placed in care.
As she explained, “And, to give you a sense of the
66 Million Nights, and scale of it just for on-reserve, between 1989 and 2012,
187,000 Years of Childhood: we’ve known that First Nations kids are 12 times more
likely to go into child welfare care, primarily driven by
Contextualizing Child neglect, primarily driven by poverty, substance mis-
use and by poor housing.”C Her testimony revealed
Welfare in Canada the extent to which the causes for children in care
connect to the violation of key rights, and the need
Over the course of our hearings, the National Inquiry for healing, in areas related to culture, health, and
heard from many survivors of the child welfare sys- human security, which encompasses both social and
tem, as well as from many family members whose physical security.
loved ones did not survive. The high number of
Indigenous children in care is directly linked to the In some testimonies heard by the National Inquiry,
history and contemporary legacies of colonial poli- the danger to children can be compounded or in-
cies. According to Dr. Cindy Blackstock, the Gitxsan creased by being placed in care; in many instances,
executive director of the First Nations Child and Fam- they are placed into situations where the likelihood
ily Caring Society of Canada and professor at the of harm and violence is even higher than it was be-
School of Social Work at McGill University: fore. For example, the Canadian Observatory on
Homelessness’s national youth homelessness survey,
It’s really the whole roots of colonialism, where conducted in 2015, found that almost 60% of the
you create this dichotomy between the savage, 1,103 homeless youth (ages 13 to 24) surveyed in
that being Indigenous Peoples, and the civilized, nine provinces and Nunavut had previous or current
that being the colonial forces … if you’re a involvement with child welfare.D A British Columbia
339
study by the Representative for Children and Youth Indigenous families related to poverty, housing, and
and the Office of the Provincial Health Officer, other basic needs facilitates a system in which the
published in 2009, found that just over a third of the apprehension of children becomes a way for govern-
children in care had also been involved in the youth ments to make money by increasing federal transfers,
justice system.E The same report argued that children while keeping intact a system that undermines
in care were more likely to be involved with the Indigenous culture and family systems. Senator
justice system than to graduate from high school. Murray Sinclair has affirmed that “the monster that
was created in the residential schools moved into a
The ongoing disruption to culture, identity, and new house. And that monster now lives in the child-
family through the child welfare system runs in direct welfare system.”I
opposition to what research demonstrates about
how to foster resiliency and improve the lives of In- Looking at this crisis, Blackstock maintains, is about
digenous people. As Amy Bombay explained, when understanding how it impacts children. As she
cultural pride and culture are practised and available, explained to the National Inquiry:
they are often accompanied by better overall health
outcomes.F Kids don’t think about overrepresentation. When
they’re looking forward to something or they’re
In many cases, families – and the sense of belonging, looking forward to something being over, they
identity, and culture that can come from being in a think, “How many sleeps until I see my mom?”
family – are further punished by structural barriers. And this spreadsheet counted up those sleeps.
In 2018, Winnipeg Member of the Legislative Assem- How many sleeps did First Nations kids spend
bly of Manitoba Bernadette Smith worked to amend away from their families in foster care between
Manitoba’s child apprehension laws to ensure that 1989 and 2012? And it was 66 million nights, or
children cannot be seized due only to povertyG – 187,000 years of childhood.”J
something that many witnesses outlined as part of
their own experiences. But the funding formula still
provides funding for children in care, rather than
Children’s Rights and
funding designed to properly support families or to Canada’s Obligations
prevent the apprehension of children in the first
place. For Blackstock and others, those 66 million nights
represent fundamental human rights violations com-
Natalie G. made the following observation about mitted against children. As many people point out,
how funding is misdirected into the hands of child the rights of children in care are also directly con-
welfare services or foster families rather than into the nected to Canada’s human rights obligations.
hands of families who need it.
The idea for a convention devoted to the rights of
They [Mi’kmaq Family and Children Services] children was first proposed by the country of Poland,
spend thousands and thousands of dollars ap- in 1978, before the United Nations, but it took 10
prehending these children, and … it’s hard to be- years for it to gain the unanimous support of the
lieve that they’ll take a child out of a home, put international community.
them in another home, but they’re going to pay,
like, $5,000 for new beds, new dressers, new A working group began the drafting process in 1979,
clothes, some food, whatever. Why can’t they composed of members from the United Nations Chil-
take that $5,000 or whatever, buy them brand- dren Fund (UNICEF), different non-governmental or-
new beds in their own home, buy some food ganizations (NGOs), and the 48 member states of the
for their own home, help the parents, get L’nu Commission on Human Rights.K On November 20,
[Mi’kmaq] support, you know?H 1989, the General Assembly of the United Nations
(UN) finally adopted the Convention on the Rights of
According to Blackstock, the ongoing failure to the Child (CRC) as part of Resolution 44/25.
address the structural roots of the challenges facing
340
The CRC’s 54 articles and its two Optional Protocols The CRC’s Article 24 also entitles all children to health
are based on four core principles: non-discrimination; and well-being, whether they are living in their
the best interests of the child; the right to life, sur- own biological families or in care. As numerous re-
vival, and development; and respect for the views of searchers have identified, Indigenous children con-
the child. tinue to live, on average, far below the standards of
other children in Canada. For instance, First Nations
For example, Article 3 of the CRC stipulates, “In all ac- children living in urban centres are twice as likely as
tions concerning children, whether undertaken by non-First Nations children in the same centres to live
public or private social welfare institutions, courts of in poverty, in single-parent households, or in inade-
law, administrative bodies or legislative bodies, the quate housing, or to experience hunger.M The
best interests of the child shall be a primary consid- challenges of on-reserve First Nations communities,
eration.” The CRC also specifically cites child welfare as well as Inuit communities, as related to infrastruc-
as an area where the rights of children may be in ture and housing as well as poverty and lack of
jeopardy. Article 9(1) asserts: “States Parties shall en- services, are documented throughout this report.
sure that a child shall not be separated from his or her Children who are First Nations and who live with dis-
parents against their will, except when competent abilities struggle in obtaining services. In addition,
authorities subject to judicial review determine, in ac- food security in more remote or northern communi-
cordance with applicable law and procedures, that ties continues to be a crisis of significant dimensions.N
such separation is necessary for the best interests of
the child.” Canada’s obligations under the CRC also link to other
national and international law instruments that speak
Article 9(1), in theory, means that any decisions af- to the rights of children, including the United Nations
fecting children, including within the context of child Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UN-
welfare, must be made with this principle in mind. An DRIP) and the Canadian Human Rights Act (CHRA).
example of this principle in action means that chil- Discrimination against Indigenous children also vio-
dren should not be separated from their family unless lates the International Covenant on Civil and Political
it is necessary for their best interests. As we heard, Rights (ICCPR) and the Universal Declaration of Human
however, the extent to which the “best interests of Rights (UDHR). According to the First Nations Child
the child” are interpreted by workers, as well as by the and Family Caring Society, Canada’s obligations are
rationale that undergirds removal in the first place, also linked under the principles of the Honour of the
demonstrates how subjective and culturally biased Crown, and fiduciary duty.
interpretations of the “best interests” provision have
had devastating impacts, particularly when the pro- In 2018, the Canadian Coalition for the Rights of Chil-
vision is applied through a colonial or racist lens. As dren (CCRC) published a discussion paper examining
Canadian lawyer, judge, and legislative advocate for the implications for child welfare within the context
children’s rights Dr. Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond testified of children’s rights in Canada. Specifically, and in re-
to the National Inquiry: lation to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, the
CCRC identified three key areas for consideration and
One of the most important things that needs to in need of urgent reform. These included data and ac-
be changed, kind of in a large stroke immedi- countability, focused on understanding the true
ately, is to change the definition of the best in- scope of child welfare practices within Indigenous
terests of the child, so that the best interests of communities, and as recommended by the Truth and
the child includes being with the family and the Reconciliation Commission’s (TRC) Calls to Action 2
right of the child to stay connected to their com- and 55; legislative reform “that requires all actors to
munity, their family, their Nation, their identity, make the best interests of the child a top priority,” in-
and to allow for the best interest of the child to cluding eliciting and considering the views of chil-
be applied in a way that children aren’t removed dren themselves; and measures to support families,
because of poverty and they aren’t removed be- including “the state’s duty to provide support for par-
cause of some of those continuing impacts of ents of vulnerable children, address public service
residential school.L discrimination, and ensure equitable access to serv-
ices for all families.”O
341
The inclusion of the TRC’s Calls to Action is significant, Despite its obligation to report to the UN Committee
and points to the reality that is lived by many of those on the Rights of the Child, Canada could not, in 2012,
who testified before the National Inquiry. The TRC’s provide it with an accurate number of children in care,
Calls to Action, developed in conjunction with its especially of children aged 14 to 18 years who may
Final Report focusing on the experiences of Indige- have been placed in “alternative care facilities.” In 2012,
nous residential school survivors, cited child welfare the government of Canada appeared before the UN
as an important legacy of the system itself. The first Committee on the Rights of the Child to review its
five of the TRC’s 94 Calls to Action centre on child wel- compliance with the CRC. In its review of Canada, en-
fare, calling on all levels of government to work to- titled “Concluding Observations,” the committee ob-
gether to reduce the number of children in care, to served specific concerns related to Indigenous
report accurately on the numbers of children in care, children in the areas of child welfare, health, poverty,
to fully implement Jordan’s Principle on the basis of education, and juvenile justice.R Specific to child wel-
substantive equality, to support the right of Indige- fare, it recommended that removal decisions must al-
nous governments to establish and maintain their ways be assessed by “competent, multidisciplinary
own agencies, and to support Indigenous families teams of professionals,” and that the government
through culturally appropriate parenting programs.P should “develop criteria for the selection, training and
Further, the recommendations specifically call upon support of childcare workers … and ensure their reg-
government to ensure that care is culturally safe and ular evaluation.”S It recommended that the child’s
takes into account the legacies of the residential view “be a requirement for all official decision-making
school system in subsequent generations, both in processes that relate to children,” including child wel-
terms of placement and ongoing support. fare decisions.T This is especially true for young people
who are leaving care, and the committee recom-
mended that they be supported and involved in plan-
TRC Calls to Action – ning their transition.U In addition, and importantly, the
Child Welfare committee noted that Canada could not escape its
obligations due to its federalist structure – namely, the
1. We call upon the federal, provincial, territorial, and way in which services are funded by Ottawa and de-
Aboriginal governments to commit to reducing the livered by provinces or other governments.V
number of Aboriginal children in care by:
i. Monitoring and assessing neglect investi- As Marlyn Bennett, a child welfare researcher who is
gations. also a member of Sandy Bay Ojibway Nation in
ii. Providing adequate resources to enable Manitoba, points out:
Aboriginal communities and child-welfare
organizations to keep Aboriginal families As a wealthy and prosperous nation with an in-
together where it is safe to do so, and to keep ternational reputation for challenging oppres-
children in culturally appropriate environ- sors of the under classes, Canada falls short when
ments, regardless of where they reside. its treatment of Aboriginal children is exposed
iii. Ensuring that social workers and others who and scrutinized. The social determinants of
conduct child-welfare investigations are health overall for First Nations communities have
properly educated and trained about the a large impact on the health and well-being of
history and impacts of residential schools. First Nations children and often impeded their
iv. Ensuring that social workers and others who future success.W
conduct child-welfare investigations are
properly educated and trained about the Speaking on CBC’s Power and Politics program in late
potential for Aboriginal communities and 2017, then-Minister of Indigenous Services Jane
families to provide more appropriate solutions Philpott characterized the overrepresentation of In-
to family healing. digenous children in care in Canada as a “humanitar-
v. Requiring that all child-welfare decision ian crisis.”X But, for many who have worked within
makers consider the impact of the residential and observed the system for years, there is reason to
school experience on children and their be wary. As Blackstock testified, evoking the forgot-
caregivers.Q ten history of Dr. Peter Henderson Bryce, the chief
342
medical health officer with Indian Affairs who sur- foster care, gave children’s aid societies guardianship
veyed the health of children in residential schools in power, and established the office of the superintend-
1904 but whose findings were ignored, “And that’s a ent of neglected children.”AA Within this system, most
pattern that we’re going to see throughout the whole service providers tended to blame families for their
trajectory of child welfare: the Canadian government inabilities to take care of children, rather than under-
knowing better and making a conscious choice not standing the wider societal issues, such as poverty
to do better.”Y among the working class, that created conditions
where abuse and alleged “neglect” could occur.
A Diverse Landscape of Until the 1950s, the government of Canada executed
Service Delivery child welfare interventions on reserves through its es-
tablished Indian agents, who would intervene in
The UN Committee on the Rights of the Child’s ob- cases where they suspected abandonment or
servation – that Canada should not renege on its ob- abuse.BB As Bennett explains, these interventions
ligations by virtue of its federal structure – is an were “without a legal basis,” and, in most cases, the
important one. As many studies devoted to child wel- response was sending the child away to residential
fare systems have pointed out, there is a great diver- school. But, due to the 1951 changes in the Act,
sity of types and levels of child welfare in Canada. In provincial governments became more engaged in
part, this is because child welfare incorporates vari- child welfare under section 88 of the Indian Act,
ous levels of government in terms of its funding and whereby provincial laws of general application were
its operations, as well as the fact that quality of care applied to First Nations people within any province.
and the practices associated with it vary greatly, as Previously, constitutional responsibility for those
Bennett says, “from agency to agency and from re- determined to be “Status Indians” was reserved for
gion to region depending on how First Nations Child the federal government. Since child welfare fell under
and Family Service Agencies,”Z as well as Métis and provincial responsibility under the Constitution Act,
Inuit service agencies and providers, organize them- provinces became more involved in child welfare, be-
selves. The diversity of types of care also depends on cause section 88 allowed them to intervene in areas
the structure, funding arrangement, and level of care outside of their constitutional jurisdiction. Since there
delegated to child welfare. For Indigenous commu- was no section dealing with child welfare specifically
nities not serviced by Indigenous agencies, the non- within the Constitution Act or the Indian Act, the fed-
Indigenous system steps in, as administered in each eral government maintained that those services
province and territory. could be provided by the provinces. This was con-
firmed in the Supreme Court of Canada in 1976 in the
Natural Parents v. Superintendent of Child Welfare
Provincial Agencies case.CC
Under the Canadian Constitution, child welfare serv-
ices are a delegated provincial responsibility, where The child welfare field has, of course, changed signifi-
non-Indigenous children are concerned. But, under cantly from its early roots; greater understanding in
the amendments to the Indian Act in 1951, child wel- the circumstances of families that undergird an accu-
fare for First Nations children officially came under sation of neglect, and the professionalization of what
provincial control rather than being under federal once used to be a largely volunteer-based, or reli-
control, as it was previously. By this time, children’s giously oriented, occupation, have changed how
aid societies, as they were known, had already been provincial and territorial child welfare agencies do
in existence for some time. The first Children’s Aid So- their work. In part, the publication of the Truth and
ciety was established as early as 1891, in Toronto, and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s Calls to Ac-
Ontario was the first province to pass a Child Protec- tion has also urged the federal government to take
tion Act in 1893, making it illegal to abuse children. on a greater role to clarify areas of responsibility and
The Act, fully entitled the Act for the Prevention of Cru- its own duties towards Indigenous children in care.
elty to and Better Protection of Children, as researchers One of the federal government’s six points of action
Jim Albert and Margot Herbert explain, “promoted on this file is exploring the potential for co-developed
federal child and family services legislation.
343
First Nations women, in particular, were cast by government and by society as a menace to the
emerging non-Indigenous community.62 Métis women, whose distinctive experiences are dis-
cussed later in the chapter, also fared poorly – after the Red River and the North-West resistance
movements, the Métis as a whole came to be viewed as a dangerous element. Like First Nations
women, they were described as a threat to public security through accusations regarding their
own health and contagion, and alleged sexual promiscuity.63
Indian agents and police actively pursued the regulation of movement for Indigenous women,
girls, and gender-diverse people, particularly in the wake of the 1886 panic over the idea of
“Traffic in Indian Girls.”64 When newspapers ran an article raising concerns over the trafficking
of Indigenous girls, police blamed First Nations men for running an active racket on young
women rather than investigate the crime. The police then used racist fears around “mixing races”
to further drive a wedge between First Nations and European settlers.
In addition, police began to more actively enforce the prostitution clauses within the Indian Act,
criminalizing First Nations women and girls. John A. Macdonald is on record as having said,
“The depravity existing among the Indian women … is greatly to be deplored. They repair, on
arriving at years of puberty to the white centres and enter into lives of prostitution.”65 Despite
little to no evidence that Indigenous women were engaging in the sex trade more frequently than
other women, the Indian Act was amended to directly criminalize Indigenous women and those
who kept or frequented a “wigwam”66 to purchase sex. The consolidation of the Criminal Code
in 1892 further made it easier to convict First Nations women of the crime of prostitution.67 This
is because prior to 1892, the Dominion of Canada did not have its own consolidated criminal
code, and prostitution laws were unevenly enforced. The laws governing prostitution were in-
herited from the English common law, although several provinces had passed statutes to crimi-
nalize the keeping of bawdy houses. In many places, prostitution was commonly dealt with under
the crime of vagrancy. For many people, the belief was that because prostitution couldn’t be
stamped out, it had to be tolerated. But, as a reflection of a focus on contagious disease, of
“social purity” campaigns, and of the focus on Indigenous women as disruptive elements, the
situation changed. After 1892, armed with the Criminal Code, as well as the realities of a grow-
ing population in growing settlements, the application of the law was made much clearer and
more efficient.68
For First Nations people of all genders, the NWMP also enforced the illegal pass system, which
required all First Nations people to obtain a pass from their farm instructor or Indian agent before
leaving the reserve. As one witness, Rande C., described of enforcement during this period:
I think about the early stories from that time when my gran said chiefs [were] dragged
out of their homes and thrown on the ground and forced to shovel, like, pig shit and stuff
like that, and beat, and RCMPs … just like, standing around every day waiting for them
to even just say one word in our language so they could beat them and throw them and
haul them to jail or whatever. You know, never allowed to leave the reserve, never
allowed to shop in the same stores, never allowed to do anything. And my gran said that
was her reality of her whole life growing up.69
254
Among other reasons, the pass system was partially justified by those who enforced it as the
need to prevent the loitering of Indigenous women as threats to public safety.
If First Nations people were found in local towns without a valid pass, they could summarily be
arrested and sent back to their reserves. But for many, including women, sometimes even worse
repercussions followed. Reports from Battleford, Saskatchewan, in 1886 described the case of a
woman who had refused to leave town. In response, the officers had taken her to their barracks
and cut off some of her hair. The action apparently had important consequences. Two years later,
the Saskatchewan Herald reported, “During the early part of the week the Mounted Police
ordered out of town a number of squaws who had come in from time to time and settled here.
The promise to take them to the barracks and cut off their hair had a wonderful effect in hasten-
ing their movements.”70 Some women did work in towns in various jobs, as well as in prostitu-
tion, but the threat of physical harm and violence upon their bodies had the impact of driving
many away.
As historian and health scholar Dr. James Daschuk has argued, the Canadian state’s growing
presence on the Plains, in concert with a variety of measures as part of the effort to manage
First Nations “as economically as possible,” including withholding rations and cutting off
vaccinations, left many women with little choice in terms of trying to secure income to feed,
clothe, and protect their families.71
“A Hindrance to the Advancement of Men”: The Hypersexualization
of Indigenous Women
As a whole, these policies and laws endorsed the idea that settler encounters with Indigenous
women should be viewed as suspicious and potentially immoral. They inscribed into Canadian
law the objectification of Indigenous women as hypersexual and criminal, such as within the
amendments to the Criminal Code. In addition, these stereotypes were often recorded in the
House of Commons Sessional Papers, such as this one, in 1909:
The women, here, as on nearly every reserve, are a hindrance to the advancement of the
men. No sooner do the men earn some money than the women want to go and visit their
relations on some other reserve, or else give a feast or dance to their friends…. The
majority of (the women) are discontented, dirty, lazy and slovenly.72
In applying these stereotypes, late 19th-century settlers tended to blame First Nations people
themselves for their economic difficulties, instead of poorly designed policies of assimilation
such as agricultural programs and the confinement of First Nations on reserves. For instance,
Indian agents and other instructors blamed the failure of agricultural reserves on the laziness of
the people doing the work, rather than on the quality of the tools, the soil, or the instruction. First
Nations women living on-reserve often had their mothering skills called into question, as well as
their hygienic habits, by farm instructors or other outsiders to the community.73
255
Blaming communities or family members was one of the many ways that police misconduct was
ignored in the Northwest. Officers frequently attended community dances or gatherings, and
many who engaged in relationships, consensual or non-consensual, insisted that the NWMP
needed to promote an image of aggressive masculinity and virility.74 However, the question of
police impropriety had been raised by government officials early on in regards to officers of the
NWMP. In 1878, David Laird, Lieutenant-Governor for the Northwest Territories, had written to
NWMP Commissioner James Macleod regarding some allegations against officers:
I fear from what reports are brought me, that some of your officers at Fort Walsh are
making rather free with the women around there. It is to be hoped that the good name of
the Force will not be hurt through too open indulgence of that kind. And I sincerely hope
that Indian women will not be treated in a way that hereafter may give trouble.75
Within the year, further accusations were made against police at Fort Macleod for “seducing
squaws,” among other acts.76
As a whole, these stereotypes called upon the images of the so-called squaw-drudge and were
used as justification for the invasion of lands and Nations.77 As Carter points out, these negative
stereotypes also served to justify the behaviour of those who would mistreat Indigenous women
and girls, as well as to justify the policies deployed against them.78 The images were deliberately
promoted in the late 1800s. As a result, many responses to accusations by police, or by other
non-Indigenous settlers, stressed that the injustices suffered were largely “due to the character
of Aboriginal women, who behaved in an abandoned and wanton manner and, in their own
society, were accustomed to being treated with contempt and to being bought and sold as com-
modities.”79 In turn, these beliefs and discriminatory stereotypes relieved officials, police, and
non-Indigenous settlers of all blame – or at least of any crime. Within this belief system, First
Nations women and girls were targeted because they failed to live up to a normative standard
that imposed non-Indigenous beliefs and expectations about women that came from very
patriarchal and oppressive societies in Europe.
These expectations also served to discount allegations of violence or wrong-doing by the police
or by settlers. A former member of the NWMP and editor of the Macleod Gazette pointed out in
1886: “Nothing is said about the fact that many of these women were prostitutes before they
went to live with the white man, and that in the majority of cases the overtures for this so-called
immorality come from the woman or Indians themselves.”80 He was responding to accusations
by a local missionary about white men living with, then abandoning, Indigenous women, and
urging the formal Christian sanction of these marriages. The editor’s response to the situation
spoke to a context within which white men were presented as bewitched and helpless victims
of Indigenous women and girls themselves, and Plains Indigenous societies were characterized
as guilty of human trafficking and worse, because of their supposed disregard for their own
community members.
256
The following year, in 1880, Manitoba Member of Parliament (MP) Joseph Royal asserted that
members of the NWMP were behaving with “disgraceful immorality” throughout the West,
through early human trafficking of Indigenous women. In 1886, Liberal MP Malcolm Cameron
delivered a speech in which he accused Indian agents and other agents of the government of
acting to “humiliate, to lower, to degrade and debase the virgin daughters of the wards of the
nation.”81 He also mused about why over 45% of officers within the NWMP were being treated
for venereal disease.82 His comments echoed those of many others who accused the NWMP and
its officers of abusing their authority. However, as Sarah Carter explains, in many of these cases,
the NWMP were, in fact, policing themselves, and allegations of police misbehaviour against
their own members were often dismissed.83
Within formal allegations of police misconduct, there are few existing records in which First
Nations women attempted to lay charges against officers for offences such as assault or rape. As
Carter points out, in these cases, “the claims seem to have been dismissed as efforts to discredit
or blackmail.”84
The efficacy of police enforcement to prevent crimes against Indigenous women was also
questionable. For instance, a Manitoba Free Press article from 1876 describes a case of rape in
the village of Fort Macleod by a local trader. The article reports, “Though the Mounted Police
were brought to the house by the cries of the Indian woman subjected to the outrage, the non-
commissioned officer with them hesitated to break in the door to seize the offender.”85
The 1888 murder of Mrs. Only Kill, described as a member of the Blood Tribe, was dismissed.
The accused, Constable Alfred Symonds of the NWMP detachment at Stand Off, Alberta, was
tried for giving Mrs. Only Kill a lethal dose of iodine. It was reported that she had also eaten
some sour beans on the same day. Mrs. Only Kill died on Wednesday morning, but her body was
not discovered or examined until Friday. By then, the heat had severely compromised the investi-
gation and the body was too decomposed to conduct a proper post-mortem. The initial investiga-
tion decided that either the beans or the iodine had ultimately killed her, but Symonds was tried
anyway. His supervisor, Superintendent P. R. Neale, informed superiors that he did not believe
any jury in the West would convict Symonds.86 They never got the chance. Appearing in August
1888 before the former commissioner of the NWMP, James F. Macleod, the Crown prosecutor
made application not to prosecute, and it was granted. Symonds was immediately released.
Another case, in 1889, brought to light public attitudes toward Indigenous women in more urban
centres. The Cree victim, identified only as “Rosalie,” had been working as a prostitute in Calgary
and described as “only a squaw.”87 The accused in her brutal murder, William “Jumbo” Fisk, was
described by the prosecutor as a “genial, accomodating and upright young man”88 from an
upstanding family. Rosalie, a baptized Catholic, was refused burial in the mission graveyard
because of her time spent in prostitution.
257
Fisk was supported by the vast majority of residents and by the popular press. He confessed to
the crime and turned himself in, yet was found not guilty by the all-white jury. To his credit, the
judge, Charles Rouleau, refused the jury’s verdict and promptly ordered a retrial, giving specific
instructions to that jury to forget the victim’s race. At the second trial, Fisk was convicted of
manslaughter and sentenced to 14 years’ hard labour. This was better than expected: the judge,
who wanted him to be sentenced for life, had received correspondence written by elected officials
and people of influence urging him to convey a lighter sentence.
It is difficult to assess the extent of First Nations women’s views on policing or police forces at
this time, but, as Métis scholar and activist Howard Adams has explained:
Indians suffered brutality under the Mounties, who frequently paraded through native
settlements in order to intimidate the people and remind the natives they had to “stay in
their place.” … The Mounties were not ambassadors of goodwill or uniformed men sent
to protect Indians; they were the colonizer’s occupational forces and hence the
oppressors of Indians and Métis.89
This connects with what we heard in our testimonies. As Audrey Siegl expressed, “Safety and
justice and peace are just words to us. Since its inception, we've never been safe in ‘Canada.’ The
RCMP was created to quash the Indian rebellions. The police were created to protect and serve the
colonial state.”90
The early tone set by the nature and extent of the policing of Indigenous women, including abuse
by the police, continues to permeate modern encounters with a deep sense of suspicion and
distrust.
A Strawberry Ceremony for missing and

murdered Indigenous women and girls takes
place outside Toronto police headquarters,
February 2015. Credit: R. Jeanette Martin.
258
of the key areas of investigation and child 10. maintaining cultural ties and community con-
placement.JJJ Staff recruitment and training remained nection for adoptees who are sent outside of
problems, as well as the assessment of potential fos- communities and adopted by non-Inuit;
ter families, housing needs, and the involvement of
regional organizations.KKK In 2018, an Aboriginal Peo- 11. increasing community involvement in decision
ples Television Network story reported that one in making that affects children and youth; and
three Inuit youth in Nunavik are involved with child
protection, with intervention workers carrying case- 12. building capacity in Inuit communities for peo-
loads of approximately 45 cases, with the provincial ple to be able to provide services for themselves,
average being 18.LLL and to increase economic health.
While these regions are distinct, they share much in These common themes and experiences point to the
common. Over 2010 and 2011, an Inuit Children and need for agreements to take into account local needs
Social Services Reference Group identified a number and circumstances, as well as the larger themes im-
of key issues for Inuit in relation to family support and portant to children, youth, and families regarding cul-
child welfare services. These included: turally safe resources and Inuit-specific approaches.
1. addressing child and family poverty caused, in

part, by the high cost of living, as well as addic-
“It’s not just pushing paper”:
tions in many Inuit families; Interjurisdictional Disputes
2. fostering community involvement to generate and Non-compliance
solutions to different challenges;
This complexity of agreements and the challenges as-
3. taking an Inuit-specific, distinctions-based ap- sociated with a diverse child welfare landscape are
proach to child welfare and to family support; stark and important examples of where interjurisdic-
tional cooperation can impact the operation and pro-
4. developing culturally safe resources and services, vision of these services.
as well as educating service providers about Inuit
culture and values, since many who are deliver- As Blackstock argues, in specific reference to the gov-
ing services are not Inuit, or not from that region; ernment’s non-compliance in the application of Jor-
dan’s Principle,MMM explained earlier in this report, the
5. focusing on prevention and on supporting fam- failure to act to fully address the problem goes be-
ilies to prevent apprehension in the first place; yond simple inaction, with profound consequences:
“I just want to emphasize that this non-compliance
6. improving supports for those experiencing fi- isn’t neutral. It’s not just pushing paper around. It’s
nancial or social distress, akin to a home-care vis- having real impacts on children.”NNN
iting model at work in Nunatsiavut;
Eight existing reports spanning from 1994 to 2015,
7. supporting traditional practices, including cus- with approximately 28 recommendations, address
tom adoption; the need to improve child and family services for In-
digenous Peoples. Reports note there are several
8. ensuring access to legal services to ensure ways in which the inadequacies of child welfare sys-
proper representation in cases involving child tems contribute to violence against Indigenous
welfare; women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. First, the dis-
ruption to Indigenous families and communities
9. seeking more direction from Inuit about how caused by child apprehensions, conducted system-
best to meet Inuit needs and priorities; atically over generations by Canadian governments,
has resulted in trauma, substance abuse, low self-es-
teem, cultural disconnection, a lack of parenting
349
skills, and, ultimately, violence. Second, apprehended
children are more vulnerable to sexual abuse and ex-
“The price of us waiting”:
ploitation while they are in care. There are also in- Encouraging New Initiatives
creased chances of youth becoming street-engaged
earlier if they have been apprehended. Third, leaving for Change
or “aging out” of care can significantly elevate young
Indigenous women’s and gender-diverse people’s For many of our witnesses, changes must happen
vulnerability to violence, especially when it involves right now, to begin to address the very real impacts
a sudden end to their community supports and rela- that child welfare has on human security, and on the
tionships. safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. The loss of childhoods, as Cindy Blackstock
Most of the recommendations under this sub-theme explained, represents
are directed either at provincial governments, or else
at the need to better coordinate services and funding the price of us waiting. That’s the price of us put-
at multiple levels of government. The need for better ting up with this underfunding and this partial
interjurisdictional funding was mentioned by virtu- equality for even a day more. That’s why we have
ally everyone. to do everything in our power as individuals, as
systems, as inquiries, to make sure that this is the
In 2016, the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal (CHRT) generation of kids, First Nations, Métis, and Inuit
found that the federal government discriminated kids who don’t have to recover from their child-
against First Nations children in care by providing hoods, because we know better and we can do
them with less funding compared with non-First Na- better, so we’ve got to get to it.TTT
tions children in care.OOO The CHRT held that this dis-
crimination perpetuated historic disadvantages, As the National Inquiry heard, the price of waiting is
particularly the legacies of residential schools. The too much. Particularly with high numbers of Indige-
CHRT also found that the federal government was nous children aging out of care, as well as being
failing to implement Jordan’s Principle, and that the apprehended on a daily basis, the consequences in
structure of Directive 20-1 effectively created an in-
centive to remove First Nations children from their
families by providing non-First Nations recipients
with higher levels of funding, greater flexibility, and
fewer reporting requirements that incentivizes non-
culturally appropriate services.PPP While the CHRT
found the federal government had made some effort
to address shortcomings of the directive in recent
years, these measures failed to adequately remove
inequalities in child welfare funding formulas for First
Nations children.
The federal government has been slow to implement

the CHRT’s orders. As of March 2019, the CHRT has is-
sued its seventh non-compliance order to the federal
government for failing to fully implement Jordan’s
Principle.QQQ While the federal government has prom-
ised more funding to address child welfare issues and
make sure there are equitable services for Indigenous
children, what it has promised still falls far short of
what families need.RRR Almost all Canadian provinces
have initiated at least one systemic review of child
welfare regimes within their respective jurisdic- Dr. Cindy Blackstock testifies before the National
tions.SSS To date, there are no legislated national stan- Inquiry in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
dards for child welfare.
350
these moments of transition can be grave. In addi- and university, or poor job prospects.WWW For these
tion, the remarkable level of apathy that was demon- reasons, child welfare services that cease providing
strated, at least until recently, for a crisis that has been support for youth at a relatively young age place
worsening for decades underscores the extent to youth in jeopardy. While there are programs that seek
which governments are cognizant of this price, and to fill these gaps, they don’t exist everywhere and
aware of the need to change. aren’t all successful. Many testimonies before the Na-
tional Inquiry gave examples of how youth aging out
The National Inquiry heard specific testimony related of care ended in homelessness and sometimes even
to the price of waiting, particularly in moments of death.
transition. For instance, “aging out of care” refers to
the process by which many children in foster care are As First Nations Family Advocate for the Assembly of
abandoned when they reach the age of majority – in Manitoba Chiefs Cora Morgan testified, the outcomes
most cases, 18 – by child and family services systems for children aging out of care in Manitoba, for exam-
funded to support children and youth up to a certain ple, are not good.
age. Many of these children simply “age out” of the
child welfare system, without having forged a stable The education outcomes in Manitoba for chil-
family connection and without the skills to survive, dren in our care, only 25% of them graduate high
let alone thrive, on their own. school, and you know, we have high populations
of homeless people due to children aging out of
As the Canadian Coalition for the Rights of Children’s care. You know, those are the things that when
research demonstrates, provincial child welfare sys- you take children out of the community and, you
tems do not adequately prepare youth for life after know, they lose language, they lose connection,
care and directly contribute to lower graduation rates they lose family, and then they come into Win-
from high school, greater mental health issues, and a nipeg and they’re searching for some sort of be-
greater likelihood of becoming involved in the youth longing, and it’s not always in a good place.XXX
criminal justice system.UUU
Turpel-Lafond presented Paige’s Story, a report about
Stephen Gaetz, professor and director of the Cana- the death of a girl who aged out of care and then
dian Observatory on Homelessness at York University, died in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. As she said
points out: in her testimony:
Difficult transitions from care often result in a Essentially, the story of Paige’s life is that she
range of negative outcomes, such as homeless- moved around Vancouver, and particularly, in the
ness, unemployment, lack of educational en- Downtown Eastside, and she aged out of care in
gagement and achievement, involvement in a way that many youth age out of care. And I cer-
corrections, lack of skills and potentially, a life of tainly heard and worked with them extensively,
poverty. Many young people who leave care fail which is essentially being given sort of their be-
to make the transition to independent living be- longings in a garbage bag and being sent, in
cause of underdeveloped living skills, inade- British Columbia, kind of to the curb at 19. So
quate education, lower levels of physical and Paige aged out of care, and she had no place to
emotional well-being and lack of supports and live. The only place she had to live was in the
resources that most young people rely on when Downtown Eastside. And she died, tragically, of
moving into adulthood.VVV a drug overdose at 19 years old in the Downtown
Eastside.YYY
In addition, in many jurisdictions, the rules governing
child welfare ignore more recent social and economic Resolving the issues of ongoing apprehension, as
changes, making it more difficult for youth to live on well as of aging out of care without proper support,
their own at an early age. For example, over 40% of is key. Some Indigenous organizations have advo-
Canadians aged 20 to 29 live with their parents due cated for greater federal legislative input in child
to high costs of housing, their attendance at college welfare systems, seeing it as a means by which In-
351
digenous self-determination may also be better companied by Assembly of First Nations National
facilitated.ZZZ Improving accountability in the child Chief Perry Bellegarde, Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami Presi-
welfare system for past and current practices is an im- dent Natan Obed, and Métis National Council Presi-
portant issue. The problematic consequences of pri- dent Clément Chartier, Philpott pointed out that
mary provincial control over child welfare systems Indigenous children represent 52.2% of children in
include significant disparities from province to foster care in private homes in Canada, and that these
province concerning the extent to which each children face greater risks regarding health out-
provincial government will recognize Indigenous comes, violence, and incarceration.EEEE As the govern-
jurisdiction over Indigenous children in the child ment’s summary of the meeting explains, the steps
welfare system, including the extent to which First being taken reflect a need for significant legislative
Nations agencies will be delegated authority to ad- change.
minister these systems (and receive financial and
technical support to do so).AAAA Further, conflicts and Currently, Indigenous families are bound by rules
inconsistencies can arise between provincial child and systems that are not reflective of their cul-
welfare legislation and federal funding frameworks. tures and identities. The goal of the proposed
While Canadian constitutional law fails to provide legislation is to change that. It aims to support
clarity over interjurisdictional financial responsibili- Indigenous families to raise their children within
ties, especially in cases in which federal and provin- their homelands and nations as well as increase
cial jurisdiction may overlap, federal legislation efforts to prevent child apprehension where pos-
(coordinated with the provinces and territories) may sible and safe to do so.FFFF
provide more clarity.BBBB
The proposed legislation is intended to affirm section
In her testimony, Dr. Valérie Gideon, regional director 35 rights of the Canadian Constitution and support
for First Nations and Inuit Health, Ontario Region for the Calls to Action of the TRC, as well as operate in
Health Canada, talked about a working group re- line with Canada’s commitments to UNDRIP and the
cently appointed by the minister of Justice to review CRC. According to the government, the proposed
“all laws, policies and operational procedures in the legislation is based on the principle and the right to
context of the United Nations Declaration and the self-determination for Indigenous Peoples to deter-
rights of Indigenous peoples in section 35.” mine their own laws, policies, and practices for child
and family services.
As she pointed out:
The focus on the legislation, Minister Philpott main-
It’s a question of prioritization and I mean, there’s tained, was necessary and would provide “a powerful
been a – obviously now, with Minister Bennett tool to support these efforts.” Minister Carolyn Ben-
very actively consulting with First Nations, Inuit, nett, Minister of Crown-Indigenous Relations, said,
and Métis on the recognition and implementa- “This is a critical step in supporting the rights and
tion of Indigenous rights framework, and there’s well-being of Indigenous children. The status quo is
also discussions with respect to child and family not acceptable.”GGGG
services and potential legislation, so there is a lot
of work underway.CCCC Indigenous leaders, similarly, cited the importance of
reforming child and family services in ways that re-
This includes a more active engagement with those spect, as Assembly of First Nations National Chief
not traditionally serviced by the federal government, Perry Bellegarde explained, “our rights, cultures, fam-
such as Métis and Inuit. Over the course of the work- ily structures…. First Nations are ready to focus on
ing group’s review, “more than 65 engagement ses- prevention over apprehension, and apply First
sions with nearly 2,000 participants were held.”DDDD Nations laws, policies and cultural values that place
children at the centre of our Nations.” Inuit Tapiriit
In late 2018, then-Indigenous Services Minister Jane Kanatami President Natan Obed reiterated the com-
Philpott announced that the government of Canada mitment of Inuit to “working constructively and on a
will introduce co-developed federal legislation on In- distinctions basis towards the co-development of
digenous child and family services in early 2019. Ac- federal child and family welfare legislation to help
352
meaningfully address social inequity in Inuit nal vision, that was broken apart; in some cases,
Nunangat, and across Canada, and ultimately more than in others. And so, one of the first
decrease the overrepresentation of Inuit children in things is to re-dream what that looks like, and
care.” Clément Chartier, president of the Métis then work with community to re-establish that
National Council, asserted: dream.JJJJ
This proposed legislation will provide a new One example is the First Nations Child and Family
chapter towards increased recognition that we, Caring Society’s Touchstones of Hope project to pro-
the Métis Nation, are best placed to nurture and mote reconciliation in the area of child welfare,
to care for our children. This is an unprecedented launched in 2005. This project is based on five princi-
initiative that will ensure the survival, dignity and ples. They include:
well-being of our families, communities and
nation for generations to come.HHHH • self-determination: respecting that Indigenous
Peoples are in the best position to make deci-
On February 28, 2019, Indigenous Services Minister sions regarding Indigenous children;
Seamus O’Regan introduced Bill C-92, An Act respect-
ing First Nations, Inuit and Métis children, youth and • holism: respecting the child as part of an inter-
families. Co-developed with Indigenous partners, in- connected reality where family, community, Na-
cluding the Assembly of First Nations, Inuit Tapiriit tion, and world are all honoured;
Kanatami, and the Métis National Council, the Bill
seeks to affirm Indigenous Peoples’ inherent right to • culture and language: honouring the culture
exercise jurisdiction over child and family services, as and language of an Indigenous child and sup-
well as to “establish national principles such as best porting that through the provision of culturally
interests of the child, cultural continuity and substan- based child welfare and family support serv-
tive equality to guide the interpretation and admin- ices;
istration of the Bill.”IIII Significantly, the Bill outlines
new factors for consideration in determining what is • structural interventions: addressing poverty,
meant by the “best interests” of an Indigenous child poor housing, and substance misuse as key
in care, including cultural, linguistic, and spiritual val- components to effective child welfare and fam-
ues and the ongoing and important aspect of rela- ily support services for Indigenous children; and
tionship with one's biological family, community, and
Indigenous group. The Bill also emphasizes the need • non-discrimination: providing Indigenous chil-
to focus on prevention to reduce apprehension, and dren with a comparable level of child welfare
to provide care to support families as an integral unit. and allied services as provided to non-Indige-
nous children and giving preference to Indige-
Conclusion: “Our ability to nous knowledge when responding to the
needs of Indigenous children.KKKK
dream for ourselves”
The National Inquiry heard about other programs,
In identifying solutions, Cindy Blackstock argued that too, that enhance connection to community and that
it is important to are aimed at confronting this crisis. In her testimony,
Cora Morgan talked about a program from the First
re-embrace those cultural ways of keeping kids Nations Children’s Advocate Office, where they work
safe and be prepared to do that…. We feel that to help mothers whose newborn babies are likely to
one of the things taken from many Indigenous be apprehended. This initiative focuses on creating
Peoples through colonization, perhaps even, I cultural connection and safety, from birth. As she ex-
would argue, the most important thing was our plained:
ability to dream for ourselves. What does a
healthy Gitxsan family and child look like? Some Newborn babies, we were getting calls from
of us have pieces of that vision, but that commu- moms who, upon the discharge of their babies,
353
they were going to be apprehended. So we As the programs and efforts in this Deeper Dive
started responding at the hospital to try and pre- demonstrate, the answers are there. As Cindy Black-
vent babies from being taken. And then we stock argued:
started trying to offer more. We soon had the
ability to offer moccasins.LLLL A lot of people think that we need to find new
answers to remedy some of the most pressing
She also cited the Sacred Babies workshop, where problems confronting First Nations children in
families create bundles for their family.MMMM care and their families. I argue against that. I
think that, actually, we have known for, for at
For children already in care, witnesses testifying be- least, 111 years, the inequalities that have been
fore the National Inquiry also identified a number of facing these communities, and how that has
practices focused on cultural safety that could ulti- piled up on the hopes and dreams of children
mately help create a sense of belonging for the child, and, in fact, incentivized their removal of chil-
and improve outcomes later in life. As Mary Ellen dren – from their families. First, in residential
Turpel-Lafond discussed, cultural plans for children schools; then, through the Sixties Scoop; now, in
in foster care are necessary to maintain strong ties to contemporary times.OOOO
community and to cultural identity, and, thereby, to
personal safety. She explained: The existing child welfare system inflicts violence on
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
I think that it should be required that there be and contributes in significant ways to a lack of safety.
what I called early cultural plans, which means
there has to be an operationalized cultural plan.
So you don’t just, like, go later and find out who
your family is…. So there isn’t that discontinuity
between your identity, your culture, and your
time in foster care.NNNN
354
Findings:
• The Canadian state has used child welfare laws and agencies as a tool to oppress, displace, disrupt, and destroy
Indigenous families, communities, and Nations. It is a tool in the genocide of Indigenous Peoples.
• State child welfare laws, policies, and services are based on non-Indigenous laws, values, and world views and,
as such, are ineffective. Further, they violate inherent Indigenous rights to govern and to hold jurisdiction over
child and family services.
• The apprehension of a child from their mother is a form of violence against the child. It also represents the
worst form of violence against the mother. Apprehension disrupts the familial and cultural connections that
are present in Indigenous communities, and, as such, it denies the child the safety and security of both.
• There is a direct link between current child welfare systems and the disappearances and murders of, and
violence experienced by, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
• The state has a fiduciary obligation to children and youth in its care. Canada has failed to support Indigenous
children who are in state care to safely grow into adulthood.
• Indigenous children are removed from their families due to conditions of poverty or as a result of racial and
cultural bias. The state characterizes these circumstances as “neglect.” This is a form of discrimination and
violence.
• The use of birth alerts against Indigenous mothers, including mothers who were in care themselves, can be
the sole basis for the apprehension of their newborn children. Birth alerts are racist and discriminatory and
are a gross violation of the rights of the child, the mother, and the community.
• The child welfare system fails to meet the needs of Indigenous children and youth and fails to protect them
from abuse and exploitation. State failure to protect has assisted human traffickers in targeting children and
youth in care for sexual exploitation.
• State funding of child welfare services incentivizes the apprehension of Indigenous children and youth. This is
exemplified by the state’s prioritizing funding for foster homes over economic and support services to families;
state policies that limit access to specialized support services unless the child is in care; and agency funding
models that are predicated on the number of children in the agency’s care.
• Gaps in child and family services and infrastructure in northern and remote communities result in the dispro-
portionately high rate of Inuit, Métis, and First Nations children being sent out of their communities and regions
to obtain services and care in other jurisdictions. This can result in jurisdictional neglect and culturally unsafe
services. Further, it can result in the denial of the human rights and Indigenous rights of the children and their
families.
355
Various incarnations of policies regarding “Indian” education exist in government records, and
detailed descriptions and reports about the history and daily life at residential schools have been
documented in the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. A gendered analy-
sis here is not meant to discount the experiences of Indigenous boys and men or to imply that
those experiences were any less impactful; the intent is to understand the specific ways in which
the residential school system participated in the larger structures of imposing Western gender
roles. The connection between residential school experiences and the internalization of abuse
will also be addressed more specifically as it appears within our testimonies, in the contemporary
discussions of gendered violence.
This brief examination also demonstrates the ways in which the lives of men and boys within
communities were brought to bear on women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in legacies of
abuse and shame that have directly contributed to the violence experienced by those who testi-
fied before us and by their loved ones.
The residential school system in Canada was a devastating, blunt tool aimed at assimilating the
most vulnerable people in Indigenous Nations: the children. We examine the specific effects on
women and girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in order to better understand how they have become
the target of disproportionate violence today.
Although eventually legislated and funded by Canada, residential schools were initially run
primarily by Christian churches, including the Anglican, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Catholic
churches. Catholic orders such as the Jesuits and the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate
had a long history of working closely with British authorities to maintain social order,94 and
Protestant churches were often seen as supporting an Anglo-Canadian hierarchy.95 In 1931, over
half of all residential schools in Canada were administered by Catholic orders (55%). The next
largest was the Church of England, which operated just over a quarter of all schools (26.25%).
The United Church ran 16.25%, and the Presbyterian Church operated 2.5%.96
Children and a nun in a

classroom at Cross Lake
Indian Residential School,
Cross Lake, Manitoba,
and Archives Canada/
Department of Indian
Development fonds/
e011080274.
262
FFF Nunatsiaq News, “Judge: Nunavut child protection,” as TTT Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10,
cited in Rae, “Inuit Child Welfare,” p. 11. Toronto, ON, p. 260.
GGG Office of the Auditor General, 2011 March Report of the UUU CCRC, “The System Needs Fixing .”
Auditor General of Canada. VVV Gaetz et al., “Without a Home,” 49-50.
HHH Commission des droits de la personne et de droits de la WWW Gaetz, “Coming of Age,” 2.
jeunesse Québec, “Investigation into Child and Youth.”
XXX Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
III Rae, “Inuit Child Welfare,” 11-12. Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 153-154.
JJJ Commission des droits de la personne et de droits de la YYY Dr. Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
jeunesse Québec, “Investigation into Child and Youth.” Public Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, p. 77.
KKK Rae, “Inuit Child Welfare,” 11-12. ZZZ Grammond, "Federal Legislation,” 136.
LLL Fennario, “One in three Inuit youth.” AAAA Ibid.
MMM Jordan’s Principle dictates that if a First Nations child is in BBBB Ibid.
need of services, they must receive them immediately from
the government of first contact. The principle arose in re- CCCC Dr. Valérie Gideon (Mik'maq Nation of Gesgapegiag), Part
sponse to jurisdictional disputes that would arise between 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 50.
the provincial and federal governments over which juris- DDDD Canada, Indigenous Services Canada, “Government of
diction would have to pay for these medical services. Canada.”
NNN Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10, EEEE Ibid.
Toronto, ON, p. 246. FFFF Ibid.
OOO First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada v GGGG Ibid.
Attorney General of Canada (for the Minister of Indian
and Northern Affairs Canada) 2016 CHRT. HHHH Ibid.
PPP First Nations Child and Family Caring Society, IIII Canada, Indigenous Services Canada, “An Act.”
“Memorandum of Fact,” 8. JJJJ Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10,
QQQ First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada v Toronto, ON, pp. 257-258.
Attorney General of Canada (for the Minister of Indian KKKK Blackstock et al, “Reconciliation in Child Welfare.”
and Northern Affairs Canada) 2016 CHRT 2. LLLL Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
RRR Ostroff, “Trudeau budget continues illegal discrimination.” Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 45-46.
SSS Alberta, British Columbia, and Manitoba governments MMMM Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
have commissioned multiple reviews of their respective Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 46.
child welfare systems. Saskatchewan, Quebec, and New NNNN Dr. Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
Brunswick have all initiated reviews of their respective Public Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, p. 289.
child welfare systems. Ontario, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland
and Labrador, and the Yukon do not appear to have com- OOOO Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10,
missioned such reviews of studies within their respective Toronto, ON, p. 182.
jurisdictions.
357
First Nations and Métis Elders are
recognized and thanked at the close of
the hearings on racism in Toronto,
Ontario.
The Impact of Colonial Systems on Identity, Family, and Culture

Of the systems we heard most about, and those that represent shared experiences across Indige-
nous groups including First Nations, Métis, and Inuit, the residential and day school experiences,
as well as Sixties Scoop or child welfare interventions, are an important catalyst for violence
against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. More specifically, the ongoing
suffering caused by these experiences through the disruption of family systems continues to
jeopardize the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This is particularly
true for those left to deal with the legacies of these systems for their families, as manifested in
physical or emotional abuse, in unresolved pain, in poverty, or in substance abuse.
Some of the abuses that occurred in the context of state-sponsored assimilative schooling and of
foster care are described in more detail in Chapter 4. This section focuses on how these experi-
ences serve to weaken family and community ties – ties that ultimately can work to restore safety
and to protect Indigenous women. These impacts are not short-term. As many witnesses
described, they can last for years.
In one case, Shara L. talked about how hard it was to have eight brothers and sisters but grow up
separate from them because of residential school. Ultimately, this transformed her family forever.
She described running into one of her family members at an Elders’ Gathering.
As I got closer, [I saw] it was my [elder family member]. I was just like, “Oh, my God….”
And I was going to hug, he got up and he just hugged me over the counter. A barrier
between us, and even I wanted to go around and give him a full body hug. No, he was –
“Hey, [family member], how are you doing?” Like, not even – not even a minute. You
know. And right away my defences went up to block, a wall just came up, and I just
instantly – “Hold your emotions back. Don’t show your love. Don't – don’t express
yourself,” and this was going through my head because he did the same thing. He just
give me the real quick hug, not even a hug. Right away I knew. Yeah, he’s still affected
at 60-plus years old. He still has that mentality, that, what he was taught in residential
school.34
358
Another witness, Ann M. R., explained how the impact of residential schools affected the com-
munities of Pelly Banks and Frances Lake for many generations. Ann’s sister was found dead at
the age of 26 at a garbage dump, after being jailed for two weeks for drinking, since it was illegal
for First Nations people to drink at the time in Yukon. Ann was in residential school and wasn’t
told of her sister’s death. She remembers her mother’s heartache very vividly, saying “her heart
died that day that she lost Tootsie.”35 Because of the segregation of families in residential
schools, she says, she didn’t really know her sister.
Like Ann, many other witnesses have siblings who died in residential schools. Many of them
were never notified, only learning about the deaths when they returned home. As Elder Jal T.
said:
After seven years in residential school I never saw my sisters for four years. When I
came home they told me my sisters were passed away and [I asked] why didn’t they tell
me. They said they didn’t want to disrupt my education and school. So you can
imagine the shock, because the women are our biggest part of our life.36
In addition to – or because of – this disruption to family, community, and culture, many people
spoke about how the lessons they had been taught at residential school and how the negative
stereotypes about their culture and family systems translated into the way they parented their
own children in relation to Indigenous culture and language. For many, in this sense, the negative
impact of the residential school system continued outside of the residential school setting and
into families.
For Moses M., not teaching his children their Nuu-chah-nulth language was an act of protection.
He shared the following observation about how his residential school experience shaped his
relationship to his language and, consequently, the role culture and language played in his
relationships with his children.
I’m a survivor of residential school. I spoke my own language until I went to school at
seven years old. And today I have nine children – or had nine [Moses’s daughter was
murdered], and 60-plus grandchildren, and I never taught any one of them our language.
I always wondered why. It’s my own way of protecting my children because somebody
tried to beat it out of me. But I’m still here. I still speak the language.37
359
Among Indigenous women, Inuit women are most likely to have a working knowledge of an Indigenous
language. Over two-thirds of Inuit women are able to speak or understand an Indigenous language, either
fluently or with some effort, compared to 22% of First Nations women and 7% of Métis women.
In her statement, Muriel D. spoke about how her mother’s experience at residential school
translated into her mother’s parenting.
I just really wanted to talk about all the effects at the residential school. They took us,
like, from my mother and us, me and my sisters and brothers, all we had to go through
and we were never taught anything, or we never had any physical or emotional caring,
I think. My mom was so – was so closed off. And so … all of us, my sisters and brothers
are totally damaged from – from my mom being in Blue Quills School.38
Speaking of the impact of residential schools on Indigenous families and the struggles she expe-
rienced as a result of her mother’s attendance at residential school, Carol B. put it simply as
follows:
I honestly can’t imagine what it’s like to be brutalized on a daily basis. Made to feel that
you’re nothing. I – and it hurts my heart. And that’s why I was able to forgive my
mother. You know, she did the best that she could with what she had. And like I said
earlier, I think it’s impossible to love if you have not felt love yourself.39
360
As sociology professor Dr. Dominique Clément explains, “Between 1928 and 1972, the Alberta
Eugenics Board approved 99 percent of its 4,785 cases. Over time, increasing numbers of its
decisions involved people who did not give their consent.”109 The Act was clearly biased, says
Clément, against young adults, women, and First Nations and Métis.110 The people targeted for
sterilization were labelled “feeble-minded”or “mentally defective.”111 Although, on its face, the
Act and its amendment applied to both the male and female sexes and did not explicitly target
“Indians,” their effects were disproportionately visited on women and Indigenous Peoples. For
example, in Alberta, First Nations women were the most likely to be sterilized, in relation to their
per capita population in the province.112
Although only Alberta and British Columbia passed formal legislation regarding sterilization,
it was practised across the country. Both official provincial sterilization acts were repealed in
1972 (Alberta) and 1973 (British Columbia). However, Indigenous women across the country
tell stories of “coerced sterilization” that continues even today.113 For example, although
Saskatchewan never officially legislated sterilization, the province is nevertheless facing a class
action lawsuit on behalf of Indigenous women who have provided evidence that they were
sterilized without consent.114
The forced sterilization of women represents directed state violence against Indigenous women,
and contributes to the dehumanization and objectification of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
267
Canada had 22 Indian hospitals by 1960, operated by
the Indian Health Service. Most were not in ideal
condition, having been erected in borrowed
facilities and abandoned military installations, like in
North Battleford in Saskatchewan, Miller Bay near
Prince Rupert in British Columbia, and Nanaimo on
Vancouver Island, also in British Columbia. They
operated at approximately half the cost of care as non-
Indian hospitals.
Hospital staff saw themselves largely as agents of

progress. As Brooke Claxton, minister of National
Health and Welfare, put it in 1946:
Neither law nor treaty impose an obligation on

the Dominion government to establish a health
service for the Indians and Eskimos … however,
for humanitarian reasons and as very necessary
protection to the rest of the population of Canada,
it is essential to do everything possible to stamp
out disease at its source, wherever it may be
within the confines of the country.III
A child undergoes physiotherapy at Charles
Camsell Hospital in Edmonton Alberta, 1958.
The idea that Indian hospitals, administered by the
Indian Health Service within the new department of
National Health and Welfare and not by Indian
Affairs, were agents of humanity and progress was, for
many First Nations, simply an articulation of a Treaty
promise made decades prior. But for non-Indigenous of comfort to patients by acting as interpreters and
communities, the hospitals served as reassurance that speaking the patient’s language.VI The hospital built
their own access to modern medical care need not be by the Siksika in the 1920s became a target for
shared with Indigenous patients.IV government takeover in the 1940s and 1950s,
partially due to its policies, which included generous
Some communities wanted the facilities. The Siksika, visiting hours and the ability of Elders or children to
for instance, established the Blackfoot Hospital on its accompany ill parents to the hospital and stay with
reserve with funds from the sale of some reserve lands them.VII
to provide in-community care, on the condition that
Indigenous healers and midwives be allowed to attend For many First Nations who were transferred between
patients, alongside other forms of care offered there. residential schools and Indian hospitals – and there
Historian Maureen Lux points out, “Many communities were many, due to the poor conditions in many
saw nothing necessarily incompatible in incorporating residential schools that fed disease – Indian hospitals
Western biomedicine into their indigenous healing felt a lot like residential school, in both impact and
practices. Indeed, medical plurality is the norm in structure. For instance, Minnie Freeman, a former
much of the world.” V In many of these places, First patient and later, employee, notes the experience of a
Nations workers – though underpaid and often poorly child patient at the St. Boniface Hospital in 1957 who
treated by non-Indigenous staff – provided some level had completely forgotten his language and would be
269
unable to communicate with his own family upon
returning home.VIII The National Inquiry also heard
similar stories, including this one from Lina G.:
I was put in the hospital. And my leg was swollen

right up, and I was hospitalized because – I think
they had to operate on my leg, but I don't even
know if I have – if I have my two kidneys. I think I
just have only one, because I got to go [to the]
washroom, and I was put in Shaw Council Hospital
for operation when I was young. In five years of
being in Fort Smith school, I come back here in
1970s not knowing any Dogrib language. I lost it
in the hospital, being put in the hospital in Fort
Smith and lost my language, but I fought to get
it back.IX
Others noted systems for keeping patients “in line,”

including special privileges that could be withdrawn
in cases of non-cooperation, or, as a former nurse who Girls gather in their dormitory at Shingwauk
worked at Camsell Indian Hospital in the 1950s Residential School, n.d. © Government of
described it, “despairing resignation” not unlike the Canada. Reproduced with the permission of
residential school experience.X Library and Archives Canada (2019).
Extended absences from home, especially at any Canada/Department of Indian Affairs and
distance from their community, also left many patients Northern Development fonds/a185528.
to worry about the impact on loved ones. These fears
were compounded by fears of arrest, if treatment was
refused or abandoned: in 1951, the Indian Act’s section of support, but, as Lux reports, only after his two
72(1) was amended to allow for warrants to be issued children had died did the Department of Indian Affairs
for “compulsory treatment of venereal disease and arrange for a monthly ration and wood supply to
tuberculosis, including detention in a sanatorium, and ensure the rest of the family wouldn’t perish while
the compulsory return of patients who left against “Hamilton” was in treatment.XIII This particular situation
medical advice.”XI Further regulations in 1953 also was not the same for everyone, but RCMP records
provided for this measure if a province was deemed demonstrate that the enforcement provision for
unable or unwilling to take appropriate action.XII compulsory medical care was one they attended to,
That it was the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) especially in Manitoba, for sentences generally of
who served the warrants further contributed to one year.XIV
the relationship of distrust and animosity that
already existed due to their other involvement in In 1952, for example, two Inuuk women walked out
communities, particularly in the context of residential of the Parc Savard Hospital in Quebec City in
schools and of policing women. February, dressed only in their bathrobes and slippers.
Parc Savard was known by the Health Service as a
In 1946, a patient dubbed “George Hamilton” left the rat- and mouse-infested hospital with crumbling
Dynevor Indian Hospital in Manitoba to attend to infrastructure and limited medical care. The women
family matters. When he didn’t return, a warrant was were quickly returned to the hospital, but, as Maureen
issued and local RCMP arrested him to bring him back. Lux points out, for the women, who had been at Parc
The family he had gone to tend to had no other source Savard for four years without interpretation services,
270
Institutionalized since Birth: Child
Welfare Agencies and Birth Alert Systems
As we heard in testimony from family members, survivors, Knowledge Keepers and Expert Witnesses, the
removal of a child from its parents at birth represents one of the very worst forms of violence; and that, once
removed, it can be exceedingly difficult to get a baby back. One of the most egregious and
ongoing examples of violence against mothers and against children is the operation of birth alert or
newborn apprehension systems. These exist in several child welfare jurisdictions, including Manitoba,
whose practices have recently been publicized on social media.I It is notable that in Manitoba, a birth alert
is automatically required by doctors who are treating any pregnant woman under the age of 18. While there
are, at times, legitimate reasons for child apprehension at birth regarding child safety, evidence suggests
that the birth alert system disproportionately impacts Indigenous women and their infants.
The Nature of Birth Alerts as well as a public and Indigenous health researcher
and Knowledge Keeper, observed:
Birth alerts are one of the contributing factors to
It’s striking to me that people think it’s still okay
the disproportionate rates of the apprehension of
to send a birth alert to the hospital without
Indigenous infants and children by child welfare.
informing a woman. So I’m aware that other pre-
According to Manitoba’s Child and Family Services
natal providers have actually gotten scolded by,
manual, for example, “Birth alerts apply to expectant
like, social service agencies, child protection
mothers considered by agencies to be high risk in
agencies, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous,
relation to the care they will provide for their
because they actually found out about a birth
newborn infant. The practice in Manitoba is to issue
alert and told a woman that there was a birth alert,
alerts to track and locate these high-risk expectant
right? So to me, like, I don’t understand how that
mothers.”II The alerts serve to flag certain women –
could be conceptualized, right? Because it would
largely Indigenous – in hospital, and stipulate that, if
seem to me that it would be very important to
an alert has been issued, the agency may apprehend
tell people, like, if there was that kind of legal
the child at birth.
intervention happening. Like, I don’t think it’s
acceptable in Canadian health care systems to
In these cases, hospital social workers are given a list
hold that kind of important information and not
of women who are pregnant and their due dates and
let people know.III
as soon as one of these women enter the hospital to
give birth, an alert is activated.
In her testimony, Cora Morgan, a First Nations family
advocate with the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs’ First
Often, Indigenous mothers about to give birth will
Nations Family Advocate Office, likewise commented
not be aware that there has been a birth alert placed
on how birth alerts are often issued without the
against them. As Dr. Janet Smylie, a family physician,
364
expectant mother’s knowledge and that a much for them, regardless of their own personal ability
more effective approach would be to inform the to parent. Cora Morgan offered another example
mother and work with her if necessary to ensure that demonstrating that even when Indigenous parents
the newborn does not need to be apprehended: take extraordinary efforts to prepare for parenting
the birth alert system may still impact their ability to
A lot of times, what will happen is an agency in keep custody of their newborn:
Winnipeg will … issue the birth alert, and it could
be unbeknownst to the mother that there’s a birth So, the very first birth alert I responded to was
alert on their baby, and that mom will go within a couple of months of being on the job,
throughout her pregnancy, and she will be at the and this young woman had aged out of care and
hospital, deliver her baby, and then get a letter she was exploited as a youth and, you know, had
from the agency that her baby is going to be addiction issues. And, now, she was 23, having her
apprehended. first baby, attended every parenting program, and
it was all self-motivated. Her and her partner
And so, a switch in process would be that as soon prepared for the baby, and her baby was at risk of
as that … birth alert is issued, that it’s transferred apprehension. And so, when I arrived at the
to the appropriate agency, and the agency looks hospital an hour before the agency was there to
at the circumstance of the mom upfront and, you pick up the baby, they had six bags of baby
know, look at if there’s ways to address things clothes, they had their car seat. They were all
before baby comes into the world instead of ready. The paternal grandmother was there.
waiting for baby to be born.IV When I arrived, she was breastfeeding her baby,
and you know, I couldn’t believe what was going
Targeted for Life on. And, I had phoned our Grand Chief at the time,
and I’m, like, this is happening right now, and I
can’t even witness this.
One aspect of the birth alert practice that Indigenous
health care and child welfare advocates find parti-
The father, you know, was just kind of beside
cularly troubling is that they continue to target and
himself. And, I said, “Well, the issue is with the
punish Indigenous women across their childbearing
mom because she grew up in care, and they’ve
experiences where these alerts may apply to women
issued a birth alert.” I said, “There’s no concerns or
who have had other children in care – even if the time
issues that they have with you, and it’s your baby.
elapsed is over a decade long.
You should be able to take your baby.” He’s, like,
“Okay, I’ll take my baby.” And he was getting ready
In addition, in her testimony, Cora Morgan shared the
to do that, and the assistant advocate said, “You
following example of how even Indigenous women
know that the police will be called and you will
who age out of care, sometimes many years ago,
likely be charged if you take your baby,” and then
were still flagged by this system: “I had a woman who
he backed down.
had her first baby at 38 years old, and because she
aged out of the system, they had flagged her baby.
And, you know, the worker came in with their
She had been out of care for 18 years. So, yes, there
agency car seat, and they took the baby. And I had
is a reality of our families being at risk.”V According
found out later that they had issued that birth
to Sandie Stoker, executive director of Child and
alert when the mom was three months pregnant,
Family All Nations Coordinated Response Network, a
and they held onto it for her entire pregnancy.
parent's historical involvement with child welfare is a
And then when the agency got a call from the
factor, especially if nothing changed for that family.VI
hospital, they responded. And so, there was over
In other words, if the person who is having the baby
six months of time that they could have went to
was at one time in the care of child welfare, or if other
that home and got to know that mom, and taken
children have ever been placed into care, regardless
– you know, given her the opportunity.VII
of the time lapsed, a birth alert will likely be issued
365
In addition, birth alerts or apprehensions may also
occur in relation to the other parent, who may not
Implications for Health
be living with the custodial parent. In a story and Well-being
documented by The Current in January 2018, a
16-year-old woman who was in school and living at Drawing on her many years of experience as a family
home with her mother had her son apprehended physician, as well as a Knowledge Keeper, Smylie also
based on concerns about the boy's father, who was offered some perspective about how birth alerts, and
in trouble with police at the time, as well as concerns the subsequent separation between mother and
about her own parenting. The young mother argued baby caused when the newborn is apprehended,
that her parenting was appropriate, explaining, "The hold significant negative impacts for both mother
worker that I had at the time […] plainly said that I and baby. As Smylie explained, the importance of
teased my son. Like I teased a four-month-old child. I these early relationships is well recognized both
don't know how you can tease a child. I guess that's within Indigenous knowledge systems and main-
just because it wasn't up to how she would parent."VIII stream health care research.
Janet Smylie explained how the ongoing targeting of So, even if one was just relying on the mainstream
Indigenous mothers and newborns in this way medical literature, and one didn’t take into
effectively erases the possibility that Indigenous account, like, the importance that is highlighted
women can create the relationships and care by the Knowledge Keepers and Elders who
necessary for children, especially if they have been supported me in providing this testimony, in
prevented from doing so in the past through forced terms of the importance of feeling safe and secure
separation: and a sense of belonging and Indigenous identity;
that if we discounted that, if we just looked at
So, I would agree in my experience providing care mental health outcomes and health outcomes
that it seems that once there’s one apprehension, over the lifespan, that is definitely critically
it seems to be a black mark on people’s files and interfering with the development of the child.
they’re deemed, like, to be inadequate parents for And that doesn’t account for the health and
life. And, again, I’m not always privy to the insider mental health of the mother. So, to me, having a
discussions that are held in the child protection child apprehended in that manner would be
agency services, but it’s very interesting because comparable to the death of a child, both on the
even in our criminal justice system, we believe family and the mother.XI
that people can change, right? And, be reha-
bilitated, even though I hesitate to use that word Cora Morgan, who testified at the Knowledge Keeper,
within the context of parenting.IX Expert, and Institutional Hearing on Child and Family
Welfare in Winnipeg, Manitoba, donated baby
As Smylie acknowledges, ultimately, this treatment moccasins. She was sworn in on these baby
amounts to racism. moccasins and wanted to leave them for the Inquiry's
bundle following her testimony. She shared why she
I also think racism has a huge role, both attitudinal chose to be sworn in on them. She had attended a
and systemic racism and colonial violence. So, in ceremony at Serpent River First Nation just as the First
my experience, 25 years providing primary care, Nations Family Advocate Office was starting. When
including maternity care to diverse First Nations, she shared what the Family Advocate Office was
Inuit, and Métis families in diverse urban, and trying to do and their work with families, the women
rural, and remote settings, I find that First Nations, at the ceremony stood in support. Cora explained
Inuit, and Métis parents get constantly mis- that at Serpent River, there are petroglyphs, one of
judged.X which is a baby who has feathers in their hair, since a
366
baby who has feathers in their hair will always come justified as a means of mitigating risk, Smylie argues
home. She was speaking to Nancy Rowe from the that this particular definition of risk is limited and
Mississaugas of the New Credit First Nation, in reflective of a colonial, biomedical understanding. As
Ontario, before she left about the office's work and she argues, this way of understanding risk in relation
said that "if at minimum all we can do is offer feathers to birth and parenting
for babies, then that's what we will do." Nancy later
drove to Winnipeg to bring feathers and began undervalu[es] … the importance of birth as a way
working with other teachers to make hundreds of of strengthening wahkohtowin, the sacred time
baby moccasins, which have been given to the office. where an infant is perceived, at least in my
The First Nations Family Advocate Office provides developing Métis world view, as a spiritual gift
these moccasins to expectant mothers who come to that is coming from the spirit world, and that spirit
see them, beginning to make their bundles, and in needs to be attended in that transition into this
the hospital to women whose children are going to physical life. And, also how the person that
be taken at birth. attends the birth becomes a relative that will
understand that child and know information
In her testimony, Cora talked about how the about that family and support the well-being and
organization’s prenatal support team works to support the nurturing of that child’s gifts. And
navigate the birth alert system. how important it is to be born on that land, right,
so that there are protocols around birth so that
Now that we have a larger team since last you have that wahkohtowin tie to the land as well,
October, we have a prenatal support team. And right? So, all of those things, it’s actually all about,
so, our prenatal support team works with like, our cultures, right? So, the risk of losing
expecting moms or moms with babies, helps culture is also something that needs to be
advocate if there’s birth alerts. They are there to attended to, as well as the acute, like, physical
work with moms and offer – and fathers – safety of the mom and the infant. And, in fact,
traditional parenting programs. They also have a through these modern models of Indigenous
Sacred Babies workshop, and they work with midwifery, you can have both of those things.XV
families to build bundles for their family.XII
Smylie also talked about the additional risks in how
All of these practices are in keeping with what Janet the birth alert system and infant apprehensions
Smylie described as maintaining a “continuity of actually lead Indigenous expectant mothers to
relationships”XIII that supports and acknowledges the avoid going to a hospital or reaching out for medical
significance of early relationships. support out of fear that their child will be
apprehended. During the Racism in Institutions Panel
So what we actually need to optimize health held during an Expert and Knowledge Keeper
and well-being, at least in my understanding Hearing, Dr. Barry Lavallee, a family physician and
as a Métis woman, is these high-quality early then-director of the Student Support for the Centre
relationships, because what that builds in is a for Aboriginal Health Education at the University of
sense of love, security, and belonging. And then Manitoba, acknowledged that Indigenous women
that translates into a feeling of self-worth, self- may have a “reasonable fear” that in seeking medical
acceptance, compassion, and strong abilities to care for their child or in giving birth, they may trigger
engage in relationships. And if relationships is the a referral to child welfare.XVI Cora Morgan, likewise,
fabric and glue that holds us together, then this stated that, based on what she has witnessed in her
investment is a critical thing.XIV role as the First Nations family advocate with the
Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs' First Nations Family
While practices such as birth alerts, as well as the Advocate Office, simply being Indigenous puts
medical evacuation of pregnant women from remote women at risk for being flagged for a birth alert.
communities to give birth elsewhere, are often
367
I do agree that women are flagged [by the system of – folks wanting you to be there and then
to have their child removed at birth]. One of my misunderstanding where to place you as an
co-workers just went – is having her second child, individual, how that leads to mistrust – mistrust
and because she was Indigenous in appearance, between individuals, service providers, law
the doctor automatically made an assumption authority individuals, but also pushes you to feel
that she – there was a potential of a birth alert on like you don’t belong.XVIII
her baby.XVII
For some Indigenous women, seeking reproductive

Conclusion
health care within mainstream health care settings
Ensuring the health and well-being of Indigenous
may be additionally complicated by a lack of cultural
mothers and their newborns is an important part of
understanding on the part of health care workers. For
rebuilding Indigenous families and communities in
instance, as Jennisha Wilson, manager for programs
ways that also lessen the potential for further
related to sex work, exiting the sex trade, and anti-
violence and harm. For Cora Morgan, this involves
human trafficking at Tungasuvvingat Inuit, explained,
“examin[ing] the legality of birth alerts and the
a lack of understanding of Inuit culture and history
practice of birth alerts and newborn apprehension.”XIX
often leads to tensions between Inuit women and
For Janet Smylie this begins with valuing and
support workers.
protecting these early relationships. As she asks:
“[H]ow can we rebuild … a feeling of love, peace, and
Some of the other things that often I hear is that
joy, right, and security, and belonging, if our infants
there are challenges of individuals not being
keep getting apprehended?”XX This includes, as we
understood as what does it mean to be Inuk.
heard, embracing practices that can generate health,
They’re often misunderstood as being First
well-being and strength. This also includes, as the
Nations, which takes away their identity and their
evidence demonstrates, supporting practices like
ability to mobilize around their specific needs and
community midwifery and the right to give birth at
to understand that there are differences between
home and within the community, to ensure that the
the cultures. Those are just a few of the
bonds of safety that are created in that moment are
vulnerabilities, but you can imagine how, if you
cemented for life, and can ultimately contribute to
were coming to the South looking for supports,
safety later on.
and you are met with racism, discrimination, lack
368
Proportion of Aboriginal Population Residing in Urban Areas, 1961-2006 (excluding 1986 and 1991)
80%
70%
Proportion Living in Urban Areas
60%
50%
40%
30%
20%
10%
0%
1961 1971 1981 1996 2001 2006
Métis First Nation Inuit
This is not to suggest, however, that the identity and connection of these relocatees were any
less “authentic,” as scholars Evelyn Peters and Chris Andersen point out. Rather, as Peters and
Andersen argue:
A focus on (non-urban) tribal homelands as the source of urban Indigenous identities
also ignores the ways many urban Indigenous people have created organizations
and communities across cultural and tribal groupings…. Viewing non-urban tribal
communities as the primary influence on Indigenous peoples’ lives in cities misses the
complex ways in and through which Indigenous peoples selectively interact with urban
societies to create meaningful lives in cities.119
Regardless of the source of increase, and as family members' and survivors' testimonies
demonstrated, the breakdown of familial relationships caused by residential schools and
enfranchisement policies meant that Indigenous women could find themselves alienated from
their home communities, sometimes as single parents and sole providers for their children. In
some of these cases, cities provided economic opportunities that were not available on reserves.
Indigenous women did create new lives in cities – but were not always faced with the oppor-
tunities they may have been promised.
As First Nations women began seeking employment in Canadian cities, they were met with
many challenges. They were often hundreds of kilometres from their homes and social support
systems, navigating racist barriers deeply embedded in urban services and experiences. While it
273
The Indian Act and the Practice of “Banishment”
In speaking about the ways in which Indigenous women and girls were targeted within colonial
systems, a number of witnesses also pointed to and described how the Indian Act and its denial
of Status was not only a denial of home, but also a denial of connection to culture, family, com-
munity, and their attendant supports. For those seeking the safety of home – both cultural and
physical – the intergenerational and multigenerational effects of the Indian Act, for many First
Nations communities, are also significant, and have erected barriers to accessing cultural rights,
as well as cultural safety.
The Indian Act’s impact of determining Status for some, while stripping others of Status, contin-
ues to affect many First Nations women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This is documented in
greater detail in Chapter 4, but this section deals with the impacts of the Act in a contemporary
context. Despite the reinstatement of Status for thousands of women and girls, the ongoing
stigma that comes with having been excluded by the Act can contribute to danger.
Wendy L., for example, explained how her mother was torn from her community and not
allowed to go back, even after she was reinstated with Indian Status.
Because of what happened to my mother, I feel that in a sense she was missing because
she was stripped of her cultural identity and her Status, and she was really torn from her
community because of the discriminatory provisions of the Indian Act, where she … had
her Status taken away from her. Which, as many people know, did not happen to the
Aboriginal men. In fact, when Aboriginal men married non-Indian women, no matter
which race they were, not only did the men retain their Status and band membership, but
their spouses and their descendants acquired them. So today you have mixed families on
reserves or off-reserve, where the women that had married non-Native men were
actually cast out from their communities. So in a sense my mother was missing because
she was stripped from her community and her family, and that had a big impact on her
life, her education, her economic situation, her as a person.50
The “banishment,” as some other witnesses referred to it, had longer-term impacts on her mother,
as well. When Wendy’s grandfather passed away in 1968, Wendy’s mother was not allowed to
live in his house, despite his having left her – his only child – the land, properties, and homes.
Because Wendy’s mother had been declared non-Native, she was not allowed to inherit or live in
the home where she was born and raised. Wendy said, “I believe in the sense that she was miss-
ing. She was missing her family, her community, any supports that she could receive, any sup-
port from the government, financial or programs, any community involvement. She was cut off
from all of that.”51
Despite the insistence of some community leaders who argued that anyone with Squamish blood
was welcomed back, Wendy said that “it wasn’t true. The women were not welcomed back.”52
370
While Wendy’s mother’s Status and band membership were returned, she was blocked from
actually returning to live on the Squamish Nation Reserve. Women were, in Wendy’s words,
“torn from their communities, and literally thrown off the edge of the reserve and told to leave.”53
In her testimony, Natalie G. shared another example of the way in which gender discrimination
within the Indian Act and band membership excluded Mi’kmaq women from their community.
As Natalie explained, the refusal to grant Status and band membership for women in their
community put many women in precarious positions and impacted their ability to build families
in keeping with the culture and the community.
We have many women that are living off the reserve that should be on their home
reserves and not living in squalor, you know, or feel that they have to always be working
so hard. I mean, they’re getting up in age. Why do they have to be scrubbing floors or,
you know, making crafts all the time just to make ends meet, you know? And a lot of our
women – we still have women walking the street thinking that the only way that they’re
going to make that little bit of ends meet is to give a part of their soul to the devil in
order to make a little bit of change to pay for the rent, pay for maybe their kids’ things or
whatever, so it was – like, it was hard because when Mom looked out her window, she
seen Millbrook First Nations reserve. How ironic is that? It just doesn’t make sense, but
that’s the government, that’s the Canadian government trying to cause part of the
assimilation, the colonization.54
Despite Natalie’s mother’s standing as what she describes as a “real Mi’kmaw woman,” she was
not valued in her community, and was forced to undertake an arduous process in order to have
her band membership returned. As Natalie said, the denial of Status and band membership is also
the denial – or perhaps fear – of strong, traditional women taking their place in the community
and within the band council.
The band council, I believe, was fearful of my mother because she was a strong
Mi’kmaw warrior that wasn’t going to let things slide under the rug. She was going to
bring them forth, and I believe she was going to bring all those [Status] cards that were
given out to the non-Native women, she was going to see that the government brought –
took them, rightfully so, but the children still would be Status.55
“BECAUSE OF WHAT HAPPENED TO MY MOTHER, I FEEL THAT IN A SENSE SHE WAS

MISSING BECAUSE SHE WAS STRIPPED OF HER CULTURAL IDENTITY AND HER STATUS,
AND SHE WAS REALLY TORN FROM HER COMMUNITY BECAUSE OF THE DISCRIMINATORY
PROVISIONS OF THE INDIAN ACT, WHERE SHE … HAD HER STATUS TAKEN AWAY FROM
HER … SO IN A SENSE MY MOTHER WAS MISSING BECAUSE SHE WAS STRIPPED FROM
HER COMMUNITY AND HER FAMILY, AND THAT HAD A BIG IMPACT ON HER LIFE, HER
EDUCATION, HER ECONOMIC SITUATION, HER AS A PERSON.”
Wendy L.
371
As Natalie explained, this exclusion impacts women’s children and grandchildren, as well.
Natalie described how, as a young girl, she and her cousins were not provided access to similar
educational supplies as other children living on the reserve: “My cousins go to the band office
and get free school supplies and whatever. We – we didn’t get that.”56
Natalie offered the following reflection on the ongoing impact on the children and grandchildren
of women who lost Status or band membership: “There’s the first generation, they got their
Status, but their children, they can’t get them registered and then they’re trying to go back to the
grandmother’s law, but still they’re having a hard time getting them registered. Those children
should be registered.”57 Women banished in this way have often sought refuge in larger urban
centres, often unsafe environments that may have ultimately led to their disappearance or to their
death, and have experienced alienation from family and from culture that could contribute to
keeping them safe.
As these experiences shared by Wendy and Natalie demonstrate, the impact of the Indian Act on
women’s power and place within community and family put Indigenous women in danger. Many
people consider that the death and disappearance of Indigenous women are directly connected to
policies and practices such as these and others that have severed the protective measures that
cultural practice, family, and a sense of belonging normally offer.
A drum group performs at the

hearings in Calgary, Alberta.
372
Challenging Exclusion: Human
Rights-Based Challenges to the Indian Act
As some of the witnesses appearing before the Inquiry have asserted, the Indian Act has, since 1876,
excluded First Nations women in many areas, with important impacts that touch on human rights
instruments. The Indian Act applies only to First Nations women, and not to Métis or Inuit.
In its 2014 report, Missing and Murdered Indigenous on the Status of Women the same year. Mary also
Women in British Columbia, Canada, the Inter- found herself the target of the Indian Act in 1969 after
American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) the death of her husband, when she was forced to
found that “existing vulnerabilities that make transfer her house to her daughter, who was married
Indigenous women more susceptible to violence” to a man from Kahnawà:ke, in order to retain her
include both the context of colonization, broadly property in her own family and to return to the
speaking, as well as unjust and discriminatory laws, reserve.III
such as the Indian Act, that continue to affect women.I
The Lavell case, a few years later, revolved around
It also found that “addressing violence against Jeannette Corbiere Lavell, a member of the
women is not sufficient unless the underlying factors Wikwemikong Band who married a non-Indian and
of discrimination that originate and exacerbate the whose name was therefore deleted from the Indian
violence are also comprehensively addressed.”II Register. The case charged that the Indian Act
As we saw in Chapter 3, the case of Jeannette should be held to be inoperative as discriminating

Corbiere Lavell, who married a non-Indian in 1970, between Indian men and women and as being in
resulted in a legal challenge against the Indian Act’s conflict with the provisions of the Canadian Bill of
subsection 12(1)(b), alleging it violated the equality Rights and particularly s. 1 thereof which provides:
clause in the 1960 Canadian Bill of Rights on the
grounds of discrimination by reason of sex. This case 1. It is hereby recognized and declared that in
built on the early work of advocates such as Mary Canada there have existed and shall continue
Two-Axe Earley, a Kanien’kehà:ka (Mohawk) woman to exist without discrimination by reason of
who, in 1966, after the death of a clan sister from a race, national origin, colour, religion or sex, the
heart attack she believed was induced by the denial following human rights and fundamental free-
of property rights in Kahnawà:ke under the Indian doms, namely, …
Act, mobilized a campaign to raise awareness of the
issues facing women denied Status and related rights (b) the right of the individual to equality before
under the Indian Act. Mary Two-Axe Earley became the law and the protection of the law.IV
involved with Indian Rights for Indian Women (IRIW)
in 1967 and appeared before the Royal Commission
373
The Lavell case of the early 1970s was lost at trial in even have a seat at the negotiating tables
the York County Court in 1971, but won on appeal in between First Nations and Canada, First Nations
the Federal Court of Appeal later the same year. It women were effectively denied the political voice
went to the Supreme Court of Canada, where it was to protest their exclusion and the abuse that
paired with the case of Yvonne Bédard, a woman followed as a result.VII
from the community of Six Nations in Brantford and
a member of the the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Leah Gazan, an instructor at the University of
Confederacy who lost her Status when she married a Winnipeg who spoke as part of the Indigenous
non-Indian in 1964. After her separation from her Determinants Wellbeing Panel during the Com-
husband, Bédard attempted to return to her reserve munity Hearing in Winnipeg, commented on how the
to live in a house left to her by her mother, but found Indian Act undermined the role First Nations women
that she and her children were no longer entitled to played as leaders and decision makers.
live on-reserve due to loss of Status. Fearing eviction,
she brought legal action against her band and won Prior to colonization, most Nations lived in
the case based on the legal precedent set by the matrilineal societies. Our women, in particular,
Lavell case. our grandmothers, were the main decision makers
within our Nations. Equality was practised as
In the Supreme Court of Canada, though, both our survival depended on all members fulfilling
Bédard and Lavell lost their cases – the “marrying out” their roles and responsibilities. Women were
rule of the Indian Act was upheld on the grounds that powerful…. This rapidly changed with the impo-
the law had been applied equally, which was the sition of patriarchal power structures brought over
only guarantee in the Canadian Bill of Rights. In its by colonists. The exclusion of Indigenous women
judgment, the Supreme Court explained: in decision making eventually led to the cultural,
social, economic, and political disposition of
Equality before the law under the Bill of Rights Indigenous women and girls that was and
means equality of treatment in the enforcement continues to be enforced through the Indian Act.VIII
and application of the laws of Canada before the
law enforcement authorities and the ordinary Fay Blaney, who spoke as a Knowledge Keeper at the
courts of the land, and no such inequality is National Inquiry’s Human Rights Framework Expert
necessarily entailed in the construction and and Knowledge Keeper Hearing in Quebec City, also
application of s. 12(1)(b).V commented on the impact of the Indian Act on
women’s political representation:
The issue of substantive equality that the cases raised
was rejected, even though, in the decision, Justice Indigenous women are not represented in the
Bora Laskin characterized the effect of the law as a political sphere and we often think it’s – you know,
kind of “statutory excommunication” whereby Status we blame ourselves for that and we don’t often
could never be regained.VI look at the fact that the Indian Act denied us that
right. We were not allowed to vote. We were not
In addition, and as Pamela Palmater, Mi’kmaw from allowed to run in band elections and the men
Eel River Bar First Nation and associate professor and did that.IX
chair in Indigenous Governance at Ryerson Univer-
sity, points out, for a long time: Despite the loss in the court, many Indigenous
women’s groups took up the call raised by these
The Indian Act had the effect of denying First cases, and pushed forward to try to address the issue,
Nations women their political voice. Unable to run under difficult circumstances. Sandra Lovelace
in elections for chief and council, to live in their Nicholas took her case to the United Nations Human
First Nations, to vote in referendums related to Rights Committee (UNHRC), alleging that her
their reserve lands, to benefit from treaties, to marriage to an American and subsequent move away
access elders and other community supports or from her community should not disqualify her from
374
returning to the reserve and/or from receiving could pass Status onto their children, and those who
services, upon the end of that marriage. In 1981, the couldn’t. This meant that any Status woman who had
UNHRC found Canada in breach of the International been reinstated under section 6 and “married out”
Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). could pass on section 6(2) Status only to her children.
Those children could not pass on Status to theirs,
Section 15 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and impacting both women and men under the “second-
Freedoms came into effect three years after the rest generation cut-off.” As the Feminist Alliance for
of the Charter, giving governments the time to bring International Action explains:
their legislation into compliance with section 15.
Section 15 states that “every individual is equal Consigning women to 6(1)(c) status has devalued
before and under the law and has the right to the them, treated them as lesser parents, and denied
equal protection and benefit of the law without them the legitimacy and social standing
discrimination based on race, national or ethnic associated with full s. 6(1)(a) status. Throughout
origin, colour, religion, sex, age, or mental or physical the years, the so-called "Bill C-31 women" have
disability.” In addition, section 28, which states, been treated as though they are not truly Indian,
“Notwithstanding anything in this Charter, the rights or 'not Indian enough,' less entitled to benefits and
and freedoms referred to in it are guaranteed equally housing, and obliged to fight continually for
to male and female persons,” should, in theory, recognition by male Indigenous leadership, their
provide additional protection to women. Subsection families, communities, and broader society. In
4 of section 35, which guarantees Aboriginal and many communities, registration under section
Treaty rights, also guarantees these rights equally to 6(1)(c) is worn by Indian women like a ‘scarlet
women and men.X letter’ – a declaration to other community mem-
bers that they are lesser Indians.XII
Partially as a result of these new rights guarantees, as
well as the concerted action of women impacted by For those asserting that the Indian Act is a tool of
unjust legislation, the Indian Act of 1985 restored genocide, both paper and otherwise, the effect of
Status to those who had had Status removed through section 6 to extend the termination of Status by one
enfranchisement. It ended the “marrying out” rule generation was still termination – just delayed.
under section 12(1)(b) that had brought forward
Lavell’s action, restoring Status to women and their Due to the lack of effective remedy, and the slowness
children disenfranchised under this rule. It also of addressing these issues, other advocates pressed
abolished section 12(1)(a)(iv), the “double mother” on. In 1994, Sharon McIvor brought a constitutional
rule, which had been added in 1951 and excluded challenge to the sex discrimination in the registration
from registration at age 21 grandchildren whose provisions of the Indian Act. In its decision, the
mother and paternal grandmother both acquired Supreme Court of British Columbia ruled that section
Status through marriage to an Indian. The changes 6 of the Indian Act violated section 15 of the Charter
also terminated the acquisition of Indian Status guaranteeing rights to women and other groups
through marriage, rather than descent. In its first five equally under Canadian legislation. In 2009, when
years, from 1985 to 1990, as researchers Megan Furi Canada appealed, the British Columbia Court of
and Jill Wherrett report, “the status Indian population Appeal ruled that although the Indian Act was
rose by 19% as a result of the amendments. Women discriminatory, the trial order had gone too far, and
represented the majority of those who gained status, that it was not for the court to impose a solution that
particularly of those who had status restored.”XI opened up Status to a larger group of people. It gave
the government 12 months to fix the problem before
While many people regained Status through this the declaration of the lower court could have effect.XIII
legislation, the amendments also created a new
issue, under the revised section 6, which effectively As a result of the decision, Sharon McIvor decided to
created two “types” of Status Indians: those who take her complaint to the United Nations, as Sandra
375
Lovelace Nicholas had in 1981. She argued that, maternal parentage could be registered. Still, under
despite the changes, First Nations women with Status those amendments, those grandchildren born prior
still could not pass on that Status in the same way as to 1951, or whose parents were not married before
Status men. Her complaint engages the failure of the 1985, could not necessarily qualify, while those who
government to provide effective remedy to a trace their heritage through their paternal heritage
situation that has been identified, even in an could.XV Canada also argued that some aspects of the
international forum, as an element of discrimination claims made by McIvor could not with certainty be
for decades. blamed or attributed on the government’s actions.
It also argued that it was still in the process of
In her complaint, McIvor’s team argued that the examining its legislation to determine if further
sex-based hierarchy established by the 1985 remedies could be applied, including the changes in
amendments violates articles 26 and 27 of the Bill S-3, which came into force in December 2017, as
ICCPR, in conjunction with articles 2(1) and 3, a result of the Superior Court of Quebec’s decision in
because it discriminates against matrilineal or female the Descheneaux case.XVI
descendants born before 1985 and against those First
Nations women born before 1985 who “married out.” In this case, the Superior Court of Quebec had ruled
McIvor maintained that under section 2(3)(a), these on a challenge by Stéphane Descheneaux, Susan
women and descendants were entitled to effective Yantha, and Tammy Yantha. The plaintiffs claimed that
remedy. the Indian registration provisions under section 6 of
the Indian Act were unconstitutional and in contra-
Under the violation of Article 26, McIvor maintained, vention of the Charter’s guarantees to equality, since
among other things, that the impacts of the the legislation still perpetuated different treatment
exclusion constituted “a form of social and cultural between Status Indian women as compared with
exclusion,” including her perception of a differential Status Indian men and their descendants. In its
treatment of reinstated persons from those who were decision, the court found several parts of the Act that
always considered Status under the Act. These had violated section 15 of the Charter and struck down
impacted her life, including her ability to access the provision, giving the government a fixed period
health benefits and educational funding for her of time to respond. In her testimony, Leah Gazan said,
children during their formative years. about the ongoing impact of Bill S-3:
Under Article 27 in conjunction with articles 2(1) and This violence has been affirmed through the
3, McIvor’s team maintained that the capacity to Indian Act where, even today, we see the current
transmit culture, as guaranteed by the ICCPR, had Liberal government fail to make amendments to
been violated by denying “their capacity to transmit Bill S-3 to end discrimination against Indigenous
their cultural identity to the following generations on women and girls residing [in] what some refer to
an equal basis between men and women,” and as Canada. We have been raising our concerns to
depriving them “of the legitimacy conferred by full deaf ears for far too long; our voices often muzzled
status.”XIV by powers of bureaucracy that have been
designed to silence us as we fight for our survival;
In its response, Canada maintained that the a story that has become all too common even at
discrimination under successive versions of the Act present as we try and find ways to ensure our
prior to 1985 was inadmissible, and that any residual safety in the future.XVII
discrimination had been corrected by the 2011
amendments, made in response to the decisions In January 2019, the UN Human Rights Committee
concerning the Act in Canadian Courts. These ruled in Sharon McIvor’s favour, holding that the sex-
amendments had modified the Indian Act so that based hierarchy created by section 6 of the Indian Act
grandchildren born after September 4, 1951, who still exists, despite the amendments of 2011 and
could trace their Aboriginal heritage through their 2017, and that Canada was in violation of articles 3
376
and 26, read in conjunction with Article 27.XVIII The In her testimony, Fay Blaney spoke about how sex
2011 and 2017 amendments, and the Indian Act itself, discrimination created by the Indian Act continues to
continue to violate the equal right of men and play out in communities.
women to the enjoyment of the rights guaranteed by
the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, Men have been bestowed a whole lot of
to which Canada has been party since the 1970s. patriarchal privilege from the Indian Act and …
Specifically, the UNHRC noted that Sharon McIvor’s they’ve been taught very well how to be
brother’s children all have full Status under section patriarchal in our communities. And I fear that
6(1)(a), while her own ability to pass on that “class” of men may not be willing to give up the patriarchal
Status is not the same. Given the fact that they shared power that they have, and in fact some of them
the same lineage, the UNHRC noted, that difference have claimed patriarchy to be a tradition, even
in Status was attributable only to the legislation’s though we know that culture comes from a
discriminating on the basis of sex.XIX It further noted matriarchal tradition. So they reinvent culture to
that the prohibition in discrimination applied not align with what the Indian Act says they have, that
only in law, but also in fact, and so McIvor’s argument they have patriarchal privilege now.XXIV
about the impacts of the discrimination in her lived
experience, as a “Bill C-31 woman,” is significant.XX Further, the question remains of how, given the
existing guarantees under Canadian law, including
In the aftermath of this decision, many questions the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, these kinds of
remain concerning how the government can exclusions can persist, and how domestic remedies
untangle the complicated historical and con- can be better applied to resolve these exclusions. As
temporary issues around its assumption of authority some people have suggested, passing new legislation
in determining Status, and how Status has become that substantively incorporates the guarantees under
associated with a sense of belonging or exclusion in international conventions, such as the Convention on
many of the testimonies before the National Inquiry. the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against
As Darla-Jean L. stated about the impact of the Indian Women and the United Nations Declaration on the
Act on her sense of self and belonging: “The federal Rights of Indigenous Peoples, could strengthen these
government made us wards of the state through the existing guarantees, ensuring that, under the
Indian Act and we learnt helplessness. We became international conventions, the issue of systemic
ashamed of our ourself. We became – we believed discrimination, rather than individual discrimination,
what society was telling us.”XXI When asked to speak receives effective and timely remedy.XXV At the same
about the impact of the link between identity and time, the continuing assumption that undergirds the
the loss of Status through the Indian Act, Sylvia M. process – that the Government of Canada, rather than
said, “Well, it makes you … question yourself, you First Nations themselves, should ultimately decide
know, right?”XXII who accesses the rights guaranteed to First
Nations – fundamentally dictates the fact that the
As the Feminist Alliance for International Action resolution to this issue will involve reconsidering the
asserts: foundations of the approach.
As long as the Indian Act is in place, be it one year As Palmater argues, the McIvor decision of 2019 “is
or twenty, the Act cannot discriminate on the about more than Indian status; it is about restoring
basis of sex. Further, if the Act is replaced before the political rights and powerful voices of First
eliminating the sex discrimination, the sex Nations women.… The law requires that Canada end
discrimination and injustice to Indian women and sex discrimination against First Nations women and
their descendants will infect any post-Indian Act children. The question is whether Canada will choose
regime.XXIII to be an outlaw or put action behind its alleged
commitment to reconciliation.”XXVI
377
I Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, 12.
II Ibid., 68.
III Robinson, “Mary Two-Axe Earley.”
IV Attorney General of Canada v. Lavell [1974] SCR 1349.
V Ibid., 1373.
VI Attorney General of Canada v. Lavell [1974] SCR 1349.
VII Palmater, “Will Ottawa heed.”
VIII Leah Gazan (Lakota), Part 1, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 82–83.
IX Fay Blaney (Xwémalhkwu of the Coast Salish), Part 3, Public Volume 4, Quebec City, QC, p. 117.
X Subsections 3 and 4 of Section 35 were further developed in 1983 and 1984, after important campaigns by Indigenous women’s groups
who insisted they had not been represented by organizations in the original discussions around the Charter, and who were still fighting for
the repeal of sex discrimination under the Indian Act. For more on this, see Erin Hanson, “Constitution Act, 1982 Section 35,” https://indige-
nousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/constitution_act_1982_section_35/.
XI Furi and Wherrett, “Indian Status and Band Membership Issues.”
XII Feminist Alliance for International Action Canada, “Equal Status for Women,” 4.
XIII For a more detailed examination of the McIvor decisions, see Lehmann, “Summary of the McIvor Decisions.”
XIV United Nations, Human Rights Committee, “Views adopted by the Committee under article 5(4),” 5.
XV For more detail and information on the 2011 amendments, see Canada, Indigenous and Northern Affairs, “2011 Indian Act
Amendments.”
XVI United Nations, Human Rights Committee, “Views Adopted,” 6–7. For a more detailed examination of Bill S-3 and its impacts on specific ex-
clusions under the Indian Act, see Canada,“The Government of Canada’s Response to the Descheneaux Decision.”
XVII Leah Gazan (Lakota), Part 1, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 76–77.
XVIII United Nations, Human Rights Committee, “Views Adopted,” 16.
XIX Ibid., 15.
XX Ibid., 17.
XXI Darla-Jean L. (First Nations), Part 1, Public Volume 1, Whitehorse, YT, p. 31.
XXII Sylvia M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 56, Happy-Valley Goose Bay, NL, p. 33.
XXIII Feminist Alliance for International Action, “Equal Status,” 13. See also Palmater, Beyond Blood.
XXIV Fay Blaney (Xwémalhkwu of the Coast Salish), Part 3, Public Volume 4, Quebec City, QC, pp. 134.
XXV West Coast LEAF, Part 4, Final Written Submission, p. 29.
XXVI Palmater, “Will Ottawa heed.” See also James Anaya, “Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Rights of indigenous peoples,” 2014. The re-
port was developed on the basis of research and information gathered from various sources, including during a visit to Canada from October
7th to 15th, 2013.
378
“When something like this happens in the children in Eskasoni was as high as 75.6%.XVIII As
community, it doesn't only affect a family, it affects Eskasoni resident Elizabeth Marshall explained, “I'm not
everybody around that family as well because it's shocked. I see the unemployment here, I see the
such a close-knit community. Everybody knows poverty, I see the people coming to ask for help. I don't
everyone.”XV The deaths were prevalent mostly like to talk about these things because it's painful to
among young people in their late teenage years until see people suffering.” She added that many people
their early 30s, with a reported average age at in Eskasoni, including herself, were surviving on
Eskasoni of 21. Jaime Battiste commented, “I'd say it's welfare – a reflection of the poor planning behind
more frequent than car accidents. It's either overdose centralization that took people from more secure
or suicide. That's the norm in the community, circumstances, in many cases. As Marshall noted, “You
unfortunately.”XVI see the malnutrition. You see children in poor health.
For my culture, where we always had an overabun-
At the time, the unemployment rate in Eskasoni was dance of food and where we share an abundance of
25%, and no crisis shelter existed. The community food, it's very strange that we have to be so poor.”XIX
received capital funds to build the facility, but it did
not receive any operational funds – meaning that As this case study has shown, many of the challenges
while the community might be able to build the engendered by centralization continue to haunt
shelter, it could not pay anyone to work there or to communities like Eskasoni today, and directly
operate it. In 2018, the Chronicle Herald reported two contribute to placing Indigenous women, girls, and
suicides in two weeks at Eskasoni. 2SLGBTQQIA people in danger in these communities.
But the issues go beyond interpersonal violence to
The income levels for residents remain among the engage colonization, institutional inaction, and
lowest average in the province.XVII In addition, the ongoing social, economic, and political marginalization
2016 “Report Card on Child and Family Poverty in that reinforces, rather than addresses, these barriers to
Nova Scotia” reported that the poverty rate for basic human rights.
I RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 397–98.

II Ibid., 400.
III Ibid., 401.
IV Eskasoni Mi’kmaw Nation, “History.”
V RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 401.
VI Ibid.
VII Ibid., 402.
VIII Eskasoni Mi’kmaw Nation, “History.”
IX RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 402.
X Eskasoni Mi’kmaw Nation, “History.”
XI Marie Battiste, quoted in Richardson, People of Terra Nullius, 67-68. Also cited in RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 403.
XII RCAP, Looking Forward Looking Back, 403.
XIII Moore, “Precious ones.”
XIV Roach, “Prominent Mi’kmaq warrior evicted.”
XV Pottie, “Eskasoni struggling.”
XVI Ibid.
XVII Census Profile, 2016 Census, Eskasoni 3, Indian Reserve (Census subdivision), Nova Scotia.
XVIII Frank, “2016 Report Card,”12-13.
XIX Palmeter and Tattrie, “Child poverty numbers.”
279
The Sixties Scoop and Child Welfare Policies in the First Nations Context
In the 1950s and 1960s, the higher visibility of Indigenous poverty in urban centres, coupled
with the growth of the social sciences as a professional field, resulted in new child welfare poli-
cies directed at both First Nations and Métis women. However, these were also rooted in the
same colonial, racist philosophies that were aimed at dismantling Indigenous relationships,
families, and communities. As the residential school system waned, at least outside Quebec and
the North, government measures aimed at the apprehension of First Nations and Métis children
shifted to child welfare – with many of the same results.
Alice Semple, Alfred Greenland (in tub), with

Ruth and Georgina Greenland, take a walk in
Aklavik, Northwest Territories, 1956. © Library
and Archives Canada. Reproduced with the
permission of Library and Archives Canada.
Source: Library and Archives Canada/Rose-
mary Gilliat Eaton fonds/e010869059.
The 1951 amendments to the Indian Act included a new section that allowed for provincial laws
of general application to apply to Indians. As a result, intergovernmental agreements were signed
to allow for the provision of education and child welfare by the provinces. Suddenly, the numbers
of Indigenous children in care increased as much as 50-fold, and soon Indigenous children
represented a third of all children in care.130
The increase of children in care was motivated by several factors, including the closures of several
residential schools during this period. The child welfare system quickly became a new way of
stealing children, based on assumptions about Indigenous women as unfit mothers – including
those who were seeking help in fleeing from violence in their own communities. In addition,
state-imposed poverty due to underdevelopment on reserves, in education and in employment
services, meant that many families – and women in particular – were stigmatized, not as a result
of their own actions, but of those structural factors that bound them in impossible situations.
280
needles. But I didn’t care because if that meant that feeding my children, even to walk
into an environment like that, I would do it. And I know that that’s where we contracted
the staph infection from.… It doesn’t mean I was dirty. It means I did what I had to do to
survive and we did pick up a staph infection. But that didn’t make me a dirty human
being.64
Pathway to Violence: Lack of Will and Insufficient

Institutional Responses
For many witnesses, the child welfare systems diminish Indigenous cultures and values in favour
of non-Indigenous standards and models of parenting. In many cases, a lack of will to change the
system in favour of embracing and understanding Indigenous values, or the institutional re-
sponses to investigating cases and substantiating child apprehensions, are viewed by Indigenous
women as insufficient and racist, demonstrating a lack of respect for cultural rights.
In some testimonies, witnesses described how their own upbringing engaged the important
cultural principles foundational to community life – principles that are directly threatened by
removal from their families. Anastasia N. noted:
My childhood, I remember it as the most beautiful moment of my life. I was a very
pampered child, with a lot of affection. I was surrounded by elderly people. I had my
mother. My mother was a person, a caregiver who was caring for two people, who
were both 80 years old. And then, she was the one who took care of me. And I had
responsibilities to these two people…. Every night, I had to get up, get dressed, put on
my little moccasins, and help the older person go out [to use the outhouse] and so on. I
was empowered very young. I have always enjoyed the way I was raised…. It made me
into a very autonomous and responsible person during my life.65
This undertaking of responsibility at a young age prepared Anastasia for her life, by her own
account. Yet, according to non-Indigenous child welfare standards, this kind of upbringing could
fall under the description of “neglect.” These kinds of Indigenous principles of family life are
threatened by a lack of will for foundational change to redefine parenting roles, and the roles of
children, through Indigenous understandings.
These understandings, or misunderstandings, can contribute to creating an inaccurate child wel-
fare evaluation, as well as discourage Indigenous people from seeking help or support. As one
witness noted:
I want to be able to walk down the street with my grandkids without someone calling the
social worker because they think I – oh, she yanked her kid there. She did something. I
want to be able to go to the police and the police to be able to look at me and say, “Hey,
Ms. M., how are you doing? What can we do to help you?” Not come in assuming and,
you know, right away, call social services.66
381
Other witnesses noted similar feelings regarding obstacles placed before them that they felt did
not apply equally to non-Indigenous people. Vanessa B. argued:
Their criteria seemed to be set in such a damn way that, good Lord, I’d have to have
great jumping legs to jump over each and every one of these – these hurdles and it’s –
it’s constantly. It’s a hurdle. You can’t even get – get over that hurdle enough to – and
then, you know … the momentum of constantly jumping through the hoops and that’s
how Tanya [Vanessa’s sister] always felt, that she had to jump through so many hoops
for her children and it’s not that she didn’t try, but with addiction that struggle is real and
this tells you how real it was for her, and, “You know, you tell me to behave this way.
Okay, I’m – I’m behaving this way.” “Well, you know what? You’re not quite doing it
right. You need to do it this way because that’s just not enough.” All the while these
children were placed at one point in a home that had added to the damage. Now, these
children are now damaged, you know, so – and it still exists, you know, [those] hurdles
are still existing now and I’m feeling that now.67
In the case of Robin R., the lengths she had to go to in order to be able to get her child back were
so great that by the time she was finally permitted to see her daughter, it was too late. She said:
Those five years passed, the trial happened, and I went to the MCFD [British Columbia
Ministry of Children and Family Development] and I said, “Give me my child back.”
No, they – I was irate and I was angry. I walked in there and they forced me to do anger
management because I demanded that they give me a plan to get my child back. They
said, “No, do anger management and get your certificate and come back and prove that
you have done anger management before we talk.”
I did the first anger management. It was eight weeks. I went back with my certificate,
yelled at the social worker again, and she made me do another 12-week program. So for
about five months I was in anger management.
“I BECAME A WARD OF THE GOVERNMENT AT THE AGE OF 14 YEARS OLD.

FOR ME, THAT WAS ONE OF THE MOST HUMILIATING TIMES OF MY LIFE THE
GOVERNMENT PUT ME THROUGH. THEY BROUGHT MY MOTHER INTO A PLACE,
INTO THE COURTROOM, MADE HER SIGN PAPERS WHILE I STOOD THERE, PUT
ME UP FOR ADOPTION. THAT’S – THIS IS GOVERNMENT…. THIS IS THE
INSTITUTION THAT HAS NO HEART.”
Noeline V.
382
The events surrounding the Sixties Scoop and its effects are much less documented in Quebec
than in the rest of Canada because of Quebec’s different socio-political context. Indian residential
schools began to open in Quebec around the same time that the Sixties Scoop gained momentum
in the rest of Canada. Moreover, religious authorities still present in First Nations communities
held considerable power within the context of child welfare, and, until the early 1970s, several
hospitals were also administered by religious orders.139 In addition, the deployment of child
welfare and protection services came slightly later, with the Loi sur la protection de la jeunesse
coming into force in 1979.140
As a result of a combination of these factors, the Sixties Scoop was administered differently in
Quebec, and in much closer cooperation with representatives of the church, in communities and
in hospitals. Hospitals also denied parents the opportunity to see their children and to recover
their bodies if they were told they had passed away, and some families have never even received
a death certificate.141
As in the rest of Canada, the Sixties Scoop as manifested in Quebec has led to an overrepresenta-
tion of First Nations children in child welfare systems. Indeed, when the Loi sur la protection de
la jeunesse came into force in 1979, 6% of children in provincial care were First Nations while
they represented only 0.7% of children of Quebec.142 This overrepresentation has worsened over
time, and, as of 2016, stood at 17%, according to the 2016 census. While the rate is still lower
than in the rest of Canada, proportionally it is high, as it is all over the country.
Colonial Encounter: Distinctive Métis Experiences

Métis experiences in the context of colonization share much in common with those of First
Nations, with some notable exceptions. Linked through marriage to their First Nations parentage,
the Métis arose during the fur trade, when Métis women and girls suffered their own experiences
that were both similar, and distinctive, to those of their First Nations relatives. Primarily, the
distinctiveness of Métis experiences concerns the lack of services and supports offered to Métis
populations, as well as concerted efforts to separate them from First Nations relatives through the
apparatus of the state. In addition, the history of colonization has further generated a hierarchy of
identity, resulting in conflicts within the Métis community and drawing attention away from the
ongoing marginalization that Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people face.
Métis Women, the Fur Trade, and Early Settlement Life
Historians Sylvia Van Kirk and Jennifer Brown have explored how the process of becoming a
distinct Nation was, for Métis, structured around women's roles in the fur trade. Throughout the
17th and 18th centuries, as the fur trade expanded across central and western North America,
many unions were formed between European traders and Indigenous women. The children born
to these encounters were often raised with cultural knowledge of both their Indigenous and
283
In addition, ongoing discussions regarding the definition of Métis, and who may qualify for ben-
efits under Métis-specific programs, complicate the context of addressing how best to serve the
Métis and to affirm cultural rights in child welfare,71 as well as in other key services areas, such
as health and education.
Regardless of the outcome of those discussions, the impact of child welfare on Métis families
was a consistent theme through the testimonies. As Noeline V. shared:
I became a ward of the government at the age of 14 years old. For me, that was one of
the most humiliating times of my life the government put me through. They brought my
mother into a place, into the courtroom, made her sign papers while I stood there, put me
up for adoption. That’s – this is government…. This is the institution that has no heart.72
Re-evaluating Helping Services

Many witnesses noted the lack of culturally responsive or appropriate services in key areas be-
yond child welfare that violated their cultural rights, particularly within support services centred
on health. As health researchers Malcolm King, Alexandra Smith, and Michael Gracey note:
Many Indigenous people have little success with, and in fact often will not engage in,
treatment that does not value their ways of knowing – especially those pertaining to
health and wellness. This failure might account for, in part, the underuse of non-
Indigenous specific mental health services by Indigenous people, despite their
disproportionately high burden of mental illness.73
Many witnesses also pointed out how, despite all of the recent work by organizations and advo-
cates to educate the public, there is a continuing lack of awareness about Indigenous Peoples and
their needs today. Ann M. R. said that “educating people and curing ignorance seems like a
lifelong process.”74 The work of educating people is an additional burden placed on those still
healing from these wounds.
Marilyn W. observed:
The government is still trying to kill the Indian in the child. It’s never stopped. They are
still at war with our people, and I know this. I’ve seen it, and this is my life. This is not
something I just read out of a book or I had to learn in university. I seen it, I lived it,
and they’ve used our people as scapegoats, and they’ve created such a hate towards
Aboriginal people and created such a division amongst Indigenous people and non-
Indigenous people. There is no education out there on the importance of our people and
our culture.75
384
her, George Stewart and John Mackenzie. Frances, George Simpson’s new wife, was the
harbinger of things to come. After 1830, more European women started to arrive in the
Northwest, and the social status of Métis women as wives declined, leaving them vulnerable
to abandonment and poverty.145 However, European women remained a small minority in the
Northwest until the 1880s and were mostly concentrated at Red River.
As Métis communities such as those at Red River developed unique social and political cultures,
they faced constant pressure from European institutions, such as the HBC and Christian churches,
to conform to patriarchal land tenure and economic systems, as well as social relations. As the
power of the Canadian state formed and increased during the 19th century, friction arose between
this European paternalistic world view and the traditional practices of Métis rooted in their
maternal knowledge. The imposition of a Euro-Canadian system of race and gender happened in
different places at different times. People at Red River had a longer and more direct connection to
European institutions than those further west.
The first clergy arrived in 1818, and the HBC had established itself at Fort Garry in 1822. By
1820, Catholic and Protestant churches had been established at Red River. As Métis were in-
creasingly settled into agricultural communities, often centred on a Christian parish, the clergy
exerted more influence over their lives and restricted the influence of Métis women. Christian
doctrine was instrumental in forcing Métis women into roles defined by gendered European
expectations. Church fathers saw the husband as the head of the family and expected women to
adhere to masculine authority. Catholic priests, in particular, related women to biblical Eve and
constructed a view of them as naturally sinful.146
These gendered ideas would have a negative impact on the position of women in Métis society.147
In this world view, the position of women was domestic: they belonged in the home and in a
marriage. Priests often counselled women to remain subservient in a marriage, no matter the
conditions of the marriage, including abusive relationships.148 The emphasis on masculine au-
thority, as well as the racist attitudes associated with their First Nations or Métis mothers, led
many Métis families to assert the “male” heritage of their European ancestors and to hide the
origins of their Indigenous grandmothers.149
In part, colonial perspectives regarding the danger posed by Métis women were often wrapped
up in fears of miscegenation, or “race mixing,” overall, and were related to the idea of hiding
one’s heritage. Colonial authorities, particularly after 1840, used the fears surrounding misce-
genation and mixed marriages to promote a higher degree of segregation, or separation, between
First Nations and surrounding non-Indigenous communities, as well as between Métis settle-
ments and non-Indigenous communities.150
As Sarah Carter explains, miscegenation in this context, as well as in other colonial contexts, was
seen as an important source of degenerative behaviour and moral decay, and a threat to a model
Euro-normative way of life. Practically speaking, and in reference to the Métis, “Race-mixing also
potentially jeopardized Euro-Canadian efforts to acquire Indigenous land,” as seen in the Manitoba
Act of 1870 and in the scrip commissions’ works, examined in greater detail later in this chapter.151
For some people, it also contributed to generations of shame and guilt about their identity.
285
Displacement and Danger: Métis Resistance and Government Assault
During the 19th century, the Canadian government twice violently confronted Métis societies on
the Prairies to impose its own racial and gendered world view, as well as to remove them from
their lands.
As the Canadian state developed and expanded its authority in the wake of Confederation in
1867, it sought to acquire new lands to populate with European immigrants. In 1869, Canada
bought Rupert’s Land from the HBC, a transaction conducted without the consultation of
Indigenous Peoples who inhabited the territory. Concerned about recognition of their title to
land, the Métis, led by Louis Riel, established a provisional government and demanded Canada
address their concerns. While the actual Métis Resistance of 1869 resulted in little direct conflict,
the arrival of Canadian soldiers in 1870 at Red River introduced a new era for Métis and
Canadian relations, one defined by lies and violence. The Canadian soldiers sent to Red River to
oversee the new province of Manitoba’s admission to Confederation were bent on abusing and
harassing the Métis population, and drunken soldiers targeted Métis women with insults and
abuse.152
In reaction to this abuse, in 1870, many Métis families simply moved further west to join other
communities in what would become Saskatchewan and Alberta. The reprieve these families
sought from Canadian intervention proved to be short-lived as the government continued
encroaching into Métis territories.
A Métis family stands

in front of a log house
in Buffalo Narrows,
Saskatchewan, ca. 1900.
Source: Library and
Archives Canada/
Department of the
Interior fonds/a044552.
In 1885, Louis Riel returned from exile to lead another resistance against increasing Canadian
domination. As historians like Jesse Thistle have demonstrated, Métis women were not silent at
this moment. Instead, they were at the heart of the resistance.153 Thistle’s own ancestor, Marianne
Morrissette, was present during the Battle of Batoche and assisted Métis forces. She would have
286
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people; they are women’s personalities, families, ambitions, and hob-
still subject to representations as the Indian Princess bies.NN In contrast, the details of the Indigenous
or Squaw by the media. The representation of Indige- women’s lives were scant.OO Since the articles about
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in news the Indigenous women were significantly shorter
media is different from that of their non-Indigenous than those about the non-Indigenous women, the
counterparts in its content and framing. “Content” is media did not convey who these women were and
the information included in a news article. “News what they meant to their families and communities
media framing” is broadly understood as the selec- in the same way it did for non-Indigenous women.PP
tion of some aspects of information to make them
more important.BB Media frames are both persuasive Most often, news media emphasizes Indigenous
and analytical tools; they are heuristics, or mental women’s and girls’ criminal behaviour. Indigenous
shortcuts, that allow complex issues and ideas to be women are primarily framed as sex workers and crim-
understood.CC Media frames can explicitly and implic- inals. “Never Innocent Victims: Street Sex Workers in
itly shape attitudes and opinions based on what is in- Canadian Print Media,” a study of media representa-
cluded in the frame and how it is understood.DD tion of Indigenous sex workers from 2006 to 2009,
found that two dominant narratives emerge from
Media representation is not neutral. Power is at the news media coverage.QQ The first narrative that is
core of what is considered “newsworthy.”EE News perpetuated by the media is “vermin-victim.”RR This
media representations of Indigenous women, girls, narrative portrays Indigenous sex workers as dirty
and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and of the violence against and as a nuisance to Canadian society.SS Sex work is
them, are linked to what is deemed worthy or unwor- depicted as something that should be eradicated.TT
thy of coverage.FF Newsworthiness is “what makes a The second narrative that emerges from news media
story worth telling.”GG However, not all women who representation of Indigenous sex workers is that In-
experience violence are treated equally by the digenous women are to blame for the violence
media.HH In determining which victims of violence are against them because they engage in “high-risk”
newsworthy, the news media often presents victims lifestyles. The media continually refers to sex work as
of violence as a binary of either “good” or “bad.”II Like a “lifestyle,” suggesting that sex work is an individual
society, the binary that the news media depicts falls choice, despite the fact that many women have no
along racial and class lines.JJ White, educated, and other employment opportunities available to them.
wealthy women are portrayed as “good” women who Media discourse about sex work as individual choice
are worthy of saving and reporting on, whereas In- suggests that Indigenous women who engage in sex
digenous women are portrayed as “bad” women who work and experience violence as a result are at fault:
are unworthy.KK by choosing to engage in a “high-risk” lifestyle, In-
digenous sex workers must also accept the conse-
Consequently, the media’s binary portrayal of vio- quences of that lifestyle.UU
lence against women results in white missing and
murdered women being framed more compassion- Criminalized portrayals were cited in testimony
ately than Indigenous missing and murdered before the National Inquiry. Elora S. shared with the
women. A case study of news media representation National Inquiry:
of missing and murdered Indigenous women by
researcher Kristen Gilchrist compared with the repre- I'm sure a lot of families have this in common, but
sentation of missing and murdered white women what the media does in how they portray our sis-
highlights the media’s unequal representation of ters, our aunties, our daughters, it's not in a very
victims of sexual violence. All six women in the case good light…. The one that is often portrayed in
study were under the age of 30, attended school or the media newspapers is not one that we want to
were working, had close connections with friends remember her by…. The [photo] that has been all
and family, and had disappeared between 2003 and over in the newspapers was actually a mug shot
2005.LL None of the women in the case study were sex of her, and that's not how we want to remember
workers or had run away from their families.MM How- her.VV
ever, the media highlighted the non-Indigenous
387
As Jamie Lee Hamilton shared, “people are more than As these examples demonstrate, many media outlets
that. You know, their humanity is robbed from them perpetuate a narrative that violence against
when you just categorize them by those terms. And Indigenous women is a result of individual choice,
there’s no need for that.”WW rather than social and structural inequalities.CCC
Consequently, the violence against Indigenous
The repetitive representation of Indigenous women women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is “justified”
engaging in “high-risk” lifestyles normalizes the vio- because the media framing signals to the Canadian
lence against them.XX In emphasizing Indigenous public that violence against them is not important.DDD
women’s criminal activity in news media, there is no The silencing of violence against Indigenous women
attention paid to Canada’s colonial history, which and girls is made worse in comparison with the
constrains and shapes some Indigenous women’s, media’s compassionate framing of white women.EEE
girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s experiences and op-
portunities.YY News media representation blames In- A Curious Silence
digenous women and girls for the violence against
them and dismisses the unequal social conditions
In addition to the negative framing and content of
that contribute to some Indigenous women’s, girls’,
news media representations of Indigenous women,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s engaging in sex work or
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, they constantly re-
living in poverty.ZZ
ceive disproportionately less media coverage than
their non-Indigenous counterparts do. Media cover-
As Jamie Lee Hamilton shared on a panel before the
age refers to the frequency of media representation
National Inquiry, media coverage as related to
– for example, the number of news articles and place-
2SLGBTQQIA people can be challenging for different
ment of newspaper stories.
reasons, as well.
In terms of frequency and placement of newspaper
When we’ve had trans people – Two-Spirited, trans
articles, there are more articles written about non-
people that have been murdered, the police rou-
Indigenous women than Indigenous women, and
tinely would disclose to the media that they’re
these articles appear in a more prominent place in
trans. And they have no right to do that because it
newspapers. On average, missing or murdered white
sets in motion this defence that’s used, the panic.
women received three times more coverage than In-
We call it the homosexual panic defence of, “Oh,
digenous women did.FFF The comparative case study
the perpetrator was triggered because of this.”
mentioned earlier found that articles about white
When in actual fact, they’re hate crimes. You know,
women averaged 1.4 times more words than Indige-
there are individuals that go out and target.AAA
nous women and that 37% of articles about white
women appeared on the front page of newspapers,
As Kim M. shared, in relation to the media portrayal
compared with 25% of articles about Indigenous
of her sister:
women.GGG Articles about the Indigenous women
often appeared beside advertisements and soft
Media needs to be educated on how they report
news.HHH Further, other less significant articles were
on missing and murdered Indigenous women
given more prominent space when placed near the
and girls. They need to be respectful and
stories of missing or murdered Indigenous women.III
honourable.… When media was trying to post
Poorly placed articles signal to readers that the sto-
pictures of my sister, they were not very represen-
ries in the articles lack urgency and social impor-
tative pictures, and I actually phoned a number of
tance.JJJ The placement of news articles about
places that were posting pictures and I said,
Indigenous women in the periphery of newspapers
"We're sending you pictures. Use these." Even the
signals to readers that missing and murdered Indige-
way how they described my sister when they first
nous women are not newsworthy.
announced that she was murdered, they de-
scribed her as a sex-trade worker. So, I phoned
Further, a study conducted in 2008 found that even
them and I said, "How can you – why are you call-
Indigenous women who do not engage in “high-risk”
ing her that?" So, media, get your facts straight
lifestyles also receive limited news media coverage.
and treat us with honour and respect.BBB
388
Historians have shown how the process of assigning scrip was intentionally prolonged and un-
necessarily complex.162 The federal government also frequently and unilaterally changed the
rules of scrip regulations.163 Ultimately, these rule changes, as well as government delays in
implementing scrip proceedings, meant that most of the land promised to the Métis ended up in
the hands of speculators who then sold the land to new immigrants.164 Instead of providing a
solid economic foundation for the Métis, the scrip commissions further eroded Métis rights,
destabilized communities, and pushed Métis families further into poverty and marginalization.165
Despite these challenges, the life of Mary Norris provides an example of how Métis women
used scrip in times of constraint.166 A prominent fur-trade figure, Norris had married an important
European trader. However, as the fur trade diminished, she was cast out by her husband, leaving
her with few options. Scrip became a vehicle for Norris to survive (albeit meagerly) in difficult
circumstances.
Many Métis women also used the distinctions between the Indian Act and Métis scrip to survive
in a changing world, since they were able to use both identities. While Métis women found scrip
a useful category to navigate, the Canadian state became increasingly concerned with women
“taking advantage” of the system.167 Canada was especially concerned with those who, walking
the sometimes permeable line between Métis and First Nations, applied for scrip while in Treaty.
Many of those whom the government targeted for dispossession from scrip, labelling them as
frauds or as leechers, were women who had married non-Status (both Métis and white) men and
had lost their Status. One of the main goals of Canadian settler colonialism was to fully diverge
Métis and First Nations communities.168 Scholars have shown how groups such as the Edmonton
Stragglers – “women who received treaty annuity but left for scrip” – were predominantly tar-
geted by these administrative categorizations.169 This “stragglers’ list” specifically targeted
mixed-race women to police the boundaries of racial categories in Canada.170 Scrip thus became
a mechanism to enforce racial and gender boundaries on Métis women, while simultaneously
severing Métis families from their lands.
Métis Girls and Residential Schools
Like thousands of First Nations, many Métis also attended residential schools or day schools
designated for “Indians.” In some cases, the failure of their parents to pay property tax (as
so-called squatters, in Métis settlements adjacent or near to reserves) disqualified Métis children
from attending regular school. In other cases, the fact that Métis settlements had been created
near reserve communities meant that Métis students would also attend Indian residential schools.
As Métis historian Tricia Logan says, because schools were funded per student,
Métis children were used to manipulate this per capita system and secure more funding
for schools with low attendance. Métis children were the first to be removed or added to
attendance lists in order for churches to increase their schools’ attendance and therefore
access more funding from the federal government.171
288
Logan points out that school officials arguing to accept more Métis students reminded the federal
governments that “such schools were established not to meet treaty obligations towards Indians,
but as a means of preventing, in the public interest, a race of wild men growing up whose hands
would be against all men and all men’s hands against them.”172
In attempt to save money, the Department of Indian Affairs created a three-tiered social class
hierarchy of “half-breeds,” to determine which ones should be prioritized to attend residential
school. In general, the more “Indian” children looked visually, and the more closely their fami-
lies were “living an Indian mode of life,” the more likely it was that they would be accepted into
residential school.173
Residential school staff contributed to further divisions between Métis children and between
Métis and other First Nations children. Some nuns openly favoured the “better” Métis (from
families with money) over the “poor” Métis (who lived off the land). In another example,
Elaine D. shared how having European ancestry, along with Indigenous ancestry, made her a
target for the teachers at her residential school.
Because I was Métis, in their school, I should know a little more because I have white
blood in me. So when I got in trouble, they would use me as – as an example and I
would have to kneel in front of the classroom on my knees at age six, seven, and balance
books and they would put three books on my hands and the teacher would slam his – his
yardstick on the desk and I would shake and my ears would hurt and then I would cry
and I’d tell him I need to go pee and all he would do is put the yardstick under my hand
and tell me my hands are unbalanced. So I need to go pee and I need to go poo and he
wouldn’t let me, so I would just kneel in front of the class in my feces and in my urine
all day. All day I was an example.174
Métis children also suffered significant shame and abuse. Some Métis children were called
“le chien,” meaning “dog” or “mutt.” These students remember “being spoken to, fed, and
disciplined as dogs.”175 Elaine D. recalled:
First, we went to the [day] residential school and every day we were beaten. When
recess came, all of us four little Métis kids would run and hide in any crevice we could
find. I got caught – like, I don’t know about my sister, but when I got caught, the boys
would molest me. They’d pinch my nipples, knee me in the crotch, pull my pants down.
All I know is a lot of times I had wet panties and it wasn’t from peeing myself. So the
boys would do whatever they wanted.176
After the children left residential school, Indian agents were tasked with writing follow-up reports
on the former students. Logan writes, “Female students were reported as doing well if they were
married to a white man and doing poorly if they were married to a Métis man.”177 As many Métis
Elders and community members who survived residential school shared with Logan, Métis
students felt as though they were outsiders, and were taught to judge each other and internalize
their oppression.178
289
Métis Economic and Political Marginalization
Even before the financial crash known as the Great Depression, many Métis women and their
families were living in poverty on the margins of Canadian society. Despite all the issues with
scrip, it had served as a source of much-needed cash for Métis women and their families during
hard times.
After 1924, the federal government ended the work of scrip commissions, as it felt it had ade-
quately dealt with Métis Aboriginal title. Since Métis were not covered by the Indian Act, the
federal government believed it had no further obligations with respect to Métis rights. This belief
was further engrained as Canada began to transfer jurisdiction over lands and resources in the
three prairie provinces to their respective governments. The federal government thought that any
remaining responsibility to the Métis would pass to the provinces with rights to lands. However,
Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba refused to accept that they inherited any responsibility for
the Métis, especially if it entailed an additional financial burden.179
During the lean years of the Great Depression, both levels of government would take any
opportunity to reduce their budgets.180 In the political negotiations over what would become the
Natural Resources Act,181 which transferred responsibility to the provinces, the Métis became a
convenient group to ignore. It was at this time that the Métis became lost in the gap between
federal and provincial governments. Both levels of government were still aware of the plight of
Métis, but neither wanted to take responsibility for the financial obligations. This neglect struc-
tured the relationship Canadian governments had with Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. As Métis were further marginalized, their communities were increasingly targeted by
alcohol dealers who preyed on poverty and misery,182 conditions that exacerbated the abuse of
women and girls.183
“FIRST, WE WENT TO THE [DAY] RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL AND EVERY DAY WE WERE
BEATEN. WHEN RECESS CAME, ALL OF US FOUR LITTLE MÉTIS KIDS WOULD RUN AND
HIDE IN ANY CREVICE WE COULD FIND. I GOT CAUGHT – LIKE, I DON’T KNOW ABOUT
MY SISTER, BUT WHEN I GOT CAUGHT, THE BOYS WOULD MOLEST ME. THEY’D PINCH
MY NIPPLES, KNEE ME IN THE CROTCH, PULL MY PANTS DOWN. ALL I KNOW IS A LOT
OF TIMES I HAD WET PANTIES AND IT WASN’T FROM PEEING MYSELF. SO THE BOYS
WOULD DO WHATEVER THEY WANTED.”
Elaine D.
By the 1950s and 1960s, many Métis were living either on the urban fringes of cities in what
were condemned as shantytowns, such as Rooster Town in Winnipeg,184 or in rural communities
along government road allotments known as “road allowances.” Those living in the marginal
spaces at the edge of Canadian society became known as the “Road Allowance People.” Road
allowance communities were established by Métis in the aftermath of the failure of many families
to receive their lands guaranteed by the Manitoba Act, as well as within the context of the
290
The Path Forward: Telling to portray a positive image, not just what you
guys want to put out there. And, I know for our
Our Stories story, it was just, come on, just be a little more
sensitive, you know? Because the graphic details
The truth about missing and murdered Indigenous that they portrayed my auntie in were horren-
women and girls must be represented in the media. dous. And, that's all the public knows about her,
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people was that – I'm not going to – I'm not going to
have spirit: they are mothers, daughters, sisters, aun- share what was posted, what was said, but it was
ties, wives, valued community members. They matter, just dehumanizing.RRRR
and their stories are important. The path forward to
honest representations of Indigenous women, girls, In some cases, this also means understanding and re-
and 2SLGBTQQIA people is not straight or easy, but specting cultural traditions and protocols of grieving.
there are several changes that the media can make As Micah A. shared, her family’s silence was inter-
to lead to more truthful representations that can ul- preted by media as support for the perpetrator.
timately contribute to change. As Sandra L., a witness
before the National Inquiry, stated, “the thing about My relatives did not feel it was in their interest to
learning the truth is it'll set you free, but it's painful speak on my behalf as the mother of the child,
as hell going through the process.”PPPP and they did not want to be interviewed by the
media with their questions. At first I wasn’t inter-
A common recommendation in both the academic ested in being interviewed myself, but one of the
literature and the testimonial knowledge is that for questions was, became this: “Are the [A.'s family]
fair media representation of Indigenous women, girls, supportive of murder, then? Because you won’t
and 2SLGBTQQIA people, Indigenous Peoples must reply?” That was one of the questions I was given.
be able to tell their own stories. Indigenous Peoples
are the experts of their own lives, and their knowl- In her testimony, Micah said she felt pressured to pro-
edge should be represented in the media. Connie vide an interview, but when she did, she pointed out
Greyeyes, a member of Bigstone Cree Nation and ad- that the media should respect Inuit culture, “whereby
vocate for missing and murdered Indigenous women you give the person grieving who experienced the
and girls, told the National Inquiry that it is important loss, three days prior to contact for interviews or to
for the families of missing and murdered Indigenous answer questions.”SSSS
women to tell their own stories on their own terms.
Fallon Andy pointed out that one way for Indigenous
Quite often when stories of a woman that has Peoples to tell their stories is through social media
gone missing or has been murdered, there's a because it allows them to represent their realities bet-
stereotype that's attached to it. And for a family ter.TTTT The ability for social media to change the so-
to be able to go and tell their story, their truth of cial and political landscape cannot be understated.
their loved one is so important because we are
not what the media often portrays us to be. You Part of the reason that the violence toward Indige-
know, we are mothers, grandmothers, aunties, sis- nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is under-
ters. We are ceremonial people. You know, I've represented and misrepresented in the media is that
seen so many stories of my own personal friends Canadian media is dominated by white settler
in the media and have been just disgusted by the men.UUUU Jesse Wente explained, “The majority of In-
way they've been portrayed.QQQQ digenous storytelling that occurs, or stories about In-
digenous people that are seen on screens and in
Elora S., testifying about her loved one, implored the media are typically produced by non-Indigenous
media to reach out to families. peoples.”VVVV The lack of Indigenous representation in
the Canadian media is problematic because the ma-
Before you publish anything, I know it's for rates jority of the information Canadians receive about
and whatever, but you know, reach out to the Indigenous Peoples and issues, and, consequently,
families, because we all – we'll help you. We want how they form their opinions, is through the
392
media.WWWW In contexts where Canadians have little Another way forward for truthful representation of
knowledge, contact, or personal interactions with In- Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in
digenous communities, media plays an integral role the media is set out by the Truth and Reconciliation
in shaping perceptions of Indigenous Peoples.XXXX In Commission’s (TRC) Call to Action 84, “Media and
moving forward, the media should include Indige- Reconciliation. ” The TRC states:
nous Peoples as a part of the creation of stories and
the storytelling process. This can include, but is not We call upon the federal government to restore
limited to, Indigenous production teams, actors, writ- and increase funding to the CBC/Radio-Canada, to
ers, journalists, and directors. enable Canada’s national public broadcaster to
support reconciliation, and be properly reflective
In some cases, this is happening. For example, Jeffrey of the diverse cultures, languages, and perspec-
McNeil-Seymour, a Two-Spirit assistant professor at tives of Aboriginal peoples, including, but not lim-
Ryerson University and band member at Tk’emlúps ited to: (iii) Continuing to provide dedicated news
te Secwepemc First Nation, created a video art coverage and online public information resources
presentation that recorded 2SLGBTQQIA people in on issues of concern to Aboriginal peoples and all
ceremony. McNeil-Seymour described the video in Canadians, including the history and legacy of res-
his testimony as “a way for there to be visual docu- idential schools and the reconciliation process.
mentation of a particular ceremony for Two-Spirit (emphasis added)AAAAA
people in my nation of Secwepemcul’ecw to look to
and to be able to hopefully feel a sense of belonging- Many of the witnesses for the National Inquiry testi-
ness and attachment, because a lot of us grow up not fied about the importance of increasing funding for
necessarily having those strong feelings.”YYYY Indigenous media content. This could facilitate more
Indigenous participation in media creation and con-
In addition, work from advocates has resulted in tent, leading to more honest representations of In-
some changes in Manitoba in how Indigenous digenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are portrayed
in the media. As Member of the Legislative Assembly
of Manitoba Nahanni Fontaine explained, activism
Conclusion
from Winnipeg families finally convinced the Win-
This Deeper Dive has explained how early colonial
nipeg Police Service (WPS) and the RCMP to stop
representations of Indigenous women manifest in
using mug shots when releasing photos of murdered
today’s misrepresentation and under-representation
and missing Indigenous women and girls in Win-
nipeg. As Fontaine explained in an interview:
Today, through media coverage and content, media
representations can legitimize violence and con-
So actually, here in Winnipeg, there were a group
tribute to the targeting of Indigenous women by
of predominantly Indigenous women from a va-
silencing their experiences.
riety of different organizations that kept lobbying
and fighting for the WPS and for the RCMP to stop
As Jesse Wente explained, media should and can be
releasing mug shots because what it does intrin-
an important outlet for improving outcomes, not
sically is when that mug shot is released to the
making them worse. In responding to the idea that
public, it doesn't really induce the public to that
some families were afraid to testify, fearing the media
particular woman. Right, because we've got our
portrayal they might encounter, Wente stated: “That
own, you know, markers in respect of that she's
should be a shameful blight, because that is not what
criminalized and she's all these things. We actually
journalism should be doing; the exact opposite.”BBBBB
lobbied for that for very hard. And now the WPS
Tanya Talaga pointed out that, in some cases, these
and the RCMP don't do that.ZZZZ
bad experiences work to colour Indigenous Peoples’
perceptions of the media as a single entity.
393
However, by the 1960s, the colony scheme had failed, partially because many Métis found them
to be “alienating and unworkable,” but also because many people within the government contin-
ued to blame the Métis for their own poverty. Despite the professed intentions of the CCF, many
officials continued to view the Métis within racial stereotypes that affected the expectations of
the project. These officials saw continued Métis failure to integrate into mainstream Canadian
society as due to an inherent flaw of the Métis character, and not due to the failures of govern-
ment social planning. The solutions that Tommy Douglas’s government attempted did not con-
sider a Métis perspective, and amounted to little more than a high-handed attempt to restructure
Métis life according to Canadian racial and gender expectations.185
The social, political, and economic marginalization of Métis women and girls created circum-
stances in which police mistrust and, in some cases, police abuse, took place. Maria Campbell’s
original version of Halfbreed included a description of a critical incident in Campbell’s life.
As she described it, at the age of 14, RCMP arrived at her home to question her family about
poaching. During this visit, Campbell was dragged by an RCMP officer into her grandmother’s
bedroom and raped. As she recounts, her grandmother found her and helped her to cover it up,
insisting that she not tell her father:
She told me not to tell Daddy what had happened, that if he knew he would kill those
Mounties for sure and be hung and we would all be placed in an orphanage. She said that
no one ever believed Halfbreeds in court; they would say that I had been fooling around
with some boys and tried to blame the Mounties instead.186
Many Métis women living in smaller communities, like First Nations women, migrated to different
Canadian centres, looking for better futures. As Maria Campbell describes of her arrival to
Vancouver:
The city was beyond my wildest imagination! It seemed to go on without end. As we
drove along in the cab, I pressed my face against the window and drank in everything
around me…. The people all looked rich and well-fed. The store windows were full of
beautiful displays, lots of food, clothes, and all the things a person could possibly need
to be happy.187
Yet, this is not the outcome of Campbell’s story, and her hopes for the city were soon replaced
by the need to engage in the sex industry as a means for survival and to provide for herself and
her children.
As this example demonstrates, the promise of the city wasn’t necessarily what many Métis
women encountered, and the anonymity and size of urban centres could often lead to the
exploitation of Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The resulting isolation, from
both family and community, could result in a greater likelihood of violence, without access to
certain services or supports that would have been provided by programs oriented toward urban
First Nations women.
292
A Tanya Talaga (Anishinaabe/Polish), Part 3, Public Volume 10, GG Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims,” 3; Gilchrist, “Invisible
Toronto, ON, p. 171. Victims”; Gilchrist, “Multiple Disadvantages.”
B Joanne A. (English River First Nation, Treaty 10), Part 1, HH Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims,” 3; Jiwani and Young,
Public Volume 24, Edmonton, AB, pp. 78-79. “Missing and Murdered Women,” 901.
C Delores S. (Saulteaux, Yellow Quill First Nation), Part 1, II Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims,” 3; Gilchrist, “Multiple
Public Volume 26, Saskatoon, SK, pp. 25-26. Disadvantages.”
D Jiwani, “Symbolic and Discursive Violence,” 3. JJ Ibid.
E Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 101. KK Acoose, Neither Indian Princesses nor Easy Squaws, 43;
F Jiwani, “Symbolic and Discursive Violence,” 3. Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims,” 3; Gilchrist, “Multiple
Disadvantages.”
G Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 101; Green,
“The Pocahontas Perplex,” 702. LL Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims,” 11.
H Green, “The Pocahontas Perplex,” 703. MM Ibid.
I Ibid., 702. NN Ibid.
J Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 101; Green, OO Ibid.

“The Pocahontas Perplex,” 702. PP Ibid.
K Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 101. QQ Strega et al., “Never Innocent Victims,” 12.
L Anderson, A Recognition of Being; Carter, Capturing RR Ibid.; Longstaffe, “Indigenous Women as Newspaper
Women, 161; Green, “The Pocahontas Perplex,” 702. Representations,” 239.
M Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 101. SS Ibid.
N Burnett, “Aboriginal and White Women,” 105; Dean, TT Strega et al., “Never Innocent Victims,” 13.
“Moving Beyond ‘Stock Narratives.’” UU Ibid.
O Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 101. VV Elora S., Part 1, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 155.
P Ibid., 103. WW Jamie Lee Hamilton (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public
Q Ibid., 103. Volume 104, Vancouver, BC, p. 54.
R Burnett, “Aboriginal and White Women,” 105. XX Strega et al., “Never Innocent Victims,” 21.
S Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 103; Bourgeois, YY García-Del Moral, “Representations as a Technology of
“A Perpetual State of Violence”; Burnett, “Aboriginal and Violence,” 46; Strega et al., “Never Innocent Victims,” 20.
White Women,” 105; Carter, Capturing Women, 161; ZZ García-Del Moral, “Representations as a Technology of
Razack, “Gendered Racial Violence,” 99-100. Violence,” 46; Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims.”
T Bourgeois, “A Perpetual State of Violence,” 260; de Finney, AAA Jamie Lee Hamilton (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public
“Playing Indian,” 172; Razack, “Gendered Racial Violence,” Volume 104, Vancouver, BC, p. 53.
99.
BBB Kim M., Part 1, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB,
U Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 103. pp. 173-174.
V Ibid. CCC García-Del Moral, “Representations as a Technology of
W Ibid., 104. Violence,” 46.
X Ibid.; Razack, “Gendered Racial Violence,” 105. DDD Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims,” 14.
Y Anderson, A Recognition of Being, 104. EEE Ibid.
Z Ibid.; Pierce, “Christian Stereotypes and Violence,” 9. FFF Ibid., 7.
AA Acoose, Neither Indian Princesses nor Easy Squaws, 45. GGG Ibid.
BB Entman, “Framing,” 51. HHH Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims,” 9.
CC Hallahan, “Seven Models of Framing,” 207. III Ibid.
DD Ibid. JJJ Ibid., 10.
EE García-Del Moral, “Representations as a Technology of KKK McKenzie, “She was not into drugs and partying,” 148.
Violence,” 35. LLL Ibid.
FF Gilchrist, “Newsworthy Victims,” 2; Gilchrist, “Invisible MMM Ibid.
Victims”; Jiwani, Discourses of Denial, 38.
NNN Ibid., 148–49.
395
OOO Marilou S. (Bear Clan, Anishinaabe), Part 1, Statement JJJJ Glennie, “We don't kiss like that,” 109.
Volume 563, London, ON, p. 18. KKKK Ibid., 110.
PPP Rachelle W. (Wolf Clan, Gitxsan Nation), Part 1, Public LLLL Ibid.
Volume 7, Smithers, BC, p. 77.
MMMM Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
QQQ Tanya Talaga (Anishinaabe/Polish), Part 3, Public Volume Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON p. 21.
10, Toronto, ON, pp. 85-86.
NNNN Acoose, Neither Indian Princesses nor Easy Squaws, 44.
RRR Trudy S. (Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation), Part 1,
Public Volume 95, Vancouver, BC, p. 11. OOOO Sandra L. (Cree/Dakota), Part 1, Public Volume 41,
Yellowknife, NWT, p. 187.
SSS Green, “The Pocahontas Perplex,” 704.
PPPP Sandra L. (Cree/Dakota), Part 1, Public Volume 41,
TTT Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation), Part Yellowknife, NWT, p. 187.
3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 17.
QQQQ Connie Greyeyes (Bigstone Cree Nation), Mixed Parts 2 &
UUU Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation), 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, pp. 29-30.
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, pp. 16-17.
RRRR Elora S., Part 1, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 156.
VVV Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, pp. 16, 17. SSSS Micah A. (Inuit, Talurjuaq), Part 1, Public Volume 46(b),
Rankin Inlet, NU, p. 13.
WWW Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 26. TTTT Moeke-Pickering et al., “Understanding the Ways,” 55;
Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Part
XXX Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation), 3, Public Volume 8, Toronto ON, p. 131.
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 17.
UUUU McKenzie, “She was not into drugs and partying,” 144.
YYY Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 17. VVVV Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 20.
ZZZ Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 17. WWWW Harding, “Historical Representations of Aboriginal People,”
224.
AAAA Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 17. XXXX Anderson and Robertson, Seeing Red, 6; Harding,
“Historical Representations of Aboriginal People,” 224.
BBBB Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, pp. 15-16. YYYY Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour (Tk’emlups te Secwepemc/English),
Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 193.
CCCC Moeke-Pickering et al., “Understanding the Ways,” 55.
ZZZZ CBC Radio, The Current, “MMIWG Winnipeg public
DDDD Ibid., 58. forum.”
EEEE Ibid., 58. AAAAA Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada,
FFFF Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Calls to Action, 9-10.
Part 3, Public Volume 8, Toronto ON, p. 236. BBBBB Jesse Wente (Anishinaabe, Serpent River First Nation),
GGGG Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 172.
Part 3, Public Volume 8, Toronto ON, pp. 260-261. CCCCC Tanya Talaga (Anishinaabe/Polish), Part 3, Public
HHHH Jiwani, “Symbolic and Discursive Violence,” 2. Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 174.
IIII Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Volume 17, pp. 36-37.
396
Pathway to Violence: Denying Agency and Expertise in
Restoring Culture
Of the many views expressed with reference to solutions, witnesses often pointed out that the
answers must be self-determined. The right to culture and Indigenous understandings of culture
are deeply rooted in their own identities, languages, stories, and way of life – including their own
lands – and these ways of knowing must be recentred and embraced as ways to move forward.
As Patrick S. asserted, this doesn’t mean segregating cultures, but learning to respect the “other.”
And we can learn a lot as cultures and grow together as cultures, you know, empower one
another as cultures. But where one thinks they, you know, have all the answers for the
other one, that’s never going to work, you know. We don’t have all the answers for you
but you certainly don’t have all the answers for us. The answers are in here – in here.76
Elders Thelma Morrisseau and Stan LaPierre address

the group gathered for the Knowledge Keeper and
Expert Hearing in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
Improving Programs and Services through a Cultural Lens

Many witnesses shared ideas on how to improve systems and services in ways that can support
culture and support families – a key component of preserving culture, according to international
human rights instruments and to many Indigenous world views. Paula P. suggested:
If you supported the young mothers going to school and not have to pay that back, you
would help our Native Nation. If you supported them where they could do outings with
their children, if they submitted their receipts for regalia and got that money back, that’s
what they should do. And giving mothers money so that they can take their children to
Pow-Wows and ceremonies outside. Making it – that’s what new reunification looks like
to me. You know? The reconciliation, that’s what reconciliation looks like to me.77
397
When Qallunaat first arrived to the North, they were very scary, such as RCMPs.…
When they tell people, Inuit people, to do this and that, we had to – we had no choice but
to say yes, and that’s from being scared, fear…. They came into the communities as if
they were higher than Inuit, and Inuit feared these Qallunaats.198
Inuit first interacted extensively with European whalers and fishermen, whom they called
“Qallunaat.” Labrador Inuit encountered fishers and whalers relatively early in the colonization
process (as early as the 16th century). In other regions of Inuit Nunangat, however, Inuit did not
interact with whalers until the second half of the 19th century.199
Over time, whalers began to hire Inuit to do various jobs, including working on whaling crews
and provisioning whalers with meat and clothing. By the late 19th century, bowhead whale
stocks had declined substantially, depriving Inuit of a resource that had been a cornerstone for
some communities. As a result, in the early 20th century, commercial whalers stopped visiting
most areas of Inuit Nunangat.200
The decline of commercial whaling coincided with the expansion of the fur trade into Inuit
Nunangat. Driven by a jump in the market value of Arctic fox furs, the Hudson’s Bay Company
expanded its network of trading posts into the Arctic in the early 20th century. In the 1920s and
1930s, rival companies and independent traders also established operations in the region. These
posts also hosted American military personnel, missionaries, and a variety of traders. Over time,
Inuit became dependent on the goods supplied by fur traders. This dependency was an important
factor in the power Qallunaat would later hold over Inuit.201
This wall inscription appears

at a school in the Northwest
Territories, 1959, citing the vision
of “those who first came north,”
including prospectors, miners,
missionaries, and others – without
mentioning those who were already
there, or the way they were
displaced. Source: Library and
Archives Canada/National Film
Board of Canada fonds/e011177356.
Sexual Encounters and Exploitation with the Qallunaat

Canada’s claims of sovereignty within the Arctic provided the grounds for the introduction of a
Canadian justice system, and laid the foundation for the role that the Royal Northwest Mounted
Police, and later the RCMP, would play in Inuit Nunangat in the early 20th century, by applying
295
Self-Determined and Decolonized Systems
For many who testified before the National Inquiry, access to cultural safety is an important part
of reclaiming power and place. It is also linked to the patriarchal systems that have been
imposed, and reified, within legislation and in some Indigenous governance structures. They
have resulted in an overwhelmingly male-dominated leadership today, in communities across the
country. As Shelley J. explained:
Because of the Indian Act and Indian residential schools, the patriarchal system that
comes with that, women are seen as and treated as less than. Our roles were diminished,
if not completely erased. And I think all of that has brought us to why we’re here, you
know, why so many of our women and girls are missing and murdered.81
In explaining power imbalances within communities, witness Viola Thomas remarked that
“many of our people are silenced to … take action because of that imbalance of power within our
communities and how sexism is really played out. And we need to look at strategies that can …
remind our men that they were born from Mother, they were born from Mother Earth.”82
Gina G. similarly explained: “I walk into my community, into my band office and it’s not very
welcoming sometimes. There’s some very negative people there and still yet, I go in, I hold my
head high, I work with them, very respectful and professional to them.” 83
Recalling the sexism in her own family, Gail C. remembered:
When it came to gender equality or equity in the house, there was no such thing. The
boys got everything and I got – you know, I got the peanuts, I got the little scraps in the
end. So there’s a lot of inequity in what was happening. It didn’t matter how old or how
young. I was right in the middle. I did not [get] the bikes, not this, second-hand clothes,
clothes so big that when she [her mother] sewed them in at the waist to try and sort of
just pass by, I had a ballooning, all this ballooning material on a pair of pants over my
hips and my bum and everything. So – and, of course, it was a total embarrassment. My
sister-in-law took me to – my dad’s brother’s wife, who did a lot of sewing. She sewed
in clothes for me so that I would feel that I could actually walk in a school without being
mortified, embarrassed and wanting to die.84
“WE NEED TO GO BACK TO HAVING OUR CULTURE AND WE NEED TO GO BACK TO

SPEAKING OUR LANGUAGE, AND WE NEED TO GO BACK TO WALKING GENTLY ON THIS
EARTH AND NOT TAKING THINGS LIKE RESOURCES, DISRESPECTING THAT. THAT'S REALLY
IMPORTANT BECAUSE WE NEED FRESH WATER. WE NEED OUR TRADITIONAL MEDICINES.
WE NEED THAT CONNECTION TO THE LAND BECAUSE IT MAKES US STRONGER. WE NEED
THAT CONNECTION TO OUR LANGUAGE BECAUSE IT MAKES US STRONGER. WE NEED
THOSE CONNECTIONS TO OUR FAMILIES BECAUSE IT DOES MAKE US STRONGER. WE NEED
OUR WOMEN TO BE VALUED. WE NEED OUR CHILDREN TO KNOW THAT THEY ARE VALUED,
THAT THEY MATTER.”
Rhonda M.
399
But, as many witnesses pointed out, the keys still exist in communities and in individuals. As
Ann M. R. explained, “We are Dena. We have a lot. Our culture is encoded in each of us. It’s
something we will never forget. You just provide the environment, it will come to life.…
You can never forget. That’s why we can never be assimilated because our culture is encoded in
our DNA.”85
Rhonda M. advocated:
We need to go back to having our culture and we need to go back to speaking our
language, and we need to go back to walking gently on this earth and not taking things
like resources, disrespecting that. That’s really important because we need fresh water. We
need our traditional medicines. We need that connection to the land because it makes us
stronger. We need that connection to our language because it makes us stronger. We need
those connections to our families because it does make us stronger. We need our women
to be valued. We need our children to know that they are valued, that they matter.86
At the most basic level, respecting cultural rights means, as Viola said, “renewing our honour of
our mothers and our grandmothers because they are the centre of our being.”87 It means celebrat-
ing and embracing women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as sacred and as valuable, and
teaching and communicating those values to individuals, to communities, and to the non-
Indigenous world.
The pursuit of cultural rights and cultural safety is an important part of what many witnesses sug-
gested can support healing. In many cases, witnesses focused on the importance of revitalizing
language and tradition as a way of grounding what the right to culture might look like in certain
communities or First Nations. Shara L. said:
I want our future generations to acknowledge their history. Of all the things that have
happened to our parents, our ancestors. I want my language back. I fought to keep my
language. Now, I have – I can speak my language…. I want my kids to speak my
language fluently. I want my homeland back. On the river where my grandparents raised
me. I want to go home. I don’t want to be in the community. I want to be out on the land.
I want to be where I should be. Close to my father – my dad’s buried out there. I want a
home there. I want my kids to have roots. Yes. This is where my mom and dad live and
my grandparents. This is where I belong. I want them to be strong. I don’t want them to
be murdered. I don’t want them to be missing.88
“MANY OF OUR PEOPLE ARE SILENCED TO … TAKE ACTION BECAUSE OF THAT

IMBALANCE OF POWER WITHIN OUR COMMUNITIES AND HOW SEXISM IS REALLY PLAYED
OUT. AND WE NEED TO LOOK AT STRATEGIES THAT CAN REMIND … OUR MEN THAT
THEY WERE BORN FROM MOTHER, THEY WERE BORN FROM MOTHER EARTH.”
Viola Thomas
400
Reconnecting with culture as a way to belong and, ultimately, as a way to decrease violence was
a key truth that we heard. As Darla-Jean L. explained, “We need more of our language. We need
to focus on … the wheel of life, birth to death ceremonies, coming of age ceremonies, which my
family has practised, learning our songs and our legends.”89
Of the traditional activities Indigenous women engage in, they were most likely to be involved in cultural
arts or crafts (34.6%) or gathering wild plants (34.5%) followed by hunting and fishing (32.9%) and making
clothing or footwear (17.7%).
A key idea emerging from these testimonies is that of making or reclaiming space; the idea that
cultural ideas, stories, and principles, such as those we explored in Chapter 2, can also provide a
foundation for the creation of empowering spaces for women. At the Heiltsuk Women Commu-
nity Perspective Panel, panellist Chief Marilyn Slett asserted:
We need some space for women – women that are in leadership roles to come together
and talk. You know, because we – we were doing it, you know … in caucus rooms, you
know, having these conversations during lunch, you know, during some regional sessions
or you know, over breaks, in very informal, but organic ways. But … we knew that we
had to create that space.90
401
As Bryan J., and many others, expressed, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
have a key role to play in reclaiming place and reasserting power: “When we talk about our
women, we talk about our land. When we talk about our land, we talk about our spirits. We talk
about our traditions, our people, our Elders, our children.”91
In some cases, this is also a process of learning to love oneself. Carol M. recalled:
I went to sweat lodge with this Elder, these two Elders. One has gone to the spirit world,
and my grandmother used to always say she was waiting for me to come home. And I
went to the sweat lodge. And of course, you know, Elders, they want to go eat, so we
went to the restaurant. And I went to reach for something. And I noticed my hands and I
said, “Wow.” I said, look at – and they were both sitting there, and I said, “Wow, look at
my hands. They’re so brown. Look at them.” And I heard the Elder whisper to the other
one. He says, “It sounds like she’s come home.” And right then and there, I knew what
my grandmother was talking about. I’m still there looking at my hands. I realize I was a
brown person. It looks so beautiful and so nice. So now, I know what my grandmother
meant, you know, when she said she was waiting for me to come home.92
As these examples illustrate, and as the link between culture and international human rights
instruments will show, understanding the need to protect and promote culture in a self-deter-
mined way is key to addressing a number of the issues connected to trauma, marginalization,
maintaining the status quo and ignoring the agency of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
Linking Culture to International Human Rights Instruments

Witnesses who testified before the National Inquiry highlighted important moments and situa-
tions where their rights to culture and to the associated protections for families have been jeop-
ardized. These encounters often engage government institutions and service providers bound by
provincial, territorial, and domestic human rights legislation. In addition, the violation of cultural
rights specifically ties to a number of public and international obligations that Canada has with
respect to its commitment to human rights. These international human rights instruments address
many of the ways in which witnesses told us their rights to culture were placed in jeopardy,
through the disruption of relationships with land, the separation of families, the impoverishment
of communities, and the lack of access to traditional knowledge, language, and practices that
would have contributed to a sense of cultural safety.
(ICERD) calls upon governments to “condemn racial discrimination and undertake to pursue by
all appropriate means and without delay a policy of elimination of racial discrimination in all its
forms” (Article 2). This right also includes the idea that governments should not themselves
engage in acts of racial discrimination against persons, groups of persons, or institutions – or any
402
aspect of their cultural identity. Article 2 further declares that governments should take measures
to review all policies and to eliminate laws that are racially discriminatory, and that governments
must work to prohibit any racial discrimination espoused by other people or groups.
In Canada, this could be interpreted to include policies such as those in the Indian Act, as well as
the contemporary forms of these policies that continue to have a direct impact on Indigenous
identity and community affiliation. Interpreted broadly, the wording also suggests that govern-
ments should work to prevent racial discrimination in all of its forms, including in its own
systems and those it funds, such as child welfare.
The ICERD is not the only instrument to affirm cultural rights, or to link cultural rights to
identity. As Expert Witness Brenda Gunn pointed out, “But now, today, we really talk about the
interdependency and interrelatedness and you can’t exercise your civil and political rights if you
don’t have economic, social and cultural rights. They all work together.”93 The International
Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which deals with civil and political rights, af-
firms the rights of parents “to ensure the religious and moral education of their children in con-
formity with their own convictions,” including political and civil convictions (Article 18). It also
identifies the family as the “natural and fundamental group unit of society,” due to its importance
in transmitting education, morals, and values. On the issue of groups operating within larger
nation-states, the ICCPR is clear: all communities have the right to “enjoy their own culture, to
profess and practice their own religion, or to use their own language” (Article 27).
The International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) specifically
cites cultural rights, and also notes, “All peoples have the right of self-determination. By virtue
of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social
and cultural development” (Article 1). Further, the ICESCR guarantees the access of these rights
to men and women equally (Article 3) and emphasizes the importance of family to the education of
children, in conjunction with the exercise of economic, political, and cultural rights (Article 10).
Signatories to this covenant also agree that everyone has the right to take part in cultural life,
and that steps should be taken by States Parties “to achieve the full realization of this right,”
including “those necessary for the conservation, the development and the diffusion of science
and culture.”
“WE NEED CANADA TO LISTEN AND TO START RESPECTING … THE ORIGINAL PEOPLE OF
THIS LAND, THE INDIGENOUS PEOPLE. WE’RE NOT THE STEREOTYPE THAT YOU
WATCHED ON TV, THAT – YOU KNOW, WE’RE SCALPING PEOPLE AND GOING AROUND
WITH – WITH BOWS AND ARROWS AND SETTING WAGONS ON FIRE. THAT’S
HOLLYWOOD, PEOPLE. THAT’S NOT REAL LIFE. WE WERE THE ONES THAT HAD OUR
CHILDREN TAKEN AWAY. WE WERE THE ONES THAT HAD OUR CULTURE ALMOST
DESTROYED. WE WERE THE ONES THAT HAD OUR CEREMONIES BANNED. WE WERE THE
ONES THAT WERE HARMED. WE DIDN’T HARM YOU. WE MADE AN AGREEMENT FOR YOU
TO SHARE THIS LAND WITH US. ALL WE’RE ASKING FOR IS FOR YOU TO HOLD UP YOUR
PART OF THE BARGAIN.”
Blu W.
403
As Brenda Gunn said, the committee that oversees the ICCPR has pointed out the interaction
between access to economic, social, and cultural rights and gender-based violence, and has noted
that “gender-based violence is a form of discrimination that inhibits the ability to enjoy rights
and freedoms, including economic, social and cultural rights on the basis of equality.”94
The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW),
which condemns discrimination against women, also has important implications for the protec-
tion of the cultural rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. For instance,
CEDAW signatory states “agree to pursue by all appropriate means and without delay a policy of
eliminating discrimination against women” (Article 2). This includes taking measures to prevent
violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, to the extent necessary
and in all of the areas necessary to effect change.
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) also has a number of arti-
cles that deal with rights to culture and to identity. Specifically, it explains that all actions involv-
ing children undertaken in the context of social welfare, law courts, or other administrative or
legislative bodies should be in the best interests of the child (Article 3). Within these contexts,
States Parties are committed to protecting the right of the child to “preserve his or her identity,
including nationality, name and family relations” (Article 8). Article 9 mentions that children
should not be separated from their parents against their will, unless that separation is determined
by the courts to be in the best interest of the child – which, in many cases involving determina-
tions made against Indigenous families, is arguable. Finally, in relationship to Indigenous groups,
UNCRC asserts that a child belonging to such a group can’t be denied the right “to enjoy his or
her own culture, to profess and practice his or her own religion, or to use his or her own lan-
guage” (Article 30).
Interpreted broadly, these protections require states to look, first, at how culture and identity are
transmitted, and then, to take steps to preserve these measures and to strengthen them. Recogniz-
ing the importance of oral traditions and of learning within Indigenous families and communi-
ties, this right could also be interpreted as a right that can be enabled only through sound
economic, political, and cultural policies designed to respect and to support self-determination,
alongside policies intended to keep families and communities united.
404
KEY CONVENTIONS: RIGHT TO CULTURE
The National Inquiry considers as foundational to all human and Indigenous rights violations the conventions
associated with genocide. In the area of culture, these relate specifically to causing serious mental harm, and
forcibly transferring children from the rights-bearing group.
For reference, Article II of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, which
provides a definition of genocide, includes "any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in
whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:
(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in
whole or in part;
(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; and
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group."
CRC:
ICCPR: - best interest
IESCR: - respect for of the child is
CEDAW:
parents' liberty most important
- right to self- to ensure - condemns
determinaon ICERD: - child has the
religious and discrminaon in
- condemns right to
- equal rights to moral educaon all forms
racial preserve
men and of their children - embraces natonality,
women discriminaon
- family is the equality under name and
- widest possible legislaon - pledges to
natural and family relaons
protecon to prevent and
fundamental - creates without
the family prohibit all
group unit of polical, social, unlawful
forms of
- right to society economic and interference
apartheid and
educaon - every child has cultural state - child shall not
disciminaon
- right to right to obligaons be denied right
cultural life protecon, toward women to enjoy their
without own culture or
discriminaon use their own
language
IESCR: International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights

ICCPR: International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights
CEDAW: Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against Women
ICERD: International Covenant on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination
CRC: Convention on the Rights of the Child
405
KEY DECLARATIONS: RIGHT TO CULTURE
The following international human rights instruments hold States accountable in the area of culture.
UNDRIP:
- Indigenous Peoples
have the right to BEIJING:
maintain disnct - women's
instuons empowerment is
- right to transmit VIENNA fundamental to
languages, histories, PROGRAMME: equality,
and other forms of - right to self- development and
DEVAW: knowledge to future determinaon and peace
generaons economic, social - women's rights are
- women entled to
- right to estabish and cultural human rights
equal enjoyment
educaonal systems development
and protecon of all - need for good
human rights and instuons to - the rights of partnerships and
provide educaon women and relaonships
that is culturally the girl-child are between women
appropriate inalienable, integral and men
- includes the right and indivisible from
- need to prevent
not to be subjected universal human
violence
to assimilaon rights
- need to eradicate
- all freedoms in poverty
UNDRIP guaranteed
equally to men
and women
DEVAW: Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against Women

UNDRIP: United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples
Vienna Programme: The Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action
Beijing: The Beijing Declaration
Conclusion: “Stop making an industry out of me”

This chapter has addressed how the four pathways that maintain colonial violence prevent
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people from accessing and enjoying their cultural
rights, conceived broadly as “way of life” rights, as well as rights related to families, language,
health, and many other aspects of cultural safety. These rights have the potential to improve out-
comes for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as applied in self-determined
ways, to improve services and programs so that they actually do help people, rather than
perpetuate harm. Specifically, this chapter has addressed cultural rights violations and their
406
ongoing impacts within the context of residential schools, the Sixties Scoop, and child welfare,
arguing that the inter-relatedness of cultural rights with social, economic, and political rights is
necessary to preserving safety.
The need to uphold these rights isn’t a matter of creating new ones, or of generating something
that doesn’t exist. As Sandra L. told us:
I haven’t lost my power. I [had] it when I was writing the recommendations, and I just
want to say this to Justin [Trudeau]: I do have my power. You just need to take the state
blanket off of me. And it comes through state policy, state law, state acts, and it filters
into organizations, and stop making an industry out of me.95
Ultimately, and as many witnesses pointed out, the foundation of reclaiming power and place,
and asserting rights to culture, is about relationships and about respect. As Blu W. set out:
We need Canada to listen and to start respecting … the original people of this land, the
Indigenous people. We’re not the stereotype that you watched on TV, that – you know,
we’re scalping people and going around with – with bows and arrows and setting wagons
on fire. That’s Hollywood, people. That’s not real life. We were the ones that had our
children taken away. We were the ones that had our culture almost destroyed. We were the
ones that had our ceremonies banned. We were the ones that were harmed. We didn’t harm
you. We made an agreement for you to share this land with us. All we’re asking for is for
you to hold up your part of the bargain. Share it with us peacefully. That’s all we ever
wanted, and equally, we need to get our halves back because you took more than just
your half.96
Restoring respect for cultural rights through the protection of families and through the preserva-
tion of language, way of life, and other cultural elements is part of the state’s duty to its citizens.
Respect for cultural rights is protected by international human rights instruments and manifested
in domestic law. Protecting cultural rights isn’t optional, or “extra”; as these instruments and the
witnesses to the National Inquiry make clear, it is imperative to ensuring that Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people can reclaim their power and place in a framework that has for
so long sought to erase and eradicate them.
Respecting and upholding culture through self-determined solutions is an important precursor for
the pursuit of other rights, and is a recurring theme through testimonies we also heard in relation
to health, to security, and to justice, which we address next.
407
Findings: Right to Culture
• Assimilationist and genocidal government laws and policies as they relate to the expression
and exercising of Indigenous cultural rights have directly led to the high rates of violence
against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
• Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are denied their rights to learn, practise,
and be part of the development of their own cultures, due to colonialism, racism, sexism,
transphobia, homophobia, and misogyny.
• The intergenerational transmission of cultural knowledge has been broken or deeply frag-
mented because of the sustained and persistent policies of the Canadian state designed to
oppress and eliminate Indigenous Peoples through their assimilation. This is a policy of
cultural genocide.
• The Indian Act creates marginalization, alienation, displacement, and isolation of Indigenous
Peoples. This is because the Indian Act is an ongoing tool of oppression and genocide that
clearly aims to eliminate Indigenous Peoples. As a legal instrument, it puts into law the false
assumptions, discriminatory practices, and colonial and genocidal policies that the Canadian
government historically used to clear Indigenous Peoples’ lands, and to control and eliminate
Indigenous Peoples and their cultures. Its continued existence perpetuates racial and gen-
dered violence. Regardless of amendments or improvements to “Indian” policy and law, the
very existence of the Indian Act demonstrates racism, sexism, and a refusal to move toward
self-determination for Indigenous Peoples. As a result, the Indian Act cultivates – and
exposes First Nations women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to – more violence.
• Governments’ role in determining cultural belonging through prescribing requirements for
granting or denying Status, or membership within First Nations, Inuit, and Métis communi-
ties, is an infringement of the inherent rights of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis peoples and
is a violation of Article 33 of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights on Indigenous
Peoples. Specifically, the provisions of the Indian Act concerning Indian Status usurps First
Nations’ inherent right and ability to determine citizenship. Denial of self-determination and
jurisdiction is a form of systemic violence that impacts the individual, the family, the com-
munity, and the Nation.
• The registration provisions of the Indian Act do not truthfully reflect concepts of citizenship
and belonging of First Nations Peoples in relation to their communities. Importantly, the
registration provisions of the Indian Act are discriminatory toward women and their descen-
dants. The attempts to remedy the discrimination, to date, have not been sufficient. Further,
Bill C-31 in 1985 also created new provisions: sections 6(1) and 6(2) work to assimilate all
First Nations Peoples – women, men and gender-diverse people. The gendered discrimina-
tion over decades has disenfranchised women from their communities, broken up families,
and caused great disparity in rights and benefits as between First Nations women and men.
The laws and policies that exclude Indigenous women’s citizenship within their Nations or
408
communities based on marriage or gender have largely contributed to the loss of culture and
poor socio-economic outcomes for Indigenous women. These factors thereby contribute to
the violence that First Nations, Inuit, and Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
experience.
• In addition to the Indian Act, any state laws or policies that deny the Indigenous identity of
First Nations, Inuit, and Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people results in their ex-
clusion from their community, which largely contributes to loss of culture and their social
and economic marginalization.
• Creating Indian bands and maintaining governance over First Nations Peoples under section
74 of the Indian Act is yet another means to control First Nations Peoples and their distinct
societies’ cultures, governance, and organizations. The “one size fits all” approach that was
originally taken under the Indian Act has had long-standing implications. This approach
destroyed self-determination and the ability of Indigenous communities to uphold their cus-
tomary laws, rules, and organizations. Further, it has been a tool to oppress and deny First
Nations women their traditional leadership roles and their political rights.
• Restoration of family and community ties is key to the revitalization of culture and safety.
Culture and belonging are key to safety because of how culture defines safe relationships.
Reconnecting with distinctive languages, cultures, territories, and ways of knowing repre-
sents an important solution to healing, Nation rebuilding, and safety.
• Indigenous children and youth experience challenges and barriers in accessing education,
particularly culturally relevant knowledge. Indigenous children and youth have the right to
an education and to be educated in their culture and language. Most Indigenous children con-
tinue to be educated in mainstream education systems that exclude their Indigenous culture,
language, history, and contemporary realities. A high-quality, culturally appropriate, and
relevant education is the key to breaking cycles of trauma, violence, and abuse.
Notes
1 World Health Organization, “World Report,” 5. 8 Xanthaki, “Indigenous Cultural Rights,” 355.
2 Newfoundland and Labrador, “Defining Violence and 9 Xanthaki, “Indigenous Cultural Rights,” 356.
Abuse.” 10 United Nations Economic and Social Council, quoted
3 Holmes and Hunt, “Indigenous Communities and in Xanthaki, “Cultural Rights,” 17.
Family Violence,” 11, 15-16. 11 United Nations General Assembly, “Report of the
4 Sarah Clark, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Special Rapporteur.”
Winnipeg, MB, p. 105. 12 United Nations Population Information Network,
5 For a fuller discussion of these themes, see Chapter 1. “The Family.”
6 Ellen Gabriel (Turtle Clan, Kanien'kehá:ka Nation), 13 Patrick S. (Kwagu'ł, Fort Rupert, Qualicum), Part 1,
Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 9, Quebec City, QC, Public Volume 102, Vancouver, BC, p. 30.
pp. 7-8. 14 United Nations Office of the High Commissioner,
7 Xanthaki, “Cultural Rights.” “Cultural Rights.”
409
15 United Nations Office of the High Commissioner, “A 39 Carol B. (Ermineskin Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
Manual for National Human Rights Institutions,” 14. Volume 20, Edmonton, AB, p. 79.
16 Ibid., 13. 40 Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First
17 United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC,
Human Rights, “Fact Sheet No. 33.” p. 123.
18 Oster, et al., “Cultural Continuity.” 41 Carol B. (Ermineskin Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
19 Patrick S. (Kwagu'ł, Fort Rupert, Qualicum), Part 1,
Public Volume 102, Vancouver, BC, pp. 26-27. 42 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First
Nations), Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg,
20 Coombe, “The Properties of Culture,” 272.
MB, p. 178.
43 Juanita D. (Dene), Part 1, Public Volume 87,
22 Moses M. (Nuu-chah-nulth), Part 1, Public Volume 82,
45 Darlene S. (Kingcome Inlet), Part 1, Statement Volume
353, Richmond, BC, pp. 51-52.
Volume 20, Edmonton, AB, pp. 75-76.
25 Gail C., Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NT,
pp. 104-105.
48 Carol M. (Nisga’a Gitanyow), Part 1, Statement
Volume 357, Richmond, BC, p. 74.
Winnipeg, MB. pp. 151-152.
49 Carla M. (Nuu-chah-nulth), Part 1, Public Volume 82,
27 First Nations Information Governance Centre,
“National Report,” 151.
50 Wendy L. (Squamish Nation), Part 1, Statement
28 Ibid.
Volume 370, Richmond, BC, pp. 4-5.
30. Robin R. (Nakota Sioux), Part 1, Public Volume 92,
Volume 370, Richmond, BC, p. 26. As Morellato points
out, it is “important to distinguish between Indian
31 Verna W. (Cape Mudge), Part 1, Public Volume 88, status rights, which, in certain circumstances, will only
Vancouver, BC, p. 20. be available to status band members, and Aboriginal
32 Chrystal S. (Musqueam), Part 1, Statement Volume rights more generally, which are those rights that
385, Richmond, BC, pp. 27-28. extend to all band members regardless of their status
under the Indian Act and which are guaranteed in the
Canadian Constitution.” For more on this, see
Morellato, “Memorandum on Indian Status,” 7.
34 Shara L. (Dene), Part 1, Statement Volume 101,
Edmonton, AB, p. 49.
54 Natalie G. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18,
Membertou, NS, pp. 83-84.
36 Elder Jal Tun, Part 1, Public Volume 3, Whitehorse, YT,
p. 68.
38 Muriel D. (Cree), Part 1, Statement Volume 98,
Edmonton, AB, p. 2.
410
58 Hyslop, “How poverty.” 79 Patrick S. (Kwagu'ł, Fort Rupert, Qualicum), Part 1,
59 Dr. Naiomi Metallic (Listuguj Mi'gmaq First Nation), Public Volume 102, Vancouver, BC, p. 28.
Part 3, Public Volume 4, Quebec City, QC, pp. 188- 80 Jackie Anderson (Métis), Part 2, Public Volume 3,
189. Calgary, AB, pp. 95-96.
60 Currie, “Exploring Risk and Protective Factors,” as 81 Shelley J. (Musgamagw Dzawada'enuxw First Nation),
quoted in King, et al., “Indigenous Health,” 79. Part 1, Public Volume 114, Vancouver, BC, p. 26.
61 Jakubec, “AIDS-Related Stigma” as quoted in King, et 82 Viola Thomas (Kamloops Tk'emlúps te Secwepemc),
al., “Indigenous Health,” 79. Part 1, Public Volume 104, Vancouver, BC, p. 14.
62 Trocmé, “Understanding the Overrepresentation.” 83 Gina G. (Selkirk First Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 3,
63 Vanessa B. (Millbrook First Nation), Part 1, Public Whitehorse, YT, p. 88.
Volume 19, Membertou, NS, pp. 96-97. 84 Gail C., Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NT,
64 Robin R. (Nakota Sioux), Part 1, Public Volume 92, p. 99.
Vancouver, BC, pp. 15-16. 85 Ann M. R. (Kaska Dena), Part 1, Public Volume 3,
65 Translation ours. Anastasia N. (Natashquan), Public Whitehorse, YT, p. 40.
Volume 35(a), Maliotenam, QC, pp. 16-17. 86 Rhonda M. (Anishinaabe), Part 1, Public Volume 7,
66 Carol M. (Nisga’a Gitanyow), Part 1, Statement Smithers, BC, p. 30.
Volume 357, Richmond, BC, pp. 95-96. 87 Viola Thomas (Kamloops Tk'emlúps te Secwepemc),
67 Vanessa B. (Millbrook First Nation), Part 1, Public Part 1, Public Volume 104, Vancouver, BC, p. 35.
Volume 19, Membertou, NS, pp. 95-96. 88 Shara L. (Dene), Part 1, Statement Volume 101,
68 Robin R. (Nakota Sioux), Part 1, Public Volume 92, Edmonton, AB, pp. 62-63.
Vancouver, BC, pp. 19-20. 89 Darla-Jean L. (First Nations), Part 1, Public Volume 1,
69 Mealia Sheutiapik (Inuit, Frobisher Bay), Mixed Parts Whitehorse, YT, p. 31.
2 & 3, Public Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, p. 16. 90 Chief Marilyn Slett (Heiltsuk Nation), Part 1, Public
70 Richardson, “Métis-Astute Social Work.” Volume 90, Vancouver, BC, p. 50.
71 For more on this, see Carrière and Richardson, Calling 91 Bryan J. (Wolf Clan from Taku River, Tlingit First
Our Families Home. Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 3, Whitehorse, YT,
p. 63.
72 Noeline V. (Dene/Metis), Part 1, Public Volume 40,
Yellowknife, NT, pp. 125-126. 92 Carol M. (Nisga’a Gitanyow), Part 1, Statement
73 King et al., “Indigenous Health,” 78.
City, QC, p. 52.
75 Marilyn W. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 30,
City, QC, p. 38.
Saskatoon, SK, p. 25.
95 Sandra L. (Cree/Dakota), Part 1, Public Volume 41,
76 Patrick S. (Kwagu’ł, Fort Rupert, Qualicum), Part 1,
Yellowknife, NT, p. 212.
Public Volume 102, Vancouver, BC, p. 30.
96 Blu W. (Cree/Mi'kmaq/Métis), Part 1, Public Volume
77 Paula P. (Cree/Lakota/Scottish), Part 1, Statement
411
CHAPTER 6
Confronting Oppression – Right to Health

Introduction: Connecting Health and Safety
In Chapter 5, we explored how the destructive impact of colonial policies on culture, family, and
community constitutes a form of cultural violence, which many people who shared their truths
with the National Inquiry recognize as the starting point for other forms of violence that they or
their missing and murdered loved ones have experienced in the past and continue to experience
today. In this chapter, we build on this foundation, as told to us by families and survivors, to con-
sider how colonial violence directed toward traditional cultural practice, family, and community
creates conditions that increase the likelihood of other forms of violence, including, in particular,
interpersonal violence, through its distinct impacts on the mental, emotional, and spiritual
health of Indigenous Peoples. In sharing stories about the health issues they or their missing or
murdered loved ones faced, the experiences they had in seeking health services, and the conse-
quences of encounters that more often than not further diminished rather than promoted health
and wellness, witnesses illustrated how addressing violence against Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people must also address their right to health.
This chapter begins by defining “health” as a human right according to international human
rights standards, in order to explain how the right to health is directly connected with positive
outcomes, both individually and in communities, for women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
In addition, we explore health as understood through distinctive First Nations, Inuit and Métis
perspectives, to understand how Indigenous ways of being well are directly connected to main-
taining safety. We then look more closely at the testimonies witnesses shared about physical,
mental, emotional, and spiritual health, and the connections between health and violence, in the
context of the four pathways that maintain colonial violence.
Then, we share testimony that explains and demonstrates how the impact of colonial violence
on traditional culture, family, and community, as well as the ongoing disruption to cultural conti-
nuity through present-day iterations of colonial policies such as child welfare apprehensions,
413
environmental destruction, or gender-based discrimination within the Indian Act, carries signifi-
cant health consequences for Indigenous people, often in the form of multigenerational and
intergenerational trauma. Next, we consider how the socio-economic marginalization of Indige-
nous people and their communities further compromises their physical, mental, emotional and
spiritual health, particularly by creating conditions that facilitate violence and that exacerbate
trauma. We consider how, despite widespread recognition of the significant health problems
faced by Indigenous Peoples – and widespread recognition of the significant health consequences
all forms of interpersonal violence hold for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
in particular – the systems and institutions that Indigenous people reach out to for health care-
related support often fail to provide the support needed and, in doing so, often deepen these
health concerns. We demonstrate how these failings within the health care systems to repair harm
and restore health seem to demonstrate a willful ignorance of many alternative Indigenous health
care and healing models that, through centring culture and cultural continuity at the same time,
address and improve physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health. As an example, we end by
discussing how respecting the knowledge and agency Indigenous Peoples hold in terms of their
own needs in the areas of physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health, and the steps that must
be taken to create the conditions with which they can meet these needs, is an important part of
addressing all forms of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Ultimately, what we heard is this: when the right to health is in jeopardy, so is safety. Improving
health services and delivery mechanisms can contribute in concrete ways to promoting commu-
nity and individual health, safety, and healing, especially when it involves embracing effective
and self-determined solutions that challenge racist, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic assump-
tions that all too often continue to shape how the health of Indigenous Peoples, and especially
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, is valued.
Defining “Health”
In 1948, the World Health Organization (WHO), an agency within the United Nations system,
defined “health” as a “state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely
the absence of disease or infirmity.”1 Although the definition itself has not been amended since
1948, the United Nations and other international health organizations have since the 1990s
acknowledged the particular importance of understanding health in a holistic context and in a
way that includes Indigenous world views. As health researcher Odette Mazel argues, this
recognition opened up new opportunities for viewing health as a legal entitlement and for
recognizing it as a social justice issue with societal causes.2
Today, the WHO recognizes that “this definition extends beyond the traditional Western biomed-
ical paradigm which treats body, mind and society as separate entities and reflects a more holistic
understanding of health.” This includes the idea that “well-being is about the harmony that exists
between individuals, communities and the universe.”3 Traditional health systems, as the Pan
414
American Health Organization/WHO has defined them, “include the entire body of ideas, con-
cepts, beliefs, myths, procedures and rituals (whether explainable or not) connected with the
maintenance of health or health restoration through the treatment of physical and mental illness
or social imbalances in a particular individual, community or people.” 4 Simply put, the context
in which a person lives directly contributes to their health and well-being or takes away from it,
and it is the interaction of all of these factors, which includes many of the themes reflected in
our testimonies, that can be determinative of good or poor health.
FIRST NATIONS HEALTH AUTHORITY (BC): FIRST NATIONS’ RIGHT TO HEALTH
The First Nations Perspective on Health and Wellness visualization below is intended to serve as a starting
point for discussion by First Nations communities on what they conceptualize as a vision of wellness for them-
selves and the First Nation Health Authority in British Columbia.
The Centre Circle represents individual human beings. Wellness starts with individuals taking responsibility
for our own health and wellness (whether we are First Nations or not).
The Second Circle illustrates the importance of Mental, Emotional, Spiritual and Physical facets of a healthy,
well, and balanced life. It is critically important that there is balance between these aspects of wellness and
that they are all nurtured together to create a holistic level of well-being in which all four areas are strong and
healthy.
The Third Circle represents the
overarching values that support
and uphold wellness: Respect,
Wisdom, Responsibility, and
Relationships.
The Fourth Circle depicts the
people that surround us and the
places from which we come:
Nations, Family, Community,
and Land are all critical compo-
nents of our healthy experience
as human beings.
The Fifth Circle depicts the
Social, Cultural, Economic and
Environmental determinants of
our health and well-being.
The people who make up the
Outer Circle represent the First
Nations Health Authority's
vision of strong children, families, elders, and people in communities. The people are holding hands to demon-
strate togetherness, respect and relationships, which in the words of a respected BC elder can be stated as
“one heart, one mind.” Children are included in the drawing because they are the heart of our communities
and they connect us to who we are and to our health.
Source: Adapted from First Nations Health Authority Perspective on Health and Wellness, www.fnha.ca/wellness/wellness-and-the-first-nations-health-
authority/first-nations-perspective-on-wellness.
415
In this chapter, we define “health” as a holistic
INUIT TAPIRIIT KANATAMI (ITK): SOCIAL
state of well-being, which includes physical,
DETERMINANTS OF INUIT HEALTH
mental, emotional, spiritual, and social safety and
does not simply mean an absence of illness. The
ENVIRONMENT
right to health is also a right to wellness,5 and is
linked to other fundamental human rights such as FOOD
SECURITY
QUALITY OF
access to clean water or adequate infrastructure in EARLY CHILD HOUSING
DEVELOPMENT
Indigenous communities, as well as the right to
shelter and food security, which impact all CULTURE MENTAL
AND LANGUAGE WELLNESS
Indigenous communities but have particular
INUIT
import in the North. These basic services, which HEALTH
AVAILABILITY
also include access to medical care without the LIVELIHOODS OF HEALTH
SERVICES
need to travel long distances, are key to the
security and safety of Indigenous women, girls, EDUCATION
SAFETY
AND SECURITY
and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The right to health INCOME
DISTRIBUTION
also speaks to the prevention of danger and harm
to others, to the health of children and families,
and to all aspects of physical and mental wellness.
Source: ITK, Social Determinants of Inuit Health in Canada, 2014.
Witnesses that shared with the National Inquiry
also addressed how health challenges may be distinctive for particular groups. For instance,
Timothy Argetsinger explained that Inuit social determinants of health include food security,
housing, emotional wellness, availability of health services, safety and security, income distribu-
tion, education, livelihoods, culture and language, quality of early childhood development, and,
finally, surrounding all of it, the environment. As he explained,
So there are … a few aspects of this visual that make it different from other
representations…. So the main one being the environment and the role that that plays
within our Inuit culture and society, and every aspect of our lives. So that’s why it
is surrounding the other determinants.6
The connection between health and violence against Indigenous women, children, and
2SLGBTQQIA people is important, because of the way in which many loved ones went missing
or were murdered in circumstances that served to target them because of their physical, mental,
emotional, and spiritual health and well-being. In addition, testimonies related to the issue of
suicide, as well as to the issue of travelling for medical care to outside or foreign locations, made
clear how the right to health is connected to the issue of violence, beyond the idea of preserving
health as preserving life. In addition, as the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous
Issues has pointed out:
Children born into indigenous families often live in remote areas where governments do
not invest in basic social services. Consequently, indigenous youth and children have
limited or no access to health care, quality education, justice and participation. They are
at particular risk of not being registered at birth and of being denied identity documents.7
416
want to do that, it’s what they’ve learned. The pain and the damage to the common sense
is lost. And, that behaviour continues. And, this is the result. These are the results of pain
being experienced.243
In 1996, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples identified “healing from trauma” as a
priority to address these social problems.244 Elder Rhoda Akpaliapik Karetak points out:
Inuit have not had much time to reflect on what happened to them over the last 100 years
and to examine the hurt that Inuit experienced when their lifestyle suddenly changed.
Their self-esteem and mental health were really affected, and Inuit have not yet tried to
reflect on this or to really understand it. If Inuit Elders and parents do not have an
opportunity to reveal their unsolved issues to someone who is able to help, it is hard to
find answers for these unresolved issues stemming from colonization. In the past,
Inuit could go to their Elders or shaman to help them deal with issues, but since the
colonization of Inuit, the way Inuit deal with unresolved issues is not being practiced
anymore.245
As such, in addition to being a root cause of violence against Inuit women, colonization has also
impeded the ability of Inuit to address the problem.
Eelee Higgins lights the qulliq in

Ottawa, Ontario, as Commissioner
Robinson assists.
311
The National Inquiry heard about the lack of all of these conditions for health from our testi-
monies. In the sections that follow, we take a closer look at how the absence of many of these
conditions manifests for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people seeking help,
support, and safe spaces, and fleeing violence.
Current Approaches to Health in Canada

One of the witnesses testifying for the National Inquiry shared important information regarding
the current federal approach to health programs and services. As we saw briefly in our examina-
tion of Indian hospitals, federal responsibility for health in a First Nations context officially
began as early as 1904, when the Department of Indian Affairs appointed a general medical
superintendent to start medical programs and develop health facilities. Indian Health Services
came under the umbrella of the Department of National Health and Welfare in 1945, and, in
1962, Indian Health and Northern Health Services came together as the Medical Services
Branch. By 1974, the minister of National Health and Welfare tabled the Policy of the Federal
Government concerning Indian Health Services, which rearticulated the Medical Services
Branch’s assertion that there existed no statutory or Treaty obligation to provide health services
for Status Indian people. Still, in its own words, the federal government wanted to make sure that
services were available, “by providing it directly where normal provincial services (were) not
available, and giving financial assistance to indigent Indians to pay for necessary services when
the assistance (was) not otherwise provided.”10
As Expert Witness Dr. Valérie Gideon testified, the mandate of the First Nations and Inuit Health
Branch (FNIHB) is still based in the 1979 Indian Health Policy that emerged from the 1974
document, which identified three pillars as the foundation of the branch. These pillars are: com-
munity development, recognition of a special relationship between the Crown and Indigenous
Peoples, and interrelationships among systems at multiple levels of government, all intended to
support the advancement of Indigenous health. As Gideon admitted, “It is a dated document.
However, those three pillars continue to – to guide the mandate of the branch.”11 Although the
policy was updated with broader and more relevant language in 2012, the basic foundations of
the branch’s approach remain unchanged. Gideon believes this is because, fundamentally,
the branch’s focus on supplementing access offered within territorial and provincial health serv-
ices and systems is still the main focus of its work, along with developing health partnerships
with First Nations and Métis leadership at the community or regional level.12
In her estimation, Gideon explained, the greatest barriers to health rest in how provincial and
territorial health systems organize their services, rather than with the federal agency responsible
for recognizing the direct relationship between Indigenous Peoples and the Crown or the
interrelationships between systems and levels of government.
418
It’s that it is absolutely important to collaborate with provincial and territorial health
systems in order to be able to access those areas such as physician support, specialist
support, and diagnostic technology, laboratory, pharmacy services, that really, within the
FNIHB context, is not something that we have direct funding and responsibility for. So
it’s … creating those linkages with provincial and territorial health systems that is
extremely important in order to increase access to services and communities.13
INDIAN HEALTH POLICY, 1979
According to the First

Nations and Inuit Health
Branch (FNIHB), “The Fed-
eral Indian Health policy
is based on the special
relationship of the Indian
people to the Federal Gov-
ernment, a relationship
which both the Indian
people and the Govern-
Community Development: Recognion of Crown- Canadian Health System:
ment are committed to Socio-economic and Indigenous Relaonship: Divisions between
preserving. It recognizes cultural and spiritual Federal government serves jurisdicons are superficial
the circumstances under development, to remove as an advocate for interests in light of viewing the
the condions of poverty of First Naons and Inuit health system as related,
which many Indian com- and apathy prevenng communies, promong and as a whole. System is
munities exist, which community members from the capacity to achieve interdependent and
have placed Indian people achieving full state of aspiraons. Depends on includes public health
well-being. good communicang and acvies in communies,
at a grave disadvantage involvement in delivery of promoon of health, and
compared to most other programs. migaon of health
Canadians in terms of hazards.
health, as in other ways.”
Source: Adapted from Government of Canada, Indian Health Policy 1979,

https://www.canada.ca/en/indigenous-services-canada/corporate/first-nations-inuit-health-branch/indian-health-policy-1979.html.
The branch provides programs and services to First Nations and Inuit. Inuit-specific funding is
directed to the area of mental health and healthy child development. This approach, Gideon
explained, was developed with Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami (ITK) and the National Inuit Committee
on Health in 2014 and is focused on working with land claims organizations, for instance, in
Nunavut, where a tripartite partnership is working to address the needs of Inuit.14 There remain,
however, significant gaps in services, including the lack of a hospital in Nunavik.15
419
In describing the process of allocating funding and determining priorities, Gideon described
partnership tables composed of First Nations representatives assigned by leadership, including
representatives like “community Chiefs, political territorial organizations … as well as, of
course, some FNHIB regional executives.”16 When asked if grassroots organizations had a seat at
the table, or if urban organizations could participate, Gideon answered: “Well, I mean, anybody
can absolutely contact us and sit with us to talk about what needs exist in context and what
priorities, and we can bring that information and – and invite presentations at the partnership
committee tables.”17
The FNIHB, like many government agencies, works through established leadership structures,
such as the Assembly of First Nations, as well as elected chiefs in different communities, to
determine these priorities; for some women, testifying from a grassroots perspective, this is
tantamount to complete exclusion.
In speaking specifically on the Métis, Gideon explained that the branch has been approached
by the Métis Nation with a draft memorandum of understanding to work collaboratively to look
specifically at health priorities and to work toward a 10-year Métis Nation health accord.18 When
asked about the application of Jordan’s Principle to Inuit, Métis, and non-Status people, Gideon
noted that “the departmental position is not confirmed at this point.”19
While the branch notes a positive responsibility on it to fill gaps while respecting the roles of
other jurisdictions, such as the provinces and territories, First Nations governments, and land
claims agreements,20 Gideon also pointed out that their programs and services did not flow from
a rights-based perspective, but from a policy mandate that includes recognition of, but is not
based in, rights instruments.21
Pathway to Violence: Intergenerational and

Multigenerational Trauma
In her testimony, Sharna S. used the metaphor of a diseased tree to describe the many factors that
negatively impact the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health of Indigenous people.
The way that I look at the National Inquiry and all the atrocities that have happened to
my people, to me it’s like a tree that’s diseased. And the branches branch out.
One [branch] of it is for the residential school survivors; one of it is for the murdered and
missing; you know, another branch is for the mental health and addictions and the fentanyl
crisis. You know, the other ones are how the bands are treating their own members. The
discrimination that happens, the racism that happens, you know, our loss of our culture, the
Truth and Reconciliation Commission, all of this stuff.22
420
In her description, Sharna identified many historical and contemporary factors impacting the
health of Indigenous Peoples: residential school attendance, interpersonal violence, drug and
alcohol addiction, lateral violence,23 discrimination, racism, and the loss of culture. She also
acknowledged that each of the branches on this tree “branch out” – that is, the physical, mental,
emotional, and spiritual health impacts that each of these experiences carry cross generations in
ways that create and contribute to intergenerational trauma.
Like Sharna, many witnesses described how these acts of cultural, institutional, and interpersonal
violence carry – among other things – significant health consequences for Indigenous people,
including widespread trauma, suffering, and pain, which can, in turn, lead to further violence.
For Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, against whom these acts of violence
are more frequently directed, the health consequences are severe and lasting.
In this section, we look more closely at what the families of missing and murdered Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as well as others who shared their truths, had to say
about their own and their loved ones’ health and wellness.
Long-Term Poor Health Standards: An Overview of Health and Wellness
In describing their experiences of health and wellness, the families of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, survivors, and others who spoke about the
impacts of violence offered stories that demonstrate the resilience and strength Indigenous
Peoples and communities cultivate in the face of the many barriers that compromise their well-
ness. Nonetheless, in many instances, their stories also illustrated what is widely recognized as
the significant health disparities that exist between Indigenous and non-Indigenous populations
in Canada.24 For many witnesses, the long-term impacts of dispossession, of relocation, of harm
inflicted at residential school, and of the many forms of social and cultural disruption are key
drivers for these health disparities. As the First Nations Information Governance Centre (FNGC)
explains in contextualizing the findings from its most recent First Nations Regional Health
Survey (2015–16):
High rates of chronic health conditions do not occur in isolation, rather health
inequalities are shaped by – and rooted in – the inseparable relationship between health
and generations of racist colonial policies. The effects of colonization have resulted in a
legacy of environmental dispossession, degradation of the land, substandard living
conditions, inadequate access to health services, social exclusion and a dislocation from
community, language, land and culture. These policies have been clearly linked to
adverse health consequences for individuals and community.25
421
As the proximity of residential school attendance increases (the closer the relative that attended a
residential school is, with the respondent themselves having attended being the strongest measure) the
more likely they are to experience high levels of mental distress.
To André Picard, health columnist for the Globe and Mail, it is no wonder, given this context,
that First Nations, Inuit, and Métis populations all experience poorer health than the non-
Indigenous population.
The indigenous community is young and the fastest growing by far – more than 50
percent of indigenous people in Canada are under the age of 15. This is the time to stop
generation after generation of disaster, poverty, isolation, addiction and suicide – we’ve
created all that. We have an apartheid system designed to oppress people and it’s given
the exact results it was designed to produce. Take away their culture, their language,
their ability to earn money, their ability to have land, and then, oh, we’re surprised
they’re the most unhealthy people in our country? It’s not a surprise at all.26
422
Indigenous women who did not attend residential school, and none of whose family members
attended, are more likely than those who attended residential school to report having very good
or excellent general health. Conversely, Indigenous women who attended residential school are
more likely to report having only fair or poor general health.
In general, First Nations, Inuit, and Métis have a lower life expectancy than Canada’s non-
Indigenous population. According to the most recent data available from Statistics Canada, in
2017, the projected life expectancy for the Canadian population was 79 years of age for men and
83 years of age for women. For Métis and First Nations populations, this life expectancy is ap-
proximately five years lower for both men (73 to 74 years of age) and women (78 to 80 years of
age) than the non-Indigenous Canadian population. The Inuit have the lowest projected life
expectancy, at 64 years for men and 73 years for women.27
Indigenous people represent the fastest growing population in Canada, as well as the youngest.28
In part because of this young population, First Nations, Inuit, and Métis mothers are younger than
non-Indigenous mothers. For instance, between 2003 and 2007, 34.3% of First Nations mothers
were under 24 years of age and an additional 29.3% were under the age of 29.29 The most recent
data available on infant mortality rates also demonstrates significant differences between Indige-
nous and non-Indigenous populations, with infant mortality rates being more than twice as high
423
Average Life Expectancy in Canada
90
80
70
Life Expectancy in Years
60
50
40
30
20
10
0
Non-Indigenous First Nations Métis Inuit
Men Women
Source: Statistics Canada, Projections of the Aboriginal Populations, Canada, Provinces and Territories, 2001 to 2017.
for First Nations, Métis, and Inuit populations than for the non-Indigenous population, and the
rates of death from sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) was more than seven times higher in
First Nations and Inuit populations than in the non-Indigenous population.30
Research on infant mortality demonstrates that when infant mortality occurs in the postneonatal
period (from 28 days to one year after birth), it is more likely to reflect social and environmental
factors than factors associated with access to obstetric and neonatal care, which is more likely to
occur during the neonatal period (birth to less than 28 days). While postneonatal deaths make up
about one-quarter of all infant deaths in the non-Indigenous population, they make up nearly half
of infant deaths in the Indigenous population.31 This reality speaks to the urgent need to address
those social and environmental factors that impact health – as many of the witnesses who de-
scribed their experiences as mothers indicated – even in the earliest days.32
Chronic Health Conditions
Indigenous children, youth, and adults more frequently live with chronic health conditions.
According to the First Nations Regional Health Survey (2015–16), “nearly two-thirds (59.8%) of
First Nations adults, one-third (33.2%) of First Nations youth, and more than one-quarter (28.5%)
of First Nations children reported having one or more chronic health conditions,” such as diabetes,
arthritis, high blood pressure, allergies, and chronic back pain.33 More First Nations women
(46.5%) than men (36.4%) report co-morbid conditions (two or more chronic health conditions
424
those who hold the most expertise – those impacted by violence – and to recognize their
agency and resilience, and the solutions they bring to the table.5
At the conclusion of each chapter, we link many of the problems we heard with international
human rights instruments as a way of highlighting the commitments Canada has made. As
Expert Witness and Indigenous human rights activist Ellen Gabriel pointed out in her testimony:
When we talk about human rights, and this is the thing that I want to stress is, this needs
to be based on a human rights end. And, human rights, as the UN says, are universal and
inalienable and indivisable, interdependent and interrelated, it promotes equality and
non-discrimination, participation and inclusion, accountability in the rule of law, none of
which have been offered up to Indigenous people. We are constantly being told that we
do not know what is best for us, that government policies are the best ones. We are
constantly told that third-party interests to develop our lands and territories, to extract
resources, are more important than our rights, that money will soothe the pain of losing
our land, which it does not.6
These standards established by human rights instruments aren’t meaningful unless they are
applied fully to upholding human rights, which did not occur in many of the stories shared in this
report. They need to be brought to life, and they need to live not only at an institutional or
systems level, but in every single relationship, encounter, and interaction that Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people may have.
We invite you to read through these next chapters with a view to the big picture, as well as with a
view to engaging your own beliefs and relationships – whether you are a survivor, a family mem-
ber, an ally, or a non-Indigenous person. These experiences show that we all have a role to play
in ensuring a full range of human rights for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
The negative encounters described in the following sections aren’t intended to suggest that every
person or institution holds the same discriminatory attitudes; they are intended to highlight how
change begins at the base. These attitudes are a remarkably consistent feature of the many
experiences we heard about in the way that Indigenous people experience them, and, for these
reasons, these relationships and encounters are precisely where we should begin in seeking to
restore safety for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
325
CHAPTER 5
Confronting Oppression – Right to Culture

Introduction: Identity and Culture
As documented in Chapter 4, the history of colonization has altered the relationships of people to
their culture and identity through concerted efforts at assimilation and policies designed to sever
these cultural and kin connections. The impacts of colonization on Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people have resonated over generations and affected the way that people can
access their cultural rights.
In sharing their truths about their missing and murdered loved ones, witnesses spoke often about
the links between violence, the circumstances surrounding that violence, and the loss of tradi-
tional culture – its own form of violence. Within many Indigenous communities, the right to cul-
ture is understood as including the ability to practise and pass on cultural traditions, language,
and ways of relating to other people and to the land. When describing the role of culture in their
lives, however, many witnesses spoke about the many ways in which this right to culture has
been violated. In speaking specifically about these violations, witnesses described the barriers
they faced in accessing culturally safe services in areas such as health, security, and justice. They
also described how, in the ongoing crisis of apprehension of Indigenous children through the
child welfare system, the cultural rights held by Indigenous Peoples are undermined. For many
people, the ongoing legacies of colonialism and its sustained effort to destroy the cultural,
linguistic, and spiritual foundations held by Indigenous Peoples, families, and communities
continue to be felt or evidenced by family separation, institutional discrimination, and societal
denial of these realities. In all of these instances, the violation of cultural rights contributes to
other forms of violence that disproportionately impact the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
327
Understanding Youth Suicide
In testimonies before the National Inquiry, many witnesses cited the important barriers to rights that come
with challenges in the area of mental health, particularly for youth. The epidemic of suicide, particularly
among youth, represents a manifestation of many of the factors that have been outlined in this report,
including intergenerational and multigenerational trauma, the apprehension rates within the context of
child welfare, and the social and economic marginalization of Indigenous Peoples more broadly.
Contextualizing the tucks you in at night, to say to you, “You belong.”

You need nutritious food, you need access to an
Suicide Crisis in Remote education, you need access to health care. And
when you’re growing up in a community that’s
Communities missing all of these things, all these things that
every other ... non-Indigenous Canadian enjoys in
In Saskatchewan’s Advocate for Children and Youth urban and rural settings – suicide is there, suicide
Corey O’Soup’s home province, the rates of youth becomes normal.III
suicide are epidemic. As he explained, “Indigenous
youth suicide is an epidemic within our province. In a study analyzing trends across 23 different studies
And I know it’s not just Saskatchewan and I know it’s of Indigenous youth suicide, researchers Henry G.
not just Indigenous kids. It’s all across our country Harder, Josh Rash, Travis Holyk, Eduardo Jovel, and
in all areas of life but specifically we’ve targeted Kari Harder found evidence to suggest that some
our Indigenous kids and mental health.”I In of the factors raised by Talaga manifest themselves
Saskatchewan, Indigenous girls are 26 times more in mental health challenges and specifically, in
likely to die by suicide than non-Indigenous girls.II depression. Their synthesis of existing literature
found that the strongest risk factors to Indigenous
As award-winning journalist and author on the issue youth suicide emerge as depression, and having a
of youth suicide Tanya Talaga shared, in an interview friend or someone close die by suicide.IV This explains,
with Anna-Maria Tremonti on CBC’s The Current, part in part, why youth suicides within Indigenous
of the reason for the high incidence of youth suicide is communities tend to appear in clusters, rather
the normalization of it: “What is so hard for someone, than as isolated incidents, particularly when the
who doesn’t live in that community and is not community is tight-knit or small. The next strongest
surrounded by suicide, to understand is, it becomes factors included conduct disorder, defined as “violent
part of your normal everyday life.” She cites her uncle, behaviour, aggression, violent ideation, anger,
her mother’s friend, and her friend as examples of delinquency, antisocial behaviour,” and substance or
people close to her that took their own lives. In the alcohol abuse. The third most likely risk factor was the
same interview, Talaga expressed how the founda- existence of another psychiatric disorder other than
tional factor to all of these deaths is something that depression and suffering from childhood abuse or
can be addressed in attending to the issue of trauma.V
inequality.
Importantly, the same analysis also showed that the
Growing healthy children, it's not really rocket strongest protective influence against Indigenous
science. You have to have safe housing, you have youth suicide was “high support, whether social or
to have a family that loves you, someone who familial…. Personality variables of high self-esteem
427
A key part of our process over the
course of the National Inquiry has
been to invest in relationships and to
centre them as key in our analysis.
In Iqaluit, Commissioners speak
with Hagar Idlout-Sudlovenick and
Inukshuk Aksalnik of the Qikiqtani
Inuit Association.
Key to this discussion is racism, a particular form of colonial violence that seeks to undermine,
to minimize, and to set aside Indigenous cultural rights and to diminish Indigenous Peoples. In
particular, the experiences highlighted by many witnesses of their encounters with people and
with systems are important opportunities for reflection, because they are moments where out-
comes could have been transformed by a non-discriminatory approach that sets aside stereotypes
and biases in favour of the basic value of respect.
In this chapter, we first confront the way in which intergenerational and multigenerational trauma
works to maintain colonial violence in the present, as explained in stories about the loss of cul-
ture. The chapter then turns to the way in which the lack of access to full social, economic, and
political rights compromises access to culturally appropriate services and the right to live one’s
culture. The chapter describes instances in which lack of political will and insufficient institu-
tional responses have impacted the respect of Indigenous cultures. We examine how, in their tes-
timonies, those who offered their truths have also offered stories of agency, of resilience, and of
expertise as a way of restoring cultural rights. We identify the common experiences within these
pathways that maintain the colonial violence that we heard about from First Nations, Métis, and
Inuit testimonies, and we also highlight the distinctive expressions of violations of cultural rights
as they appeared before the National Inquiry.
While the moments of encounter identified and highlighted within this chapter do not represent
the entirety of Indigenous experiences within various institutions and systems, we maintain that
they are important and representative of the types of oppression with respect to culture that In-
digenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people face. They are opportunities to reflect on how
protecting cultural rights means beginning with respectful relationships, and understanding how
these kinds of encounters can contribute to harm, or to healing, in the lives of those who have
been most targeted by systemic, institutionalized, and interpersonal racism and violence.
328
Here are some facts: studies over the last five decades As mental health researcher Eduardo Chachamovich
have consistently shown that more young Inuit men concludes in his study on Nunavut:
die by suicide than young Inuit women. The study
above examined 120 cases of suicide completers in The rapid increase in suicidal behaviour in recent
the period from 2005-2010, and compared them to decades, especially young people, is probably the
another 120 who did not die by suicide. Of the 120 result of a change in the intensity of social
suicide completers, 99 (82.5%) were male and 21 determinants – among them the intergen-
female (17.5%). The average age was 23.6 years old. erational transmission of historical trauma and its
As for the level of education of individuals who died results (increased rates of emotional, physical, and
by suicide, they were 3.6 times more likely to have sexual abuse, violence, substance abuse, etc.).…
had less than seven years’ education. Dropping out of Since difficult life experiences are associated with
school could be an indication of living in more the onset of mental disorders (particularly if
difficult situations that could lead to suicidal substance abuse is included in the definition of
behaviour.XII Another fact was their contact with “mental disorder”), it is reasonable to deduce that
the legal system, showing a greater tendency to there are elevated rates of mental disorders in
experience legal problems. Crowded houses, which Nunavut society.XVIII
impact many families in Inuit Nunangat, did not
appear to be a factor linked to suicide. Adoption, The Inuit regions are well aware of the crisis among
whether it be adoption between kin, or adoption youth and are developing strategies for the
outside of kin showed there was no major difference prevention of suicide, such as the National Inuit
between those of the suicide group and the Suicide Prevention Strategy created by the national
comparison groups. Inuit organization Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami (ITK), which
supports families and youth to be strong and resilient
The study also demonstrates the close link mental as the Inuit ancestors once were. Its Strategy
health problems have with the suicidal behaviours, addresses social inequity, community safety and
such as anxiety, depression and drug and alcohol cultural continuity to help create well-being in the
abuse or dependence problems.XIII The most Inuit communities. It expresses its vision of suicide
important issue raised in the follow-back study was prevention as a shared national, regional and
childhood maltreatment, which encompasses community-wide effort, that collaborative and well
physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse and supported policies and programs can and will make
neglect during childhood.XIV There are strong a difference. The Strategy defines priority areas such
indicators that survivors of childhood abuse attempt as creating social equity and cultural continuity,
or die by suicide in greater numbers than those not nurturing healthy Inuit children from birth, access to
maltreated in their childhood. As well, childhood comprehensive mental wellness services for Inuit,
maltreatment could lead to serious issues impacting healing unresolved trauma and grief and mobilizing
on mental and physical health and suicidal behaviour. Inuit knowledge for resilience and suicide prevention.
The study found that almost half of those who died These are themes that were consistently identified by
by suicide had been abused, physically and/or Inuit witnesses testifying before the National Inquiry,
sexually, during their childhood compared to one as well. The ITK Suicide Prevention Strategy prioritizes
third of the comparison group.XV Another major factor the importance of Inuit perspectives and knowledge
was the state of mental health – 61% of those who to bring about action in the Inuit communities. It is
died by suicide and 24% of those in the comparison an example of self-determination, working with Inuit
group suffered from a major depressive disorder six communities and regions, to acknowledge the crisis
months prior, and these rates were higher than the of suicide among Inuit youth and to help heal Inuit
national average of 8%.XVI Alcohol dependency or communities.
abuse was an indicator for higher risk for suicide, as
the data showed that 37.5% of those who died by
suicide had abused alcohol or had a dependence on
it in the last six months of their lives.XVII
429
Engaging Children and Youth The maintenance of culture and formation of
social and familial supports are ingredients that
to Generate Solutions may offset IYS [Indigenous Youth Suicide]. Social
and family support positively influences the
Part of the way forward begins with listening. As development of relational, occupational, and self-
O’Soup contends, children and youth must be at the identity…. It was found to be the strongest
table in discussing the way forward: “It is their right protective factor reducing the risk of suicide
to be at the tables when decisions are being made among the studies examined.XXII
about them, when they are being discussed. They
need to have a voice. And that voice just can’t be Finally, and in reference to the report entitled
me … I believe that we can’t get that voice without Shhh…Listen!! We Have Something to Say! Youth
talking to our children and our youth.”XIX And, as he Voices from the North, O’Soup talks about some
points out, children and youth are already talking important findings, with implications for decreasing
about it “in chat rooms … on social media and their youth suicide in all Indigenous communities.XXIII As
phones … at parties in basements. They’re just not he explained, “Our kids … state that in order for
talking to us about it. And the data we have already them to not think about suicide, they need a safer
shows us that they’re already doing it.”XX community. They don’t want to be scared walking
down their streets. They need to be safe and
This crisis is surmountable; as Cindy Blackstock protected.”XXIV
insisted, “And so, when I see the suicide rates, I am
horrified at the loss of every child, but I think it’s an Upholding cultural safety and belonging as well as
absolutely predictable thing to happen when you’re physical safety, along with sufficient support services
treating children in this way as a country.”XXI As and the right to be heard, are important building
the researchers conducting the survey of existing blocks that can work to improve outcomes for youth
literature conclude, and as many of the studies they by looking to those most impacted for solutions.
analyzed suggest, decision-makers should take
seriously the way in which culture and bonding can
mitigate these rates of self-harm:
Source: Nunavik Regional Health Board. Used with permission.
430
At first glance, the right to culture may not look like it is closely tied to the issue of missing and
murdered Indigenous women and girls. However, understanding the role that culture plays in
the context of the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is key, from
the standpoint of both harm and healing.
In generating harm, the violation of cultural rights disempowers Indigenous Peoples, particularly
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, through racism, through dismissal, and through heavy-
handed state actions that seek to impose systems on them. The violation of cultural rights, as they
are linked to the ability of culture to promote safety and to the ability of women to transmit it, is
an important dimension of understanding the discrimination people face at every level of navi-
gating the state.
On the other hand, the role of culture in healing – the promotion of cultural rights and cultural
continuity, that is, the passing of culture from one generation to the next18 – was a key element of
what many witnesses identified as an area in which their loved ones could have found comfort,
safety, health, and protection from violence. In addition, promoting cultural rights in the after-
math of tragedy – in the context of treatment, investigations, and prosecution, for instance –
means protecting rights and values as defined by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people themselves.

In sharing stories about family, land, home, and belonging, witnesses often spoke about the
importance of the role of culture as a way of ensuring the health, safety, and well-being of their
families, communities, and environments. As many witnesses described, in their understanding
of culture, practising ceremony and using traditional medicines have been and continue to be
important ways of fostering relationships that centre respect and reciprocity. As we discussed in
Chapter 2, within these Indigenous cultural systems, women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
have traditionally occupied a position of honour and respect.
“AN ELDER TOLD ME THIS ONCE. YOU KNOW, OUR CULTURE IS AS DEEP AS THE
SHELLS THAT HAVE LAYERED IT UP SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME ON THE BOTTOM
OF THE OCEAN. IF YOU WORK REALLY, REALLY HARD YOU MIGHT MAKE IT THROUGH
THE FIRST LAYER IN A LIFETIME. THAT’S HOW DEEP OUR CULTURE IS, YOU KNOW.”
Patrick S.
331
Seeing Health and Wellness in the Context of Colonialism
As with many of the challenges facing Indigenous Peoples and communities, Indigenous people
themselves are often blamed for poor health, especially within dominant medical and health pro-
motion models that focus on individual behaviour and choices as the route to good health and
wellness.46 However, as health researchers such as Amy Bombay, whose research focuses on in-
tergenerational and multigenerational trauma, explained, the health of Indigenous Peoples must
be contextualized within historical, social, and economic factors connected to the cumulative
impacts of colonization, as well as persistent and harmful policies that serve to harm communi-
ties and individuals.
For example, researchers have found that, compared with those who did not attend residential
school, residential school survivors are more likely to suffer various physical and mental health
problems.47 According to Bombay, the most recent First Nations Regional Health Survey like-
wise found that residential school survivors are “more likely to report higher levels of psycholog-
ical distress, poorer self-rated health, and … [are] more likely to be diagnosed with various
chronic health conditions.”48
In their descriptions of health, witnesses made connections between colonial violence and physi-
cal, mental, emotional, and spiritual wellness. Wet’suwet’en Chief Vivian T., for example, who
testified in relation to her daughter, explained how she has ongoing health issues from infant
pneumonia and tuberculosis when she was seven or eight. Her mother “was not sure” if the
doctors treated her properly for her illness.49
Viola Thomas connected the high rate of chronic health conditions among the Indigenous
population with the forcible displacement of Indigenous Peoples from their communities.
And also there’s the other side of that displacement where it’s, what I would refer to as
forcible displacement. Because of the historical, irreparable harms that’s been inflicted
on our people, we have a large number of folks that are displaced, who must travel long
distances to be able to access health services, for example. We have a high chronic
disease within our communities.50
432
Indigenous women who have experienced discrimination are almost twice as likely as those who
have not experienced discrimination to report having only fair or poor overall health. This difference
is especially pronounced for Métis women.
In her testimony, Shara L., a residential school survivor, described how she continues to live with
the traumatic memories of the abuse she experienced there, and how, despite efforts at healing, it
is still easy for her to become triggered, especially in the absence of proper support. Shara, who
was staying in a hotel to be close to her hospitalized grandson, reported how the smell of the
vinyl shower curtain in the bathroom triggered her memories of residential school. As she
explained, it reminded her of
the shower room in residential school, and that’s where they would sexually abuse
you…. They made you suffer in there. They scrubbed your skin with a – with a nail file,
you know, those really hard coarse brushes. And if you had scabs on your skin you’d just
scrape it like they were trying to scrape off your skin ... because you’re dirty. Dirty little
Indian.51
Shara collapsed in the bathroom of the hotel, paralyzed with fear. As she recalled:
I just collapsed there and I couldn’t get up, and I couldn’t get out of that bathroom. I
started sobbing. It controlled me like a child. And I was screaming. I wanted to get out of
there. I don’t know why I couldn’t move. I just couldn’t get out of there…. I was in that
room for a while, I just couldn’t move. I just laid – collapsed on the bed and I just laid
there. I was just crying.52
433
As Carol M. suggested, the health impacts of colonial violence – particularly in the absence of
adequate health supports – continue to threaten the health and well-being of Indigenous people
and their communities. As she reported, “I did some heavy work on myself and I thought,
doesn’t the healing ever stop? It never stops. It’s like you think you deal with it, and it’s like
something else pops up, and it’s right there.”53
“AND ALSO THERE’S THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT DISPLACEMENT WHERE IT’S, WHAT
I WOULD REFER TO AS FORCIBLE DISPLACEMENT BECAUSE OF THE HISTORICAL,
IRREPARABLE HARMS THAT’S BEEN INFLICTED ON OUR PEOPLE. WE HAVE A LARGE
NUMBER OF FOLKS THAT ARE DISPLACED, WHO MUST TRAVEL LONG DISTANCES TO
BE ABLE TO ACCESS HEALTH SERVICES, FOR EXAMPLE. WE HAVE A HIGH CHRONIC
DISEASE WITHIN OUR COMMUNITIES.”
Viola Thomas
To be sure, the long-term health impacts associated with residential and day school attendance,
relocation, and other forms of colonial violence and abuse, which, as Carol described, never
seem to stop, continue to be felt by the children, grandchildren, and other family members of
those struggling with trauma associated with these experiences. Research shared by Amy
Bombay demonstrates how the health consequences of surviving residential school “branch out”
– as Sharna S. described – to later generations. For example, First Nations adults living
off-reserve, compared to those living on-reserve, who had at least one parent or grandparent who
attended residential school were more likely than those who did not have a relative who was a
residential school survivor to experience psychological distress: approximately 54% to 40%.54
Many witnesses spoke about how the health-related impacts of historical colonial policies
continue to shape the health of the children and grandchildren of those directly affected by these
policies. Chrystal S. shared how the spiritual and emotional health impacts associated with the
removal of her ancestors from their lands have been “passed down” to the next generation and
can contribute to stressors that create poor health outcomes.
I believe that is so true with our First Nations people is that our body, our mind, our
blood has been without our homes, without our food, without a place where we
belonged. And I believe that is one of the many causes of the stress, the depression,
and that longing … just to go home and not knowing where that is.
That happened, I can imagine, way before residential schools because we were moved
first, before residential schools, and we were killed off, many of us, by the diseases,
smallpox and TB [tuberculosis], so before we were even moved, many of us were killed
off, but I believe those 10% that survived had that longing for their home, and I believe
that’s been passed down ever since in our genes, in our blood, as we don’t have our
home anymore. We don’t have that place of peace, that place of belonging, that place of
safety, because we were moved to a different part of the land that we never grew up on.55
434
For 2SLGBTQQIA people, stories of cultural loss and violation that continue to have impacts
today describe the fundamental shift from the value and respect many Two-Spirit and gender-
diverse people held within traditional Indigenous cultures to extreme and at times violent
exclusion and erasure from those communities.
Overall, these “patterns of cultural violence,” as described by legal anthropologist Rosemary J.
Coombe, also include
the seizure of traditional lands, expropriation and commercial use of indigenous
cultural objects without permission by indigenous communities, misinterpretation of
indigenous histories, mythologies and cultures, suppression of their languages and
religions, and even the forcible removal of indigenous peoples from their families and
denial of their indigenous identity.20
These processes also include attempts to convince Indigenous people that they themselves are
somehow of less value than non-Indigenous people, in a process of dehumanization through
education and socialization.
Indigenous women are more likely to have experienced discrimination than non-Indigenous women, even
for reasons other than race: 3 times more likely for having a physical or mental disability, 1.76 times more
likely for sex, 3.3 times more likely for sexual orientation, and 5.7 times more likely for race or skin colour.
333
In her testimony, Nikki K. described how addiction and mental health and other health chal-
lenges were some of the ways that severe childhood sexual and physical abuse impacted the
health of her cousin Jessica, who eventually allegedly took her own life. Speaking on behalf of
her cousin, Nikki explained:
She was working the streets for money. She was hooked on crack cocaine. At 14 years
old, like that’s crazy, you know, and I believe if we would have had family or someone
there with us, she wouldn’t have gone down that road. But we had no one.59
As Nikki explained, the impacts of this abuse on Jessica were compounded by the apprehension
by child welfare services of Nikki and Jessica and their subsequent separation from their Inuit
family and culture. In the absence of culturally relevant mental health supports and family,
Jessica died at 17 years old of an apparent suicide.
Sonia B. described how childhood abuse led her to use substances as a way to cope with the pain
she experienced. As Sonia explained, she started drinking and smoking when she was 10 years
old. She was on the street from age 10 to 15. She grew up in a home with a lot of dysfunction,
and her maternal grandmother used to beat her and tell her that it should have been her who died,
not her mother. She was also twice beaten nearly to death.
In reflecting on why she was drinking, she explained:
It took a lot of years for me to realize I was drinking to numb the pain and to numb the
anger and the resentment…. But through the treatment centre and learning to understand
myself, learning to deal with all the anger, I don’t want to say it made life easier, but it
kind of did in a way so that I was able to acknowledge my defects, my hurt. Because of
the way I was raised, it made so much sense for me to be numb, for me to be hateful, for
me to be angry. I didn’t understand what anger was. I thought it was just a natural –
I thought that was normal to be that way.60
As she recalled, “Some days, being sober was the loneliest place I ever was at.”61
In her addiction and despair, Sonia said, she wanted to just end it, feeling like there was nothing
and no one who could save her. She explained what motivated her, while she was lying in the
hospital, to keep fighting: “I didn't know who would love my children the way I did as a mother.
I did the best I could with them as an alcoholic.” Sonia went to a treatment centre for her alco-
holism 27 years ago and has been on that healing journey since.62
436
For Indigenous women, the rate of drug use is highest among those whose parents attended residential
school. This trend holds for all Indigenous identity groups, but is most pronounced for First Nations
and least pronounced for Inuit.
Despite the healing that can occur, the memories of the pain don’t fade easily. As Paula P. noted,
“It’s really hard to sober up and then look at all the pain that you carried on and how much it’s
affected your children and grandchildren, and to face it and try to change it. And that’s why I’m
here. I want to make change for all our children.”63
437
Expert Witness Allan Wade believes that the early experiences of violence or witnessing violence
described by women like Jessica and Sonia is directly connected to their struggles with addiction
and suicide later in life. Wade explained that:
70 to 80% of people who get a diagnosis of serious mental illness also report significant
violence and trauma histories.… The best single predictor of whether or not a child
will get a diagnosis of a mental illness as an adult is whether or not they experienced
violence as a child. So there’s no question that the main problem we’re dealing with
across all these social problems is interpersonal violence. It follows that if we get better
at dealing with violence, we get better at everything.64
As the stories that witnesses shared demonstrate, “getting better at dealing with violence” in
the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people must occur in a context that
acknowledges the historical and ongoing consequences of colonial violence for the physical,
mental, emotional, and spiritual health of Indigenous Peoples. As we explore in the next section,
this involves acknowledging and addressing how the social and economic marginalization of
Indigenous Peoples as a result of colonialism also contributes to the many health-related
barriers they face.
438
residential school survivors who participated in her study, these familial and cultural losses were
more widely identified as has having a negative impact than such things as lack of food (48.8%),
harsh living conditions such as lack of heat, for example (48.2%), and even sexual abuse (42.6%)
demonstrates the deep significance of those aspects of experience connected to culture and fam-
ily.28
The cumulative effects of this disruption of cultural and familial continuity are concrete – and
devastating. In addition to the impacts for survivors of the residential school system, Bombay
explained, “there is consistent evidence showing that the children and grandchildren of those
affected by residential schools are at risk for various negative mental, physical and social out-
comes.”29
In her testimony, Robin R. provided a powerful account of how these cycles of trauma over life-
times, and which manifest over generations, are so engrained and accepted that violence in the
lives of residential school survivors and their children or grandchildren seems “pre-determined.”
My future was pre-determined in many ways. All of my grandparents attended
residential school. They were severely alcoholic. And when I was a child growing up,
when I lived in Alberta, there’s not a time that I remember seeing one of my family
members sober. My mother was raised in violence, experiencing physical and sexual
abuse throughout her childhood. I don’t know much about my father because he left my
mother when I was very young. I vaguely remember my father’s father, but never really
knew him well. The only father figures I had were the men that came into my mother’s
life and continued the abuse she had already known her entire life. Thankfully, I had not
experienced abuse at the hands of my mother’s partners, but drug addiction was also an
issue with my mother and the men that came into our lives. In spite of this, when I was a
teenager, I was a scholarship student preparing for university and college. I was highly
academic and I wasn’t drinking or using drugs.
These are some of the things from my past that laid the path that brought me into this
situation where I shared my life with a man who could murder my child. I wanted to
escape from the pain of my childhood. I wanted a home of my own where I could feel
safe, would feel safe. I was 15 years old when I had Isabella. Her father was a 19-year-
old drug addict who was trying to live clean. Because I grew up watching my mother
being physically abused, I allowed this to be part of my relationships, too, believing it
was somewhat normal that I accepted it.30
Understandably, the cumulative effects of trauma have also resulted, for many of those who
shared their truths, in a sense of anger and displacement that doesn’t always heal with time. As
Verna W. explained:
337
This life wasn’t easy for any of us. But, you know, I don’t know if it [residential schools]
made me stronger or made me more pissed off with the people today because they’re
still not doing it – doing anything right for us, any of us, and that’s right across Canada. I
am still angry because I got nothing to reconcile with anybody for.31
Other witnesses described the loss of a sense of belonging. Chrystal S. said:

So you know, we really have not had … our home for so many generations, we’ve really
been displaced for so many generations. We’ve had generations who grew up in residential
schools, so further displaced from their homes. We have generations, from the grand-
parents, great-grandparents, who already didn’t have a home, but then were moved to
residential school, where there was nothing but horrors that are unimaginable to children,
and today, in Canada, today in Vancouver, the Downtown Eastside, you know, they don’t
even have their own homes in that community.
What’s the biggest problem for Indigenous people of Canada today is having a home. So
we have this long history of not having our home. Of not having a home to live in. How
can we raise our children if we don’t have a home to belong to? If we don’t have a home
that’s safe? That has our family around us? If we’re not even allowed to have that and
we’re not even allowed to even feel like we belong here, how can we raise our kids
in that?32
Amy Bombay believes an essential intervention in breaking this cycle comes in repairing the
ways in which the residential school system and the foster care system severed familial and
cultural ties. Based on her research, Bombay explained, “factors related to culture and cultural
identity are particularly protective in buffering against those negative effects of residential
schools and other aspects of colonization.”33 Unfortunately, as the National Inquiry heard from
many witnesses, the institutional systems with which Indigenous Peoples interact often ignore
the importance of culture and family. In doing so, they reinforce rather than dismantle the
harmful relationships and systems that continue to create traumatic conditions.
338
one of the main reasons Indigenous and non- the institutional racism Indigenous Peoples often
Indigenous users cited for not calling 911 in the encounter in these settings. In order to ensure people
event of an overdose and/or the administration of do seek support in these extremely vulnerable times,
Naloxone was because of a fear of police involve- services that are culturally appropriate and responses
ment.XIX that do not create further harm or difficulty – for
instance, by criminalizing an individual for drug
Creating Solutions possession during an overdose – are essential.XXI
Addressing the opioid crisis as it impacts Indigenous Beyond reactionary responses to managing the
Peoples requires Indigenous-specific solutions. current crisis, however, Indigenous health care
Advocates highlight the importance of harm- advocates and others emphasize the necessity of
reduction interventions, such as needle exchange addressing the structural and institutional inequalities
programs, access to drugs not laced with other that continue to impact Indigenous people and
harmful substances, and the distribution of contribute to the crisis in the first place. This includes
Naloxone, but also emphasize that these interventions addressing many of the socio-economic factors, such
must also be grounded in Indigenous values and be as poverty and housing, that continue to create risk in
delivered in ways that are culturally appropriate.XX Of the lives of Indigenous people. This also involves
the witnesses who spoke about their help-seeking providing culturally appropriate addiction and mental
experiences during the Truth-Gathering Process, many health support that allows space for Indigenous
talked about how, as an Indigenous woman, girl, or people to understand and access support that assists
2SLGBTQQIA person, especially one using or involved them to work through the trauma, pain, and suffering
with drugs, reaching out to health care, emergency they may be carrying so that using drugs does not
responders, or the police may not be safe, given have to be the only means of survival.XXII
I Belzak and Halverson, “Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis.”

II Ibid.
III Public Health Agency of Canada, “Overview of National Data.”
IV Canadian Institute for Health Information, “Opioid-Related Harms in Canada,” 5.
V Toward the Heart, “Opioid Overdose in BC.”
VI Public Health Agency of Canada, “Overview of National Data.”
VII Belzak and Halverson, “Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis.”
VIII Alberta Health Services, “Carfentanil – Backgrounder.”
IX Belzak and Halverson, “Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis.”
X Public Health Agency of Canada, “Overview of National Data.”
XI Canadian Institute for Health Information, “Opioid-Related Harms in Canada.” See also Belzak and Halverson,
“Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis.”
XII Belzak and Halverson,“Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis,” 228.
XIII First Nations Health Authority, Overdose Data and First Nations, 8.
XIV Ibid., 7.
XV Lavalley, Kastor, Valleriani, and McNeil, “Reconciliation and Canada’s Overdose Crisis.”
XVI First Nations Health Authority, Overdose Data and First Nations, 6.
XVII Lavalley, Kastor, Valleriani, and McNeil, “Reconciliation and Canada’s Overdose Crisis.”
XVIII First Nations Health Authority, Overdose Data and First Nations, 2–3.
XIX As cited in Belzak and Halverson,“Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis,” 228.
XX Lavalley, Kastor, Valleriani, and McNeil, “Reconciliation and Canada’s Overdose Crisis.”
XXI First Nations Health Authority, Overdose Data and First Nations, 4-5.
XXII Ibid.
441
Pathway to Violence: Social and Economic Marginalization
Social and economic factors, including employment, education, housing, income, food, and
sustainable resources, shape the health of Indigenous people, as well as their encounters with
the Canadian health care system.65 Poverty, lack of safe housing, food insecurity, and other
socio-economic realities are widely understood to compromise the physical, mental, emotional,
and spiritual health of Indigenous people, and, in particular, Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. In addition, the marginalization of Indigenous Peoples and Indigenous
approaches to health and wellness within mainstream health care systems, despite the widespread
need for these services, creates additional barriers to health that maintains rather than addresses
health inequities.66
Poverty, Health, and Wellness
As Fred Wien, of the National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health, has noted, “the
economic dimensions of poverty are one of the most important determinants of health.”67 For
Indigenous people living in poverty, the possibility of encountering situations that have a negative
impact on physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health is greater than for those not
experiencing poverty. The median, after-tax income of Indigenous people in Canada, in 2016,
varied among groups. First Nations had a median total income of $21,875, and Inuit were listed at
$24,502 and Métis at $31,916.68 According to more recent data available through the First Nations
Regional Health Survey (2015–16), nearly 30% of First Nations adults surveyed had a household
income under $20,000.69 Not surprisingly, many First Nations people struggle to meet their basic
needs. For example, only 67.2% of First Nations adult participants in the First Nations Regional
Health Survey (2015–16) reported that they never struggle to meet their food-related expenses.70
Housing, Health, and Wellness
For many Indigenous families, poverty acts as a barrier to securing safe and affordable housing.
As researchers Yale Belanger, Gabrielle Weasel Head, and Olu Awosoga have argued, “adequate,
affordable, and suitable housing contributes directly to improved health and well-being” and is
“directly linked to an individual’s ability to participate in the economy and general society.”71
The issue of unaffordable housing is linked, though not equivalent, to the concept of Indigenous
homelessness. As researcher Jesse Thistle explains, “Indigenous homelessness is a human condi-
tion that describes First Nations, Métis and Inuit individuals, families or communities lacking
stable, permanent, appropriate housing, or the immediate prospect, means or ability to acquire
such housing.”72 He cites a report from the Aboriginal Standing Committee on Housing and
Homelessness about homelessness.
[It is] not defined as lacking a structure of habitation; rather, it is more fully described
and understood through a composite lens of Indigenous worldviews.… Importantly,
Indigenous Peoples experiencing these kinds of homelessness cannot culturally,
spiritually, emotionally or physically reconnect with their Indigeneity or lost
relationships.73
442
According to Statistics Canada, in 2016, one in five First Nations people lived in a dwelling that
was in need of major repairs. While the proportion living in a dwelling that needed major repairs
decreased for First Nations, Métis, and Inuit from 2011 to 2016, the proportion of on-reserve peo-
ple living in these types of dwellings actually increased by 0.8%. Further, in 2016, 18.3% of Indige-
nous people lived in housing that was considered “crowded.”74 For First Nations adults living in
remote communities, the challenges in securing safe housing are significant, with more than one in
three (37.9%) living in homes in need of major repairs and 31.8% living in crowded households.75
For many witnesses, these types of living situations can contribute to poor health. In 2016,
26.2% of Inuit, 24.2% of First Nations people and 11.3% of Métis lived in a home “in need of
major repairs.” Among them, these rates were highest for Inuit in Inuit Nunangat (31.5%) and
First Nations people living on reserve (44.2%). To compare, only 6.0% of the non-Indigenous
population were recorded as living in a home in need of major repairs.76 In her testimony, for
example, Sandra L. spoke about how the condition of her granddaughter’s house creates signifi-
cant health care concerns for Sandra and her family. She said:
When I went into my granddaughter’s house [for Christmas], it’s just full of mould. And
I have three generations of my kids living under one roof. And I went, “Oh, my God, oh,
my God.” I was their voice.… So I came home from Christmastime and I was sick
because I got that mould and that I got the flu because my lungs are compromised. And I
started to think my grandchildren are breathing that in every day.77
She also noted that her family has to purchase water, because the water in their home is not
drinkable – a reality that also creates health risks for all family members, and one that impacts
the more than one in four (27.5%) of First Nations adults who lack a safe water source for drink-
ing year-round.78
Sandra’s story also illustrates research findings that indicate problems with mould and mildew in
First Nations households identified in a 2018 report at a rate (39.7%) three times higher than the
general population (13%),79 and something that has been linked to lower incomes and over-
crowding, as well as to poorer health. For instance, the First Nations Regional Health Survey
(2015–16) found that “a higher percentage of First Nations adults with chronic health conditions,
compared to those with none, reported living in homes where household mould or mildew was
present.”80
443
Source: National Collaborating Centre on Aboriginal Health, “Housing as a Social Determinant of First Nations, Inuit and Métis Health,” 14.
Likewise, for Indigenous people living in urban centres, issues with housing persist. A number
of initiatives were pursued in the 1960s and 1970s, alongside postwar efforts to relocate
Indigenous people to urban centres, as discussed in Chapter 4, but, by the late 1980s and due
to cutbacks, many of these programs were abandoned. The result was a general devolution of
444
involvement whereby “a coterie of private, public, and third sector parties filled the policy void
with a complex array of still-operational programs that remain burdensome to navigate.”81 Low-
income First Nations who live off-reserve can apply for Canada Mortgage and Housing Corpora-
tion (CMHC) programs available to all Canadians, as well as the host of other programs funded
by the federal government, including public housing, non-profit housing, rent supplement pro-
grams, the Rural and Native Housing (RNH) program, the Urban Native Non-Profit Housing
program, and cooperative housing. There are relatively few urban Aboriginal housing-specific
programs. This means that little money is available to improve housing conditions that, in many
cases, contribute to poor health.
For many witnesses, without necessary resources and supports available, there are few options to
improve these situations.
In her testimony, Verna W. described how this traditional way of life practised by her parents
when she was a child enabled them to feed, house, and keep healthy a large family, as well as
other members of the community.
We were a very happy family of 10 kids, and my mom and dad. Mom would take us
picking berries in the summer, and Dad would take us out fishing…. When we finished
picking berries, we would help Mom wash the berries and she would show us how to can
them. My sister … and I, because my other sisters were too young, but – we were too
young, too, but we had to learn at a young age. When my dad went out fishing for food,
we had to give to the Elders first, but my dad would always make sure everyone got
enough for the winter.82
For Verna’s family, like many other Indigenous families, this way of maintaining family and
community health through traditional practice was undermined when Verna and her brothers and
sisters were taken to residential school.
In other situations, destruction to traditional environment and territories has also interrupted the
ability of Indigenous people to meet their basic needs within their own communities. In addition,
there are many First Nations communities that have been directly threatened by development and
pollution. Members of Grassy Narrows First Nation, for instance, subjected to mercury poisoning
as of the 1960s through the dumping of chemicals into the river system, are, today, six times more
likely to suffer from a wide range of debilitating health issues than those not living in the commu-
nity. Those diagnosed with mercury poisoning as a result of living in the community are:
• almost six times more likely to have a neuropsychological disorder;
• five times more likely to have stomach and intestinal problems;
• four times more likely to suffer from a range of problems, including hearing loss and
joint pain in people over 30 years old; and
• three times more likely to have blindness or vision problems.83
445
Urban Migration, Health, and Wellness
As many witnesses shared throughout the Truth-Gathering Process, many First Nations, Inuit, and
Métis make the decision to migrate to urban centres in order to access better services, including
health care. The most common reasons for First Nations adults to move away from their commu-
nity are education (45.3%) and employment (44.8%). However, housing (16.9%), marital/domestic
problems (3.6%), other medical needs (1.5%), and support for disability (0.9%) are also factors that
may prompt migration to an urban centre.84 In 2011, 62.4% of First Nations people lived off-re-
serve, and one quarter of Métis in Canada lived in Winnipeg, Edmonton, Vancouver, and Calgary,
as well as significant populations in Saskatoon and in Toronto.85 Although, according to Statistics
Canada’s 2011 National Household Survey, most Inuit live within Inuit Nunangat, just over one
quarter lived outside, with 37.5% of those in large urban population centres including Edmonton,
Montréal, Ottawa-Gatineau, Yellowknife, and St. John’s.86 Again, however, despite their attempts at
making a better life in a larger city, Indigenous people living in urban centres experience greater
health inequities than those living on-reserve.87 As health researchers Ashley Goodman and others
observe in their research focusing on the health care experiences of Indigenous people living in
downtown Vancouver, “with comparatively higher rates of homelessness, suicide, tuberculosis,
HIV/AIDS, and diabetes, and an increased risk of substance use, urban Aboriginal peoples are
likely to experience immense vulnerability to health-related harms.”88
The health-related concerns of Indigenous Peoples are often compounded by the way poverty,
homelessness, and other related barriers interfere with their ability to access health care services.
Despite the praise Canada often receives for its provision of universal health care, as Goodman et
al. observe, research of the experiences of Indigenous Peoples’ access to such care demonstrates
that the Canadian health care system “fails in meeting the healthcare needs of many of its most
vulnerable citizens.”89 Doris G. provided an example of this inequality when she described the chal-
lenges she faced in meeting her financial needs after she received a diagnosis of cervical cancer.
So now my son takes care of me, and I get $600 from Alberta Works, but I feel it’s just
not enough. They also cut my health benefits because – because I became First Nations.
I used to have both – like, my First Nations was my primary coverage, and then the
Province was my secondary coverage, but they’re refusing to [cover] that [if] you have
both coverages, you can only have one coverage. So now I’m down to the one, where
First Nations coverage will cover certain things where the Province doesn’t cover certain
things, so I would like to have them both back.90
The health care needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in relation to their
experiences of violence are often extensive. Nonetheless, accessing health care supports to meet
these needs is often complicated within settings where few health care resources exist, but also
where few other supports, such as safe housing and adequate and healthy food, necessary to
healing from such injuries are available.
As a result, and as the National Inquiry heard, the issue of poverty is inextricably linked to the
issue of health and well-being, linked to the issue of violence and abuse, and linked to the
violation of the foundational right to health and well-being.
446
DEEPER DIVE
Understanding Distinctive Experiences of

Danger in the Lives of 2SLGBTQQIA People
Included in the Truth-Gathering Process are the In this Deeper Dive, we look more closely at those
experiences of Indigenous people who identify as truths that draw attention to violence in the lives of
Two-Spirit, transgender, lesbian, bisexual, queer, Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people. We share the stories
questioning, intersex, asexual, and/or gender diverse of some of the missing or murdered 2SLGBTQQIA
or non-binary (2SLGBTQQIA). In some cases, these people whose experiences were shared during the
truths were shared by the family members of missing Truth-Gathering Process, and we acknowledge those
or murdered Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people. In whose stories remain hidden and unknown. We also
other cases, Indigenous people who are part of share some of the teachings that family members,
the 2SLGBTQQIA community shared their own Knowledge Keepers, experts, and advocates offered
experiences as survivors of violence. Each of these about the distinct challenges Indigenous people in
truths offered unique accounts of the way gender 2SLGBTQQIA communities encounter in their efforts
identity and expression and sexual orientation to meet their needs for culture, identity, health,
intersect with race, socio-economic standing, security, and justice in the face of discrimination
geography, and ability, and with other identity and violence. Enforced colonial gender binaries,
factors, to shape the individual experiences of homophobia, and transphobia are symptoms –
Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people living within and effects – of colonization and assimilation, and
dominant systems that are racist, sexist, homophobic, occur in these areas both outside of Indigenous
and transphobic. Common to these truths, however, communities as well as within. The testimonies heard
was the call to prioritize 2SLGBTQQIA communities before the National Inquiry reinforce the point that,
and immediately address the way members of these when Indigenous communities are homophobic or
communities and their loved ones have been transphobic, they are reinforcing colonial actions.
impacted by colonial violence in ways that are both We consider how, despite these challenges, many
similar to, and distinct from, the experiences of Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people are resisting the
Indigenous cis-gender women and girls.A marginalized positions the colonial state would have
them occupy through reclaiming their traditional
Many witnesses also argued that 2SLGBTQQIA roles in community and culture, and taking up
victims are most often forgotten in discussions about positions as effective advocates working to end
violence. As Jasmine Redfern, the past assistant colonial violence and its distinct impacts on gender
director of Social and Cultural Development with and sexual minorities.
Nunavut Tunngavik, pointed out:
I think what immediately comes to mind when a

Recognizing What Was,
lot of people talk about violence against and What Is
Indigenous women is immediately thinking about
men harming women, and that can leave out The term “Two-Spirit” is a relatively new one,
some of the lateral violence that happens although gender- and sexually diverse people
between women, but also, specifically, can leave have existed in different communities since time
out the violence in LGBTQ couples, or on trans immemorial. Expert Witness Albert McLeod explained
bodies, or trans individuals, or people who are how questioning these identities, historically, could
outside of the gender binary.B be seen as a questioning of life itself.
447
And so, there was an understanding that animals pervasiveness of these beliefs has meant that they
had a process of being created through nature, are often forced to leave their traditional territories
and that plants as well had that process, and that and communities – sometimes because of the threat
humans was specific to humans, but it was of violence directed toward them due to their gender
understood – in the Ojibwe belief system, it was identity or sexual orientation, and sometimes in
understood that each newborn child had a search of acceptance and belonging that is
purpose, a role and a destiny, and we’re known to unavailable to them in their community.
possess a divine gift. The expression of gender,
sex, and sexual orientation were pre-ordained by As Albert McLeod shared with the National Inquiry,
a life force in the spiritual realm. An important the intersectional oppression faced by Two-Spirit
ethic that prevented homophobia and trans- Indigenous people can alienate them from both
phobia was that of non-interference. It was bad Indigenous and 2SLGBTQQIA communities, particu-
form to question another person’s destiny or larly in times of transition.
divine gifts as it implies you question life itself.
Spirit naming is an important ritual that connects Well, in 1986 … in our sort of little collective in
humans to the spirit world. The name Two-Spirit Winnipeg at the time of gay and lesbian
was introduced through ceremony at a gathering Indigenous People, we were kind of segregated
in 1990 in Manitoba. The name essentially affirms from the broader LGBT community, and there was
that LGBTQIA people are spiritual beings.C really no central place. We had a Friendship Centre
in Winnipeg, but we really didn’t feel aligned with
As McLeod also explained, through Indian residential the Indigenous organizations at the time, and
schools and other practices, the Canadian state because we had two youth suicides within two
enacted a policy that forcibly the altered Indigenous months, it really galvanized us to think about how
gender norms and aimed to erase and exclude can we support these youth so that they’re
2SLGBTQQIA identities and cultural roles – a policy of dealing with whatever they’re dealing [with]
erasure and exclusion that continues today. coming to the city, which is really not a friendly
place to Indigenous people.… So, if you’re First
The imposition of colonial gender norms on Nations, Inuit, or a Métis youth migrating to the
Indigenous Peoples around the world has city, you would be experiencing not only racism,
resulted in the rise of ultra-male and ultra-female but homophobia and transphobia.E
or type of roles in colonial states. Social systems
like health, justice, education, and politics extol Anni P., a Two-Spirit woman who left her community
these binary gender identities as ideal while for Edmonton at the age of 18, describes the difficult
discounting or erasing Indigenous values of and mixed emotions that she grappled with upon
inclusion and non-interference. D leaving.
Leaving Home: Encounters From the age of 18, after my father died, I left
Saskatoon and I moved to Edmonton because –
with Lateral Homophobic you know, finding my Two-Spiritedness, I needed
to find more Two-Spirited people and I knew
and Transphobic Violence there were some in Edmonton. So, I went to
Edmonton to find another part of my tribe. You
The extent to which colonial gender systems have know, I was just searching for pieces of me and –
disrupted traditional Indigenous gender and sexual but during that time – this is a sad part, you know?
identities and cultural roles is most evident for I go back, and I think about it and – I was 18, I
some people in the way the sexist, homophobic, didn’t start my healing journey until I was 25.…
transphobic, and patriarchal beliefs upon which So, when I went to Edmonton, the sad part of this
colonial gender systems rest have been internalized is, in order to heal, I had to leave my Indigenous
and taken up within Indigenous communities. family, right? It was too hard.F
For many Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people, the
448
Albert McLeod said this about his decision to leave
his home community:
Barriers to Finding
Community
I left The Pas when I was 19. I had come out as a
gay male in high school when I was about 17. So, For those who leave their community, moving to an
I was generally seeking a safe community. The urban centre can offer new opportunities and lead to
Pas itself was a very homophobic, transphobic a better sense of connection and community. In part,
environment as well as a racist environment, as Albert McLeod explained, this is because
and people really didn’t have the skills or 2SLGBTQQIA communities often work to support
knowledge to deal with gender identity or sexual those who may be isolated.
orientation.G
And so I think – so what we’ve done in the Two-
Viola Thomas spoke about how the long-term pain Spirit community across Canada, we’ve created,
and isolation of being excluded from one’s family and sort of, chosen families where we have people
community make it imperative that homophobia from different age groups, generations, who kind
and transphobia within Indigenous communities is of act as surrogate parents, grandparents, siblings.
addressed. As I mentioned this morning, you know, I carry
many names, you know, Grannie, Grannie Albert
We also really need to address the homophobia is one of them, Momma. So in that sense, I act as
within Indigenous communities. And I’ve the surrogate of the absent family member.
witnessed so many of my dear friends who are
Two-Spirited in the Downtown Eastside, you Just because of geographic isolation, or it’s
know, how they’ve shared – they would never difficult to go home, or if you are shunned from
ever – if they ever died, they would always tell me, being in your home community, or it’s risky to go
“Don’t ever bury me back home in my community back to your home community, that you know,
because of how I’ve been treated because of who the parents still love them but can’t, because of
I am.” H the segregation or the distance, can’t provide that
safety. We as family members, surrogate family
Like Viola, National Inquiry Grandmother Blu empha- members play that role, so we informally adopt
sized the importance of welcoming Two-Spirit people our peers into our subcultures in the rural, or in
back to their communities. the urban context. There’s a lot of Mommas
around.J
We have driven them out of our communities
because we’ve accepted that gender binary, and For many Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people, however,
our youth are suffering because of that, because the necessity of moving to find community, safety,
our Two-Spirited people are not allowed to be and belonging is often fraught with many of the
who they are, they're not accepted in ceremonies, same challenges they faced at home, as well as
they’re not accepted outside of ceremonies, many new ones. Poverty, homelessness, and barriers
they’re not accepted in their own reserves, to accessing education, training, employment, child
and they’re not accepted in the city, from those care, medical and psychological services, and
Elders in the city, because they’ve been transportation are all factors that many Indigenous
influenced through Christianity and through the people face in their efforts to find a safe community.K
colonial effects, and it's time we bring them back For Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people, these
into the circle because they bring the balance, challenges can be compounded by discrimination
those Two-Spirited youth, and I’ll go anywhere – related to gender and sexual identities.
I’ll go anywhere to help them because I was
fortunate enough to be who I am.I
449
these moments of transition can be grave. In addi- and university, or poor job prospects.WWW For these
tion, the remarkable level of apathy that was demon- reasons, child welfare services that cease providing
strated, at least until recently, for a crisis that has been support for youth at a relatively young age place
worsening for decades underscores the extent to youth in jeopardy. While there are programs that seek
which governments are cognizant of this price, and to fill these gaps, they don’t exist everywhere and
aware of the need to change. aren’t all successful. Many testimonies before the Na-
tional Inquiry gave examples of how youth aging out
The National Inquiry heard specific testimony related of care ended in homelessness and sometimes even
to the price of waiting, particularly in moments of death.
transition. For instance, “aging out of care” refers to
the process by which many children in foster care are As First Nations Family Advocate for the Assembly of
abandoned when they reach the age of majority – in Manitoba Chiefs Cora Morgan testified, the outcomes
most cases, 18 – by child and family services systems for children aging out of care in Manitoba, for exam-
funded to support children and youth up to a certain ple, are not good.
age. Many of these children simply “age out” of the
child welfare system, without having forged a stable The education outcomes in Manitoba for chil-
family connection and without the skills to survive, dren in our care, only 25% of them graduate high
let alone thrive, on their own. school, and you know, we have high populations
of homeless people due to children aging out of
As the Canadian Coalition for the Rights of Children’s care. You know, those are the things that when
research demonstrates, provincial child welfare sys- you take children out of the community and, you
tems do not adequately prepare youth for life after know, they lose language, they lose connection,
care and directly contribute to lower graduation rates they lose family, and then they come into Win-
from high school, greater mental health issues, and a nipeg and they’re searching for some sort of be-
greater likelihood of becoming involved in the youth longing, and it’s not always in a good place.XXX
criminal justice system.UUU
Turpel-Lafond presented Paige’s Story, a report about
Stephen Gaetz, professor and director of the Cana- the death of a girl who aged out of care and then
dian Observatory on Homelessness at York University, died in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. As she said
points out: in her testimony:
Difficult transitions from care often result in a Essentially, the story of Paige’s life is that she
range of negative outcomes, such as homeless- moved around Vancouver, and particularly, in the
ness, unemployment, lack of educational en- Downtown Eastside, and she aged out of care in
gagement and achievement, involvement in a way that many youth age out of care. And I cer-
corrections, lack of skills and potentially, a life of tainly heard and worked with them extensively,
poverty. Many young people who leave care fail which is essentially being given sort of their be-
to make the transition to independent living be- longings in a garbage bag and being sent, in
cause of underdeveloped living skills, inade- British Columbia, kind of to the curb at 19. So
quate education, lower levels of physical and Paige aged out of care, and she had no place to
emotional well-being and lack of supports and live. The only place she had to live was in the
resources that most young people rely on when Downtown Eastside. And she died, tragically, of
moving into adulthood.VVV a drug overdose at 19 years old in the Downtown
Eastside.YYY
In addition, in many jurisdictions, the rules governing
child welfare ignore more recent social and economic Resolving the issues of ongoing apprehension, as
changes, making it more difficult for youth to live on well as of aging out of care without proper support,
their own at an early age. For example, over 40% of is key. Some Indigenous organizations have advo-
Canadians aged 20 to 29 live with their parents due cated for greater federal legislative input in child
to high costs of housing, their attendance at college welfare systems, seeing it as a means by which In-
351
digenous self-determination may also be better companied by Assembly of First Nations National
facilitated.ZZZ Improving accountability in the child Chief Perry Bellegarde, Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami Presi-
welfare system for past and current practices is an im- dent Natan Obed, and Métis National Council Presi-
portant issue. The problematic consequences of pri- dent Clément Chartier, Philpott pointed out that
mary provincial control over child welfare systems Indigenous children represent 52.2% of children in
include significant disparities from province to foster care in private homes in Canada, and that these
province concerning the extent to which each children face greater risks regarding health out-
provincial government will recognize Indigenous comes, violence, and incarceration.EEEE As the govern-
jurisdiction over Indigenous children in the child ment’s summary of the meeting explains, the steps
welfare system, including the extent to which First being taken reflect a need for significant legislative
Nations agencies will be delegated authority to ad- change.
minister these systems (and receive financial and
technical support to do so).AAAA Further, conflicts and Currently, Indigenous families are bound by rules
inconsistencies can arise between provincial child and systems that are not reflective of their cul-
welfare legislation and federal funding frameworks. tures and identities. The goal of the proposed
While Canadian constitutional law fails to provide legislation is to change that. It aims to support
clarity over interjurisdictional financial responsibili- Indigenous families to raise their children within
ties, especially in cases in which federal and provin- their homelands and nations as well as increase
cial jurisdiction may overlap, federal legislation efforts to prevent child apprehension where pos-
(coordinated with the provinces and territories) may sible and safe to do so.FFFF
provide more clarity.BBBB
The proposed legislation is intended to affirm section
In her testimony, Dr. Valérie Gideon, regional director 35 rights of the Canadian Constitution and support
for First Nations and Inuit Health, Ontario Region for the Calls to Action of the TRC, as well as operate in
Health Canada, talked about a working group re- line with Canada’s commitments to UNDRIP and the
cently appointed by the minister of Justice to review CRC. According to the government, the proposed
“all laws, policies and operational procedures in the legislation is based on the principle and the right to
context of the United Nations Declaration and the self-determination for Indigenous Peoples to deter-
rights of Indigenous peoples in section 35.” mine their own laws, policies, and practices for child
and family services.
As she pointed out:
The focus on the legislation, Minister Philpott main-
It’s a question of prioritization and I mean, there’s tained, was necessary and would provide “a powerful
been a – obviously now, with Minister Bennett tool to support these efforts.” Minister Carolyn Ben-
very actively consulting with First Nations, Inuit, nett, Minister of Crown-Indigenous Relations, said,
and Métis on the recognition and implementa- “This is a critical step in supporting the rights and
tion of Indigenous rights framework, and there’s well-being of Indigenous children. The status quo is
also discussions with respect to child and family not acceptable.”GGGG
services and potential legislation, so there is a lot
of work underway.CCCC Indigenous leaders, similarly, cited the importance of
reforming child and family services in ways that re-
This includes a more active engagement with those spect, as Assembly of First Nations National Chief
not traditionally serviced by the federal government, Perry Bellegarde explained, “our rights, cultures, fam-
such as Métis and Inuit. Over the course of the work- ily structures…. First Nations are ready to focus on
ing group’s review, “more than 65 engagement ses- prevention over apprehension, and apply First
sions with nearly 2,000 participants were held.”DDDD Nations laws, policies and cultural values that place
children at the centre of our Nations.” Inuit Tapiriit
In late 2018, then-Indigenous Services Minister Jane Kanatami President Natan Obed reiterated the com-
Philpott announced that the government of Canada mitment of Inuit to “working constructively and on a
will introduce co-developed federal legislation on In- distinctions basis towards the co-development of
digenous child and family services in early 2019. Ac- federal child and family welfare legislation to help
352
meaningfully address social inequity in Inuit nal vision, that was broken apart; in some cases,
Nunangat, and across Canada, and ultimately more than in others. And so, one of the first
decrease the overrepresentation of Inuit children in things is to re-dream what that looks like, and
care.” Clément Chartier, president of the Métis then work with community to re-establish that
National Council, asserted: dream.JJJJ
This proposed legislation will provide a new One example is the First Nations Child and Family
chapter towards increased recognition that we, Caring Society’s Touchstones of Hope project to pro-
the Métis Nation, are best placed to nurture and mote reconciliation in the area of child welfare,
to care for our children. This is an unprecedented launched in 2005. This project is based on five princi-
initiative that will ensure the survival, dignity and ples. They include:
well-being of our families, communities and
nation for generations to come.HHHH • self-determination: respecting that Indigenous
Peoples are in the best position to make deci-
On February 28, 2019, Indigenous Services Minister sions regarding Indigenous children;
Seamus O’Regan introduced Bill C-92, An Act respect-
ing First Nations, Inuit and Métis children, youth and • holism: respecting the child as part of an inter-
families. Co-developed with Indigenous partners, in- connected reality where family, community, Na-
cluding the Assembly of First Nations, Inuit Tapiriit tion, and world are all honoured;
Kanatami, and the Métis National Council, the Bill
seeks to affirm Indigenous Peoples’ inherent right to • culture and language: honouring the culture
exercise jurisdiction over child and family services, as and language of an Indigenous child and sup-
well as to “establish national principles such as best porting that through the provision of culturally
interests of the child, cultural continuity and substan- based child welfare and family support serv-
tive equality to guide the interpretation and admin- ices;
istration of the Bill.”IIII Significantly, the Bill outlines
new factors for consideration in determining what is • structural interventions: addressing poverty,
meant by the “best interests” of an Indigenous child poor housing, and substance misuse as key
in care, including cultural, linguistic, and spiritual val- components to effective child welfare and fam-
ues and the ongoing and important aspect of rela- ily support services for Indigenous children; and
tionship with one's biological family, community, and
Indigenous group. The Bill also emphasizes the need • non-discrimination: providing Indigenous chil-
to focus on prevention to reduce apprehension, and dren with a comparable level of child welfare
to provide care to support families as an integral unit. and allied services as provided to non-Indige-
nous children and giving preference to Indige-
Conclusion: “Our ability to nous knowledge when responding to the
needs of Indigenous children.KKKK
dream for ourselves”
The National Inquiry heard about other programs,
In identifying solutions, Cindy Blackstock argued that too, that enhance connection to community and that
it is important to are aimed at confronting this crisis. In her testimony,
Cora Morgan talked about a program from the First
re-embrace those cultural ways of keeping kids Nations Children’s Advocate Office, where they work
safe and be prepared to do that…. We feel that to help mothers whose newborn babies are likely to
one of the things taken from many Indigenous be apprehended. This initiative focuses on creating
Peoples through colonization, perhaps even, I cultural connection and safety, from birth. As she ex-
would argue, the most important thing was our plained:
ability to dream for ourselves. What does a
healthy Gitxsan family and child look like? Some Newborn babies, we were getting calls from
of us have pieces of that vision, but that commu- moms who, upon the discharge of their babies,
353
they were going to be apprehended. So we As the programs and efforts in this Deeper Dive
started responding at the hospital to try and pre- demonstrate, the answers are there. As Cindy Black-
vent babies from being taken. And then we stock argued:
started trying to offer more. We soon had the
ability to offer moccasins.LLLL A lot of people think that we need to find new
answers to remedy some of the most pressing
She also cited the Sacred Babies workshop, where problems confronting First Nations children in
families create bundles for their family.MMMM care and their families. I argue against that. I
think that, actually, we have known for, for at
For children already in care, witnesses testifying be- least, 111 years, the inequalities that have been
fore the National Inquiry also identified a number of facing these communities, and how that has
practices focused on cultural safety that could ulti- piled up on the hopes and dreams of children
mately help create a sense of belonging for the child, and, in fact, incentivized their removal of chil-
and improve outcomes later in life. As Mary Ellen dren – from their families. First, in residential
Turpel-Lafond discussed, cultural plans for children schools; then, through the Sixties Scoop; now, in
in foster care are necessary to maintain strong ties to contemporary times.OOOO
community and to cultural identity, and, thereby, to
personal safety. She explained: The existing child welfare system inflicts violence on
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
I think that it should be required that there be and contributes in significant ways to a lack of safety.
what I called early cultural plans, which means
there has to be an operationalized cultural plan.
So you don’t just, like, go later and find out who
your family is…. So there isn’t that discontinuity
between your identity, your culture, and your
time in foster care.NNNN
354
Findings:
• The Canadian state has used child welfare laws and agencies as a tool to oppress, displace, disrupt, and destroy
Indigenous families, communities, and Nations. It is a tool in the genocide of Indigenous Peoples.
• State child welfare laws, policies, and services are based on non-Indigenous laws, values, and world views and,
as such, are ineffective. Further, they violate inherent Indigenous rights to govern and to hold jurisdiction over
child and family services.
• The apprehension of a child from their mother is a form of violence against the child. It also represents the
worst form of violence against the mother. Apprehension disrupts the familial and cultural connections that
are present in Indigenous communities, and, as such, it denies the child the safety and security of both.
• There is a direct link between current child welfare systems and the disappearances and murders of, and
violence experienced by, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
• The state has a fiduciary obligation to children and youth in its care. Canada has failed to support Indigenous
children who are in state care to safely grow into adulthood.
• Indigenous children are removed from their families due to conditions of poverty or as a result of racial and
cultural bias. The state characterizes these circumstances as “neglect.” This is a form of discrimination and
violence.
• The use of birth alerts against Indigenous mothers, including mothers who were in care themselves, can be
the sole basis for the apprehension of their newborn children. Birth alerts are racist and discriminatory and
are a gross violation of the rights of the child, the mother, and the community.
• The child welfare system fails to meet the needs of Indigenous children and youth and fails to protect them
from abuse and exploitation. State failure to protect has assisted human traffickers in targeting children and
youth in care for sexual exploitation.
• State funding of child welfare services incentivizes the apprehension of Indigenous children and youth. This is
exemplified by the state’s prioritizing funding for foster homes over economic and support services to families;
state policies that limit access to specialized support services unless the child is in care; and agency funding
models that are predicated on the number of children in the agency’s care.
• Gaps in child and family services and infrastructure in northern and remote communities result in the dispro-
portionately high rate of Inuit, Métis, and First Nations children being sent out of their communities and regions
to obtain services and care in other jurisdictions. This can result in jurisdictional neglect and culturally unsafe
services. Further, it can result in the denial of the human rights and Indigenous rights of the children and their
families.
355
A Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Y Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10,
Volume 2, Iqualuit, NU; Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Toronto, ON, p. 187.
Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, Z Bennett, “First Nations Fact Sheet,” 1.
MB; Jackie Anderson (Métis), Part 2, Public Volume 3,
Calgary, AB. AA Albert and Herbert, “Child Welfare.”
B Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10, BB Bennett, “First Nations Fact Sheet,” 1.
Toronto, ON, pp. 256-257. CC As quoted in Bennett, “First Nations Fact Sheet,” 2.
C Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10, DD Sinha and Kozlowski, “The Structure of Aboriginal Child
Toronto, ON, p. 259. Welfare,” 7.
D Gaetz et al., as cited in Hyslop, “How poverty and EE Bennett, “First Nations Fact Sheet,” 2.
underfunding.” FF For a list of agencies, see First Nations Child and Family
E Representative for Children and Youth and British Colum- Caring Society, “First Nations Child and Family Service
bia Office of the Provincial Health Officer, “Kids, Crime and Agencies in Canada.”
Care.” GG Blackstock, “Aboriginal Child Welfare,” cited in Bennett,
F Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First Nations), “First Nations Fact Sheet,” 4.
Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, HH Bennett, “First Nations Fact Sheet,” 2, 4.
pp. 182-183.
II Walkem and Bruce, “Calling Forth Our Future,” 62.
G Malone, “Change to Manitoba's child apprehension.”
JJ Ibid, 61.
H Natalie G. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18,
Membertou, NS, p. 87. KK Nisga’a Lisims Government, “About NCFS.”
I Krugel, “Child welfare system.” LL Bennett, “First Nations Fact Sheet,” 5.
J Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10, MM Ibid., 5-6.
Toronto, ON, p. 260. NN McDonald, Ladd, et al., “First Nations Child and Family
K “The Beginnings of the Convention on the Rights of the Services,” 119.
Child.” OO Bostrom, Rogan and Asselin, “The Aboriginal Justice
L Dr. Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 and 3, Inquiry,” cited in Allard-Chartrand et al., “Métis Children
Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, p. 202. and Families,” 10.
M Canadian Council of Provincial and Youth Advocates, PP Ibid.

“Aboriginal Children.” QQ Bourassa, “Summary review,” cited in “Métis Children and
N McIntyre, Walsh and Connor, “A Follow-Up Study of Child Families,” 10.
Hunger,” as quoted in Bennett and Auger, “The Rights of RR Ibid, 10.
First Nations Children,” 3. SS Ibid, 11.
O Canadian Coalition for the Rights of Children (CCRC), TT Ibid.
“The System Needs Fixing,” 2.
UU Ibid, 12.
P Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada,
Calls to Action, p. 1. VV Ibid, 12.
Q Ibid. WW Ibid.
R Bennett and Auger, “The Rights of First Nations XX Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, Canada’s
Children,” 4. Residential Schools: The History…, 52.
S United Nations, Human Rights Committee, “Concluding YY “Métis Child & Family Services Society.”
observations,” in CCRC, “The System Needs Fixing,” 5. ZZ Rae, “Inuit Child Welfare,” 4.
T Ibid. AAA Ibid.
U Ibid. BBB Ibid.
V Ibid. CCC Canada, Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development
W Bennett and Auger, “The Rights of First Nations Children,” Canada, “Inuvialuit Self-Government Negotiations.”
8. DDD Labrador Inuit Land Claims Agreement, “Land Claims
X Reported by Barrera, “Indigenous child welfare rates.” Agreement,” 264.
EEE Rae, “Inuit Child Welfare,” 10.
356
FFF Nunatsiaq News, “Judge: Nunavut child protection,” as TTT Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10,
cited in Rae, “Inuit Child Welfare,” p. 11. Toronto, ON, p. 260.
GGG Office of the Auditor General, 2011 March Report of the UUU CCRC, “The System Needs Fixing .”
Auditor General of Canada. VVV Gaetz et al., “Without a Home,” 49-50.
HHH Commission des droits de la personne et de droits de la WWW Gaetz, “Coming of Age,” 2.
jeunesse Québec, “Investigation into Child and Youth.”
XXX Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
III Rae, “Inuit Child Welfare,” 11-12. Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 153-154.
JJJ Commission des droits de la personne et de droits de la YYY Dr. Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
jeunesse Québec, “Investigation into Child and Youth.” Public Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, p. 77.
KKK Rae, “Inuit Child Welfare,” 11-12. ZZZ Grammond, "Federal Legislation,” 136.
LLL Fennario, “One in three Inuit youth.” AAAA Ibid.
MMM Jordan’s Principle dictates that if a First Nations child is in BBBB Ibid.
need of services, they must receive them immediately from
the government of first contact. The principle arose in re- CCCC Dr. Valérie Gideon (Mik'maq Nation of Gesgapegiag), Part
sponse to jurisdictional disputes that would arise between 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 50.
the provincial and federal governments over which juris- DDDD Canada, Indigenous Services Canada, “Government of
diction would have to pay for these medical services. Canada.”
NNN Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10, EEEE Ibid.
Toronto, ON, p. 246. FFFF Ibid.
OOO First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada v GGGG Ibid.
Attorney General of Canada (for the Minister of Indian
and Northern Affairs Canada) 2016 CHRT. HHHH Ibid.
PPP First Nations Child and Family Caring Society, IIII Canada, Indigenous Services Canada, “An Act.”
“Memorandum of Fact,” 8. JJJJ Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10,
QQQ First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada v Toronto, ON, pp. 257-258.
Attorney General of Canada (for the Minister of Indian KKKK Blackstock et al, “Reconciliation in Child Welfare.”
and Northern Affairs Canada) 2016 CHRT 2. LLLL Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
RRR Ostroff, “Trudeau budget continues illegal discrimination.” Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 45-46.
SSS Alberta, British Columbia, and Manitoba governments MMMM Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
have commissioned multiple reviews of their respective Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 46.
child welfare systems. Saskatchewan, Quebec, and New NNNN Dr. Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
Brunswick have all initiated reviews of their respective Public Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, p. 289.
child welfare systems. Ontario, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland
and Labrador, and the Yukon do not appear to have com- OOOO Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10,
missioned such reviews of studies within their respective Toronto, ON, p. 182.
jurisdictions.
357
First Nations and Métis Elders are
recognized and thanked at the close of
the hearings on racism in Toronto,
Ontario.
The Impact of Colonial Systems on Identity, Family, and Culture

Of the systems we heard most about, and those that represent shared experiences across Indige-
nous groups including First Nations, Métis, and Inuit, the residential and day school experiences,
as well as Sixties Scoop or child welfare interventions, are an important catalyst for violence
against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. More specifically, the ongoing
suffering caused by these experiences through the disruption of family systems continues to
jeopardize the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This is particularly
true for those left to deal with the legacies of these systems for their families, as manifested in
physical or emotional abuse, in unresolved pain, in poverty, or in substance abuse.
Some of the abuses that occurred in the context of state-sponsored assimilative schooling and of
foster care are described in more detail in Chapter 4. This section focuses on how these experi-
ences serve to weaken family and community ties – ties that ultimately can work to restore safety
and to protect Indigenous women. These impacts are not short-term. As many witnesses
described, they can last for years.
In one case, Shara L. talked about how hard it was to have eight brothers and sisters but grow up
separate from them because of residential school. Ultimately, this transformed her family forever.
She described running into one of her family members at an Elders’ Gathering.
As I got closer, [I saw] it was my [elder family member]. I was just like, “Oh, my God….”
And I was going to hug, he got up and he just hugged me over the counter. A barrier
between us, and even I wanted to go around and give him a full body hug. No, he was –
“Hey, [family member], how are you doing?” Like, not even – not even a minute. You
know. And right away my defences went up to block, a wall just came up, and I just
instantly – “Hold your emotions back. Don’t show your love. Don't – don’t express
yourself,” and this was going through my head because he did the same thing. He just
give me the real quick hug, not even a hug. Right away I knew. Yeah, he’s still affected
at 60-plus years old. He still has that mentality, that, what he was taught in residential
school.34
358
Findings:
• 2SLGBTQQIA individuals have been impacted by colonial violence in ways that are both similar to, and distinct
from, cis-gender women and girls.
• 2SLGBTQQIA individuals face distinct challenges in their efforts to meet their needs for culture, identity, health,
security, and justice in the face of discrimination and violence, both within and outside of Indigenous commu-
nities (that is, transphobia and homophobia within Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities, as well as
racism outside of Indigenous communities, including racism from mainstream 2SLGBTQQIA organizations and
services), which can alienate 2SLGBTQQIA people from both Indigenous and 2SLGBTQQIA communities.
• Many traditional Indigenous cultures held an honourable place for 2SLGBTQQIA persons. This honourable place
was destroyed by cis-normative and heteronormative colonial policies that aimed to erase and exclude
2SLGBTQQIA identities and cultural roles. As a result, there is a lack of awareness of the distinct roles of
2SLGBTQQIA people in Indigenous culture and ceremony.
• Colonization also led to tensions within First Nations, Inuit, and Métis communities regarding differing perspectives
on gender identity and sexual orientation, and the associated barriers to accessing culture and ceremony, as a
result of colonization.
• While some 2SLGBTQQIA individuals are embraced and supported by their communities, which allows them
to participate in ceremonies in a way that aligns with their gender identity, others face discrimination, margin-
alization, and harassment. Some are permitted to take on only roles in ceremonies that correspond with their
biological sex, instead of with their gender identity.
• Despite challenges, many 2SLGBTQQIA people are resisting and reclaiming their traditional roles in community
and culture, and taking up positions as effective advocates working to end colonial violence.
• Even though many 2SLGBTQQIA individuals are reclaiming their traditional roles, they are often forced to leave
their traditional territories and communities, sometimes because of the threat of violence directed toward them
due to their gender identity or sexual orientation. For many 2SLGBTQQIA people, moving to find community,
safety, and belonging is often fraught with many of the same challenges they faced at home, as well as many
new ones.
• For example, 2SLGBTQQIA individuals face barriers and discrimination in accessing a broad range of services
and in accessing services that are appropriate to their needs, including housing (emergency shelter and safe
long-term housing); health, mental health, and addictions treatment; child welfare; Elder care; policing; correc-
tions; criminal justice; and victim and other support services.
• In particular, there is a lack of appropriate emergency housing and shelters and safe housing to meet the needs
of 2SLGBTQQIA individuals in all communities. Therefore, 2SLGBTQQIA people are forced to live in unsafe
conditions.
• There is also a lack of access to appropriate health care that specifically meets the needs of 2SLGBTQQIA
individuals, particularly in remote and northern regions.
• 2SLGBTQQIA individuals experience marginalization that is evidenced by poverty, limited education, and limited
employment opportunities. This marginalization forces some 2SLGBTQQIA individuals into the sex industry. As
a result, 2SLGBTQQIA individuals must contend with further violence. Racist, homophobic, and transphobic at-
titudes of police make it difficult for 2SLGBTQQIA individuals to seek and receive police protection.
• Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA youth face particular barriers and discrimination with child welfare systems.
• Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people, and trans people in particular, face barriers and discrimination in federal and
provincial correctional systems.
• Current data collection methods and practices lead to inaccurate or incomplete data on violence against
2SLGBTQQIA people, contributing to the erasure or invisibility of 2SLGBTQQIA individuals and their experiences.
458
A The term “cis-gender”refers to a person whose sense of V Jasmine Redfern (Inuit), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3,
personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth Iqaluit, NU, p. 142.
sex. W Jasmine Redfern (Inuit), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3,
B Jasmine Redfern (Inuit), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 142.
Iqaluit, NU, p. 143. X See, for instance, the experience Jamie shared about being
C Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis strip-searched by the police as documented in Chapter 1.
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8, Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78,
Toronto, ON, pp. 54–55. Vancouver, BC, pp. 12–13.
D Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis Y Alaya M. (Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation), Part 1, Public
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8, Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 23–24.
Toronto, ON, p. 64. Z Jasmine Redfern (Inuit), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3,
E Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis Iqaluit, NU; T.J. Lightfoot. (Mi’kmaq), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU; Hunt, “An Introduction to the
Toronto, ON, pp. 47–48. Health of Two-Spirit People,” pp. 15–16.
F Anni P. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 80, Vancouver, BC, p. 14. AA Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis
G Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8,
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8, Toronto, ON, p. 53.
Toronto, ON, p. 44. BB Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Part 3,
H Viola Thomas (Kamloops Tk'emlúps te Secwepemc), Part 1, Public Volume 8, Toronto, ON, p. 263.
Public Volume 104, Vancouver, BC, p. 13. CC Jasmine Redfern (Inuit), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3,
I Blu W. (Cree/Mi'kmaq/Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 117, Iqaluit, NU, p. 174.
Vancouver, BC, pp. 43–44. DD Hunt, “An Introduction to the Health of Two-Spirit People,”
J Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis 15.
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8, EE Canada, Department of Justice Canada, “Data Sources on In-
Toronto, ON, p. 156. digenous Victimization.”
K Hunt, “An Introduction to the Health of Two-Spirit People”; FF Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7,
Lyons et al., “Experiences of Trans Women”; Taylor, “Health Quebec City, QC, pp. 239–240.
and Safety Issues.” GG Shaun L. (Kaska Dena, Crow Clan), Part 1, Public Volume 3,
L Jamie Lee Hamilton (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume Whitehorse, YT, p. 23.
104, Vancouver, BC, pp. 20–21. HH Ristock et al., “Impacts of Colonization.”
M Jasmine Redfern (Inuit), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, II Sinha, “Measuring Violence against Women,” 19.
JJ Lehavot et al. as quoted in Hunt, “An Introduction to the
N Ristock et al., “Impacts of Colonization.” Health of Two-Spirit People,” 15.
O Jasmine Redfern (Inuit), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, KK Taylor, “Health and Safety Issues.”
LL T.J. Lightfoot (Mi’kmaq), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3,
P T.J. Lightfoot (Mi’kmaq), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 81.
MM Ristock et al., “Impacts of Colonization.”
Q Fallon Andy indicated that their preferred pronoun is
they/them. Witnesses testifying as part of 2SLGBTQQIA NN Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Part 3,
communities emphasized the importance of respecting and Public Volume 8, Toronto, ON, pp. 189–190.
using their preferred pronoun. OO Bernie W. (Haida/Nuu-chah-nulth/Coast Salish), Part 1, Public
R Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Part 3, Volume 115, Vancouver, BC, pp. 17, 18.
Public Volume 8, Toronto, ON, p. 190. PP Ruth M. (Dene), Part 1, Statement Volume 214, Yellowknife,
S T.J. Lightfoot (Mi’kmaq), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, NWT, pp. 3–4.
Iqaluit, NU, p. 141. QQ Anni P. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 80, Vancouver, BC, pp.
T Saewyc et al., “Homeless and Street-Involved”; Hunt, “An 14–15.
Introduction to the Health of Two-Spirit People.” RR Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78,
U Saewyc et al., 24. Vancouver, BC, pp. 5–6.
459
SS Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78, BBB Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour (Tk’emlups te Secwepemc/English),
Vancouver, BC, pp. 26–31. Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 191.
TT Alaya M. (Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation), CCC Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour (Tk’emlups te Secwepemc/English),
Part 1, Public Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, p. 18. Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 192.
UU Alaya M. (Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation), Part 1, Public DDD Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis
Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 18–19. community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8,
VV Alaya M. (Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation), Part 1, Public Toronto, ON, p. 51.
Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 36. EEE Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Part 3,
WW Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis Public Volume 8, Toronto, ON, p. 131.
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8, FFF Shaun L. (Kaska Dena, Crow Clan), Part 1, Public Volume 3,
Toronto, ON, pp. 64–65. Whitehorse, YT, pp. 22–23.
XX Muriel D. (Cree), Part 1, Statement Volume 98, Edmonton, GGG Viola Thomas (Kamloops Tk'emlúps te Secwepemc), Part 1,
AB, p. 2. Public Volume 104, Vancouver, BC, p. 6.
YY Leona W. (Nakaneet First Nation), Part 1, Statement Volume HHH Shaun L. (Kaska Dena, Crow Clan), Part 1, Public Volume 3,
127, Saskatoon, SK, p. 51. Whitehorse, YT, p. 16.
ZZ Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Part 3, III T.J. Lightfoot (Mi’kmaq), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3,
Public Volume 8, Toronto, ON, pp. 109-110. To visit the data- Iqaluit, NU, p. 149.
base, see http://itstartswithus-mmiw.com/community- JJJ Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour (Tk’emlups te Secwepemc/English),
lists/#1485456734282-51068426-c39f. Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 195.
AAA Albert McLeod (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation/Métis
community of Norway House), Part 3, Public Volume 8,
Toronto, ON, p. 50.
460
Carol B. was able to forgive her mother and recognize how her experiences of abuse and
structural marginalization made it difficult for her to parent. However, unlike family members
like Carol, the Canadian state, child welfare workers, and legislators continue to see things other-
wise.
“I HONESTLY CAN’T IMAGINE WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE BRUTALIZED ON A DAILY

BASIS. MADE TO FEEL THAT YOU’RE NOTHING. I – AND IT HURTS MY HEART.
AND THAT’S WHY I WAS ABLE TO FORGIVE MY MOTHER. YOU KNOW, SHE DID
THE BEST THAT SHE COULD WITH WHAT SHE HAD. AND LIKE I SAID EARLIER,
I THINK IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO LOVE IF YOU HAVE NOT FELT LOVE YOURSELF.”
Carol B.
For many witnesses, one of the most severe ongoing impacts of the residential school system on
Indigenous families and culture is the way it contributes to the creation of conditions used by the
Canadian state to justify the removal of Indigenous children from their homes. As some witnesses
were careful to note, the Sixties Scoop and the ongoing crisis of child apprehension are commonly
viewed as the continuation of the assimilative school systems in which many Indigenous Peoples
were swept away. As Corey O’Soup explained to the National Inquiry:
You know, at the height of the residential school system, there were thousands of kids
being taken away from homes.… The current foster care system, there is more kids in
our current system than were ever in the residential school system. And it’s not a
historical issue, it’s a contemporary issue. Kids are still being taken away.40
Carol B. put it this way:

We have another residential school system starting with child welfare. How many
children do we have in care right now? Our children are maybe not being taken away and
put in schools, but they’re put – being put in foster homes…. Is that not the same? I mean,
we just got our children back. And now, they’re being taken away again to be raised by –
and I’m sorry to say, non-Native families, they need to be placed with Native families.
Native foster homes. Once again, we’re being stripped away of our culture, our language,
our family, our roots. They’re doing it to us all over again, but in a different way. And that
needs to change.41
The connections that witnesses drew between residential school attendance and child welfare are
confirmed in research shared by Amy Bombay.
And, we found that, again, having a parent who went to residential school was linked with
more reports of cumulative exposure to various childhood adversities, and we found that
that, in turn, kind of was a pathway leading to people being more likely to have spent time
in foster care. So, we did find that those with a parent who went to residential school were
more likely to spend time in foster care, and that those adverse childhood experiences were
a key factor in that cycle across generations.42
361
altogether. In some of these cases, one of the consequences of this lack of care was the disappear-
ance or death of a loved one. Dr. Barry Lavallee, former director of student support and educa-
tion for the Centre for Aboriginal Health Education at the University of Manitoba, gave an
example of how racism works within the Canadian health care system to create barriers for all
Indigenous Peoples.
[A person] who is identified as Indigenous either by their brown skin, or their name, or if
they identify themselves is that an Indigenous person cannot enter a health care system
except in stereotype…. It means that if you’re a brown skin Indigenous man and you may
have had a beer at a barbeque, but you’re not an alcoholic, and you go to emerg[ency],
there’s a chance that you will be assigned the stereotype of being a drunken Indian. And,
[they’ll assume that] the chest pain you’re experiencing has nothing to do with your heart,
but with alcoholic gastritis. And so, the differential access for particular treatments as well
as investigations are harnessed on stereotyping.91
In many of the stories shared by witnesses, coping mechanisms, such as drugs and alcohol,
that they had been using to manage previously unaddressed health-related concerns, including
trauma, are used against Indigenous people in ways that at times further undermine their health.
As we heard, for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who have experienced or
are experiencing violence and may be using drugs or alcohol to cope with that violence, the
consequences of negligence within the health care system can be severe.
“DUE TO MY HISTORY WITH ADDICTIONS AND MY SISTER’S HISTORY WITH

ADDICTIONS, WE WERE BOTH DISCRIMINATED AGAINST WITHIN THE HEALTH CARE
SYSTEM. I WAS LUCKY ENOUGH TO FIGURE OUT WHAT WAS GOING ON AND GET THE
PROPER HEALTH CARE, AND SHE WASN’T. BECAUSE OF THAT SHE PASSED AWAY. IF
SHE WASN’T DISCRIMINATED AGAINST AND THEY HAD HELPED HER AND DIDN’T
LOOK AT HER AS AN ADDICT, SHE MAY STILL BE HERE TODAY.”
Jaylene D.
In describing what happened when she was discharged from the hospital following a drug
overdose, Melissa C. demonstrated how she was placed in an extremely dangerous situation
that could have led to further harm or violence, were it not for her assertiveness.
I was visiting a cousin in the northwest area of the city. There was just the two of us,
and we were watching a hockey game. A woman showed up and she provided me with
marijuana that had been laced with something, and I didn't know. I overdosed. I stopped
breathing. I had a grand mal seizure, and I was transported to the [deleted] hospital.
Despite the fact that I had no jacket, no shoes, no money, I was asked to leave at 6:30
a.m. on that cold fall … morning. It was dark and it was cold and I was alone. Nobody
462
knew where I was. And I lingered in the entrance because when I went outside, I was so
cold, and I had no shoes, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do or where I was
supposed to go. So, I went back and I begged them to help me. And the worker at that
time only got annoyed with me, but I was persistent, because I didn’t want to go walking
by myself. I still had the heart monitor stickers attached to me. After a lot of begging and
asking, I was granted a taxi slip.…
The next month, they found a body right where I was, where I was supposed to walk
by…. And they told me that I had to walk with no shoes and no money.92
For other witnesses, stereotypes about Indigenous Peoples and addictions such as those described
by Barry Lavallee can play into the kind of treatment they can access. For example, Doris G., a
survivor of childhood abuse, domestic abuse, and family violence, was forced into sex work as a
teenager and became addicted to crack and alcohol. As she reported, “I started getting sick. My
sister worked at [the] hospital, and she red-flagged my name, so when I came in for help, they
treated me like an addict and just heavily medicated me and just sent me home.” Ultimately,
doctors performed emergency surgery to remove her gallbladder, and found a type of cervical
cancer that could have been prevented with proper vaccination.93
In Jaylene D.’s case, these assumptions likewise impacted the level of services offered to her
sister and ultimately drove her back to danger. Jaylene, whose sister eventually overdosed, re-
ports how her sister had bad sores on her feet where she was in her early 30s and used a walker
because she couldn't walk on her own. She would go to the hospital to find relief to manage the
pain and heal her feet.
Due to her history with addictions, she wasn’t getting the help she needed. They weren’t
properly medicating her to accommodate her pain. Because of that, she resorted to using
drugs…. On one of her trips to Edmonton, her last trip, she connected with one of her
friends from school, and she ended up buying crystal meth. That crystal meth killed her.
She went into cardiac arrest seven times within half an hour, and then was, I think, dead
on arrival at the hospital.94
Jaylene herself had a similar experience in trying to secure proper medical care.
I was in the hospital at one point … I was in so much pain, I couldn’t handle it. I, as
well, have a history with drug addictions. When I was asking the doctors to properly
medicate me – as well, on my file the history with addictions is there – one of the
doctors had told me that he is not going to give me anything just to get me high.95
Jaylene links her sister’s discriminatory experience within the system to the violence she
experienced later on.
463
Darlene S. shared a similar experience. Speaking of her time in care, and of the worker assigned
to her case, she said:
She was a true … welfare agent. She was like this mean woman who was, like, going to
do her job properly, and at the time I wasn’t even sure who she was until she says, until
she said who she was … and that’s all she said, that, “You are not to have any contact
with your Indian relatives.” Those were her words.45
Carol B. spoke about the impact of this alienation on her sense of self and connection to culture.
I mean, I grew up in the system. And at that time, like, any time I would ask my foster
parents any information about my family, they would just say, you know, well, that’s in
the past, you should be grateful that you have a roof over your head. And the past needs
to be left behind. So not even having that information – not having – not knowing where
your roots are. It just makes you feel that you don’t know where you belong. Do I belong
in the Native world? Do I belong in the non-Native? So you grow up feeling confused.46
In many cases, siblings were separated, never to see each other again. In other cases, they did
find each other – but not before their experience in care marked these relationships for life. As
Danielle E. shared:
When I was about nine and Laney [Eleanor, her sister] was 10, they were separating us from
our home…. In our backyard at that foster home, we had this couch, and we used to use it as
a playhouse. And, Eleanor and I were on there, and we promised each other that no matter
what, when we grew up, we would find – we would find each other. And, we did.47
Carol M. noted:
It reflects a lot of what our people have gone through, you know, from being a child
growing up in the foster home, in a white home, trying to connect back with your family,
with your culture. Lost. I think they say a lot of our kids didn’t come home from
residential school. You know, that’s true. A lot of them died and a lot of them got lost
inside of themselves. We got lost. We were lost. We are lost. I don’t think any of us have
come home.48
In her testimony, Carla M. made a connection between the loss of culture and values instilled
through traditional teaching and contemporary attitudes toward violence against Indigenous
women.
[It’s] because of the shaming that happened through the residential schools – at least
that’s where I believe it comes from – the belief that whoever was murdered deserved it,
that they brought it in on themselves, that shaming that had lasted for so long. And then
the families accepting that and saying, well, they were doing whatever, they were
whatever, I mean, and that’s not just happening to First Nations women, that just
happens to women, oh, [who] wore that kind of clothing so they deserve to be killed.49
363
and strong physical, spiritual and emotional health; a connection to language, land,
beings of creation and ancestry; the support of caring family and environment; and an
interconnectedness enriched by hope, belonging, purpose and meaning. On the other
hand, Western biomedical models view mental wellness as the absence of mental
illness.97
Source: “Mental wellness is supported by culture, language, Elders, families, and creation and is necessary for healthy individual, community, and
family life.” – First Nations Mental Wellness Continuum Framework, https://thunderbirdpf.org/first-nations-mental-wellness-continuum-framework/.
Expert Witness Allan Wade said that the poor treatment many Indigenous people receive when
seeking mental health support should not be surprising, given the colonial roots of dominant
approaches to mental health and psychiatric care.
So, you know, the cultures that gave us the prison camps that are called residential
schools also gave us the talking cure, they also gave us psychiatry. So, it would be, kind
of, surprising if there were not linkages, wouldn’t it, between the discourse and the
465
expectant mother’s knowledge and that a much for them, regardless of their own personal ability
more effective approach would be to inform the to parent. Cora Morgan offered another example
mother and work with her if necessary to ensure that demonstrating that even when Indigenous parents
the newborn does not need to be apprehended: take extraordinary efforts to prepare for parenting
the birth alert system may still impact their ability to
A lot of times, what will happen is an agency in keep custody of their newborn:
Winnipeg will … issue the birth alert, and it could
be unbeknownst to the mother that there’s a birth So, the very first birth alert I responded to was
alert on their baby, and that mom will go within a couple of months of being on the job,
throughout her pregnancy, and she will be at the and this young woman had aged out of care and
hospital, deliver her baby, and then get a letter she was exploited as a youth and, you know, had
from the agency that her baby is going to be addiction issues. And, now, she was 23, having her
apprehended. first baby, attended every parenting program, and
it was all self-motivated. Her and her partner
And so, a switch in process would be that as soon prepared for the baby, and her baby was at risk of
as that … birth alert is issued, that it’s transferred apprehension. And so, when I arrived at the
to the appropriate agency, and the agency looks hospital an hour before the agency was there to
at the circumstance of the mom upfront and, you pick up the baby, they had six bags of baby
know, look at if there’s ways to address things clothes, they had their car seat. They were all
before baby comes into the world instead of ready. The paternal grandmother was there.
waiting for baby to be born.IV When I arrived, she was breastfeeding her baby,
and you know, I couldn’t believe what was going
Targeted for Life on. And, I had phoned our Grand Chief at the time,
and I’m, like, this is happening right now, and I
can’t even witness this.
One aspect of the birth alert practice that Indigenous
health care and child welfare advocates find parti-
The father, you know, was just kind of beside
cularly troubling is that they continue to target and
himself. And, I said, “Well, the issue is with the
punish Indigenous women across their childbearing
mom because she grew up in care, and they’ve
experiences where these alerts may apply to women
issued a birth alert.” I said, “There’s no concerns or
who have had other children in care – even if the time
issues that they have with you, and it’s your baby.
elapsed is over a decade long.
You should be able to take your baby.” He’s, like,
“Okay, I’ll take my baby.” And he was getting ready
In addition, in her testimony, Cora Morgan shared the
to do that, and the assistant advocate said, “You
following example of how even Indigenous women
know that the police will be called and you will
who age out of care, sometimes many years ago,
likely be charged if you take your baby,” and then
were still flagged by this system: “I had a woman who
he backed down.
had her first baby at 38 years old, and because she
aged out of the system, they had flagged her baby.
And, you know, the worker came in with their
She had been out of care for 18 years. So, yes, there
agency car seat, and they took the baby. And I had
is a reality of our families being at risk.”V According
found out later that they had issued that birth
to Sandie Stoker, executive director of Child and
alert when the mom was three months pregnant,
Family All Nations Coordinated Response Network, a
and they held onto it for her entire pregnancy.
parent's historical involvement with child welfare is a
And then when the agency got a call from the
factor, especially if nothing changed for that family.VI
hospital, they responded. And so, there was over
In other words, if the person who is having the baby
six months of time that they could have went to
was at one time in the care of child welfare, or if other
that home and got to know that mom, and taken
children have ever been placed into care, regardless
– you know, given her the opportunity.VII
of the time lapsed, a birth alert will likely be issued
365
And I said, “You're letting me back in here.” I said – he had my stuff all packed. He said,
“Well, you didn't come back here last night.” I said, “I was removed here by the police
last night.…”
[The worker] wouldn’t let me in. Hands me all of my stuff in a white plastic bag and
says, “We have already given your room to somebody else.”
In response, Sharna, by her own description, “became desperate,” taking all of the medication she
could find and admitting herself to the hospital for an overdose so that she could get back in.99
Paula P. described a similar experience in which the negligent mental health treatment she
received created further health problems and deepened rather than alleviated her suffering. Paula
reported that, at one point, she went for counselling for help dealing with her sexual abuse. After
six months, the counsellor told her that everything Paula had told her in the beginning was true.
She said, “Now I’m going to begin helping you.” Paula felt “psychologically raped” because she
hadn’t been believed and the counsellor had to investigate everything before she would help her.
Paula was still a teenager at that time. As she explained, she gave up, stopped reporting rapes,
and quit standing up for herself.100
Paula’s experience reflects the particular challenges Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
survivors of violence may encounter when seeking mental health support, and the way in which
the “colonial code of relationship” described by Allan Wade plays out in the specific context of
counselling for those who have experienced interpersonal violence. As Wade explained:
We have developed all kinds of models in the interpersonal violence field that continue
to blame victims, particularly women, and that hide the nature of violence. A good
example is the so-called cycle theory of violence.… The three-part cycle, there is, like,
an explosion, honeymoon phase, tension building. You will notice in this model there is
no social context, there is no reference to culture, we do not know where the people are.
And, why – if the man has been committing violence, why do we have the women sitting
in the middle?
You will see this over and over again. What happens is instead of focusing on the
violence by the man, we focus on the brain, body of the woman. We have been inside the
minds of women for 125 years, trying to change the behaviour of men. It has never
worked. It cannot work. It will not work.101
Vanessa B., speaking for her sister, who was murdered, leaving behind five children, also identi-
fied significant problems in mental health services.
467
There is an exponential huge breakdown in mental health services. Trust me, I’ve lived
it. I’ve seen therapists that look at their client and – and the worst of it, at a child, and
make them feel so bad that they don’t want to talk. And my theory is if you’re not in
your job to do your job, if you don’t want to wake up and do what you believe you’re
trying to do and helping somebody, get the hell out of it because you’re doing more
harm than you are doing good. And I believe that if our workers are – are getting so
overworked both in the social services and the mental health aspect of – of the jobs, then
you need [a] break because you’re not – you’re no longer helping. And it’s the same
thing I found with Tanya. She didn’t – she could have used these services and she could
have had these services, but if she felt at some point that she wasn’t getting what she
needed, you’re not really helping her, are you? So … there we go. We have failure
right there.102
In addition to the challenges many Indigenous women, girls, 2SLGBTQQIA people and their
families face in terms of accessing unbiased and culturally appropriate mental health services,
many witnesses also talked about the difficulties of accessing any mental health services due to
long wait-lists and a lack of options. As Adrienne B. noted, in an urban context:
You know, if I was to access these resources in Edmonton, there’s a two-month wait to
see a mental health worker. I booked an appointment with a psychiatrist because I knew
what I was feeling was coming up. I started getting, you know, triggers, flashbacks. That
appointment was rebooked for next month. Like a lot of these resources here need to be
put in place to help the parents and relatives who are dealing with missing and murdered
women.103
“SO WHEN THE AMBULANCE CAME, AND THIS IS WHAT MY MOM TOLD ME, WHEN THE
AMBULANCE CAME SHE WAS ON THE GROUND AND IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN. AND SHE
THOUGHT THEY WERE TREATING HER AS THOUGH SHE HAD FALLEN OVER BECAUSE
SHE WAS DRUNK. AND THEY PICKED HER UP – AND SHE WAS A FAIRLY HEAVYSET
WOMAN – THEY PICKED HER UP AND PUT HER ON HER FEET, AND SHE FELL AGAIN,
BECAUSE SHE HAD A BROKEN HIP IN THE BEATING. AND THEY LAUGHED AT HER. AND
THEY PICKED HER UP AGAIN. SHE SAID, “I CAN’T. IT HURTS. MY HIP HURTS.” AND WHEN
SHE FELL AGAIN THEN THEY THOUGHT MAYBE THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE WRONG,
SO THEY – I GUESS THEY PUT HER ON A STRETCHER AND THEY TOOK HER AWAY TO
THE HOSPITAL.”
Dianna B.
Lorna B. spoke of a particular case in one centre in British Columbia where services are severely
limited.
I work at Canada’s First Nations Radio and we service 42 communities throughout the
northwest, so we’re talking from Haida Gwaii, Terrace, Kitimat, Prince Rupert. Those
are the bigger centres so we have a lot of people that come in from those communities.
468
I Chronicle Herald, “’Blindsided.’”
II Manitoba, “Child Protection Services,” s. 1.3.1.
III Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, pp. 246–247.
IV Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 203–204.
V Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, p. 26.
VI CBC Radio, The Current, “‘I felt like my heart was ripped out.'”
VII Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 25–26.
VIII CBC Radio, The Current, “I felt like my heart was ripped out.”
IX Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, pp. 236-237.
X Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 235.
XI Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 240.
XII Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, p. 46.
XIII Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 160.
XIV Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 2, pp. 122–123.
XV Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, p. 36.
XVI Dr. Barry Lavallee (First Nations/Métis) Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 228.
XVII Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 199.
XVIII Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, p. 41.
XIX Cora Morgan (Sagkeeng First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 81.
XX Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 135.
369
The Indian Act and the Practice of “Banishment”
In speaking about the ways in which Indigenous women and girls were targeted within colonial
systems, a number of witnesses also pointed to and described how the Indian Act and its denial
of Status was not only a denial of home, but also a denial of connection to culture, family, com-
munity, and their attendant supports. For those seeking the safety of home – both cultural and
physical – the intergenerational and multigenerational effects of the Indian Act, for many First
Nations communities, are also significant, and have erected barriers to accessing cultural rights,
as well as cultural safety.
The Indian Act’s impact of determining Status for some, while stripping others of Status, contin-
ues to affect many First Nations women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This is documented in
greater detail in Chapter 4, but this section deals with the impacts of the Act in a contemporary
context. Despite the reinstatement of Status for thousands of women and girls, the ongoing
stigma that comes with having been excluded by the Act can contribute to danger.
Wendy L., for example, explained how her mother was torn from her community and not
allowed to go back, even after she was reinstated with Indian Status.
Because of what happened to my mother, I feel that in a sense she was missing because
she was stripped of her cultural identity and her Status, and she was really torn from her
community because of the discriminatory provisions of the Indian Act, where she … had
her Status taken away from her. Which, as many people know, did not happen to the
Aboriginal men. In fact, when Aboriginal men married non-Indian women, no matter
which race they were, not only did the men retain their Status and band membership, but
their spouses and their descendants acquired them. So today you have mixed families on
reserves or off-reserve, where the women that had married non-Native men were
actually cast out from their communities. So in a sense my mother was missing because
she was stripped from her community and her family, and that had a big impact on her
life, her education, her economic situation, her as a person.50
The “banishment,” as some other witnesses referred to it, had longer-term impacts on her mother,
as well. When Wendy’s grandfather passed away in 1968, Wendy’s mother was not allowed to
live in his house, despite his having left her – his only child – the land, properties, and homes.
Because Wendy’s mother had been declared non-Native, she was not allowed to inherit or live in
the home where she was born and raised. Wendy said, “I believe in the sense that she was miss-
ing. She was missing her family, her community, any supports that she could receive, any sup-
port from the government, financial or programs, any community involvement. She was cut off
from all of that.”51
Despite the insistence of some community leaders who argued that anyone with Squamish blood
was welcomed back, Wendy said that “it wasn’t true. The women were not welcomed back.”52
370
While Wendy’s mother’s Status and band membership were returned, she was blocked from
actually returning to live on the Squamish Nation Reserve. Women were, in Wendy’s words,
“torn from their communities, and literally thrown off the edge of the reserve and told to leave.”53
In her testimony, Natalie G. shared another example of the way in which gender discrimination
within the Indian Act and band membership excluded Mi’kmaq women from their community.
As Natalie explained, the refusal to grant Status and band membership for women in their
community put many women in precarious positions and impacted their ability to build families
in keeping with the culture and the community.
We have many women that are living off the reserve that should be on their home
reserves and not living in squalor, you know, or feel that they have to always be working
so hard. I mean, they’re getting up in age. Why do they have to be scrubbing floors or,
you know, making crafts all the time just to make ends meet, you know? And a lot of our
women – we still have women walking the street thinking that the only way that they’re
going to make that little bit of ends meet is to give a part of their soul to the devil in
order to make a little bit of change to pay for the rent, pay for maybe their kids’ things or
whatever, so it was – like, it was hard because when Mom looked out her window, she
seen Millbrook First Nations reserve. How ironic is that? It just doesn’t make sense, but
that’s the government, that’s the Canadian government trying to cause part of the
assimilation, the colonization.54
Despite Natalie’s mother’s standing as what she describes as a “real Mi’kmaw woman,” she was
not valued in her community, and was forced to undertake an arduous process in order to have
her band membership returned. As Natalie said, the denial of Status and band membership is also
the denial – or perhaps fear – of strong, traditional women taking their place in the community
and within the band council.
The band council, I believe, was fearful of my mother because she was a strong
Mi’kmaw warrior that wasn’t going to let things slide under the rug. She was going to
bring them forth, and I believe she was going to bring all those [Status] cards that were
given out to the non-Native women, she was going to see that the government brought –
took them, rightfully so, but the children still would be Status.55
“BECAUSE OF WHAT HAPPENED TO MY MOTHER, I FEEL THAT IN A SENSE SHE WAS

MISSING BECAUSE SHE WAS STRIPPED OF HER CULTURAL IDENTITY AND HER STATUS,
AND SHE WAS REALLY TORN FROM HER COMMUNITY BECAUSE OF THE DISCRIMINATORY
PROVISIONS OF THE INDIAN ACT, WHERE SHE … HAD HER STATUS TAKEN AWAY FROM
HER … SO IN A SENSE MY MOTHER WAS MISSING BECAUSE SHE WAS STRIPPED FROM
HER COMMUNITY AND HER FAMILY, AND THAT HAD A BIG IMPACT ON HER LIFE, HER
EDUCATION, HER ECONOMIC SITUATION, HER AS A PERSON.”
Wendy L.
371
DEEPER DIVE
Issues Specific to Inuit and

Remote Communities
Throughout the Truth-Gathering Process, the after listening to Inuit in Nunavik on their views about
National Inquiry collected truths from Inuit, as well as a northern economic strategy in Quebec – ilagiinniq
from other First Nations and Métis people living in was considered a top priority. In summary, the
remote and northern communities. While the truths greatest concern about ilagiinniq was the risk of
these witnesses shared held similarities with those losing tursurautiniq, the use of kinship terms so
shared by Indigenous Peoples across the country, important to Inuit families in keeping bonds together
there were also aspects of these truths that spoke to and, thus, the community thriving.B
the cultural, historical, and geographical realities
distinct to Inuit and to living in remote and northern Many who came to share their truth with the National
locations. In this Deeper Dive, we take a closer look Inquiry did so with the intent of talking about a
at what witnesses shared with the Inquiry about their missing or murdered loved one. In doing so, however,
unique experiences as Inuit who are living with, or the stories of violence they ended up sharing
who have been impacted by, violence. We also look revealed a much longer and multi-layered account of
at testimony that speaks to some of the challenges the context in which that violence took place. As
connected to life in remote and northern com- many witnesses who spoke about missing and
munities and the way these geographical realities murdered Inuit women and girls made clear, the
shape issues related to violence. violence that took the life of their loved one was in
many ways another iteration of a long history of
While it is impossible to provide a detailed discussion colonial violence directed against Inuit. For many
of the rich and nuanced culture of Inuit here, one of witnesses, the starting point of any explanation or
the key features of that cultural life that Inuit families, understanding of the violence that took the lives of
Elders, and Knowledge Keepers spoke about as their loved ones are those influences that
central to the nurturing of relationships that protect contributed to the weakening of ilagiinniq and
Inuit women and girls from violence is ilagiinniq, or tursurautiniq.
“being family.” As these witnesses emphasized, it is
crucial to have an understanding of the way Inuit
conceive of ilagiinniq and, with it, the kinship
Disruption of a Way of Life
relations and how these help in forging the identity
As witnesses explained, it was this destruction of
of the Inuk individual. Tursurautiniq is the Inuit term
ilagiiniq and tursurautiniq through residential and
to describe kinship relationships of kin and
day schools, hostels, forced resettlement, medical
individuals that exist by the name they share with
relocation, and, more recently, child welfare
someone. In The Inuit Way: A Guide to Inuit Culture,
apprehensions that has contributed in such
Pauktuutit Inuit Women of Canada described the
damaging ways to the health, safety, and well-being
importance of kinship bonds: “These bonds ensured
of all Inuit, and Inuit women and girls in particular.
that virtually all the people in the camp were related
Here, we take a closer look at some of the stories Inuit
to each other in some way. Combined with an
witnesses shared with the National Inquiry related to
intricate system of reciprocal obligations and
their experiences of residential and day schools,
responsibilities, the community was tightly knit and
resettlement and relocation, and interactions with
interdependent.”A
child welfare, and the impacts of these experiences
on multiple generations of Inuit, as well as on Inuit
In the “Parnasimautik Consultation Report” – a report
culture, family, and kinship systems.
that was prepared by Inuit organizations of Nunavik
472
Residential Schools, Day Schools, environment that were an integral part of Inuit
knowledge and way of life was eroded as a result
and Hostels of the Residential School experience.E
As we discussed in more detail in Chapter 4, the
In sharing their truths with the National Inquiry,
history of the residential and day school and hostel
witnesses such as Elder Elisapi Davidee Aningmiuq –
systems in relation to Inuit families and communities
an Inuk Elder from the South Baffin region with a
begins more recently than for First Nations and Métis
lifetime of experience working for cultural and
living in more southern locations. Nonetheless, the
community well-being programs in Iqaluit – talked
operation of residential and day schools and hostels
about the devastating and long-lasting impact of the
throughout the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s meant that
residential school system on cultural identity and
Inuit children, like First Nations and Métis children
family. She described the resentment and anger she
elsewhere, were forced to attend schools at often
felt as a result of her experiences as a student in
great distances from their families and traditional
federal day schools, and how she inadvertently
land. For instance, while approximately 15% of Inuit
projected this anger on to her children when she was
children attended the schools in 1955, by June 1964,
a young adult. Of her time in the day school, she said:
75% of Inuit school-aged children were enrolled in
these schools.C The structure of these schools varied,
And, growing up these are the things that we first
and they were referred to variously as “missions,”
experienced, putting us down as Inuit, because
“hostels,” and “boarding schools.” However, they were
we were speaking only Inuktitut. And, it was
ultimately the same as residential schools in the
feeling of that we were not normal, or that we
South in terms of the manner in which they served
were treated maybe, if we had a sign, it was like
to separate children and youth from their families. As
not good enough sign on your chest. I never
anthropologist Marie-Pierre Gadoua explains:
thought of it when I was a very young girl, but at
the older age I’ve experienced those feelings.F
Most of the … [schools] were considered “federal
day schools” by [the Department of ] Northern
The result, she maintained, is inter- and multi-
Affairs. The Inuit children stayed in nearby small
generational for Inuit, as well: “What I see and what
or large hostels that could accommodate eight
we know, is that there is a lot of [low self-] esteem.
to a hundred children. Although the federal
Really, people who don’t know their Inuit identity,
government did not use the term “residential
who don’t know their Inuit background.”G Elder Elisapi
school,” the children who attended these
spoke about how her attendance at residential
institutions and lived in the hostels, far away from
school impacted her choices about what language to
their original homes, were considered residential
teach her children.
school students.D
When I start having children, my children were
As we heard from Inuit witnesses and survivors or
not allowed to speak English at home. If they did
relatives of survivors, the residential school system
I would scold them. The tears are because I’m
continues to have widespread impacts on ilagiiniq
sorry to my children. I’m sorry that I scolded my
and tursurautiniq. Pauktuutit Inuit Women of Canada
children in a very unhealthy way. I didn’t know
outlines that these impacts include the erosion of
where that was coming from. You know, I would
Inuit language, culture, and spiritual beliefs, and the
say, don’t speak in English. And it wasn’t just
disruption of cultural continuity or the passing on of
friendly words, it was like scolding words to them.
traditional knowledge, practical skills, and cultural
I didn’t know where that was coming from, like I
values from one generation to the next. In particular:
said, until so many years later. It was that coming
from, you know, the schooling, it was me
Traditional Inuit skills includ[ing] hunting, meat
revenging. It was me going against those that
and pelt preparation, sewing, building igloos and
were telling me not to speak my language. It was
navigating the land and water [have been
me that was angry. It was stuff that was coming
threatened]. The rich tradition of oral storytelling,
out from the deepest part of me, from the
music, dance and craft and a respect for the
deepest part of me that was damaged.H
473
Group Relocations, Medical traditional lifestyle to centralized communities had
safety and security implications, particularly through
Relocations, and Distinctive Inuit the introduction of drugs and alcohol.
Realities
When the communities came and the style to
In addition to the impact of the residential and day offer a wage and a free shack to live in was
school system on family, kinship, and culture, group offered…. Many opportunities came and the
relocations, such as the 1953 High Arctic relocation, colonial lifestyle provided an advanced and easier
as well as medical relocations, were identified by way of living where the family could support
witnesses as an important part of the context within themselves with the wage economy. All this type
which violence became more prevalent. of living included the drugs, alcohol, and lots of
sexual promiscuity that was rampant with the
In Chapter 4, we provided a more in-depth little Hudson Bay Liquor Store. This was the many
consideration of government-led relocations of Inuit problems that added to the dysfunction of a
families between 1940 and 1970 from their family home.J
traditional land and territories. As we discussed, these
relocations occurred without proper planning or As Hagar Idlout-Sudlovenick, director of social
information and led to significant distress for those development for Qikiqtani Inuit Association,
affected. They also increased the disruptions to explained:
family, culture, and tradition, all of which were deeply
interwoven with their environment. For example, After the relocation they felt a sense of loss, of …
when Canadian government officials, together with their kinship to the land, or where they belong or
the Royal Canadian Armed Forces (RCAF), moved they belong certain areas of the land. And being
seven Inuit families from Inukjuak Nunavik to removed from the area that is known to them, like
Ellesmere Island in 1953, these Inuit families were not hunting grounds, the place where the … families,
informed that they would be brought to three where [ilagiit] would normally have Inuk camps or
different spots. Only after some time had passed hunting grounds, it would be like seasonal, they
during their travel by boat were they told that they would move from one area to another. So by
would be separated, and this caused distress among being relocated to the area sometimes really
the families who had fully expected to remain faraway places, they felt the sense of loss because
together in their move to Ellesmere. According to the they were not familiar with those areas, or they
1994 Report on the 1953–55 High Arctic Relocation of had to get to know the new hunting areas. And
the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, not only sometimes there’s different game that were – that
was their relocation coerced, but the families were they were used to, now, with being relocated to
also forced to separate. Having considered what the different areas, they had to change their hunting
relocated Inuit recounted about their experiences strategy based on the games that were available
many years later, the Royal Commission found that to that area. So they had to relearn some of these
their separation – clearly a forced separation – had hunting practices because they were in unfamiliar
been a painful and distressing experience for them. areas. I think that was the impact that had on
Over the years, these Inuit families struggled to adapt those families that were relocated. And it had
to a totally new environment, and the neglect of the long-lasting effect on the members and including
government and inability to visit family in Inukjuak their families.K
made their life extremely difficult.I
In addition, Hagar Idlout-Sudlovenick said that, after
Due to their relatively recent past with relocations, relocation, people didn’t get access to the services
many Inuit witnesses talked about the struggle to and to the help they were promised. She explained
restore familial and kinship bonds as a way to how this history and its impact on family and kinship
improve safety for Inuit women and girls. In her became the starting point for social and economic
testimony, Laura M. talked about how forced conditions that allow for violence against Inuit
relocations and the transition from a nomadic, women and girls.
474
They were told that they would have a job, they They never informed us, only when the ships
would be provided with housing and very low came up, we got that information. It was a while
rent, and that the government will be assisting before we were informed of her death. And I
them for everyday life necessities. And, some of haven’t seen Martha [T.]'s [her grandmother’s]
them were told if you move to the community, grave; I never seen her. Only my mother used to
you will have a house with everything in it. So, if tell stories about her. When my mother was alive,
you leave your thing, it’s okay. You can leave your she wanted us to find her body, and I found it.
things out in the camp, because they believed However, it’s in Winnipeg, and they were moved
what they were told. When they moved to the to Moose Jaw; from Moose Jaw and buried in
community, there were no houses … once they Winnipeg on Indian land. And we’ve heard
got into the community, they didn’t have different stories. I haven’t seen the gravesite
anything to do, just waiting around as to what the myself.O
RCMP or the government wants them to do. They
were just waiting for them to be told. And, this is In her testimony, Annie B. described being taken from
where the life started changing.L her community of Pangnirtung at age four or five and
being transported to a hospital in Toronto for
In addition to the stories of these relocations, Inuit treatment for TB without any understanding of
witnesses also shared their experiences of the impact why she was being moved and without the
of medical relocations through which individuals accompaniment of her parents or anyone she knew.
were sent to southern locations to receive medical She stated, “No, my parents were not there at all. Not
care for tuberculosis (TB), often with very little even my mother. I can’t remember anything of how I
understanding or information about where they leave my camp. But all I remember is the two men
were going or for how long. Elder Elisapi Davidee came to pick me up…. My parents were too far
Aningmiuq talked about the impact of medical away to be down there [in Toronto]. No. No family
relocations, and how the forced separation of members. Nothing.”P Instead of returning to
children from their families resulted in emotional Pangnirtung, however, Annie was moved to a
trauma for Inuit and alienation from their families residential school where she experienced abuse. As
because of the length and distance of separation. she put it, “There was so much abuse. We were so
abused. And I totally forgot who I was.”Q When Annie
When you don’t have that bond anymore with was eventually returned to her family, she learned
parents or family, then you can be seen as an that they had believed that she was no longer alive
outcast. I guess in your culture you would say because of the lack of any communication with them
black sheep of the family…. So, in the times where about Annie’s whereabouts.
people were being sent out for TB, and probably
residential schools too, you know, that bond that Elder Abraham Arnakak took some time to explain
should have been there was lost. And, I can give how the relocation of Inuit groups led to a rise in
one example. A friend who said when a child was violence against Inuit women, specifically because it
crying, she just watched her because she didn’t led to a breakdown of family.
know what to do. She said she never had any
hugs, so she didn’t know that she could have After [being relocated], after our lives started to
hugged that child.M go down, because Pangnirtung had some things,
and there were was some gambling, and when we
In addition, for Inuit relocated to the South for years started to go into these communities, we started
at a time, the impacts on patients and families were to turn back from our relatives, and we started
devastating. As Micah A. told the National Inquiry, her mistreating our spouses. So, we started to break
mother, who died in a southern sanitorium, was our family unit because of moving into these
never found.N She explained: communities. That’s how broken we were, and
that’s what I’m telling you.R
475
For some, the trauma of breaking families apart Once I was told by the doctor to take my child to
continues in new and modern relocations. Amy hospital out of my community, I cried when I
Hudson, manager of Research, Education and Culture heard. I didn’t think it would be of any use. It was
for the NunatuKavut Community Council, told the only in the evening that I became able to cry. Not
National Inquiry that the coerced relocation of Inuit to anyone else, but I was unable to leave Montreal
communities continues into the present day, with a Hospital when I heard; it was strange to not be
community’s being relocated the previous fall. As she able to go home.
explained:
In the morning, in the early morning, I was
The government in our province promised that summoned; I was told that a social worker wished
they would not do that to Indigenous people to see me. It was then I would be told [that her
anymore, that they wouldn’t forcibly remove daughter had been murdered], as it turned out. I
people from their homes because they recognize couldn’t cry. Mary Ann was so important to me
the connection between Indigenous people and and I couldn’t accept that she was gone…. I was
the land and their ancestors, and that tie, and how sad that I had to leave my two girls behind to be
that’s integral for their health and well-being, and in the hospital with my son, with the youngest
for not perpetuating those same colonial child in my family. I had no choice in the matter.T
injustices.
Inuit and Child Welfare
To accomplish relocating the community, Hudson
said, the government began to eliminate In describing recent and contemporary experiences
with child welfare, witnesses shared accounts of the
significant and necessary services … whether that ways this system, and the removal of Inuit children
be school, or health, housing, whatever the case and youth from their families and communities,
may be, and bit-by-bit, once all these resources continues the breakdown of culture, kinship, and
are gone, families can’t live there anymore, or family, with far-reaching impacts. For instance, many
families are broken up and torn apart because Inuit families whose children are under child welfare
someone has to go away to go to school, or services outside of Inuit Nunangat deal with the same
someone is sick and has to stay away for health feelings of isolation and the loss of connection to
care reasons.S culture and family as described by those speaking
about residential school attendance or forced
Some witnesses spoke about how the necessity to relocations and resettlement. Nonetheless, despite
leave the community to access health and social the known hardships associated with familial
services means that individuals are forced to relocate separation and breakdown, systemic responses
in ways that continue to compromise family continue to look to relocation as a solution to a lack
relationships and well-being. In her testimony, Sarah of services and resources rather than working to
B. shared a story describing how she had to travel to meet those needs in the community. As Tom
Montréal to care for her son, who was dying of Sheldon, Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami’s (ITK) director of
leukemia, but because of a lack of other resources policy advancement, stated: “If a youth is not able to
was forced to leave her other children behind. It was access those services in their community, they’re
while she was away that one of her daughters was often sent out of community and even out of
murdered. region…. But there’s very limited information on how
many Inuit children and youth are in care, and where
I took my child to hospital and left my daughters they’re in care. We need better access to those
at home. I was supposed to leave the same day numbers.”U Even in situations where family- or
that I was notified, to leave for hospital. I was there community-based solutions exist that could keep a
for a long time and I was unable to leave my child. child in the community, witnesses described
instances of these being overlooked.
476
Challenging Exclusion: Human
Rights-Based Challenges to the Indian Act
As some of the witnesses appearing before the Inquiry have asserted, the Indian Act has, since 1876,
excluded First Nations women in many areas, with important impacts that touch on human rights
instruments. The Indian Act applies only to First Nations women, and not to Métis or Inuit.
In its 2014 report, Missing and Murdered Indigenous on the Status of Women the same year. Mary also
Women in British Columbia, Canada, the Inter- found herself the target of the Indian Act in 1969 after
American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) the death of her husband, when she was forced to
found that “existing vulnerabilities that make transfer her house to her daughter, who was married
Indigenous women more susceptible to violence” to a man from Kahnawà:ke, in order to retain her
include both the context of colonization, broadly property in her own family and to return to the
speaking, as well as unjust and discriminatory laws, reserve.III
such as the Indian Act, that continue to affect women.I
The Lavell case, a few years later, revolved around
It also found that “addressing violence against Jeannette Corbiere Lavell, a member of the
women is not sufficient unless the underlying factors Wikwemikong Band who married a non-Indian and
of discrimination that originate and exacerbate the whose name was therefore deleted from the Indian
violence are also comprehensively addressed.”II Register. The case charged that the Indian Act
As we saw in Chapter 3, the case of Jeannette should be held to be inoperative as discriminating

Corbiere Lavell, who married a non-Indian in 1970, between Indian men and women and as being in
resulted in a legal challenge against the Indian Act’s conflict with the provisions of the Canadian Bill of
subsection 12(1)(b), alleging it violated the equality Rights and particularly s. 1 thereof which provides:
clause in the 1960 Canadian Bill of Rights on the
grounds of discrimination by reason of sex. This case 1. It is hereby recognized and declared that in
built on the early work of advocates such as Mary Canada there have existed and shall continue
Two-Axe Earley, a Kanien’kehà:ka (Mohawk) woman to exist without discrimination by reason of
who, in 1966, after the death of a clan sister from a race, national origin, colour, religion or sex, the
heart attack she believed was induced by the denial following human rights and fundamental free-
of property rights in Kahnawà:ke under the Indian doms, namely, …
Act, mobilized a campaign to raise awareness of the
issues facing women denied Status and related rights (b) the right of the individual to equality before
under the Indian Act. Mary Two-Axe Earley became the law and the protection of the law.IV
involved with Indian Rights for Indian Women (IRIW)
in 1967 and appeared before the Royal Commission
373
Housing women are still very much traditional craft-
makers, and for many of our women, that is their
As with First Nations and Métis people living only source of income, and for that stipulation to
elsewhere in Canada, Inuit face significant challenges be put on our women, that causes more
in accessing safe and affordable housing. In the case economic hardships for families.AA
of Inuit and those living in northern communities,
some of these common challenges are exacerbated As Tim Argetsinger, executive political advisor with
by the small size and remoteness of communities. Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, explained, poor or inadequate
According to the most recently available data from housing conditions create additional opportunities
Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami (ITK), 52% of Inuit in Inuit for, and vulnerability to, violence and other threats to
Nunangat live in crowded homes. This is a vast safety.
difference from the only 9% of all Canadians who live
in such conditions. In addition, almost one-third of Since we’ve been talking about housing, safety
Inuit live in homes that need major repair, while only and security … is linked to things like … the stress
6% of non-Indigenous people in Canada do.X The that is often more prevalent in households that
challenge of undertaking repairs is complicated by are crowded, in the ability of people who are
the cost of, and access to, materials in remote experiencing violence to leave and to seek
locations. Given these numbers, it is not surprising alternative housing, whether that’s in their
that organizations like ITK believe that the housing community or elsewhere. It’s in part what
situation for Inuit in northern and remote anecdotally we know is safety and security is a
communities has reached a “crisis” level.Y As many pressure that people talk about when they talk
witnesses throughout the Inquiry described, about the reasons why they may have relocated to
overcrowded, unsafe, and unaffordable housing is an urban centre, to seek safety and security
often the catalyst for further problems. Inuit Tapiriit elsewhere, which in some cases may … contribute
Kanatami reports that overcrowded housing is to them becoming more vulnerable and facing
“associated with high rates of communicable disease other challenges.BB
(such as tuberculosis), stressors that can lead to
friction and violence between family members, poor Food Insecurity
conditions in which children must learn and study,
and other challenges.”Z In addition to housing, many Inuit face challenges in
ensuring they have adequate food. Recent data from
In addition, and as some witnesses shared, there are the Inuit Statistical Profile shows that food insecurity
restrictions on housing as it is built or exists in many is a major concern across Inuit Nunangat: in
communities. For one, culturally inappropriate Nunatsiavut, 44% of households are food insecure; in
architecture, as manifested in the absence of the Inuvialuit Settlement Region, 46% are food
communal spaces required for traditional insecure; and in Nunavut, 70% of households are
transmission of language and culture, or single- food insecure. These numbers are a stark contrast to
family dwellings not built to accommodate multiple the 8% of households in Canada that struggle to have
generations, can generate increased hardship. As adequate food.CC Again, the causes of food insecurity
well, and as one witness shared, the restrictions on in remote and northern communities are connected
the use of housing in Nunatsiavut, for instance, to the remoteness of the communities combined
according to the housing authority, mean that some with the ongoing impact of colonial practices that
women who rely on selling crafts are not allowed to have disrupted traditional ways of gathering food.
make them in their home. As Kim C.-M. explained, These causes include, as the Inuit Statistical Profile
indicates, the “high cost of food in Inuit communities,
They are not allowed to make a pair of slippers to poverty, cost of supplies required for harvesting food,
sell to their neighbour to make that money to go and the decline in some animal species such as
to the store to feed their children. That has been caribou.”DD
very impactful.… As we know, many of our
478
In the same way that inadequate housing creates Women such as Betsy never was given the
further challenges, so, too, is food insecurity a catalyst opportunity to have a better life. Those
for other health-related problems. Food insecurity is opportunities came to those who may have had
connected to poorer physical and mental health; family in higher levels of government or who hold
cognitive, academic, and psychosocial development high levels of office or maybe people who have
delays in children; and disruptions in cultural good paying jobs. You have no chance of
continuity and cultural well-being connected to escaping. If you don’t have the means or family
practices of harvesting and consuming country relations to climb the success ladder. Very few are
foods, such as seal, whale, and fish.EE Kim C.-M., the fortunate to climb but do with a lot of barriers,
executive director of the AnânauKatiget Tumingit you know, such as the glass ceiling. I’m sure you
Regional Inuit Women’s Association of Nunatsiavut, guys all understand that.HH
talked about the fears she carries related to this
move away from traditional hunting and gathering The Cumulative Effects of
practices and the importance of these practices to
the health and well-being of her community.
Marginalization Among Inuit
In understanding the cumulative effect of these
So my fear is that this generation will not have any
social and economic factors on the physical and
of the knowledge of what my generation had
mental health and wellness of Inuit, it is important to
because we are on a caribou-hunting ban. We can
approach health and wellness as a holistic concept –
no longer hunt our caribou. Our salmon is in
one that “encompass[es] every area of life … and is
jeopardy due to methylmercury concerns. Our
grounded in expectations to contribute, share, care,
seals are in jeopardy due to methylmercury
belong, live well, be respectful and celebrate life.”II
concerns, and we know that development takes
Of particular concern are the high rates of tuber-
away from the natural habitat of our animals and
culosis compared with rates in other people in
sometimes their breeding grounds, and I’m
Canada. Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami reports that “the
fearful, I really am, that the more Labrador gets
average rate of active TB among Inuit Nunangat was
exploited, the more our culture will diminish, and
over 300 times the rate for Canadian-born non-
that’s a fact…. Many of us here are [afraid], and
Indigenous population.”JJ This reality is rooted in the
that would be a very sad day for me.FF
economic marginalization of Inuit that creates
inadequate housing, food insecurity, and poverty, as
For many Inuit, the challenge of securing housing
well as in the ongoing legacy of past government-led
and food is made more difficult by poverty resulting
responses to TB and the ongoing lack of effective
from low-paying employment and barriers to
approaches – an issue that will, we hope, be
education. For example, the median income of Inuit
addressed by the government of Canada’s commit-
living in Inuit Nunangat in 2015 revealed an almost
ment to the elimination of TB across Inuit Nunangat
$70,000 difference between Inuit ($24,485) and non-
by 2030.KK
Indigenous people living in the region ($92,011). For
many Inuit families, low income creates challenges
Another health issue closely connected to the
unique to the geography of the region where basic
socio-economic conditions and multigenerational
necessities, such as food, clothing, and hunting and
traumatic impacts of colonial violence is suicide: as
fishing supplies, are more expensive.GG
ITK reports, “the four Inuit regions in Canada have
rates of suicide that range from five to 25 times the
As Laura M. described, in speaking about her aunt
rate of suicide for Canada as a whole.”LL Inuit Elders
Betsy, who was murdered, poverty remains a
again return to the loss of culture and connection to
significant barrier for women who may want to leave
the land as a contributing factor to the mental health
their community to seek out new opportunities or
struggles facing Inuit youth. Kim C.-M. observed:
who need to leave their community in order to
escape violence.
479
The Lavell case of the early 1970s was lost at trial in even have a seat at the negotiating tables
the York County Court in 1971, but won on appeal in between First Nations and Canada, First Nations
the Federal Court of Appeal later the same year. It women were effectively denied the political voice
went to the Supreme Court of Canada, where it was to protest their exclusion and the abuse that
paired with the case of Yvonne Bédard, a woman followed as a result.VII
from the community of Six Nations in Brantford and
a member of the the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Leah Gazan, an instructor at the University of
Confederacy who lost her Status when she married a Winnipeg who spoke as part of the Indigenous
non-Indian in 1964. After her separation from her Determinants Wellbeing Panel during the Com-
husband, Bédard attempted to return to her reserve munity Hearing in Winnipeg, commented on how the
to live in a house left to her by her mother, but found Indian Act undermined the role First Nations women
that she and her children were no longer entitled to played as leaders and decision makers.
live on-reserve due to loss of Status. Fearing eviction,
she brought legal action against her band and won Prior to colonization, most Nations lived in
the case based on the legal precedent set by the matrilineal societies. Our women, in particular,
Lavell case. our grandmothers, were the main decision makers
within our Nations. Equality was practised as
In the Supreme Court of Canada, though, both our survival depended on all members fulfilling
Bédard and Lavell lost their cases – the “marrying out” their roles and responsibilities. Women were
rule of the Indian Act was upheld on the grounds that powerful…. This rapidly changed with the impo-
the law had been applied equally, which was the sition of patriarchal power structures brought over
only guarantee in the Canadian Bill of Rights. In its by colonists. The exclusion of Indigenous women
judgment, the Supreme Court explained: in decision making eventually led to the cultural,
social, economic, and political disposition of
Equality before the law under the Bill of Rights Indigenous women and girls that was and
means equality of treatment in the enforcement continues to be enforced through the Indian Act.VIII
and application of the laws of Canada before the
law enforcement authorities and the ordinary Fay Blaney, who spoke as a Knowledge Keeper at the
courts of the land, and no such inequality is National Inquiry’s Human Rights Framework Expert
necessarily entailed in the construction and and Knowledge Keeper Hearing in Quebec City, also
application of s. 12(1)(b).V commented on the impact of the Indian Act on
women’s political representation:
The issue of substantive equality that the cases raised
was rejected, even though, in the decision, Justice Indigenous women are not represented in the
Bora Laskin characterized the effect of the law as a political sphere and we often think it’s – you know,
kind of “statutory excommunication” whereby Status we blame ourselves for that and we don’t often
could never be regained.VI look at the fact that the Indian Act denied us that
right. We were not allowed to vote. We were not
In addition, and as Pamela Palmater, Mi’kmaw from allowed to run in band elections and the men
Eel River Bar First Nation and associate professor and did that.IX
chair in Indigenous Governance at Ryerson Univer-
sity, points out, for a long time: Despite the loss in the court, many Indigenous
women’s groups took up the call raised by these
The Indian Act had the effect of denying First cases, and pushed forward to try to address the issue,
Nations women their political voice. Unable to run under difficult circumstances. Sandra Lovelace
in elections for chief and council, to live in their Nicholas took her case to the United Nations Human
First Nations, to vote in referendums related to Rights Committee (UNHRC), alleging that her
their reserve lands, to benefit from treaties, to marriage to an American and subsequent move away
access elders and other community supports or from her community should not disqualify her from
374
returning to the reserve and/or from receiving could pass Status onto their children, and those who
services, upon the end of that marriage. In 1981, the couldn’t. This meant that any Status woman who had
UNHRC found Canada in breach of the International been reinstated under section 6 and “married out”
Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). could pass on section 6(2) Status only to her children.
Those children could not pass on Status to theirs,
Section 15 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and impacting both women and men under the “second-
Freedoms came into effect three years after the rest generation cut-off.” As the Feminist Alliance for
of the Charter, giving governments the time to bring International Action explains:
their legislation into compliance with section 15.
Section 15 states that “every individual is equal Consigning women to 6(1)(c) status has devalued
before and under the law and has the right to the them, treated them as lesser parents, and denied
equal protection and benefit of the law without them the legitimacy and social standing
discrimination based on race, national or ethnic associated with full s. 6(1)(a) status. Throughout
origin, colour, religion, sex, age, or mental or physical the years, the so-called "Bill C-31 women" have
disability.” In addition, section 28, which states, been treated as though they are not truly Indian,
“Notwithstanding anything in this Charter, the rights or 'not Indian enough,' less entitled to benefits and
and freedoms referred to in it are guaranteed equally housing, and obliged to fight continually for
to male and female persons,” should, in theory, recognition by male Indigenous leadership, their
provide additional protection to women. Subsection families, communities, and broader society. In
4 of section 35, which guarantees Aboriginal and many communities, registration under section
Treaty rights, also guarantees these rights equally to 6(1)(c) is worn by Indian women like a ‘scarlet
women and men.X letter’ – a declaration to other community mem-
bers that they are lesser Indians.XII
Partially as a result of these new rights guarantees, as
well as the concerted action of women impacted by For those asserting that the Indian Act is a tool of
unjust legislation, the Indian Act of 1985 restored genocide, both paper and otherwise, the effect of
Status to those who had had Status removed through section 6 to extend the termination of Status by one
enfranchisement. It ended the “marrying out” rule generation was still termination – just delayed.
under section 12(1)(b) that had brought forward
Lavell’s action, restoring Status to women and their Due to the lack of effective remedy, and the slowness
children disenfranchised under this rule. It also of addressing these issues, other advocates pressed
abolished section 12(1)(a)(iv), the “double mother” on. In 1994, Sharon McIvor brought a constitutional
rule, which had been added in 1951 and excluded challenge to the sex discrimination in the registration
from registration at age 21 grandchildren whose provisions of the Indian Act. In its decision, the
mother and paternal grandmother both acquired Supreme Court of British Columbia ruled that section
Status through marriage to an Indian. The changes 6 of the Indian Act violated section 15 of the Charter
also terminated the acquisition of Indian Status guaranteeing rights to women and other groups
through marriage, rather than descent. In its first five equally under Canadian legislation. In 2009, when
years, from 1985 to 1990, as researchers Megan Furi Canada appealed, the British Columbia Court of
and Jill Wherrett report, “the status Indian population Appeal ruled that although the Indian Act was
rose by 19% as a result of the amendments. Women discriminatory, the trial order had gone too far, and
represented the majority of those who gained status, that it was not for the court to impose a solution that
particularly of those who had status restored.”XI opened up Status to a larger group of people. It gave
the government 12 months to fix the problem before
While many people regained Status through this the declaration of the lower court could have effect.XIII
legislation, the amendments also created a new
issue, under the revised section 6, which effectively As a result of the decision, Sharon McIvor decided to
created two “types” of Status Indians: those who take her complaint to the United Nations, as Sandra
375
Lovelace Nicholas had in 1981. She argued that, maternal parentage could be registered. Still, under
despite the changes, First Nations women with Status those amendments, those grandchildren born prior
still could not pass on that Status in the same way as to 1951, or whose parents were not married before
Status men. Her complaint engages the failure of the 1985, could not necessarily qualify, while those who
government to provide effective remedy to a trace their heritage through their paternal heritage
situation that has been identified, even in an could.XV Canada also argued that some aspects of the
international forum, as an element of discrimination claims made by McIvor could not with certainty be
for decades. blamed or attributed on the government’s actions.
It also argued that it was still in the process of
In her complaint, McIvor’s team argued that the examining its legislation to determine if further
sex-based hierarchy established by the 1985 remedies could be applied, including the changes in
amendments violates articles 26 and 27 of the Bill S-3, which came into force in December 2017, as
ICCPR, in conjunction with articles 2(1) and 3, a result of the Superior Court of Quebec’s decision in
because it discriminates against matrilineal or female the Descheneaux case.XVI
descendants born before 1985 and against those First
Nations women born before 1985 who “married out.” In this case, the Superior Court of Quebec had ruled
McIvor maintained that under section 2(3)(a), these on a challenge by Stéphane Descheneaux, Susan
women and descendants were entitled to effective Yantha, and Tammy Yantha. The plaintiffs claimed that
remedy. the Indian registration provisions under section 6 of
the Indian Act were unconstitutional and in contra-
Under the violation of Article 26, McIvor maintained, vention of the Charter’s guarantees to equality, since
among other things, that the impacts of the the legislation still perpetuated different treatment
exclusion constituted “a form of social and cultural between Status Indian women as compared with
exclusion,” including her perception of a differential Status Indian men and their descendants. In its
treatment of reinstated persons from those who were decision, the court found several parts of the Act that
always considered Status under the Act. These had violated section 15 of the Charter and struck down
impacted her life, including her ability to access the provision, giving the government a fixed period
health benefits and educational funding for her of time to respond. In her testimony, Leah Gazan said,
children during their formative years. about the ongoing impact of Bill S-3:
Under Article 27 in conjunction with articles 2(1) and This violence has been affirmed through the
3, McIvor’s team maintained that the capacity to Indian Act where, even today, we see the current
transmit culture, as guaranteed by the ICCPR, had Liberal government fail to make amendments to
been violated by denying “their capacity to transmit Bill S-3 to end discrimination against Indigenous
their cultural identity to the following generations on women and girls residing [in] what some refer to
an equal basis between men and women,” and as Canada. We have been raising our concerns to
depriving them “of the legitimacy conferred by full deaf ears for far too long; our voices often muzzled
status.”XIV by powers of bureaucracy that have been
designed to silence us as we fight for our survival;
In its response, Canada maintained that the a story that has become all too common even at
discrimination under successive versions of the Act present as we try and find ways to ensure our
prior to 1985 was inadmissible, and that any residual safety in the future.XVII
discrimination had been corrected by the 2011
amendments, made in response to the decisions In January 2019, the UN Human Rights Committee
concerning the Act in Canadian Courts. These ruled in Sharon McIvor’s favour, holding that the sex-
amendments had modified the Indian Act so that based hierarchy created by section 6 of the Indian Act
grandchildren born after September 4, 1951, who still exists, despite the amendments of 2011 and
could trace their Aboriginal heritage through their 2017, and that Canada was in violation of articles 3
376
and 26, read in conjunction with Article 27.XVIII The In her testimony, Fay Blaney spoke about how sex
2011 and 2017 amendments, and the Indian Act itself, discrimination created by the Indian Act continues to
continue to violate the equal right of men and play out in communities.
women to the enjoyment of the rights guaranteed by
the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, Men have been bestowed a whole lot of
to which Canada has been party since the 1970s. patriarchal privilege from the Indian Act and …
Specifically, the UNHRC noted that Sharon McIvor’s they’ve been taught very well how to be
brother’s children all have full Status under section patriarchal in our communities. And I fear that
6(1)(a), while her own ability to pass on that “class” of men may not be willing to give up the patriarchal
Status is not the same. Given the fact that they shared power that they have, and in fact some of them
the same lineage, the UNHRC noted, that difference have claimed patriarchy to be a tradition, even
in Status was attributable only to the legislation’s though we know that culture comes from a
discriminating on the basis of sex.XIX It further noted matriarchal tradition. So they reinvent culture to
that the prohibition in discrimination applied not align with what the Indian Act says they have, that
only in law, but also in fact, and so McIvor’s argument they have patriarchal privilege now.XXIV
about the impacts of the discrimination in her lived
experience, as a “Bill C-31 woman,” is significant.XX Further, the question remains of how, given the
existing guarantees under Canadian law, including
In the aftermath of this decision, many questions the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, these kinds of
remain concerning how the government can exclusions can persist, and how domestic remedies
untangle the complicated historical and con- can be better applied to resolve these exclusions. As
temporary issues around its assumption of authority some people have suggested, passing new legislation
in determining Status, and how Status has become that substantively incorporates the guarantees under
associated with a sense of belonging or exclusion in international conventions, such as the Convention on
many of the testimonies before the National Inquiry. the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against
As Darla-Jean L. stated about the impact of the Indian Women and the United Nations Declaration on the
Act on her sense of self and belonging: “The federal Rights of Indigenous Peoples, could strengthen these
government made us wards of the state through the existing guarantees, ensuring that, under the
Indian Act and we learnt helplessness. We became international conventions, the issue of systemic
ashamed of our ourself. We became – we believed discrimination, rather than individual discrimination,
what society was telling us.”XXI When asked to speak receives effective and timely remedy.XXV At the same
about the impact of the link between identity and time, the continuing assumption that undergirds the
the loss of Status through the Indian Act, Sylvia M. process – that the Government of Canada, rather than
said, “Well, it makes you … question yourself, you First Nations themselves, should ultimately decide
know, right?”XXII who accesses the rights guaranteed to First
Nations – fundamentally dictates the fact that the
As the Feminist Alliance for International Action resolution to this issue will involve reconsidering the
asserts: foundations of the approach.
As long as the Indian Act is in place, be it one year As Palmater argues, the McIvor decision of 2019 “is
or twenty, the Act cannot discriminate on the about more than Indian status; it is about restoring
basis of sex. Further, if the Act is replaced before the political rights and powerful voices of First
eliminating the sex discrimination, the sex Nations women.… The law requires that Canada end
discrimination and injustice to Indian women and sex discrimination against First Nations women and
their descendants will infect any post-Indian Act children. The question is whether Canada will choose
regime.XXIII to be an outlaw or put action behind its alleged
commitment to reconciliation.”XXVI
377
I Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, 12.
II Ibid., 68.
III Robinson, “Mary Two-Axe Earley.”
IV Attorney General of Canada v. Lavell [1974] SCR 1349.
V Ibid., 1373.
VI Attorney General of Canada v. Lavell [1974] SCR 1349.
VII Palmater, “Will Ottawa heed.”
VIII Leah Gazan (Lakota), Part 1, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 82–83.
IX Fay Blaney (Xwémalhkwu of the Coast Salish), Part 3, Public Volume 4, Quebec City, QC, p. 117.
X Subsections 3 and 4 of Section 35 were further developed in 1983 and 1984, after important campaigns by Indigenous women’s groups
who insisted they had not been represented by organizations in the original discussions around the Charter, and who were still fighting for
the repeal of sex discrimination under the Indian Act. For more on this, see Erin Hanson, “Constitution Act, 1982 Section 35,” https://indige-
nousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/constitution_act_1982_section_35/.
XI Furi and Wherrett, “Indian Status and Band Membership Issues.”
XII Feminist Alliance for International Action Canada, “Equal Status for Women,” 4.
XIII For a more detailed examination of the McIvor decisions, see Lehmann, “Summary of the McIvor Decisions.”
XIV United Nations, Human Rights Committee, “Views adopted by the Committee under article 5(4),” 5.
XV For more detail and information on the 2011 amendments, see Canada, Indigenous and Northern Affairs, “2011 Indian Act
Amendments.”
XVI United Nations, Human Rights Committee, “Views Adopted,” 6–7. For a more detailed examination of Bill S-3 and its impacts on specific ex-
clusions under the Indian Act, see Canada,“The Government of Canada’s Response to the Descheneaux Decision.”
XVII Leah Gazan (Lakota), Part 1, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 76–77.
XVIII United Nations, Human Rights Committee, “Views Adopted,” 16.
XIX Ibid., 15.
XX Ibid., 17.
XXI Darla-Jean L. (First Nations), Part 1, Public Volume 1, Whitehorse, YT, p. 31.
XXII Sylvia M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 56, Happy-Valley Goose Bay, NL, p. 33.
XXIII Feminist Alliance for International Action, “Equal Status,” 13. See also Palmater, Beyond Blood.
XXIV Fay Blaney (Xwémalhkwu of the Coast Salish), Part 3, Public Volume 4, Quebec City, QC, pp. 134.
XXV West Coast LEAF, Part 4, Final Written Submission, p. 29.
XXVI Palmater, “Will Ottawa heed.” See also James Anaya, “Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Rights of indigenous peoples,” 2014. The re-
port was developed on the basis of research and information gathered from various sources, including during a visit to Canada from October
7th to 15th, 2013.
378
The cultural losses and familial disruptions created through various colonial systems take a
significant toll not only on the emotional and spiritual well-being of Indigenous people, but also
on the material (economic and social) facets of their lives. Without access to traditional ways of
living on traditional territories, which included supporting others in times of hardship, many
Indigenous people who shared their truths told stories about their struggles with poverty, home-
lessness, addiction, and other challenges – struggles that were often greatly compounded by the
lack of access to familial, community, and cultural support, as well as by efforts and responses
that often sought to erect even greater barriers to such supports.
As part of the truths they shared, witnesses also talked about the way poverty, homelessness, and
other forms of socio-economic marginalization worked against them in their efforts to create and
maintain family and kinship bonds, as well as cultural continuity. In particular, many witnesses
talked about how poverty and other forms of economic and social marginalization were used by
child welfare agencies to justify the apprehension of children from their families, mothers, and
communities. As Nico Trocmé, director of McGill University’s School of Social Work and prin-
cipal researcher for the Canadian Incidence Study of Reported Child Abuse and Neglect, ob-
served, “I’ve certainly never seen any evidence from any of the research to indicate that there is
something endemic to First Nations families that would explain a higher rate of placement. It has
much more to do with the high rates of poverty and the difficult social and economic circum-
stances they’re living in.”58
Expert Witness and Assistant Professor of Law at Dalhousie University Naiomi Metallic
explained:
Often the provincial systems and laws don’t account for the poverty and the systemic
issues that exist already in First Nations communities and so there can be certainly
negative impacts.… [I]t was actually recognized in the child welfare decision from the
Canadian Human Rights Tribunal that First Nations’ children are actually being taken
because of reasons of neglect more so than abuse and that’s because I think also
provincial child welfare rules often don’t, you know, specifically consider the socio-
economic position and children again are [being taken] … for neglect that is outside of
the control of the parents.59
Beyond these circumstances, the socio-economic jeopardy that many families find themselves
in is only reinforced by other stressors. Research has shown that addictive behaviour links to “a
strong inverse relation with socioeconomic status.”60 Further, as researcher Mickie Jakubec ex-
plains, “For many Indigenous people, there are many layers of stressors – racism, poverty, poor
education, unemployment, family instability, and residential instability.”61 All of these factors
combined can increase the likelihood of child apprehension.
379
According to the 2003 Canadian Incidence Study of Reported Child Abuse and Neglect, housing
conditions were deemed “unsafe” in 24% (an estimated 2,938) of substantiated First Nations
child investigations, and “overcrowded” in 21% (an estimated 2,581). This compares with only
7% of substantiated non-Aboriginal child maltreatment investigations where housing conditions
were described as “unsafe” and/or “overcrowded” (an estimated 5,948 and 5,924, respectively).
According to the same survey, the category of “neglect” accounts for over half of all substanti-
ated First Nations child investigations, and incidents of domestic violence was the second most
frequently substantiated category of maltreatment. Almost half of the substantiated child
investigations concerned families who derived their income from social assistance, unemploy-
ment insurance, or other benefits, compared with only 20% for substantiated non-Indigenous
investigations.62
Nonetheless, in many instances, the living arrangements that Indigenous families create in order
to protect and care for children and to navigate what is often severe poverty, food insecurity, and
other challenges are translated or interpreted as “neglect” by non-Indigenous social workers,
police, and others. These agencies and individuals are working within a child and family services
system that maintains and operates upon the basis of a definition of care that is rooted in the
dominant colonial system’s terms and beliefs, and that rarely takes into account the structural
barriers that prevent Indigenous families from meeting these standards.
Speaking of child welfare agencies and their policies, Vanessa B. said:
I understand you have a mandate and you have policies. At the same time, you need to
start – you need to start humanizing that this – this family went through this and … these
children will need this, and I shouldn’t have to wait for the federal government to decide
that they have $10 in their pocket and they want to throw it our way. I want to know that
that $10 is in your pocket right now and you’re passing it to me…. We need tangible
kinds of honest efforts that are within our reach and not something that’s ridiculously
beyond our reach because that’s – that’s one of the problems that happened with Tanya
[her sister]. Every expectation, it just seemed, that she thought was reasonable ended up
being non-tangible. It was so far without her reach.63
These are important statements that can help to explain how poverty can undergird the violation
of cultural rights, and how socio-economic disadvantage is interpreted by some institutions as a
lack of fit parenting by Indigenous people. Following the murder of her daughter by her com-
mon-law partner, Robin R.’s other daughter was apprehended and she was prevented from seeing
her until the murder trial was over – which took five years. Robin talked about how the staph
infection her child had, which was used against her as an indication of neglect, was, in fact, the
result of her tireless efforts to ensure her child had all she needed.
Yeah, my daughter had a staph infection but she had a staph infection because when I
was raising my two children at 17 years old, I used to access three different food banks
in the city and one of the food banks I accessed was extremely dirty. People used
380
needles. But I didn’t care because if that meant that feeding my children, even to walk
into an environment like that, I would do it. And I know that that’s where we contracted
the staph infection from.… It doesn’t mean I was dirty. It means I did what I had to do to
survive and we did pick up a staph infection. But that didn’t make me a dirty human
being.64

For many witnesses, the child welfare systems diminish Indigenous cultures and values in favour
of non-Indigenous standards and models of parenting. In many cases, a lack of will to change the
system in favour of embracing and understanding Indigenous values, or the institutional re-
sponses to investigating cases and substantiating child apprehensions, are viewed by Indigenous
women as insufficient and racist, demonstrating a lack of respect for cultural rights.
In some testimonies, witnesses described how their own upbringing engaged the important
cultural principles foundational to community life – principles that are directly threatened by
removal from their families. Anastasia N. noted:
My childhood, I remember it as the most beautiful moment of my life. I was a very
pampered child, with a lot of affection. I was surrounded by elderly people. I had my
mother. My mother was a person, a caregiver who was caring for two people, who
were both 80 years old. And then, she was the one who took care of me. And I had
responsibilities to these two people…. Every night, I had to get up, get dressed, put on
my little moccasins, and help the older person go out [to use the outhouse] and so on. I
was empowered very young. I have always enjoyed the way I was raised…. It made me
into a very autonomous and responsible person during my life.65
This undertaking of responsibility at a young age prepared Anastasia for her life, by her own
account. Yet, according to non-Indigenous child welfare standards, this kind of upbringing could
fall under the description of “neglect.” These kinds of Indigenous principles of family life are
threatened by a lack of will for foundational change to redefine parenting roles, and the roles of
children, through Indigenous understandings.
These understandings, or misunderstandings, can contribute to creating an inaccurate child wel-
fare evaluation, as well as discourage Indigenous people from seeking help or support. As one
witness noted:
I want to be able to walk down the street with my grandkids without someone calling the
social worker because they think I – oh, she yanked her kid there. She did something. I
want to be able to go to the police and the police to be able to look at me and say, “Hey,
Ms. M., how are you doing? What can we do to help you?” Not come in assuming and,
you know, right away, call social services.66
381
Other witnesses noted similar feelings regarding obstacles placed before them that they felt did
not apply equally to non-Indigenous people. Vanessa B. argued:
Their criteria seemed to be set in such a damn way that, good Lord, I’d have to have
great jumping legs to jump over each and every one of these – these hurdles and it’s –
it’s constantly. It’s a hurdle. You can’t even get – get over that hurdle enough to – and
then, you know … the momentum of constantly jumping through the hoops and that’s
how Tanya [Vanessa’s sister] always felt, that she had to jump through so many hoops
for her children and it’s not that she didn’t try, but with addiction that struggle is real and
this tells you how real it was for her, and, “You know, you tell me to behave this way.
Okay, I’m – I’m behaving this way.” “Well, you know what? You’re not quite doing it
right. You need to do it this way because that’s just not enough.” All the while these
children were placed at one point in a home that had added to the damage. Now, these
children are now damaged, you know, so – and it still exists, you know, [those] hurdles
are still existing now and I’m feeling that now.67
In the case of Robin R., the lengths she had to go to in order to be able to get her child back were
so great that by the time she was finally permitted to see her daughter, it was too late. She said:
Those five years passed, the trial happened, and I went to the MCFD [British Columbia
Ministry of Children and Family Development] and I said, “Give me my child back.”
No, they – I was irate and I was angry. I walked in there and they forced me to do anger
management because I demanded that they give me a plan to get my child back. They
said, “No, do anger management and get your certificate and come back and prove that
you have done anger management before we talk.”
I did the first anger management. It was eight weeks. I went back with my certificate,
yelled at the social worker again, and she made me do another 12-week program. So for
about five months I was in anger management.
“I BECAME A WARD OF THE GOVERNMENT AT THE AGE OF 14 YEARS OLD.

FOR ME, THAT WAS ONE OF THE MOST HUMILIATING TIMES OF MY LIFE THE
GOVERNMENT PUT ME THROUGH. THEY BROUGHT MY MOTHER INTO A PLACE,
INTO THE COURTROOM, MADE HER SIGN PAPERS WHILE I STOOD THERE, PUT
ME UP FOR ADOPTION. THAT’S – THIS IS GOVERNMENT…. THIS IS THE
INSTITUTION THAT HAS NO HEART.”
Noeline V.
382
[Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada]…. The intention of the building was for a
health centre. It was supposed to have a doctor’s office, a dentist’s office. It was
supposed to have a kitchen area with a room so we could rebuild our families, where
people could come for their family dinners because a lot of times our home are too
small, where we could have dance practice. And it was supposed to have an area for first
responder supplies because we live in an isolated community where if we have like a big
earthquake we’re probably going to be cut off from everybody else. It was even
supposed to have an ambulance.
[Now] it has no ambulance, no first responder supply, and nobody can access the
building. And they’ve set up video cameras all over the place so they video everybody.
And our families – unless you’re part of that chief councillor’s family and a friend of
that white guy who’s the band manager, we can’t access the building for our family
dinners.
So then when I talk about the language and that kind of funding, that’s the kind of stuff
I’m talking about. We need help and how do we get services to all our community
members and not allow any one person or one group to hijack it from everybody else.
And I don’t have the answers to that. It’s something I’m sure lots of communities
struggle with.115
Witnesses shared some of the innovative ways they have found, despite these barriers, to provide
culturally appropriate health care support and services. Barb L. discussed her work with pride,
underlining the way in which culturally appropriate services can provide a way forward.
I belong to a fabulous organization now, and they have opened a medical clinic. So they
started with housing, it’s Lu’ma Native Housing. We started with housing, and then now
we have all these subsections of what kind of the gaps that are being created around
Vancouver.
So my program is, you know, helping the youth that are aging out of care, and we have a
medical centre as well. That medical centre practises both Western medicine and our
traditional medicine. So we have healing rooms, we have Elders, and anybody in the city
has access to that. So that makes me proud. That’s a great place to be and take care of
yourself in all areas, so it’s good.116
At the same time, and as some witnesses noted, the support for these services must be sustained.
Indigenous-led solutions are an important part of this. Sadie C. advocated, “It’s so important, you
know, to let us know that we matter, that our opinion matters, that the suffering we went through
is real, and we're not the only one. And there is help.” Speaking of her experience at the Native
Education College, she added: “They have the counsellors. They have the prayers. They have
489
the crafts … and the courses that help them along the way, bringing us out to other resources
where we can continue on this journey, this Red Road and common ground of leaning upon our
Creator.”117
Ceremonies and traditional teachings play a role in this. As Sonia B. remembered, while attend-
ing an upgrading class, she met a woman who came to do a fire ceremony. After participating in
the ceremony, the group talked about treatment centres, and the woman who provided ceremony
discussed that with her. She explained:
So she did what she could to get me in. She said it’s a six-month to a year waiting list,
and I was kind of sad about that because I was just tired of drinking. I wanted to end it
yesterday. That was February 13, 1991. On February 14, she came to my school and
asked me to come outside. They had a date for me March 10. I went to the treatment
centre and pretty much didn't look back.118
As Barb L. argued:
So for people that are living – that [have] lived experience of the hardship, we focus a
lot on taking care of what we see, so we focus on addictions. We focus on, you know,
education, employment, getting them housed. But the underlying barrier there is even
once you do that, you haven’t taken care of the spirit. Until our spirits are taken care of
and held and feel safe, secure and actually able to take our breath in and practise our
culture – if culture is what you choose, some don’t … you still need to take care of the
inner being, not just the superficial stuff.119
To “take care of the inner being,” Ann M. R. advocated for a renewed understanding of culture
and of cultural strength as a way to restore health, well-being, and safety.
With addictions, the government needs to put their money where their mouth is. First
Nations, our people, our community want to heal, they want to learn their culture. They
want to go on the land. That’s where they want to be. That’s where they want to heal.
They want the Elders, they want to heal, they want to live our culture.120
Like Ann, Lillian H. echoed the importance of “on the land” programs as a way of promoting
health and healing.
So just in terms of support, funding is really important, but I think one of the most
important things is the Indigenizing the space. For example … be creative in terms of …
Indigenizing the space from a Tla-o-qui-aht or a Nuu-chah-nulth approach, and I think
that relates to the land-based healing, it relates to the cultural relationships that as Tla-o-
qui-aht/Nuu-chah-nulth [we] have with the land, and all our regalia, all our songs come
from the land, the resources, so that’s a real healing – kind of land-based healing
approach.121
490
Many witnesses identified land-based healing as a
key part of their journey to wellness.
For other witnesses, learning and maintaining languages are deeply connected to health and well-
being. Carla M. said:
He’s teaching the language now, and our two youngest sons are working on learning the
language, and his daughter Carol is facilitating the language in the preschools now….
We talked before we came and one of the things that we’d recommend is continued
support for the language revival in our communities as a health issue as well. It’s in the
language that the teachings in our communities are encompassed, including the spiritual
teachings, values. And I think already it’s been statistically shown that communities that
lose their language, things like suicide rates go up significantly.122
“SO FOR PEOPLE THAT ARE LIVING – THAT [HAVE] LIVED EXPERIENCE OF THE HARDSHIP,
WE FOCUS A LOT ON TAKING CARE OF WHAT WE SEE, SO WE FOCUS ON ADDICTIONS.
WE FOCUS ON, YOU KNOW, EDUCATION, EMPLOYMENT, GETTING THEM HOUSED. BUT
THE UNDERLYING BARRIER THERE IS EVEN ONCE YOU DO THAT, YOU HAVEN’T TAKEN
CARE OF THE SPIRIT. UNTIL OUR SPIRITS ARE TAKEN CARE OF AND HELD AND FEEL
SAFE, SECURE AND ACTUALLY ABLE TO TAKE OUR BREATH IN AND PRACTISE OUR
CULTURE – IF CULTURE IS WHAT YOU CHOOSE, SOME DON’T … YOU STILL NEED TO
TAKE CARE OF THE INNER BEING, NOT JUST THE SUPERFICIAL STUFF.”
Barb L.
As these examples demonstrate, access to health care that reflects an understanding of the role
of culture, ceremony, land, and language can be transformative in promoting both individual
well-being and collective healing. In her research, Amy Bombay emphasizes how access to
culturally appropriate and relevant services that allow for Indigenous healing practices has been
identified as one of the most important factors in healing for residential school survivors.123
The following reflection offered by Patrick S. underlines how powerful the link is between
culture and health.
491
toward them, suggesting important findings about cooperated with settlers to colonize Indigenous land.N
the way forward for truthful representations in the This imagery of Indigenous women symbolized virgin
Canadian media of Indigenous women, girls, and land that was open for consumption to settlers.O
2SLGBTQQIA people.
However, once Indigenous Peoples in North America
Historical Representations of began to resist colonization, the archetype of Indige-
nous womanhood changed again.P Europeans im-
Indigenous Women: Queen, posed the Squaw stereotype on Indigenous women
to legitimize land acquisition, based on the principle
Indian Princess, and Squaw that only civilized people should have or develop
land.Q The term “squaw” literally means dirty,
Negative sexist and racist representations of Indige- immoral, and unworthy;R it is the antithesis to the
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are part traditional Victorian woman.S Portraying Indigenous
of Canada’s colonial history. Early representations of women as Squaw has subsequently legitimized many
Indigenous women in Canada are intimately tied to forms of violence against Indigenous women.T For ex-
the process of colonization.D Although Indigenous ample, the Squaw stereotype presents Indigenous
women’s connection to the land is used in both women as unfit mothers.U Therefore, if Indigenous
Western and Indigenous historical frameworks, the mothers are portrayed as unfit to raise their children
Euro-constructed image of Indigenous women mirrors within the confinement of the Victorian family model,
Western attitudes toward land of “control, conquest, the Canadian government can legitimize the forcible
possession, and exploitation.”E North American images removal of Indigenous children by child welfare serv-
of Indigenous women have been constructed within ices.V As “Squaw,” Indigenous women are seen to be
the context of colonization and have evolved as three unable to mother because of issues such as domestic
different stereotypes: the Queen, the Indian Princess, violence and poverty. These are targeted policies of
and the Squaw. All of the early representations of In- marginalization that are products of Canada’s colo-
digenous women are overtly sexual and charged with nial history and live on into the present.
colonialist goals and perceptions of land.F
The narrative of Indigenous women as “easy squaws”
When settlers first encountered Indigenous women was also used to describe Indigenous women’s sexu-
in the 16th century, they produced images of Indige- ality as “lewd and licentious”W by government officials,
nous women that encapsulated the beauty of the law enforcement, and other colonial authorities. This
“New World.”G As scholar Joyce Green explains, rep- manifestation of the Squaw stereotype was, and still
resentations of Indigenous women as the Queen is, used to excuse the violence Indigenous women
were “exotic, powerful, and dangerous.”H The Queen and girls experience by white settler men.X The narra-
was both militant and mothering. Indigenous tive of “easy” Indigenous women was created to cover
women were presented as being “draped in leaves, up white males’ unmarried sexual activity.Y Portraying
feathers, and animal skins, as well as in heavy jewelry, Indigenous women as Squaw allows Indigenous
she appeared aggressive, militant, and armed with women to be blamed for the sexual deviance of white
spears and arrows.”I The Queen was seen as some- settler men.Z However, Janice Acoose, professor of In-
thing to be both desired and feared. digenous and English literature at First Nations Uni-
versity, argues that regardless of how Indigenous
As Europeans aspired to conquer more land, the women are portrayed, as either Indian Princess or
Queen trope was replaced with that of the Indian Squaw, they are sexualized and deemed accessible to
Princess.J Colonialist expansion of North America could white European men for consumption.AA
work only if the Queen metaphor became more acces-
sible and less powerful.K Europeans began producing
images of Indigenous women as the Indian Princess.L
Creating and Silencing the
The “mother goddess” representation of Indigenous Violence in Media Framing
women was replaced with a more girlish sexual fig-
ure.M The Indian Princess was easily assimilated into The historical stereotypes of Indigenous women
European ideals of womanhood and, in that persona, manifest in today’s media representations of Indige-
386
Connecting to International Human Rights
As the testimony cited in this chapter has identified, the right to health, and its connection to
missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls, is complicated. The right to health engages
standards of living and of well-being that are often connected to other rights, such as economic,
social, and political rights, and that connect globally with the well-being of families and what
happens to these units when these rights are threatened.
Overt or implicit discrimination violates one of the fundamental principles of human rights and
often lies at the root of poor health status. Discrimination against ethnic, religious, and linguistic
minorities, Indigenous Peoples, and other marginalized groups in society both causes and magni-
fies poverty and ill-health. As the Inter-Agency Support Group on Indigenous Peoples’ Issues
(IASG) notes:
Data indicates that circumstances of extreme poverty are significantly more prevalent
among indigenous peoples than non-indigenous groups, and are rooted in other factors,
such as a lack of access to education and social services, destruction of indigenous
economies and socio-political structures, forced displacement, armed conflict, and the
loss and degradation of their customary lands and resources. These forces are determined
and compounded by structural racism and discrimination, and make indigenous women
and children particularly vulnerable to poor health.128
The IASG also adds:

These health inequities are of grave concern from a public health perspective, but also
from a human rights perspective. All peoples have the right to the highest attainable
standard of physical and mental health, and states have the responsibility to promote,
protect, and fulfil all human rights.129
The United Nations World Conference against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and
Related Intolerance encouraged states to adopt action-oriented policies and plans, including
affirmative action, to ensure equality, particularly in relation to access to social services such as
housing, primary education, and health care.130
493
KEY CONVENTIONS: RIGHT TO HEALTH
The National Inquiry considers as foundational to all of human and Indigenous rights violations the
conventions associated with genocide. In health and wellness, these relate specifically to killing members of
the group, causing serious bodily or mental harm, deliberately inflicting conditions of life calculated to bring
about destruction, and imposing measures to prevent births. In addition, the forcible transfer of children
from the group has direct impacts on health and on wellness.
For reference, the complete Article II of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of
Genocide, which provides a definition of genocide, includes “any of the following acts committed with intent
to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:
whole or in part;
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.”
IESCR: CRC:
- widest possible CEDAW: - child has the
protection to the right to enjoy
ICCPR: - calls on States
family highest standard
Pares to ICERD:
- protection to - family is the eliminate of health
natural and - condemns
children from discriminaon - States Pares are
fundamental racial
exploitation against women in responsible for
group unit of discriminaon
- right to enjoy field of health, to lowering child
society in all areas of
highest attainable ensure access to mortality,
service delivery
standard of - every child health services ensuring
has right to and appropriate - pledges to necessary medical
physical and
protecon, pre and post- prevent and care, combang
mental health
without natal care, and prohibit all forms malnutrion and
- guaranteeing of apartheid and
discriminaon adequate ensuring clean
this right includes disciminaon
nutrion and drinking water,
creating
health during and developing
conditions to
pregnancy preventave
access health care
health care

494
mitted against them is not important. Media framing opinion about murdered and missing Indigenous
of Indigenous women as engaging in activities that women and girls.
increase their risk of violent crime places the blame
and responsibility of their circumstances on them- A 2018 study on Inuit women’s responses to various
selves, rather than increasing support and advocacy Western media highlights the findings in Stolen
amongst Canadians.HHHH Sisters. "'We don’t kiss like that’: Inuit women respond
to music video representations” found that Inuit
Misrepresentation and lack of coverage also legit- women believed that the media’s representation of
imize the Canadian government’s lack of intervention Indigenous women legitimized the physical violence
and inadequate police investigations. Dr. Robyn against them.JJJJ The women in the study believed
Bourgeois, a Cree professor at Brock University, told that the media’s representation of missing and mur-
the National Inquiry: dered women as victims of violence focused on their
Indigeneity, rather than on the socio-economic and
The hypersexualization of Indigenous women and structural causes of violence.KKKK One woman stated
girls, and the perception that we are inherently that the media portrays Indigenous women as
sexually available … [means that] the violence “illiterate … and dumb so that they can easily rape us
that happens to our bodies doesn’t count because or sexually abuse us.” LLLL
– I mean, in really gross, kind of, pop culture terms
that I’ve actually heard people say – we are get- Media representation of Indigenous women and girls
ting what we asked for, we put ourselves in – you perpetuates the ongoing colonial violence against In-
know, we were – by our very existence, we asked digenous women. As we heard, these stereotypes, as
for it. And so, it exonerates that violence, and well as the lack of coverage that crimes against In-
that’s the source of the ideas. It’s this inherent be- digenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people re-
lief within the settler colonial system, which is the ceive, mean that some perpetrators feel as if these
foundation of our current Canadian nation-state, victims represent less “risk” to them in committing
that Indigenous women and girls are inferior, the violence. In addition to legitimizing the violence
they’re deviant, they’re dysfunctional, and they of non-Indigenous perpetrators, some witnesses
need to be eliminated from this nation-state, and shared, Indigenous men have accepted the media’s
that’s what makes it okay to abuse and violate In- stereotypes, viewing the victims as people no one
digenous women and girls.IIII cares about, or believing they won’t get caught, or be
prosecuted, because of that.
The under-representation and misrepresentation of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people In the absence of appropriate representations of In-
allow the Canadian government and public to main- digenous Peoples in the media, misrepresentations
tain its apathy toward the ongoing crisis. become the accepted “truth.”MMMM The way that In-
digenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are
Consequently, the Canadian public’s attitudes toward represented by the media affects how Indigenous
Indigenous women heighten the women’s vulnera- Peoples see themselves and their cultures. As scholar
bility to violence by non-Indigenous Canadians. Janice Acoose explains, “Stereotypic images of Indian
Amnesty International’s 2004 report Stolen Sisters: princesses, squaw drudges, suffering helpless victims,
Discrimination and Violence against Aboriginal Women tawny temptresses, or loose squaws falsify our reali-
in Canada found that non-Indigenous Canadians’ ties and suggest in a subliminal way that those
violence toward Indigenous women and girls is mo- stereotypic images are [Indigenous Peoples].”NNNN
tivated by racism and sexism. The report also found
that non-Indigenous men’s violence toward Indige- Sandra L. stated, “I used to hate my people, like how
nous women is in part motivated by the Canadian come we were supposed to be these bums, but I did-
public’s indifference to the deaths and disappear- n't know … I thought these people who were telling
ances of Indigenous women and girls. The findings in me about who we were as a people was the truth. It
Stolen Sisters are sobering when understood in the wasn't the truth, right?”OOOO
context of how the media informs Canadian public
391
There are a number of human rights instruments that support the various aspects of the right to
health. Signatories to the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights
(ICESCR) agree that protection and help should be given to the family as a fundamental unit in
society, “particularly for its establishment and while it is responsible for the care and education
of dependent children” (Article 10). This includes that special measures be taken on behalf of
children without discrimination with respect to who the child’s parents might be, or any other
condition. In addition, the ICESCR recognizes the right to an adequate standard of living, which
includes key determinants of health. In particular, the covenant cites adequate food, clothing, and
housing, and “continuous improvement of living conditions” (Article 11) – all key elements of
physical and mental health. As Brenda Gunn noted in her testimony, the overseeing committee
of this covenant has also noted that a failure to protect women from violence or the failure to
prosecute perpetrators does, in fact, represent a violation of the right to health.131
The covenant also explicitly makes reference to health in Article 12, identifying that everyone
has a right to the “highest attainable standard of physical and mental health.” The steps to
achieve full realization of this right may include “the creation of conditions which would assure
access to all medical service and medical attention in the event of sickness.” Particularly within
the context of communities without health resources, or remote communities including those in
the North, the lack of access to health services was frequently cited as a reason that people left
the relative security of the community to get treatment in larger centres. For many people, this
relocation – whether temporary or permanent – created conditions in which they were unsafe.
The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW)
also specifically mentions health, in reference to women’s rights. It asserts that states should take
all measures available to eliminate discrimination against women in the field of health, including
access to services, such as family planning. Signatories further agree that women should receive
appropriate services in connection with pregnancy and in the postnatal period, including proper
nutrition during pregnancy and when breastfeeding (Article 12).
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC, or CRC) is devoted to the
well-being of children and also specifically addresses health. Like CEDAW, the UNCRC recog-
nizes the rights of children to the highest attainable standard of health and to facilities devoted to
the treatment of health conditions. Its Article 24 makes this clear: “States Parties shall strive to
ensure that no child is deprived of his or her right of access to such health care services.” This
raises the question of access in remote or northern communities. In addition, UNCRC calls upon
States Parties to take action with respect to reducing rates of child and infant mortality, to pro-
vide necessary medical assistance and health care, to combat disease and malnutrition, and to
ensure pre- and postnatal care for young mothers.
Preventative health care is also identified as a priority, along with access to education and basic
knowledge about health. Under Article 24, States Parties are also directed to take measures to
help parents or others responsible to ensure this right, including help with programs or money.
In the case of child victims, Article 39 provides that States Parties should make every effort to
promote recovery, both physical and psychological, of child victims, including those within its
496
own care, in child welfare. Considering the number of missing and murdered loved ones who
emerged from child welfare systems in Canada, the need to foster recovery and reintegration
from the system itself is both a present and a future priority, in terms of dealing with trauma in
one’s own lifetime, as well as intergenerational trauma.
Conclusion: Creating a New Normal

A cruel twist in many of the accounts that we heard is what happens when a lack of community
and personal well-being persists over time. In many cases, this kind of trauma and trauma over
generations has led to a normalized view of health and well-being as “poor.” As Chrystal S.
reflected, of her own experience:
I didn’t know I had depression. I guess because it's so normalized to experience trauma
for Indigenous [people]. It’s normal. It’s like the norm to witness violence, family
separation, poverty, violence. It’s normal, I think, in every Indigenous family across
Canada. We all have experienced losing somebody. We’ve all experienced and know
somebody in our family that has been murdered. We’ve experienced seeing our cousins
or our nephews and nieces or our neighbours’ children taken away. We’ve experienced
violence, lateral violence, and we experience racism, discrimination. And those are all
somehow normal for Indigenous Peoples.132
We maintain that barriers to health and well-being for Indigenous people should never be consid-
ered normal, and neither should the violence that ensues in cases where Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people are refused service, provided with discriminatory service, or abused
by service providers in ways that render them targets to violence later on.
Our hearings demonstrated how many of the solutions to health and well-being already exist, and
are being tirelessly pursued by advocates often dealing with precarious or time-limited funding
and exhaustion. In addressing healing, the restoration of the right to culture, and to health, is the
restoration of safety.
“I DIDN’T KNOW I HAD DEPRESSION. I GUESS BECAUSE IT’S SO NORMALIZED TO

EXPERIENCE TRAUMA FOR INDIGENOUS [PEOPLES]. IT'S NORMAL. IT'S LIKE THE NORM
TO WITNESS VIOLENCE, FAMILY SEPARATION, POVERTY, VIOLENCE. IT’S NORMAL, I
THINK, IN EVERY INDIGENOUS FAMILY ACROSS CANADA. WE ALL HAVE EXPERIENCED
LOSING SOMEBODY. WE’VE ALL EXPERIENCED AND KNOW SOMEBODY IN OUR
FAMILY THAT HAS BEEN MURDERED. WE’VE EXPERIENCED SEEING OUR COUSINS
OR OUR NEPHEWS AND NIECES OR OUR NEIGHBOURS’ CHILDREN TAKEN AWAY.
WE'VE EXPERIENCED VIOLENCE, LATERAL VIOLENCE, AND WE EXPERIENCE RACISM,
DISCRIMINATION. AND THOSE ARE ALL SOMEHOW NORMAL FOR INDIGENOUS PEOPLE.”
Chrystal S.
497
Findings: Right to Health
• Intergenerational and multigenerational trauma negatively impacts every aspect of an
Indigenous person’s life and well-being and includes the individual’s family, community,
and Nation.
• Unresolved trauma is a root cause of high rates of chronic health problems, interpersonal
violence, and substance abuse. Trauma flows through generations and is cyclical. Trauma
contributes directly to the decreased safety, security, and violence experienced by Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and ultimately to the disproportionate rates of their
going missing and/or being murdered.
• To stop the cycle of intergenerational trauma, we must focus on healing individuals, families,
and communities. Healing from trauma, compound traumas, and, in many cases, multi-
generational and intergenerational trauma can be a lifelong process, and often requires
healing work that involves individuals with their families and community members. Healing
programs and services should be Indigenous-led or in partnership with Indigenous
communities. In order to be successful, trauma care cannot be bound to specific time
limitations or approaches.
• Canada has failed to ensure that the health and wellness needs of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people have been met, and has failed to ensure that Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have access to services and resources that are equitable to
those received by non-Indigenous people. Current health and wellness services are grossly
lacking and often inappropriate and inaccessible, which contributes directly to the decreased
safety and security of, and the violence experienced by, Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
• The current system of health and wellness services provision for Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people is largely designed and delivered by non-Indigenous people.
Efforts to train, hire, and retain Indigenous health and wellness services providers have been
inadequate, due to systemic barriers within educational institutions and due to challenges in
delivering culturally appropriate services. As a result, there is a lack of language speakers and
cultural knowledge in some locations.
• There are not enough financial supports and sustainable funding models to encourage
Indigenous individuals to enter into health and wellness fields. Existing health and wellness
services fail to encourage Indigenous health care professionals to work within urban, rural,
remote, and northern communities. The result is high turnover in staffing and lack of
continuity of care.
498
• Health and wellness services are most effective when they are designed and delivered by the
Indigenous Peoples they are supposed to serve, in a manner consistent with and grounded in
the practices, world views, cultures, languages, and values of the specific communities they
serve. There are not enough culturally relevant treatment and healing centres for Indigenous
Peoples, based on the distinct needs and perspectives of diverse Inuit, Métis, and First
Nations communities, and stable, sufficient, and reliable funding is a barrier for the ones
that do exist.
• Gaps in social and physical health and wellness infrastructure and services within First
Nations, Inuit, and Métis communities often require women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
in need of health and wellness services to leave their communities to obtain these essential
services. In many Inuit and northern communities, women have to leave their communities to
give birth. These forced and coerced relocations to access services contribute to heightened
exposure to harm and risk. This kind of relocation removes women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people from the safety net of their communities and families, and separates women from their
children. Relocation for health and wellness services often involves travelling alone, and
being housed or placed in culturally and physically unsafe environments that fail to provide
the supports for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to be safe while
accessing services. These factors create risk and expose Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people to targeting by gangs or human traffickers for exploitation and abuse.
• Jurisdictional neglect results not only in the failure to properly address important policy
issues but also in the failure to uphold and respect human rights through the inconsistent and
unregulated manner of services delivered through a patchwork of program delivery, rather
than the provision of essential services grounded in rights.
• First Nations, Inuit, and Métis people, including 2SLGBTQQIA people, have the solutions
and knowledge to care for and heal themselves, but their strengths and knowledge are
undervalued by the current system of health and wellness services.
499
Ann M. R. suggested simplifying the process for applications to programs and properly funding
organizations that offer programs through core and not project-based funding, while applying
a cultural lens to the process.
I think government needs to fund cultural programs without the bureaucratic application
processes. My life has been about filling in application processes. I mean, it’s been so
bureaucratic. There is no cultural lens to their application process. It’s very difficult, very
time-consuming, and you have organizations that do not have any money, with huge
expectations. We’re on the ground, there is a lot of work to be done, and we don’t have
time to fill in their bureaucratic process. It’s very difficult. They need to change their
applications. More or less, never mind an application, they need to provide core
funding.78
Part of this work, as witnesses pointed out, means approaching Indigenous Peoples and
communities with a true desire to facilitate or help in terms that are of their own creation and
self-determined. As Patrick S. reflected:
You know … a real leader leads from behind. So, you know, if those people in power
can – can learn that, you know, it’s the most vulnerable, you know, that’s where we need
to shine the lens of equity, you know. We can’t judge our people who are struggling with
a burden, you know, of colonialism, of residential school, of foster care, of uncountable
losses. You cannot judge them for, you know, doing whatever they can do to survive on a
day-to-day basis, whatever that looks like.79
As a related issue, Jackie Anderson, a Métis woman working with exploited and trafficked youth
through the Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre in Winnipeg, Manitoba, maintains that new systems
for funding these services must be in place. For instance, the only specialized option for sexually
exploited children and youth in Manitoba currently requires that child to be in the care of Child
and Family Services before they can receive a referral. This has forced parents to make the heart-
breaking decision to voluntarily put their children into care to receive the services they need:
We had this amazing, powerful mother who, you know, was … desperate to, you know,
help her daughter and to get her the support that she needed, and unfortunately, other
than addictions treatment centres, for her to be into a specialized program that
specifically works with exploited young people, she was told that she couldn’t access the
service unless she signed a voluntary placement for her child. And even signing a
voluntary placement, you also have to prove your income, because you may have to
contribute to the care of your child, and that was a really huge challenge for her.80
398
Self-Determined and Decolonized Systems
For many who testified before the National Inquiry, access to cultural safety is an important part
of reclaiming power and place. It is also linked to the patriarchal systems that have been
imposed, and reified, within legislation and in some Indigenous governance structures. They
have resulted in an overwhelmingly male-dominated leadership today, in communities across the
country. As Shelley J. explained:
Because of the Indian Act and Indian residential schools, the patriarchal system that
comes with that, women are seen as and treated as less than. Our roles were diminished,
if not completely erased. And I think all of that has brought us to why we’re here, you
know, why so many of our women and girls are missing and murdered.81
In explaining power imbalances within communities, witness Viola Thomas remarked that
“many of our people are silenced to … take action because of that imbalance of power within our
communities and how sexism is really played out. And we need to look at strategies that can …
remind our men that they were born from Mother, they were born from Mother Earth.”82
Gina G. similarly explained: “I walk into my community, into my band office and it’s not very
welcoming sometimes. There’s some very negative people there and still yet, I go in, I hold my
head high, I work with them, very respectful and professional to them.” 83
Recalling the sexism in her own family, Gail C. remembered:
When it came to gender equality or equity in the house, there was no such thing. The
boys got everything and I got – you know, I got the peanuts, I got the little scraps in the
end. So there’s a lot of inequity in what was happening. It didn’t matter how old or how
young. I was right in the middle. I did not [get] the bikes, not this, second-hand clothes,
clothes so big that when she [her mother] sewed them in at the waist to try and sort of
just pass by, I had a ballooning, all this ballooning material on a pair of pants over my
hips and my bum and everything. So – and, of course, it was a total embarrassment. My
sister-in-law took me to – my dad’s brother’s wife, who did a lot of sewing. She sewed
in clothes for me so that I would feel that I could actually walk in a school without being
mortified, embarrassed and wanting to die.84
“WE NEED TO GO BACK TO HAVING OUR CULTURE AND WE NEED TO GO BACK TO

SPEAKING OUR LANGUAGE, AND WE NEED TO GO BACK TO WALKING GENTLY ON THIS
EARTH AND NOT TAKING THINGS LIKE RESOURCES, DISRESPECTING THAT. THAT'S REALLY
IMPORTANT BECAUSE WE NEED FRESH WATER. WE NEED OUR TRADITIONAL MEDICINES.
WE NEED THAT CONNECTION TO THE LAND BECAUSE IT MAKES US STRONGER. WE NEED
THAT CONNECTION TO OUR LANGUAGE BECAUSE IT MAKES US STRONGER. WE NEED
THOSE CONNECTIONS TO OUR FAMILIES BECAUSE IT DOES MAKE US STRONGER. WE NEED
OUR WOMEN TO BE VALUED. WE NEED OUR CHILDREN TO KNOW THAT THEY ARE VALUED,
THAT THEY MATTER.”
Rhonda M.
399
97 First Nations Information Governance Centre, 116 Barb L. (Heiltsuk/Nisga'a First Nations), Part 1,
“National Report,” 71. Statement Volume 360, Richmond, BC, p. 15.
98 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14, 117 Sadie C. (Wet'suwet'en), Part 1, Statement Volume 395,
Winnipeg, MB, pp. 47-49. Vancouver, BC, p. 32.
99 Sharna S. (Blackfoot, Blood Tribe), Part 1, Statement 118 Sonia B. (First Nations), Part 1, Statement Volume 371,
Volume 397, Richmond, BC, pp. 55-57. Richmond, BC, pp. 3-4.
100 Paula P. (Cree/Lakota/Scottish), Part 1, Statement 119 Barb L. (Heiltsuk/Nisga'a First Nations), Part 1,
Volume 374, Richmond, BC, p. 38. Statement Volume 360, Richmond, BC, p. 10.
101 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14, 120 Ann M. R. (Kaska Dena), Part 1, Public Volume 3,
Winnipeg, MB, p. 50-51. Whitehorse, YT, p. 39.
102 Vanessa B. (Millbrook First Nation), Part 1, Public 121 Lillian H. (Mowachat from the Mowachat Tribe/Nuu-
Volume 19, Membertou, NS, pp. 88-89. chah-nuulth/Kwakwaka'wakw), Part 1, Public Volume
103 Adrienne B. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 23, 82, Vancouver, BC, p. 14
Edmonton, AB, p. 66. 122 Carla M. (Nuu-chah-nulth), Part 1, Public Volume 82,
104 Lorna B. (Wet'suwet'en), Part 1, Public Volume 4, Vancouver, BC, p. 6-7.
Smithers, BC, p. 165. 123 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First
105 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14, Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10,
Winnipeg, MB, p. 49. Winnipeg, MB, p. 180.
106 Dianna B. (Mohawk, Six Nations), Part 1, Statement 124 Patrick S. (Kwagu'ł, Fort Rupert, Qualicum), Part 1,
Volume 376, Richmond, BC, p. 12. Public Volume 102, Vancouver, BC, p. 10.
107 Dianna B. (Mohawk, Six Nations), Part 1, Statement 125 Chrystal S. (Musqueam), Part 1, Statement Volume
Volume 376, Richmond, BC, p. 17. 385, Richmond, BC, p. 9.
108 Robin R. (Nakota Sioux), Part 1, Public Volume 92, 126 Verna W. (Cape Mudge), Part 1, Public Volume 88,
Vancouver, BC, pp. 16-17. Vancouver, BC, p. 27.
109 Robin R. (Nakota Sioux), Part 1, Public Volume 92, 127 Paul T. (Mikisew Cree Nation), Part 1, Public Volume
Vancouver, BC, p. 15. 20, Edmonton, AB, pp. 38-39.
110 Cecil J. (First Nations from Rolling River), Part 1, 128 Inter-Agency Support Group on Indigenous Peoples’
Public Volume 14, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 5-6. Issues, “The Health of Indigenous Peoples,” 2.
111 Stephanie H. (First Nations, Fort McKay), Part 1, 129 Ibid.

Public Volume 20, Edmonton, AB, pp. 119-120. 130 World Health Organization, “Health of Indigenous
112 Sharna S. (Blackfoot, Blood Tribe), Part 1, Statement Peoples.”
Volume 397, Richmond, BC, pp. 53-54. 131 Brenda Gunn (Métis), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec
113 Danielle E. (Kawacatoose First Nation), Part 1, Public City, QC, p. 38.
Volume 31, Saskatoon, SK, p. 105. 132 Chrystal S. (Musqueam), Part 1, Statement Volume
114 Karen C. (Kwakwaka'wakw), Part 1, Public Volume 385, Richmond, BC, pp. 47-48.
115 Carla M., (Nuu-chah-nulth), Part 1, Public Volume 82,
502
Reconnecting with culture as a way to belong and, ultimately, as a way to decrease violence was
a key truth that we heard. As Darla-Jean L. explained, “We need more of our language. We need
to focus on … the wheel of life, birth to death ceremonies, coming of age ceremonies, which my
family has practised, learning our songs and our legends.”89
Of the traditional activities Indigenous women engage in, they were most likely to be involved in cultural
arts or crafts (34.6%) or gathering wild plants (34.5%) followed by hunting and fishing (32.9%) and making
clothing or footwear (17.7%).
A key idea emerging from these testimonies is that of making or reclaiming space; the idea that
cultural ideas, stories, and principles, such as those we explored in Chapter 2, can also provide a
foundation for the creation of empowering spaces for women. At the Heiltsuk Women Commu-
nity Perspective Panel, panellist Chief Marilyn Slett asserted:
We need some space for women – women that are in leadership roles to come together
and talk. You know, because we – we were doing it, you know … in caucus rooms, you
know, having these conversations during lunch, you know, during some regional sessions
or you know, over breaks, in very informal, but organic ways. But … we knew that we
had to create that space.90
401
As Brenda Gunn said, the committee that oversees the ICCPR has pointed out the interaction
between access to economic, social, and cultural rights and gender-based violence, and has noted
that “gender-based violence is a form of discrimination that inhibits the ability to enjoy rights
and freedoms, including economic, social and cultural rights on the basis of equality.”94
The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW),
which condemns discrimination against women, also has important implications for the protec-
tion of the cultural rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. For instance,
CEDAW signatory states “agree to pursue by all appropriate means and without delay a policy of
eliminating discrimination against women” (Article 2). This includes taking measures to prevent
violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, to the extent necessary
and in all of the areas necessary to effect change.
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) also has a number of arti-
cles that deal with rights to culture and to identity. Specifically, it explains that all actions involv-
ing children undertaken in the context of social welfare, law courts, or other administrative or
legislative bodies should be in the best interests of the child (Article 3). Within these contexts,
States Parties are committed to protecting the right of the child to “preserve his or her identity,
including nationality, name and family relations” (Article 8). Article 9 mentions that children
should not be separated from their parents against their will, unless that separation is determined
by the courts to be in the best interest of the child – which, in many cases involving determina-
tions made against Indigenous families, is arguable. Finally, in relationship to Indigenous groups,
UNCRC asserts that a child belonging to such a group can’t be denied the right “to enjoy his or
her own culture, to profess and practice his or her own religion, or to use his or her own lan-
guage” (Article 30).
Interpreted broadly, these protections require states to look, first, at how culture and identity are
transmitted, and then, to take steps to preserve these measures and to strengthen them. Recogniz-
ing the importance of oral traditions and of learning within Indigenous families and communi-
ties, this right could also be interpreted as a right that can be enabled only through sound
economic, political, and cultural policies designed to respect and to support self-determination,
alongside policies intended to keep families and communities united.
404
STATE SECURITY VS. HUMAN SECURITY
- Protects the state and its - People-centred and

boundaries, as well as its focused on security of
institutions. individuals and of groups
- Defends the state from within the state.
external aggression; ability - Expanded definition of
to defeat an attack. threats, which can include
- The state works to ensure things like environmental
its own survival. threats, as well as economic
Human Security
- State security relies on and social threats, food
State Security
military strategies and insecurity, and more.

defense, including arma- - Involves not only govern-
ment, alliances, and other ments but also internal
state-level structures and organizations, including
processes. government organizations,
community groups and
other organizations.
- Based on the idea of going
beyond protection
to empower people as
participants in ensuring
security; in this model,
people affected are direct
contributors to solutions.
The concept of human security was redefined in the 1990s, after a focus on military or traditional
state security that went hand-in-hand with the Cold War period. As researcher Taylor Owen ex-
plains, the fall of the Berlin Wall made it clear that the biggest threats to human security might
not come from militarized states anymore. Instead, citizens in the post-Cold War period “were
being killed by the remnants of proxy wars, environmental disaster, poverty, disease, hunger,
violence and human rights abuses.”5 In this context, the focus on the state as the only means for
human security actually served to mask many of the ongoing human security crises targeting
people all over the world.
505
communities based on marriage or gender have largely contributed to the loss of culture and
poor socio-economic outcomes for Indigenous women. These factors thereby contribute to
the violence that First Nations, Inuit, and Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
experience.
• In addition to the Indian Act, any state laws or policies that deny the Indigenous identity of
First Nations, Inuit, and Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people results in their ex-
clusion from their community, which largely contributes to loss of culture and their social
and economic marginalization.
• Creating Indian bands and maintaining governance over First Nations Peoples under section
74 of the Indian Act is yet another means to control First Nations Peoples and their distinct
societies’ cultures, governance, and organizations. The “one size fits all” approach that was
originally taken under the Indian Act has had long-standing implications. This approach
destroyed self-determination and the ability of Indigenous communities to uphold their cus-
tomary laws, rules, and organizations. Further, it has been a tool to oppress and deny First
Nations women their traditional leadership roles and their political rights.
• Restoration of family and community ties is key to the revitalization of culture and safety.
Culture and belonging are key to safety because of how culture defines safe relationships.
Reconnecting with distinctive languages, cultures, territories, and ways of knowing repre-
sents an important solution to healing, Nation rebuilding, and safety.
• Indigenous children and youth experience challenges and barriers in accessing education,
particularly culturally relevant knowledge. Indigenous children and youth have the right to
an education and to be educated in their culture and language. Most Indigenous children con-
tinue to be educated in mainstream education systems that exclude their Indigenous culture,
language, history, and contemporary realities. A high-quality, culturally appropriate, and
relevant education is the key to breaking cycles of trauma, violence, and abuse.
Notes
1 World Health Organization, “World Report,” 5. 8 Xanthaki, “Indigenous Cultural Rights,” 355.
2 Newfoundland and Labrador, “Defining Violence and 9 Xanthaki, “Indigenous Cultural Rights,” 356.
Abuse.” 10 United Nations Economic and Social Council, quoted
3 Holmes and Hunt, “Indigenous Communities and in Xanthaki, “Cultural Rights,” 17.
Family Violence,” 11, 15-16. 11 United Nations General Assembly, “Report of the
4 Sarah Clark, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Special Rapporteur.”
Winnipeg, MB, p. 105. 12 United Nations Population Information Network,
5 For a fuller discussion of these themes, see Chapter 1. “The Family.”
6 Ellen Gabriel (Turtle Clan, Kanien'kehá:ka Nation), 13 Patrick S. (Kwagu'ł, Fort Rupert, Qualicum), Part 1,
Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 9, Quebec City, QC, Public Volume 102, Vancouver, BC, p. 30.
pp. 7-8. 14 United Nations Office of the High Commissioner,
7 Xanthaki, “Cultural Rights.” “Cultural Rights.”
409
15 United Nations Office of the High Commissioner, “A 39 Carol B. (Ermineskin Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
Manual for National Human Rights Institutions,” 14. Volume 20, Edmonton, AB, p. 79.
16 Ibid., 13. 40 Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First
17 United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC,
Human Rights, “Fact Sheet No. 33.” p. 123.
18 Oster, et al., “Cultural Continuity.” 41 Carol B. (Ermineskin Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
19 Patrick S. (Kwagu'ł, Fort Rupert, Qualicum), Part 1,
Public Volume 102, Vancouver, BC, pp. 26-27. 42 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First
Nations), Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg,
20 Coombe, “The Properties of Culture,” 272.
MB, p. 178.
45 Darlene S. (Kingcome Inlet), Part 1, Statement Volume
353, Richmond, BC, pp. 51-52.
25 Gail C., Part 1, Public Volume 43, Yellowknife, NT,
pp. 104-105.
48 Carol M. (Nisga’a Gitanyow), Part 1, Statement
Winnipeg, MB. pp. 151-152.
49 Carla M. (Nuu-chah-nulth), Part 1, Public Volume 82,
27 First Nations Information Governance Centre,
“National Report,” 151.
28 Ibid.
30. Robin R. (Nakota Sioux), Part 1, Public Volume 92,
Volume 370, Richmond, BC, p. 26. As Morellato points
out, it is “important to distinguish between Indian
31 Verna W. (Cape Mudge), Part 1, Public Volume 88, status rights, which, in certain circumstances, will only
Vancouver, BC, p. 20. be available to status band members, and Aboriginal
32 Chrystal S. (Musqueam), Part 1, Statement Volume rights more generally, which are those rights that
385, Richmond, BC, pp. 27-28. extend to all band members regardless of their status
under the Indian Act and which are guaranteed in the
Canadian Constitution.” For more on this, see
Morellato, “Memorandum on Indian Status,” 7.
34 Shara L. (Dene), Part 1, Statement Volume 101,
Edmonton, AB, p. 49.
36 Elder Jal Tun, Part 1, Public Volume 3, Whitehorse, YT,
p. 68.
38 Muriel D. (Cree), Part 1, Statement Volume 98,
Edmonton, AB, p. 2.
410
For Indigenous women, as the testimonies showed, threats to human security and to their basic
human rights occur on a daily basis. For them, human security means the ability to live in the
world without being under a constant threat of violence or harm; the ability to say goodbye to
children going out with their friends, and not wonder if they will ever return; and, among other
issues, the ability to start a family, to raise children, without worrying about their being targeted
by racism and discrimination, or being apprehended unfairly. Witnesses discussed security in a
physical sense, as the right to life, liberty, and personal safety, including control over one’s own
physical and mental health. They also identified the need for protection and social assistance
through essential services in areas of health, housing, access to water, food, and education, and,
most notably, the overall reduction of poverty, as it impacts levels of violence. In this context,
safety and security are guaranteed through the pursuit and maintenance of relationships that are
respectful, equal, and safe. Security is more than a physical condition; it is also a deeply felt ex-
perience of belonging, purpose, trust, connection, and harmony with the broader human, natural,
and spiritual world.
Looking to what families and survivors told us about violence and the lack of safety in their daily
lives challenges attitudes and beliefs that often blame Indigenous women themselves for the lack
of safety in their lives, because it becomes clear that the source of that lack of safety is in the
colonial structures within which Indigenous women live, rather than in the women themselves.12
This way of thinking about security also makes clear that restoring security – as we will discuss
in the upcoming chapter – requires much more than band-aid solutions, and requires creating
substantive and systemic change in areas this report has identified and that are at the root of vio-
lence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. As we heard from the voices
of families and survivors, restoring security requires collective, Indigenous-led solutions that
start by addressing the root causes of violence that so pervasively deny this basic human right.
Pathway to Violence: Intergenerational Trauma and

Interpersonal Violence
As Cee-Jai’s story demonstrates, the security of Indigenous women and girls is threatened in
ways that include, but go far beyond, a single act of physical violence. Addressing the violence
that has caused the disappearance or death of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people must consider how these specific acts of violence are the outcome of the long-term,
multi-faceted denial of measures that foster and protect the security of Indigenous women
throughout their lives.
Drawing on her many years of experience working with Indigenous women and their families
whose lives have been impacted by violence, Expert Witness Josie Nepinak, executive director
of Awo Taan Healing Lodge Society, an Indigenous women’s emergency shelter in Alberta,
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provided an important reminder that any discussion about interpersonal violence that removes or
compromises Indigenous women’s safety must be grounded in an understanding of other forms
of colonial violence.
Violence for Indigenous women is a result of colonization, and the whole experience
around colonization and the dispossession of our sacred ways, the dispossession of our
grandmothers and the dispossession of our – of our Elders. And it is manifested through
oppressive policies such as the Indian Act for First Nations women, and it is manifested
through the residential school by killing the Indian in the child and killing the spirit of
the child. And it is manifested in those abuses that we have suffered through, whether it’s
being placed in a dark room or being told that we’re savages or being told that we cannot
speak our language.13
As Josie Nepinak makes clear, meaningful conversation and change aimed at ending interper-
sonal violence and restoring security to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
must acknowledge the much broader historical context of colonial violence that actively targets
Indigenous women and normalizes violence of all forms committed against them. This begins
with recognizing the “dispossession of our sacred ways” as an initial act of violence that contin-
ues to play out in the lives of Indigenous communities, families, and relationships marked by
intergenerational trauma.
Like many of those who shared their truth, Marlene J., who shared the story of the disappearance
of her sister Doreen, described how violence has been an almost constant presence in her and her
sisters’ lives. Marlene began her story by recalling a moment from her childhood when she and
her sisters hid under the stairs to avoid violence.
I remember us being at home. There’s [my sister], and myself, Doreen and our mom. It
was quiet and all of a sudden we hear these loud banging. We had no idea what it was.
And our mom got scared and told us to hide. So us being so small we could hide in the
smallest areas where adults don’t get into. The loud noises scared me so bad that I could
remember that night how dark it was in the place ’cause we had those – what do you call
those lamps that … yeah, kerosene. They burn the plastic, or the bag…. I can still
remember how dark it was in the place. And I was hiding under the stairs. And then all
of a sudden the door swung open and I can hear screaming, yelling, banging, and then I
can hear the voices leaving our place going down the road.14
Marlene’s description of this act of violence and intimidation as the “first” traumatic event15 in
her life aptly sets up what she went on to describe as many more acts of violence committed
against her and her sisters by family members, family friends, foster parents, and, later on in her
life by boyfriends, acquaintances, and strangers. Her description of the threats of sexual violence
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made by family friends demonstrate how she and her sisters – like so many Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people living with those who commit violence – would devise ways
of creating safety even while it was being taken away from them by those who are supposed to
protect them.
Well, our dad would be partying or away one o’clock, two o’clock in the morning.
We’d have men come down and they want to have sex. They tried with me and Doreen
wouldn’t allow it. She said, “I’m older, you can try with me.” She was too young, too,
and they said, “Is there anybody else here that I can do this with,” they asked. I don’t
even know who these guys were.… I don’t know. I know I was trying to fight them off.
Like I’m small, I tried to hit them, bite them, whatever I could to get them off, and they
just shoved me across the room. They’d give up because they can’t get anywhere, too
small.16
Like Marlene and her sisters, many of the witnesses who spoke about their own life or the lives
of their missing or murdered loved ones remarked on the repeated acts of physical, sexual, and
emotional violence that denied them any sense of safety from childhood onward. Survivors, such
as Cee-Jai, also described those encounters in which they first realized as young Indigenous girls
that violence was to be an expected part of their lives.
I was playing in the playground and I remember this little boy, same age as me, he
wanted me to sit on his lap and go down the slide. And I didn’t want to. I wanted to go
on the slide by myself. He ended up beating me up. I was in kindergarten. And I got a
big, black eye. And I remember crying and running home, running home to try to get the
– my parents – my mom, or somebody to protect me. And all they said was – all the
adults around me said that, “Look how cute. Her boyfriend beat her up.” And they all
laughed, and thought it was funny, or cute. And maybe that was the first time I really
believed that it was okay for someone to beat me up, and hurt me. So today, I know
that’s – was wrong. I would never have my nieces, I would never do that to my nieces
today. It was instilled in my – my mind, and in my memory, my belief system, that this
was okay to – to be hurt. Another way of not giving me my voice. And learning that …
the people that I think are going to protect me, are not going to do that.17
In addition to her learning that “it was okay for someone to beat me up and hurt me,” her parents’
reaction communicated another harsh truth about the way others respond to violence against In-
digenous girls: rather than responding in ways that repair relationship, their response normalizes
relationships that lack safety and, in doing so, does further harm. This lesson that “the people
that I think are going to protect me are not going to do that” was one that would be confirmed
over and over again throughout Cee-Jai’s life, not only by her parents but also by professionals,
such as child welfare workers and the police.
510
For example, Cee-Jai described how, when she was a little bit older, her mother’s boyfriend
deliberately targeted and manipulated Cee-Jai in order to sexually abuse and exploit her and her
four cousins.
When we went to Vancouver, my mom befriended a white, Frenchman. He took us in,
and he would buy us anything that we wanted. Cookies, ice cream, he fed us, and he
housed us. I was a little girl. I started to trust this person, thinking he’s going to protect
me, we’re safe. This man – I lost my voice, and bad things started to happen to us. I
remember being so scared, and making us watch those movies – it was adult movies.18
Again, however, when one of her cousins spoke out about the sexual abuse, nothing was done.
Cee-Jai remembered:
I think one of my cousins did tell on that Frenchman. But they didn’t come and talk to us
about what he did to us. No one came and told. We all knew it was happening, but we’re
silence. But my one cousin, she finally said something. But they never came to talk to
us. Being a little girl, I was shamed – ashamed of myself. I don’t know what ever
happened to that court case with that – no idea.19
Later on, when Cee-Jai’s first boyfriend repeatedly physically abused her, she was again left on
her own, despite being in the care of child and family services: “I don’t know if the foster homes,
or the group homes, or my social workers, I don’t remember them trying to help me.” Having
learned early on, through repeated violent encounters that violated her safety, that each encounter
would be met with indifference by those to whom she reached out for help, Cee-Jai understand-
ably came to the the conclusion as a young teenage girl that she held no right to safety, and that
her physically violent boyfriend “really loved me, and I just kept going back.”20
In speaking about the repeated acts of physical and sexual violence she experienced throughout
her life, witness Michele G. also emphasized the lack of any response to the violent encounters in
her life that would have indicated that her right to security mattered.
So let me summarize where we’re at up to this point. They ripped me out of my mother’s
arms to put me into a system to protect me. But where was the protection? I had been
sexually abused in every single home they put me in up to that point. I did what I thought
was right. I reported the sexual abuse to my parents. Nothing happened. I reported sexual
abuse to my social worker. Nothing happened. I had been examined by Ministry of Health
doctors to put me on birth control. I had been picked up by the police a few times. Yet no
one, no one asked if I had ever been sexually abused. The first one to ask was the Mountie
who showed up at my door in Musqueam when I was 30 years old.21
511
In her testimony, Monique F. H. talked about the confusion created by living in a situation in
which violence became equated with love.
When I was … [a] young person, I started to experience sexual abuse and that was really
hard for me to understand why that was happening. And living that life … that story was
– was very difficult because I always believed that, you know, your family is supposed
to take care of you. There’s no doubt in my mind my – my abuser loved our family, but it
was just very confusing for me.
So I guess from a young age I started to realize and – and understand that I linked it – a
very unhealthy link – [that] linkage was that sexual abuse, or sexual, anything sexual
meant love.22
As their stories illustrate, the normalization and denial of violence against Indigenous girls,
women, and 2SLGBTQQIA people hold serious repercussions. According to Allan Wade:
The single best predictor of the level of a victim’s distress is the quality of the social
responses they receive from others. That’s a better predictor than is the severity of the
violence…. The term “social response” refers to how do your family, friends, colleagues,
people who know you, how do they respond when they learn about violence?
“SO LET ME SUMMARIZE WHERE WE’RE AT UP TO THIS POINT. THEY RIPPED ME OUT OF
MY MOTHER’S ARMS TO PUT ME INTO A SYSTEM TO PROTECT ME. BUT WHERE WAS
THE PROTECTION? I HAD BEEN SEXUALLY ABUSED IN EVERY SINGLE HOME THEY PUT ME
IN UP TO THAT POINT. I DID WHAT I THOUGHT WAS RIGHT. I REPORTED THE SEXUAL
ABUSE TO MY PARENTS. NOTHING HAPPENED. I REPORTED SEXUAL ABUSE TO MY
SOCIAL WORKER. NOTHING HAPPENED. I HAD BEEN EXAMINED BY MINISTRY DOCTORS
TO PUT ME ON BIRTH CONTROL. I HAD BEEN PICKED UP BY THE POLICE A FEW TIMES.
YET NO ONE, NO ONE ASKED IF I HAD EVER BEEN SEXUALLY ABUSED. THE FIRST ONE
TO ASK WAS THE MOUNTIE WHO SHOWED UP AT MY DOOR IN MUSQUEAM WHEN
I WAS 30 YEARS OLD.”
Michele G.
As Wade said – and as is evident in the experiences shared by Cee-Jai, Michele, and many
others – “Unfortunately, a vast majority of victims when you ask when you reported violence did
your life get better or worse, most will tell you their life got worse.”23
The normalization of violence within this context includes other serious repercussions in terms
of Indigenous women’s ability to protect themselves when it is necessary to do so. In her testi-
mony, Josie Nepinak shared:
It [colonial violence] is manifested in all of those areas [residential schools, Sixties Scoop,
child welfare], and our vulnerabilities are then pushed into these unsafe environments and
– and in these domains where we are at further risk to the extent where we don’t even
realize anymore that we’re in a violent situation or that we are at risk of violence.24
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The denial and normalization of interpersonal violence in the lives of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people – and the extent to which that denial, as Josie outlined, keeps Indige-
nous women in danger or removes their security – are another form of colonial control exercised
by the state, which, instead of recognizing its complicity in a long history of perpetrating and
then denying or hiding violence, simply ignores that violence, or – more commonly than not –
blames or further punishes Indigenous women for being victimized. To help in understanding the
way violence violates the rights to security of Indigenous women, Wade offered the following
observation:
Canada is an actively colonial nation. We’re not in a post-colonial era; not even close, in
my humble opinion. And so it’s very important to understand that, because in my view,
you can’t understand gender-based violence outside of understanding the role of gender-
based violence in a colonial society, because one of the hallmarks of colonial societies
are extraordinary efforts to conceal the truth, to conceal the facts.25
Residential and Day Schools, and the Sixties Scoop

The stories shared by Cee-Jai, Marlene, and so many others provide a sobering picture of
the extent to which the physical and emotional security of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people is violated through acts of interpersonal violence. The insight and context
that each woman brings to their story, however, are equally important in explaining the relation-
ships that enable such a gross violation to their security. For example, as Cee-Jai pointed out, the
lack of safety that characterized her childhood cannot and should not be talked about without
also understanding her mother’s attendance at residential school, and Cee-Jai’s own relationship
with her mother as the child of a residential school survivor.
And I remember my upbringing is – my mom is a survivor of residential school, Lejac.
And she did, like, I think, 12 years or 14 years in Lejac Residential School. And she
endured all the things that happened to people in residential school. She – I remember,
like, her sharing to me about the story of residential school and what happened to her,
and I didn’t understand the impact that it had on her. My mom’s – was – is a recovering
alcoholic. And my mother would be drinking and she would start talking about her
experience. And she would cry. And I was just a little girl and I didn’t understand until I
got much older.26
Cee-Jai also talked about how, because of these experiences, she believes her mother was
targeted by violent men who took advantage of the ways that trauma impacted her emotional and
mental health, her active addiction to alcohol, and her poverty – a situation that, in turn, increased
the likelihood of violence and diminished safety for Cee-Jai and her siblings.
513
I think my mom took us off the reserve, and she left the reserve because of my dad and
his family, which is my family. She brought us to Prince George and same thing,
violence. I learnt that. I learnt how to be afraid at such a young age. I remember my
mom, being a single mother, she would have boyfriends. And they weren’t very nice
men that came into our home. My mom being vulnerable. Must have been hard for her.
Think we lived off welfare all my life, in poverty.27
Cee-Jai’s mother’s use of alcohol to cope with the abuse she experienced at Lejac Residential
School is a common long-term effect of being in the residential schools system, according to
research that considers the long-term traumatic effects of residential school attendance on
survivors and their families. There is also a connection between residential school attendance
and interpersonal violence.28
In her testimony, Grace T.’s understanding of her stepfather’s violent behaviour and treatment of
her mother as a consequence of his attendance at residential school was in keeping with research
that documents how residential schools systematically socialized its students into violence and
abuse.
Any love or the happiness that my grandfather instilled in his family and us was taken
away from us because he [Grace’s stepfather] moved us here to abuse my mother, to
abuse us with his hatred and his violence and sexual abuse, the things that were instilled
in him from his family, from the secrets no one was supposed to talk about, and from the
residential school. The monster was born, and the monster thrived.29
In her testimony, Michele G. connected the violence and abuse she experienced throughout her
childhood while in foster care due to her removal from her mother during the Sixties Scoop, to
the break this caused in a fundamental relationship in her life.
I’m the proud daughter of the late Beverly [G.]. And today I dedicate my testimony to
my mom and I will speak for both of us and about how the system stole our
relationship.… I was apprehended in 1963 during the Sixties Scoop, taken from my
mother’s arms right out of the hospital.… The foster care system failed to protect me….
Forty years later the system continues to fail Indigenous girls and women.30
In sharing their truths, Cee-Jai, Grace and Michele asked for consideration of how colonial
practices such as the residential and day school system and the Sixties Scoop, as well as the
ongoing apprehension of Indigenous children into the foster care system, are, in fact, to blame
for the lack of safety that characterized both their own and their mothers’ lives.
Because intergenerational trauma resulting from residential and day schools and other colonial
policies and practices is one of the root causes that undermines security and safety for Indigenous
women and girls, understanding the contexts surrounding that violence are integral. As Allan
514
Wade commented in describing the unique and culturally specific dynamics that are at play in
understanding the violence directed toward Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
“You have not only the experience of violence, but the experience of violence being written out
of history, or you are blamed for it if you are the victim of violence. So you have had those nega-
tive responses from authorities, from many people their entire lives.”31
In her testimony, Amy Bombay echoed the stories of witnesses who emphasized how Indigenous
people continue to live with and experience the effects of residential and day schools. Bombay’s
research demonstrates that, among other things, attendance at a residential or day school severely
violated the physical, emotional, and social security of residential and day school survivors
through a lack of food, harsh living conditions, poor education, and lack of proper clothing, as
well as extensive physical, sexual, and emotional abuse.32 She explained, “There is consistent
evidence showing that the children and grandchildren of those affected by residential schools are
at risk for various negative mental, physical and social outcomes.”33
Girls in the dorms at Moose Factory

Residential School, located in Moose
Factory, Ontario.
As many witnesses’ descriptions of substance use, poverty, and repeated victimization make
clear, these adversities did not simply end upon the person leaving residential or day school.
Rather, as the National Inquiry heard, the violation of basic rights to security and safety within
the residential school setting continues to hold long-term, negative effects. For instance, Bombay
“ANY LOVE OR THE HAPPINESS THAT MY GRANDFATHER INSTILLED IN HIS FAMILY

AND US WAS TAKEN AWAY FROM US BECAUSE HE [GRACE’S STEP-FATHER] MOVED
US HERE TO ABUSE MY MOTHER, TO ABUSE US WITH HIS HATRED AND HIS
VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL ABUSE, THE THINGS THAT WERE INSTILLED IN HIM FROM
HIS FAMILY, FROM THE SECRETS NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT,
AND FROM THE RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL. THE MONSTER WAS BORN, AND THE
MONSTER THRIVED.”
Grace T.
515
cited statistics indicating that 80.5% of those who attended residential school for three or more
years perceived the emotional and verbal abuse they experienced there as having a negative
impact on them, as compared with the 58.8% of those who attended for under three years.34
The role the residential school system plays in contemporary acts of violence against Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and in other forms of violations to their safety and
security, cannot be underestimated. To emphasize this point, Allan Wade described residential
schools as “prison camps that we euphemistically and … wrongly call residential schools. They
weren’t residences, they weren’t schools.”35
For Amy Bombay, a significant part of the harm done through the residential school system is
that it fostered aggression and abuse between students and it modelled and normalized abuse,
while at the same time removing the cultural practices that would offer another way of relating.
Bombay observed:
the effects of trauma and altered social norms also contributed to ongoing cycles that
were catalyzed in residential schools.36
Speaking of her own experience, Josie Nepinak explained how forced residential and day school
attendance was the starting point for many stories of family violence and stories that demonstrate
the repeated denial of security to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, because it
was there where the “dynamics” that lead to violence were first played out and those factors that
foster safety and security were undermined.
And I’d like to say, I’ve often been asked, well, how long have you been involved in
family violence? And I say, since I was five years old. And I say that because previous to
that, I’d only known the tradition, the culture, and the language, and a … safe and secure
environment with my family. So upon entrance into the residential school, then you
begin to feel the – the dynamics and the destruction of one’s spirit when it comes to the
residential schools.37
Paul T. participated in the Truth-Gathering Process to share the story of his sister Amber, who
was found deceased in 2012 after being missing for two years. As part of providing context for
the violence that marked Amber’s life, Paul talked about the impact residential school had on his
family while he and Amber were growing up.
My mom was in the residential school. My dad was, but I think he was only there for a
couple days, I think. And then he got kicked out. But my mom – my mom was in there
for a few years. And – and that’s the sad part because I never got the mom that I –
usually I don’t cry for anything. But yeah … like, you only have one mom. And in my
516
case, for my mom, you know, she raised us the only way she knew how and, you know,
it’s like … for me anyways, I think, you know, if we didn’t get all we can get from my
mom because the residential screwed her up so much, you know.
And also, there’s a lot of other people, and it affects even – to this day it still affects me.
And my – and my other brothers because it’s like, you know, my mom knows what –
what she went through. Doesn’t really talk to us about it. But it … took away the, I
won’t say the best years, but it took a lot – a lot of good time away from – from me and
my siblings.… But for my family, it just screwed up my whole – my – especially my
mom’s side. And it’s almost like you – you want to talk about it, but you – some people
aren’t ready to talk about it. And it’s hard because of what the residential school, there’s
so much stuff that went on, and then it happened even with their own families, and it’s –
it impacted everybody.38
Paul’s experiences and Bombay’s research connect women’s experiences of violence within their
communities with an existing culture of “silence regarding residential school experiences and
silence regarding some of the consequences of residential school, including things like violence
and abuse that are happening in communities.”39 Her research emphasizes how those who had at
least one parent who attended residential school reported more traumatic experiences throughout
their lifetime.40 In her studies focusing on the legacies of student-to-student abuse in the context
of residential school, Bombay’s work also identifies the ways in which disclosing violence in
many communities left people feeling as if they had nowhere to go: some were afraid to report
the abuse or talk about their experiences and reopen the trauma, while others were afraid to name
the person because they were afraid of retaliation.41 As a direct consequence of the residential
school and day school experience, some students turned into abusers, returned to their communi-
ties, and in turn abused others: “abuse begat abuse.”42
Similarly, based on her research focusing on Indigenous women’s health in the Northwest
Territories, Expert Witness Pertice Moffitt spoke about how the denial of resources to address the
ongoing effects and impacts of trauma associated with residential school attendance, combined
“I WENT BACK THE NEXT DAY AND TOLD [T.] WHAT HAPPENED AND AFTER HE SAW
MY INJURIES HE DROPPED ME OFF AT [THE POLICE STATION] AND I FILED CHARGES.
THIS BROUGHT HELL TO MY LIFE. MY GRANDMOTHER [G.] INSISTED I NOT LAY
CHARGES BECAUSE IT WOULD CAUSE PROBLEMS FOR THE [G.] CLAN. MY SOCIAL
WORKER AVOIDED ME FOR AS LONG AS SHE COULD AND THEN EVENTUALLY I WAS
GIVEN A LAWYER. I WAS TERRIFIED OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND WAS CONSTANTLY
BEING THREATENED AND I SPENT MUCH OF THOSE WEEKS AND MONTHS
TERRIFIED…. HOWEVER, BEFORE THE TRIAL THE WIFE OF THE MAN WHO HAD
ASSAULTED ME CAME AND SAT AT MY KITCHEN TABLE PREGNANT AND ASKED
ME TO DROP THE CHARGES AND SO I DID.”
MICHELE G.
517
with the unique limitations and challenges of the geography of the North, is another way in
which violence experienced by Indigenous women is denied and normalized. In describing what
she called “a culture of violence and silence,” Moffitt noted that, because of the lack of adequate
supports available for them to leave violent relationships or situations safely, women strategi-
cally use silence in response to violence as a means of self-protection.
I do believe for Indigenous women, it’s a protective, self-preservation thing that women
are not talking about what’s going on. It’s a reason why there’s a lot of unreported
violence.… There is community retribution in our small communities where families
will blame each other and they’ll experience backlash if they report on the perpetrator
from their family. So retribution includes things like harassment, isolation, restricted
access to housing when there is very limited housing, or limited employment
opportunities within the community. So, it’s not – it’s understandable why victims use a
lot of self-preservation in circumstances like these in a community. Women remain silent
in an abusive relationship. They may be working from that position. They might realize
the lack of services that are available in their community, which increases their risk to
successfully leave.43
In describing the response from her family and community after she reported a violent attack
she experienced by her husband’s friend, Michele G. demonstrated this pressure to remain silent.
I went back the next day and told [T.] what happened and after he saw my injuries he
dropped me off at [the police station] and I filed charges. This brought hell to my life.
My grandmother [G.] insisted I not lay charges because it would cause problems for the
[G.] clan. My social worker avoided me for as long as she could and then eventually I
was given a lawyer. I was terrified of the individual and was constantly being threatened
and I spent much of those weeks and months terrified…. However, before the trial the
wife of the man who had assaulted me came and sat at my kitchen table pregnant and
asked me to drop the charges and so I did.44
While silence is one manifestation of the trauma resulting from residential and day schools, the
Sixties Scoop, and other colonial policies, the continued lack of government accountability for
providing the necessary resources and supports that would make it possible for women to break
that silence in a safe and meaningful way instead maintains the cycle of violence and patholo-
gizes women themselves for not leaving abusive relationships. As long as we continue to live in
and uphold a context that “refuses to tell the truth about violence,”45 as Allan Wade described, the
security of Indigenous girls, women, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is under threat and their lives are
seen as inconsequential.
518
As will be explored in the next section, the violence that marks the lives of the survivors who
shared their stories, and the violence that led to the disappearance or death of those who were not
able to share their stories and its connection to intergenerational trauma, need to be discussed in
relation to the various ways that the social security of Indigenous women and girls continues to
be violated within a colonial state. As witnesses made clear, the social, economic, and political
marginalization of Indigenous Peoples within Canadian society is an equally important part of
the story of understanding the violence that leads to the disappearance or death of Indigenous
women and girls.

As Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour explained in his presentation to the National Inquiry, prior to
colonization, the Secwepemc Nation had practices that ensured economic security for all
community members:
I think that prior to contact, that say if a family in our nation didn’t have enough to make
it through the winter that a family that had excess would bring to that family. And how
we would take care of that would be to host a feast. That family would then have to host
a feast to honour the family for helping them out in the winter.46
This concept is directly challenged by the barriers that threaten security in all of its forms today.
In sharing their stories about the ways that relationships and specific encounters within those
relationships created the conditions that allowed violence to take place, families, survivors, and
supporters looked beyond individual relationships between their missing and murdered loved one
and the perpetrator of violence. As part of the stories of violence that family members and sur-
vivors shared, many also talked about the significant economic hardship faced in their own lives
or in the lives of their loved one. For these family members and survivors, social and economic
marginalization, generally speaking, contributes to, or is directly connected to, the violence they
or their loved one experienced. As we examine the stories shared by and about missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, we learn more about the ways
poverty and the barriers to getting out of poverty function as an underlying condition that sup-
ports and enables the violence directed toward them. In addition, we learn about how the barriers
to economic security impact social and political security. Specifically, we learn how poverty
forces Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to exist in situations that increase the
likelihood for violence. Moreover, we learn how society’s indifference to and contempt of those
who experience social and economic hardship further marginalizes Indigenous women in ways
that not only increase the level of risk or danger, but also increase the impossibility of accessing
the economic resources that would decrease that risk.
519
Poverty
First Nations, Métis, and Inuit experience higher levels of economic poverty than non-
Indigenous Peoples in Canada. According to the Canadian Poverty Institute, one in four Indige-
nous people are living in poverty.47 This number is even higher for children, where 4 in 10, or
40%, of children off-reserve and 6 in 10, or 60%, of children living on-reserve are affected by
poverty.
As compared with non-Indigenous Canadians and Indigenous men, Indigenous women are more
likely to experience poverty. Approximately 44% of Indigenous women living on-reserve and
47% living off-reserve live in poverty. In addition, Indigenous women make less money than
Indigenous men and non-Indigenous women. The average annual income for Aboriginal women
is $13,300, compared with $18,200 for Aboriginal men and $19,350 for non-Aboriginal
women.48
As researchers Gérard Duhaime and Roberson Édouard observe, in Inuit Nunangat, poverty is
due in part to the relatively sudden change in way of life, beginning in the 1950s with the
introduction of a new kind of economy. They explain:
The shift from nomadism to a sedentary way of life in the late 1950s not only
transformed the Inuit mode of land use; it also caused an upheaval in their social
organization, making the market their main vehicle of access to goods and services,
money their primary means of exchange, and government the main hub of most
industries.49
The wage payment system has directly impacted traditional activities that used to form the
basis of Inuit life, including for the provision of shelter, food, clothing, and transportation. As
Duhaime and Édouard point out, “Though they remain very much alive, hunting, fishing, trap-
ping, crafts, and the traditional institutions of sharing have undergone major changes in role and
status. The pursuit of such activities has become more and more dependent on the market econ-
omy,” and has “thoroughly transformed the configuration of social arrangements and relation-
ships.”50 Residents of Inuit Nunangat have become more dependent on expensive imported
goods and services, with significant consequences for poverty.
520
Economic Insecurity and
Government Neglect in Inuit
Nunangat
In Inuit Nunangat, the problem of economic insecurity is exacerbated by the failure of government to
promote diversified economic development and honour its commitments under Inuit land claims.
Economic development in Inuit Nunangat is usually cant share of the quota for offshore areas adjacent to
associated with mining and oil or gas extraction. Nunavut continues to be held by companies based
These extractive industries are often assumed to be outside of the Arctic. A lack of infrastructure also
the major driver of economic development for most limits expansion. The expansion of inshore fisheries
northern territories. However, non-renewable re- requires significant investments in community infra-
source extraction is one of several sectors in the structure, such as small-craft harbours and fish-pro-
northern economy.I The economic benefits to Inuit cessing plants. Because Nunavut lacks large-craft
communities are generally not as large as promised, harbours, it is unable to benefit from the processing
as most jobs, revenues, and contracting opportunities of offshore catch.V
continue to accrue to other jurisdictions.II Moreover,
extractive development can pose additional threats The failure to honour some provisions of modern
to Inuit women’s security, as the high number of tran- Treaties is another instance of government’s failing
sient workers at mining camps can create working to promote economic security for Inuit women, girls,
and living environments where sexual harassment and 2SLGBTQQIA people. For example, the govern-
and abuse of Inuit women take place.III It is therefore ment has not fulfilled the objectives of Article 23 of
important that government promote diversified the Nunavut Agreement, which was intended to
economic development to ensure women’s and achieve a representative civil service for Nunavut. Be-
2SLGBTQQIA people’s economic security in their cause 85% of Nunavut’s population is Inuit, 85% of
homeland. government employees in Nunavut should be Inuit,
according to the logic of Article 23. In 2006, Nunavut
Unfortunately, government is failing to promote Tunngavik Incorporated (NTI) commenced legal
diversified development in Inuit Nunangat. For exam- action against the Government of Canada, alleging
ple, the northern fisheries are an important compo- numerous breaches of the Nunavut Agreement, in-
nent of community economies in Nunavut that cluding that government failed to take adequate
provide seasonal employment and supplementary in- measures to promote a representative workforce.VI
come for many residents of Nunavut, including Inuit The case slowly moved toward a trial,VII but an out-of-
women. Fisheries also provide significant revenues to court settlement was reached in 2015 that provided
Inuit organizations and community hunters’ and trap- new funding for Inuit education and training initia-
pers’ organizations through ownership of fishing tives.VIII However, despite this settlement, the dam-
companies.IV There is currently significant potential ages to Nunavut’s economy due to government
for expansion of Nunavut’s fisheries, which would inaction will be long-lasting. As of September 2018,
positively contribute to the economic security of Inuit only 51% of Government of Nunavut employees
women. However, numerous hurdles remain in place were Inuit.IX
due to government inaction. For example, a signifi-
521
The problem of a representative workforce runs that two-thirds of Nunavut’s population could not
deeper than the proportion of Inuit employees within afford market housing without assistance from their
the workforce, and also includes significant pay gaps. employer or the government.XII
Inuit employees, and especially Inuit women, earn
significantly less money than the Government of Both the government of Canada and government of
Nunavut (GN) average wage. For example, in 2015, Nunavut provide subsidized housing to their full-time
the average GN employee earned roughly $90,000, employees. The public sector, the largest employer in
the average male Inuit employee earned roughly Iqaluit, leased 39% of the Iqaluit rental market in
$82,000, and the average female Inuit employee 2017. Private companies leased 24% of the rental
earned roughly $79,000.X market to provide employees with housing. Private
tenants pay the landlord directly in only 10% of rental
In addition, with the private housing and rental mar- situations, and public housing provided by the
kets being overpriced and public housing being Nunavut Housing Corporation (NHC) accounts for
highly inaccessible, housing through employment is 23% of tenancies.XIII As the NHC reports, “the stock of
key. For example, according to Garrett Hinchey, re- public housing units needs to increase by 193 units
porting for CBC News in 2017, average rents in Iqaluit or 37% in Iqaluit to meet housing needs.”XIV Living up
were among the highest in Canada, with a two-bed- to Article 23 of the Nunavut Agreement by both gov-
room house costing, on average, $2,597 per month.XI ernments within the Nunavut Settlement Area would
The Canadian Mortgage and Housing Corporation’s help address the housing crisis.
Northern Housing Report for 2018 also contended
I Nunavut Economic Forum, “Nunavut Economic Development Strategy.”

II Bernauer, “The Limits to Extraction.”
III Czyzewski, Tester, Aaruaq, and Blangy, The Impact of Resource Extraction.
IV Nunavut Economic Forum, “Nunavut Economic Development Strategy.”
V Nunavut, Department of the Environment, “Nunavut Fisheries Strategy, 2016–2020.”
VI Nunavut Tunngavik Incorporated, “Amended Statement of Claim,” NUCJ File No. 08-06-713 CVC.
VII In 2012, the Nunavut Court of Justice gave a summary judgment on one of NTI’s allegations: that the Government of Canada breached the
Nunavut Agreement by failing to establish a general monitoring plan for the territory. The court ruled in favour of NTI. See Nunavut Tunngavik
Incorporated v. Canada (Attorney General), 2012, NUCJ 11.
VIII Nunavut Tunngavik Incorporated, Government of Nunavut, and Government of Canada, “Moving Forward in Nunavut.”
IX Nunavut, Department of Finance, “Towards a Representative Public Service.”
X Nunavut, Public Service Annual Report: 2014–2015.
XI Hinchey, “Iqaluit is one of the most expensive cities.”
XII Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation, “Northern Housing Report 2018,” 12–13.
XIII Ibid., 13.
XIV Canada, Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation, “Northern Housing Report,” 13.
522
Many people in Inuit Nunangat also experience food insecurity at a higher level than elsewhere
in Canada. “Food insecurity” refers to a situation when the food purchased doesn’t last long
enough, or when there isn’t enough money to buy more food or healthy food. It can also apply in
situations when members of the household cut the size of their meals or skip meals due to lack of
the ability to purchase more. According to Statistics Canada, “in 2012, more than one-half (52%)
of Inuit in Inuit Nunangat aged 25 and over lived a in household that experienced food insecurity
in the previous 12 months.”51 Further, “in 2012, nearly one-third (32%) of Inuit adults in Inuit
Nunangat ate less than they should have eaten because they could not afford to buy food. Fur-
thermore, 27% of Inuit adults reported that they had been hungry because they could not afford
enough food.”52 Inuit adults had a higher chance of being food insecure, especially women,
families with children, those living in a crowded dwelling, and those with weaker family ties.
According to Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami’s (ITK) statistical profile of the region, “In Nunatsiavut,
44% of households are food insecure, similar to the 46% for households in the Inuvialuit Settle-
ment Region. The rate of food insecurity is highest in Nunavut where 70% of households are
food insecure. Conversely, 8% of all households in Canada are food insecure.”53
A group of residents raise awareness about high food prices. Facebook, Feeding my Family Public Group,
June 21, 2012, Pangnirtung, NU. No copyright infringement intended.
Poverty and food insecurity are rooted in both access to education and access to employment –
or lack thereof. As the government’s own statistics make clear, Indigenous people in Canada
have historically had lower rates of labour-force participation and employment, as well as lower
incomes, than non-Indigenous people.
523
Percentage of Populaon Reporng Food Insecurity
80
70
60
50
40
30
20
10
0
Nunatsiavut Inuvialuit Nunavut Canada
Nunatsiavut Inuvialuit Nunavut Canada
In a 2015 survey focused on the situation of people living off-reserve in 10 provinces,

Indigenous people were underrepresented in what the government classified as “knowledge
occupations,” including management, business, finance, natural and applied sciences, health, art,
culture, recreation, and sport. However, as the 2015 survey identified, Indigenous Peoples were
more highly represented, compared with the non-Indigenous population, in education, law, and
social, community, and government services, with a rate of 15.1% compared with 12.8%.
Indigenous people showed a high level of employment in trades and in natural resources, as
well as in sales and services, compared with non-Indigenous people.54
The employment data varied per region, but, of note, the gap in employment rates between
Indigenous and non-Indigenous people for 2015 was widest in Manitoba and in Saskatchewan,
at 17.4% and 18.5%, respectively, the provinces where the rates of child apprehension, unsafe
housing, and criminalization of Indigenous women are also among the highest.55 Statistics have
also made it clear that Indigenous women suffer from underemployment and unemployment at a
greater rate than men. Between 2014 and 2015, for instance, the employment rates for Indige-
nous women declined by nearly 3%, while the rates for Indigenous men were mostly steady.56
The fact that many women become the single parents in single-parent homes further jeopardizes
economic well-being, as well as related aspects of security.
Women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people living in reserve communities also face challenges
related to poverty. According to income data from the 2016 census, four out of every five re-
serves had median incomes that fell below the poverty line. This means that for the 367 reserves
for which there was data available for this measurement, 297 communities fell below the
low-income measure, and many more landed very close to it.57 And, as journalist Jordan Press
reported, “At the lowest end, 27 communities reported median total incomes below $10,000.”58
524
In Inuit Nunangat, and although most Inuit (79%) reported a permanent job in 2016, 21% of Inuit
who were employed worked part-time, and women were more likely to work part-time than
men.59 While most respondents said that more jobs were needed, 11% of Inuit women said child
care assistance would help them most.60 According to ITK’s 2018 Statistical Profile, data from
2015 shows the median income for those aged 15 years and over was $23,485, compared with
$92,011 for non-Indigenous people in the region, and an income gap of almost $70,000. As the
report points out, “The cost of living in Inuit Nunangat is high with many Inuit struggling to buy
healthy food, hunting and fishing supplies, clothing and other necessities. In addition, many Inuit
families are large and low incomes must be spread thin in an effort to meet the basic needs of
family members.”61
As the National Inquiry heard, lack of financial means has serious consequences and places First
Nations, Métis, and Inuit women at a greater risk of food and housing insecurity as well as a
greater risk of mental and physical health issues. As Mavis Windsor commented, poverty and the
insecurity that it brings are at the root of many of the challenges facing Indigenous women and
girls today: “Many of our people, including our women and our children live in poverty, suffer
from social inequality and breakdown of families, addiction, premature mortality rates, and low
levels of literacy and education, and high levels of mental illness and physical diseases.”62
In describing the economic challenges southern Inuit women face, Jennisha Wilson, manager of
programs with Tungasuvvingat Inuit in Ottawa, explained what it means to live in poverty.
I think one of the realities for Inuit that are vulnerable is that they live under the poverty
line or just at the poverty line, which means that on an everyday basis, you’re sacrificing
a certain aspect of your well-being, whether it be access to food to sustain yourself in
order to cover rent, or you’re couch surfing because you can’t afford rent. You’re always
sacrificing something, and it’s, I think, to a certain extent, you’re violating your own
human rights because of poverty, structural poverty and violence, right? So, I think that’s
one of the major forerunners for why individuals become vulnerable, become groomed
and [conned] … by traffickers to say, “I can provide you somewhere to sleep,” and that
covers one of the vulnerabilities, right?63
“MANY OF OUR PEOPLE, INCLUDING OUR WOMEN AND OUR CHILDREN LIVE IN
POVERTY. SUFFER FROM SOCIAL INEQUALITY, AND BREAKDOWN OF FAMILIES,
ADDICTION, PREMATURE MORTALITY RATES, AND LOW LEVELS OF LITERACY AND
EDUCATION, AND HIGH LEVELS OF MENTAL ILLNESS AND PHYSICAL DISEASES.”
Mavis Windsor
As witnesses shared their experiences about the ways poverty creates challenges in finding
safety, they also demonstrate how a failure to address the significant lack of social and economic
security experienced by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is directly linked to
the violence that may take their life.
525
DEEPER DIVE
Understanding Intersectional Métis Experiences
In the testimonies from families and from survivors, we can access blood memory, which helps us live a
the National Inquiry heard about how much good and thriving life and is key to who we are as
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people people.”B
have in common: how the violence directed toward
them permeates and invades almost every aspect of As Smylie shared, remembering and understanding
their lives, and how understanding the violence the protocols are key to confronting violence that
requires looking at how systems operate to oppress occurs in Métis families and communities, and
them. At the same time, we also heard of many building relationships with the non-Métis world.C
experiences that speak to the need to apply a
distinctions-based approach in some aspects of
analysis to better understand the unique barriers
The Forgotten People
facing those who encounter violence as a particular
The history of Métis women within the context of a
group.
distinct social, political, and economic order is briefly
discussed in Chapter 4, largely as it relates to policing
This Deeper Dive captures some of these distinctions
and to administrative structures that sought to cast
as shared through the stories of Métis families and
the Métis aside and to separate them from their
witnesses. Within many Métis communities, the
First Nations kin. While the distinctive nature of
principle of wahkohtowin, which translates directly to
Métis experiences is bound with their existence as a
English as “kinship” or “being related to each other,” is
separate and distinctive Nation, it is also worth
an important touchstone for understanding self and
highlighting how an important measure of group
one’s place in the world. Within the distinctive
consciousness is bound in the Métis as the “forgotten
context of Métis nationhood, as well as history, the
people,” ignored by various orders of governments in
principles of wahkohtowin remind us about our
particular between 1885 and 1982, when consti-
responsibilities and obligations to maintain good
tutional recognition was achieved.
relationship with all of creation. As scholar Matthew
Wildcat, Nehiyaw (Plains Cree) from the community
To some extent, the lack of recognition of the Métis
of Maskwacis Alberta and a member of Ermineskin
lies in the important administrative structures that
Cree Nation, explains:
erased them from the pages of history, or reduced
them to the concept of “mixedness.” As Métis scholar
First, [wahkohtowin] references the act of being
and Associate Professor in the Faculty of Native
related – to your human and other than human
Studies at the University of Alberta Adam Gaudry
relatives. Second, it is a worldview based on the
explains, the Métis weren’t always known as the
idea that all of existence is animate and full of
“Métis”:
spirit.… Third, there are proper ways to conduct
and uphold your relationships with your relatives
Contemporary usage of Métis is also different
and other aspects of existence.A
from its historical meaning. At Red River in the
19th century there were two prominent com-
As we heard during the course of the National Inquiry
munities of mixed-descent people. In addition
from many Métis families, maintaining these good
to a sizeable French-speaking and nominally
relationships is challenging within the context of a
Catholic Métis population, there was a large
Nation that has, for so long, been ignored. But, as
group of English-speaking “Half-breeds” who were
Janet Smylie, Métis family doctor and Public Health
mainly Anglican agriculturists.
Chair at St. Michael’s Hospital and at the University of
Toronto, testified, “preserving wahkohtowin or our
He adds that, while these interrelated groups were
ancestral ties … has built in ways to making sure that
distinct populations with strong connections, “the
526
derogatory nature of the term ’Half-breed’ has caused number of new settlers, as well as the military, who
it to fall largely into disuse.”D In fact, the records arrived in the province. Some Métis remained in
created by colonial governments throughout the late Manitoba to form their own communities, though
19th and early 20th centuries reveals that the term not on the lands promised to them.
“Half-Breed” was used almost exclusively by the
federal government during this time. According to The story of Ste. Madeleine, Manitoba, encapsulates
an explanation from Library and Archives Canada, many of the themes that have come to define the
"The term completely pervades departmental Métis relationship with the Canadian state. It
memoranda, reports, registers, federal statutes, demonstrates the social and economic marginali-
orders-in-council, and official publications. Indeed, it zation of Métis Peoples, the refusal of governments
is possible for researchers to use the federal record of to recognize Métis, and the effects of government
this period without ever encountering the term dispossession on the health of communities and
’Métis.’"E The contemporary meaning of the term Métis women specifically.
“Métis” includes people of both French and Scottish
or English backgrounds. Some individuals, including Founded in the 1870s, Ste. Madeleine was situated
at least one witness who appeared before the about 15 kilometres south of the village of Binscarth.J
National Inquiry, do still identify as “half-breed” as a Ste. Madeleine was established by Métis from old Red
way to reclaim the label. River parishes such as Baie St. Paul, St. François-Xavier,
and St. Norbert. Many of the families in these parishes
A good example of the usage of the term “half-breed” had once held river lots in the older districts, but had
in government discourse is what is known as the been forced to abandon their land as a result of the
“Half-Breed Adhesion to Treaty #3.” As senior historian failures of the scrip system, which is explored in
at Manitoba Metis Federation’s Louis Riel Institute greater detail in Chapter 4.K As such, many who
since 2006, author and researcher Lawrence Barkwell settled in the area were required to apply for
explains, “In 1875, the first and only numbered treaty homestead grants under the 1872 Dominion Lands
between Canada and the Metis was signed as an Act.L The land, however, was not as suited to farming
adhesion to Treaty Three…. The Metis community at as the Red River river lots that these families had been
Fort Frances … signed an adhesion to Treaty 3 in forced to leave. Former residents directly connected
1875 as ‘Half-Breeds.’”F Though never ratified by the the dispossession at Red River with the move to
Department of Indian Affairs, the agreement, signed the Ste. Madeleine area,M but also situated their
by Nicolas Chatelain, a Métis Hudson’s Bay Company community within a long tradition of Métis land
trader and manager hired by the federal government tenure more broadly speaking, that stretched back
as an interpreter for Treaty #3 at Lake of the Woods, generations.N
“set aside two reserves for the Metis and entitled
them to annuity payments, cattle and farm Despite the hardships at Ste. Madeleine, by the 20th
implements.”G As Smylie testified, “a large majority of century, a thriving community had emerged. In 1913,
us, we’re not Treaty people but we’re related to and the community had built a church, and by 1922,
we come from Treaty people.”H Beliveau School was opened to teach grades 1
through 8. By 1935, the community had grown to
Most Métis were excluded from Treaty negotiations about 250 inhabitants, who were mainly employed
and cheated out of scrip, and, essentially, written out as farm labourers in the surrounding communities,
of the administrative history of Canada, with but who nonetheless continued to locate home at
important effects. As Gaudry explains, “From 1885 to Ste. Madeleine. These Métis continued to practise
the mid-1900s, poverty, demoralization and racism their traditional lifestyles; to continue “just living the
commonly connected to being identified as a ’half- old way.”O However, encroaching Canadian authority
breed’ led many Métis to deny or suppress that brought with it a whole system of taxes and land
part of their heritage if they could.”I After the passage surveys,P which established a new bureaucratized
of the Manitoba Act, 1870, and the subsequent landholding system that left traditional Métis
bungling of the land distribution formula within it, landholdings unrecognized and imposed debilitating
the Métis experienced heightened hostility from a financial restrictions.Q
527
By 1935, at the height of the Great Depression, the map. This was a similar pattern to that across the
Métis residents of Ste. Madeleine found themselves prairies, where Métis communities formed along
bound up at the confluence of government policies. what were known as “road allowances.” These road
The federal government in Ottawa passed the Prairie allowance communities were often thriving centres
Farm Rehabilitation Act (PFRA) in 1935 to alleviate the of Métis culture and social activity, but were
impacts of drought for prairie farmers and ranchers.R unrecognized by federal, provincial, or municipal
An army of government agricultural scientists governments, which kept these communities in a
descended on the region to plan a response.S Their constant state of precarity.
solution was to categorize the area as pasture land
and have it cleared and reseeded for cattle grazing.T The story of Ste. Madeleine is not exceptional. Rather,
This meant that the Métis families would have to it is part of a larger history across the prairie
leave. Under the provisions of the PFRA, those provinces. As Gaudry points out, of the estimated
whose homes were to be cleared could apply for 10,000 people of mixed ancestry in Manitoba in 1870,
compensation. However, compensation would be two-thirds, and by some estimates more than that,
paid only if families had kept up with their tax left in the next few years.AA They headed to many dif-
payments – the vast majority were in arrears.U In ferent areas, including existing Métis settlements like
1938, the residents were evicted, their homes were Lac Ste. Anne, St. Albert, and Lac La Biche, as well as
burned,V the church and school were burned; some St. Laurent, Batoche, and Duck Lake.
people even lost their dogs as the police shot them.W
As one former resident put it, “Prior to 1938, people The higher concentration of Métis people in
may have been poor, but they were happy. They still Saskatchewan and the growing frustration with the
had their independence, their own ways of doing Canadian government’s ignoring their concerns
things. After 1938, people were less independent. while, at the same time, negotiating Treaties and
There was a loss of self-respect and self- pursuing its plans for rail development, led to the
determination. When you’re kicked out like that, you Northwest Resistance in 1885, and the defeat of the
lose everything.”X Métis at Batoche. The dispersal of the Red River
Métis, and the quashing of the resistance, provided
The impacts on Métis women who experienced the federal government much of the justification it
the Ste. Madeleine evictions were particularly needed for “forgetting” the Métis for over 100 years.
pronounced. As the government forcibly evicted As scholar in Métis history and politics and
families from their homes and sent them off with no historian Fred Shore has argued, “The years after 1885
compensation, many were forced further into cycles were literally the ‘Forgotten Years’ as the People
of precarity that would harm their safety. The disappeared into the backwaters of Western
centrality of Ste. Madeleine as homeY and its sudden, Canada.”BB As Prime Minister Sir John A. Macdonald
violent removal destabilized the lives of many Métis maintained, “If they are Indians, they go with the
women. Traditional practices that had held the tribe; if they are half-breeds they are whites.”CC
community together and had made the lives of
women safe and fulfilling could not continue. As The subsequent dispersal of many Métis families, as
former residents recounted, the old ladies, especially well as the rising level of poverty that came with the
those who acted as midwives, were central to the government’s abdication of responsibility, meant
health of Métis women in Ste. Madeleine. They would that Métis people came to live within a jurisdictional
not only attend births, but were the holders of deep vacuum. While the provinces claimed that Métis were
community cultural knowledge. After the evictions, the responsibility of the federal government, the
as the community was dispersed far and wide, many federal government – and the Department of Indian
women lost access to the old ladies who had kept and Northern Affairs – claimed no such responsibility.
them safe during childbirth and had grounded them A good example of this kind of treatment is in the
in the cultural knowledge of their community.Z distribution of veterans’ benefits under the Soldier
Settlement Act, following World War I. The Soldier
The community itself was never recognized by Settlement Act of 1917 provided for the establishment
provincial or federal authorities and thus never of a Soldier Settlement Board, which could purchase
incorporated as a town or village – it remained off the land for returning veterans and often did so, from
528
First Nations reserves, for a total of approximately 1867. This means that the federal government does
85,000 acres (34,400 hectares) in western Canada.DD have important obligations to the Métis, as
To access their benefits, Métis veterans tried to claim “Indians.”HH In the aftermath of that decision, and
their lands from the program, but they were sent while many Métis governments are working on new
back to the federal government and to the frameworks and agreements with the different levels
Department of Indian and Northern Affairs. The of government, the ongoing negotiations, and the
Department of Indian Affairs claimed it was not long road to reach substantive and concrete
responsible for the Métis, and many were ultimately agreements, mean that many people are simply left
never able to access any veterans’ benefits.EE In 2002, waiting.
Métis veterans who had served in the Second World
War and in Korea launched a class action lawsuit over In addition, the lack of clear data available on issues
the lack of compensation when they returned home, affecting the Métis on a national scale is an important
and their exclusion from the compensation deal barrier to upholding the rights of Métis women, girls,
offered to Treaty First Nations.FF and 2SLGBTQQIA people to safety. As Emma
LaRocque, Métis scholar, has argued:
This example, while not specific to women, indicates
the degree to which the Métis, after 1885 and prior Since it is considerably more difficult to get
to constitutional recognition in 1982, were ignored precise statistics on Métis people, it is virtually
by different orders of government. The economic and impossible to say with any exactness the extent
political marginalization detailed in Chapter 4 further of sexual violence in Métis families or com-
highlights the degree to which the Métis were munities. However, as more victims are beginning
“forgotten” and, in this way, further marginalized. to report, there is every indication that violence,
including sexual violence, is just as problematic,
The Challenges of just as extensive as on reserves.
Understanding Violence Speaking of a gathering held over 25 years ago,

LaRocque adds, “The stories shared by the 150 or so
in the Absence of Data conference participants indicated that Métis women
… have been suffering enormously – and silently –
As many of the testimonies heard by the National from violence, including rape and child abuse.”II
Inquiry make clear, this problem still persists in some
areas today. As researchers Allard-Chartrand et al. The idea that Métis women have been suffering
maintain with respect to education: enormously and silently is linked to the findings of
many previous reports on the issue of violence
The provinces generally maintain that the federal against Indigenous women and girls that cite the
government has full jurisdiction for all Aboriginal need for better disaggregated data that takes into
peoples while maintaining education as a account distinctions between groups. For instance,
provincial authority. This has left the Métis nation the 2017 Human Rights Watch submission to the
in a policy vacuum between the federal and Government of Canada “Police Abuse of Indigenous
provincial governments and resulting in Métis Women in Saskatchewan and Failures to Protect
concerns not been addressed effectively by either Indigenous Women from Violence” recommended
level of government.GG the collection and public availability of accurate and
comprehensive race- and gender-disaggregated
This vacuum, in turn, means that many Métis are left data that includes an ethnicity variable on violence
struggling to access essential services that may help against Indigenous women, as well as on use of force,
to meet their needs and, ultimately, create safety. In police stops, and searches, with the guidance of
2016, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled in Daniels Indigenous women leaders and in cooperation with
v Canada (Indian Affairs and Northern Development) Indigenous community organizations and the
that Métis and non-Status Indians are "Indians" for National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified
the purpose of section 91(24) of the Constitution Act, Remains (NCMPUR).JJ Human Rights Watch’s Those
529
Who Take Us Away: Abusive Policing and Failures in person or the community must: self-identify as Métis;
Protection of Indigenous Women and Girls in Northern have family ties to a historic Métis community where
British Columbia, Canada, made a similar recom- harvesting occurs; prove that the practice of
mendation. harvesting occurred before European control; prove
that the practice was integral to claimant’s distinct
One of the challenges of compiling accurate data culture and demonstrate continuity of that right
with regards to Métis realities refers to what the today; and be recognized as Métis by a contemporary
government of Canada terms “ethnic mobility” as a Métis community having ties to a historical one.
key factor in the growth of the Métis population,
especially since 2006, when the census began to In response to the new map – which did not include
allow self-identification as Métis. As defined by the Sault Ste. Marie, (characterized as a Métis rights-
government, “ethnic mobility” refers to an increasing bearing community as the Supreme Court laid out),
number of people who are newly reporting an Margaret Froh, president of the Métis Nation of
Indigenous identity on the census, over time, and Ontario, explained, “It’s certainly a narrowing of …
represents a “major contributor to the high growth what’s been recognized as the historic Métis Nation
rate of the Aboriginal population in general and the homeland.” She added, “We’ll talk with our citizens
Métis population in particular.”LL In 2002, the Métis and make sure people understand the decisions that
National Council (MNC), which is represented by have been made and we’ll continue to move
elected, province-wide governance structures from forward.”NN The map sparked discussion and, in some
Ontario and west, including the Métis Nation of cases, outrage, in many communities, who argued
Ontario, the Manitoba Metis Federation Inc., the that the map was restrictive and unrepresentative.
Métis Nation – Saskatchewan, the Métis Nation of
Alberta, and the Métis Nation British Columbia, For those who haven’t always identified as Métis, or
adopted the following definition of Métis: for those who come from areas whose connections
to Indigenous cultures are clear, despite their lack of
“‘Métis’ means a person who self-identifies as official recognition from the national, provincial, and
Métis, is distinct from other Aboriginal peoples, is territorial organizations, these kinds of conversations
of historic Métis Nation Ancestry and who is are challenging, and may only reinforce some of the
accepted by the Métis Nation.” lateral violence that many people face as a result of
their desire to belong to a community. In addition,
In late 2018, at the MNC’s Annual General Assembly, many Métis report discrimination from both non-
representatives also noted the rising number of Indigenous and Indigenous Peoples. As scholar Cathy
people claiming to be eastern Métis. The MNC’s Richardson’s research participant, Julie, shared,
President Clément Chartier argued that these groups “Prejudice is such an evil thing, and as Metis we often
were guilty of appropriating Métis culture and get it from both sides of the blanket. A feeling of
symbols, adding that if the only criterion for Métis never quite belonging anywhere haunts me.”OO As
was mixed ancestry, nearly everyone would be Métis. another participant, Susan, shared in the same study,
As he explained, “They’re stealing our identity. They’re “Well, I feel like I’m going to be looked at as a White
using our Métis Nation flag and they’re calling person unless I self-identity, at which point I assume
themselves Métis Nations.”MM Interestingly, at the I’m going to be looked at as a ‘Wannabe’ Indian.”PP
same assembly, a new map of the Métis homeland
was presented, which excluded the only community Michele G. is a Métis woman who shared similar
(Sault Ste. Marie) recognized as a rights-bearing Métis experiences with the National Inquiry. Originally from
community in the Powley Supreme Court decision of The Pas, Manitoba, she now lives in Dartmouth, Nova
2003. In the 2003 decision, the Supreme Court had Scotia. Her Métis father died young of cancer.
provided a “test” for Métis communities and According to Michele, her mother wasn’t identifying
individuals for claiming Aboriginal rights under as Indigenous at the time, though she went to
section 35 of the Constitution Act, with respect to residential school and this affected her deeply.
hunting and harvesting, the charges under which the Michele’s mother died when Michele was 15. At this
case was launched. According to the 2003 decision, point, Michele remembers that her mother’s side
to be considered Métis under the Powley test, the wouldn’t take her and her siblings in: “My mom’s side,
530
In her description, Sharna identified many historical and contemporary factors impacting the
health of Indigenous Peoples: residential school attendance, interpersonal violence, drug and
alcohol addiction, lateral violence,23 discrimination, racism, and the loss of culture. She also
acknowledged that each of the branches on this tree “branch out” – that is, the physical, mental,
emotional, and spiritual health impacts that each of these experiences carry cross generations in
ways that create and contribute to intergenerational trauma.
Like Sharna, many witnesses described how these acts of cultural, institutional, and interpersonal
violence carry – among other things – significant health consequences for Indigenous people,
including widespread trauma, suffering, and pain, which can, in turn, lead to further violence.
For Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, against whom these acts of violence
are more frequently directed, the health consequences are severe and lasting.
In this section, we look more closely at what the families of missing and murdered Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as well as others who shared their truths, had to say
about their own and their loved ones’ health and wellness.
Long-Term Poor Health Standards: An Overview of Health and Wellness
In describing their experiences of health and wellness, the families of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, survivors, and others who spoke about the
impacts of violence offered stories that demonstrate the resilience and strength Indigenous
Peoples and communities cultivate in the face of the many barriers that compromise their well-
ness. Nonetheless, in many instances, their stories also illustrated what is widely recognized as
the significant health disparities that exist between Indigenous and non-Indigenous populations
in Canada.24 For many witnesses, the long-term impacts of dispossession, of relocation, of harm
inflicted at residential school, and of the many forms of social and cultural disruption are key
drivers for these health disparities. As the First Nations Information Governance Centre (FNGC)
explains in contextualizing the findings from its most recent First Nations Regional Health
Survey (2015–16):
High rates of chronic health conditions do not occur in isolation, rather health
inequalities are shaped by – and rooted in – the inseparable relationship between health
and generations of racist colonial policies. The effects of colonization have resulted in a
legacy of environmental dispossession, degradation of the land, substandard living
conditions, inadequate access to health services, social exclusion and a dislocation from
community, language, land and culture. These policies have been clearly linked to
adverse health consequences for individuals and community.25
421
As the proximity of residential school attendance increases (the closer the relative that attended a
residential school is, with the respondent themselves having attended being the strongest measure) the
more likely they are to experience high levels of mental distress.
To André Picard, health columnist for the Globe and Mail, it is no wonder, given this context,
that First Nations, Inuit, and Métis populations all experience poorer health than the non-
Indigenous population.
The indigenous community is young and the fastest growing by far – more than 50
percent of indigenous people in Canada are under the age of 15. This is the time to stop
generation after generation of disaster, poverty, isolation, addiction and suicide – we’ve
created all that. We have an apartheid system designed to oppress people and it’s given
the exact results it was designed to produce. Take away their culture, their language,
their ability to earn money, their ability to have land, and then, oh, we’re surprised
they’re the most unhealthy people in our country? It’s not a surprise at all.26
422
The distinctions in geographies and in community
connection and identity are evidenced in the many
Experiences with Justice
different experiences that Métis witnesses shared Systems
with respect to the violation of economic, political,
and social rights. As Virginia C. explained: The distinctions in lived experiences in different
settings and communities, as well as within very
Mom was one of … the Métis that were – they different life contexts, were also conveyed with many
kept getting moved from location to location, of the stories the National Inquiry heard from Métis
so … there was no permanent land base for the witnesses with respect to law enforcement and with
Métis, and I know both villages that I lived in as a the justice system.
child, Molanosa, in the geographical centre of
Saskatchewan, no longer exists. The people who Fallon F. told the story of her family’s loss. Sherry and
lived in that community [were moved from] that Maurice lived with their daughter, Fallon, and two
community to across the lake, Weyakwin, because sons on a farm in St. Eustache, Manitoba. Both
I don’t know if there was mineral resources in that parents worked in Winnipeg but were very involved
area or what.YY in their community. Sherry and Maurice were
murdered in 1993, on the same day that the
To Virginia, the history of disenfranchisement and of perpetrator – her mother’s stalker – was released
marginalization of her mother through various stages from custody for breaking a restraining order, when
of her life was connected to her experience as a Métis Fallon was just 9.
person.
On the night of the murders, Fallon was awoken by a
Harold R. is Métis and originally from Edmonton. His noise to find her mother struggling with the
aunt Julie was beaten to death when he was 15, and perpetrator, while her little brother, five years old,
he remembers the day that his family found out she stood crying nearby. Fallon tried to call for help on
was dead. The family received a phone call one the regular seven-digit assistance line, since 911
evening and his mother answered the phone, falling service was not available in the area, but was chased
to the floor when she was told that her sister, Julie, from the phone by the killer. Eventually, and after
had been beaten to death by her partner. Seeing the having her three children trapped, the perpetrator
immediate impact of that loss on his family members threatened to kill one of them if Fallon’s mother didn’t
has stuck with him to this day. As he put it, “in one agree to go upstairs with him.BBB
phone call that part of my mother was just stripped
away.”ZZ Eventually, Fallon was able to try to call for help
several more times, but not before the perpetrator
He also spoke of the silence that followed her loss. killed both of her parents, then turned the gun on
“We were robbed of her laughter, we were robbed of himself.CCC The children called for help from 12 a.m.
her, you know, great zeal for life. My mom was robbed on, but the police officer fell asleep and didn’t
of a friend and a sister. So that stuck with me and the respond until 3 a.m. Fallon and her younger brother
rest of our family and we saw … the impact of that sat in the house, with their parents’ bodies, until help
call.” Harold remembered that the family couldn’t finally arrived at 8:30 a.m.DDD
afford a casket and he had to put all of the money he
made that winter as a 15-year-old toward that. They Métis mother Cathy C. came to the Inquiry with her
couldn’t afford a gravestone for another 15 to 20 husband David and granddaughter Ashley to share
years. He described having to grow up quickly to deal about her daughter, who went missing from 2014
with these things.AAA to 2017, and is now missing again. Their biggest
frustration with the authorities are the rules around
The experience of poverty shaped the aftermath of not releasing information about missing people
his aunt’s death, and also affected his mother, except in certain circumstances, since some people
impacting her well-being and health for the disappear of their own accord. However, a
remainder of her life. complicating factor is that their daughter was
533
diagnosed with schizophrenia, and has experienced
severe drug-induced psychosis in the past.
Conclusion: Reframing the
Diverse Experiences of Métis
The one time they heard from their daughter, in
2017, was when she was incarcerated in Los Angeles. Women to Restore Safety
There, when she was given medication for her
schizophrenia, she began to remember her family’s There is a great diversity, both among Métis women’s,
phone numbers and called her parents. She stayed in girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA peoples’ experiences, as well
contact with them while she was in jail and receiving as between the experiences of Métis women and
medical support, until she was released in September other Indigenous women in Canada. In concert with
2017. She became homeless, and by October they this, there is a lack of data to support thorough
lost contact with her again. analysis concerning the ways in which Métis women’s,
girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s experiences and rates
She is still missing, and both Canadian and American of violence may differ from those of other Indigenous
authorities continue to say they are unable to release people. While these experiences may reflect, in many
any information to her family, including if she is alive ways, those of other Indigenous people in Canada, the
or dead. They feel that the prevailing attitude from need to understand how a lack of services, and
the authorities is that no one really cares. an abdication of governmental responsibility, may
have contributed to these issues remains of vital
In another situation, Karin S.’s mother drowned in the importance in fully understanding how best to
Yukon River. However, Karin never felt that the combat violence in this distinctive context.
question of how her mother ended up in the river
was properly investigated – there were too many Overwhelmingly, Métis witnesses testifying about
unanswered questions. their family loss pointed to the characteristics they
missed the most of their loved ones. For instance,
The authorities also improperly identified Karin’s Karin S. testified that her cousins remembered her
mother as non-Indigenous. Karin would like to see mother as someone who made people feel special
this formally fixed on her mother’s death certificate. and loved. Her mother also made special efforts to
As she says, “She wasn’t Caucasian – not that that’s care for older people in her life, bringing them meals,
an insult, but my mom was very proud of her First making sure they got out to events and always being
Nations heritage, Tsleil-Waututh and Manitoba ready with a sympathetic ear.
Métis.”EEE
Virginia C.’s mother, Madeline, was described by
The experience of many Métis with law enforcement family as someone who had survived “so much
varies greatly. In some cases, experiences with law violence and poverty”; she “had an ability to endure
enforcement and the justice system are linked to and make the best of her circumstances.” She “left
geography, to community, and to perceived identity a great legacy of love.” She was “very kind, merciful,
of the victim or perpetrator. While the evidence gentle, generous, hospitable, industrious, and
tendered before the National Inquiry does not resourceful.” Also, she was “a meticulous housekeeper,
provide a basis for broad generalization, the diversity provid[ed] food and clean clothing and she was an
of experiences, as well as the common perception of entrepreneur selling lovely beadwork over many
being forgotten or cast aside, points to the need to years. But above all, she was the best of mothers.”FFF
support greater awareness on the part of the justice
system about the need to track and record these But witnesses also pointed to the strength and power
crimes and the identities of victims and of of their communities and relationships in providing
perpetrators, and the need for greater relationship the way forward after these losses. For example,
building in whatever context Métis people interact despite moving to Ontario to live with her aunt in the
with these agencies. aftermath of her parents’ deaths, Fallon pointed out
that she continues to have a bond with friends and
534
Average Life Expectancy in Canada
90
80
70
Life Expectancy in Years
60
50
40
30
20
10
0
Non-Indigenous First Nations Métis Inuit
Men Women
Source: Statistics Canada, Projections of the Aboriginal Populations, Canada, Provinces and Territories, 2001 to 2017.
for First Nations, Métis, and Inuit populations than for the non-Indigenous population, and the
rates of death from sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) was more than seven times higher in
First Nations and Inuit populations than in the non-Indigenous population.30
Research on infant mortality demonstrates that when infant mortality occurs in the postneonatal
period (from 28 days to one year after birth), it is more likely to reflect social and environmental
factors than factors associated with access to obstetric and neonatal care, which is more likely to
occur during the neonatal period (birth to less than 28 days). While postneonatal deaths make up
about one-quarter of all infant deaths in the non-Indigenous population, they make up nearly half
of infant deaths in the Indigenous population.31 This reality speaks to the urgent need to address
those social and environmental factors that impact health – as many of the witnesses who de-
scribed their experiences as mothers indicated – even in the earliest days.32
Chronic Health Conditions
Indigenous children, youth, and adults more frequently live with chronic health conditions.
According to the First Nations Regional Health Survey (2015–16), “nearly two-thirds (59.8%) of
First Nations adults, one-third (33.2%) of First Nations youth, and more than one-quarter (28.5%)
of First Nations children reported having one or more chronic health conditions,” such as diabetes,
arthritis, high blood pressure, allergies, and chronic back pain.33 More First Nations women
(46.5%) than men (36.4%) report co-morbid conditions (two or more chronic health conditions
424
A Wildcat, “Wahkohtowin in Action,” 14. JJ Farida Deif, Part 2, Public Volume 9, Exhibit 26, Toronto, ON,
B Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public p. 85.
Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 18. KK Farida Deif, Part 2, Public Volume 9, Exhibit 31, Toronto, ON, pp.
C Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public 115-116.
Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 148. LL O'Donnell and Wallace, “First Nations, Métis and Inuit Women,”
D Gaudry, “Métis.” https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/89-503-
x/2010001/article/11442-eng.htm.
E Library and Archives Canada, “Métis Scrip Records,”
https://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/metis-scrip/005005-4000- MM Hobson, “They’re stealing our identity.”
e.html. NN Ibid.
F Barkwell, “Metis Adhesion to Treaty Three.” OO Richardson, “Metis Identity Creation,” 60.
G Ibid. PP Ibid., 61.
H Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public QQ Michele G. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 467, Dartmouth, NS,
Volume 2, Iqaluit, MU, p. 109. p. 3.
I Gaudry, “Métis.” RR Michele G. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 467, Dartmouth, NS,
J Sammons, "Leaving Ste. Madeleine,” 152. p. 5.
K Herriot, Towards a Prairie Atonement, 49. SS Sharon P. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 223, Prince George,
BC, p. 28.
L Ibid.
TT S.A. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 29, Vancouver, BC,
M Ibid., 45.
pp. 1-2.
N Ibid., 49.
UU Canada, Statistics Canada, “Aboriginal Peoples Highlight
O Ibid., 46. Tables, 2016 Census.”
P Ibid. VV Cited in Hawkes, Aboriginal Peoples and Government
Q Ibid. Responsibility, 260.
R Sammons, "Leaving Ste. Madeleine," 152. WW Aboriginal Peoples Television Network, “Alberta Métis
S Herriot, Atonement, 22. settlements.”
T Zeilig and Zeilig, Ste. Madeleine, 4. XX Cornet, “Fresh hopes for land claim.”
U Herriot, Atonement, 88. See also Sammons, "Leaving Ste. YY Virginia C. (Métis), Part 1 Statement Volume 117, Saskatoon, SK, p.
Madeleine,” 152. 29.
V Sammons, "Leaving Ste. Madeleine," 157. ZZ Harold R. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 81, Edmonton, AB, pp.
4-5.
W Lena Fleury, “Oral History interview with Lena Fleury of
Binscarth, Manitoba,” 22 June 1993. Accession No. 1997-44, AAA Harold R. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 81, Edmonton, AB, p.
Location Code C2420. Metis Women of Manitoba Inc. oral 5-6.
history project records, Archive of Manitoba. See also Sammons, BBB Fallon F. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, p. 37, 43-
"Leaving Ste. Madeleine,"157. 45, 50.
X Herriot, Atonement, 77. CCC Fallon F. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 46-
Y Sammons, "Leaving Ste. Madeleine," 155. 47.
Z Zeilig and Zeilig, Ste. Madeleine, 168–69. DDD Fallon F. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, p. 47.
AA Gaudry, “Métis.” EEE Karin S., Part 1, Statement Volume 4, Whitehorse, YT, p. 3.
BB Shore, “The Métis,” 1. FFF Virginia C. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 117, Saskatoon, SK, p.
27.
CC Cited in Gaudry, “Métis.”
GGG Fallon F. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, p. 37.
DD Carter, “An Infamous Proposal.”
HHH Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
EE Duhamel and McCrae, “Holding Their End Up.” Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 116.
FF Common, “Métis veterans launch class action lawsuit.” III Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
GG Allard-Chartrand et al., “Métis Children and Families,” 40. Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, pp. 122-123.
HH Daniels v. Canada (Indian Affairs and Northern Development) 2016
SCC 12.
II LaRocque, “Violence in Aboriginal Communities,” 73.
536
Housing
For First Nations, Métis, and Inuit women, one of the ways poverty impedes them in seeking
safety is in their search for safe, affordable, and accessible housing. Across the country, family
members, survivors, Knowledge Keepers, and others drew attention to the link between the lack
of access to safe housing and violence. The lack of availability of safe and affordable housing in
many First Nations, Métis, and Inuit communities is well documented. In 2016, according to
Statistics Canada, close to one-fifth (18.5%) of the Indigenous population lived in housing that
was considered not suitable for the number of people who lived there.64 Specifically, of those
living in crowded housing, 8.6% of Métis, 23% of First Nations, and 40% of the Inuit population
lived in these conditions.65
Percentage of Homes Reporng Overcrowding
Inuit
First Naons
Més
Indigenous Populaon Overall
0 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45
Indigenous Populaon Overall Més First Naons Inuit
For Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people living in poverty, access to housing,
especially within remote or isolated communities, is especially difficult. Violence may be com-
pounded by both crowded living arrangements, as well as the difficulty in accessing housing at
all for a variety of different reasons including economic capacity and availability of housing. For
instance, according to Statistics Canada data for 2016, Inuit living in Nunangat were more likely
to live in crowded housing than those who lived elsewhere in Canada, and within Inuit Nunan-
gat, half (51.7%) of the Inuit population lived in crowded housing.66 Inuit families of loved ones
who died from intimate partner violence often mentioned the shortage of housing in Inuit Nunan-
gat, the overcrowding, the incidence of infectious diseases, and the violence that inevitably fol-
lows overcrowded homes. According to ITK, “Crowded housing is associated with high rates of
communicable disease (such as tuberculosis), stressors that can lead to friction and violence
537
occurring at the same time) – a finding that underlines the need for health care supports, and the
manner in which First Nations women are at a distinct disadvantage where a lack of health care
supports exist, given that multiple chronic conditions are “often associated with complex health
outcomes, clinical management and health care needs.”34 For First Nations youth, among the most
common chronic health conditions are those connected to mental health, including anxiety (8.3%)
and mood disorders (6.6%).35
In addition, higher adult obesity rates are found in Indigenous populations than in the non-Indige-
nous population: First Nations and Inuit, 26%; Métis, 22%; non-Indigenous population, 16%.36
For Inuit, chronic conditions, as seen in 2012 among Inuit, included those such as high blood pres-
sure, arthritis, asthma, depression, and diabetes in approximately 43% of the population, many of
which can directly be linked to a changing way of life. Tuberculosis, a focus of colonial policy in
previous decades, is also much more prevalent among Inuit: according to ITK, while it was 0.6
per 100,000 in Canada, the rate of tuberculosis as of 2018 was 181 per 100,000 among Inuit.37
Like the Inuit and First Nations, Métis people also experience a high incidence of chronic condi-
tions such as arthritis, high blood pressure, asthma, intestinal ulcers, and diabetes: according to
2016 data from the Aboriginal Peoples Survey (the most recent available), only 54% of the Métis
population aged 12 and older reported a good state of general health.
For 2SLGBTQQIA people, health outcomes are less consistently measured or studied. Nonethe-
less, available research suggests that 2SLGBTQQIA people may experience higher rates of
chronic health conditions, mental health issues, substance use, suicide, and violence than other
Indigenous people and the non-Indigenous population.38
Mental Health
In addition to chronic health conditions related to physical health, First Nations, Inuit, and Métis
are also more likely to experience mental health concerns than the non-Indigenous population.
For instance, 2012 data from the Aboriginal Peoples Survey shows that over one in five Indige-
nous individuals reported having suicidal thoughts. All First Nations age groups up to age 65 are
at increased risk, compared with the Canadian population; males are at a higher risk than
females. The suicide rate of Inuit is 10 times that of the rest of Canada, with the greatest differ-
ence between the Inuit and non-Indigenous population being among young to middle-age
females.39 Among Inuit females aged 15 to 24, the suicide rate is approximately eight times that
of non-Indigenous people; for Inuit females aged 25 to 39, it is approximately five times
greater.40 In 2016, the Aboriginal Peoples Survey also reported that Indigenous youth are particu-
larly at risk for poor mental health, with just over one in ten of off-reserve First Nations youth
and 7.8% of Métis youth having a mood disorder. Further, “Rates of acute-care hospitalizations
for intentional self-harm are high among Indigenous youth aged 10 to 19,” with the highest in
Inuit Nunangat.41
425
Compounding the health issues, access to health services remains a barrier to health and well-
ness. According to Health Canada data for the period between 2006 and 2010, 39% of First
Nations adults reported that they had less access to health services than the rest of the Canadian
population, with the most common barrier being waiting lists for health services.42
For many Inuit, and as we heard from several witnesses, access to health care in the Inuit popula-
tion is an important determinant of health, and many who need treatment, including expectant
mothers, are forced to leave the community for extended periods of time. The difficulties of ac-
cess are exacerbated by problems with recruitment and retention of health professionals in Inuit
communities. For example, in 2012, 59% of Inuit had seen or talked to a medical doctor, com-
pared with 79% in the Canadian population.43 Only 32% of Métis had access to traditional medi-
cine or wellness practices in their own communities, with more and better services cited as being
in larger urban areas.44 Due the relatively recent tracking of disaggregated data related to the
Métis, there is not a great deal of data available to make comparisons over the longer term.45
“THE INDIGENOUS COMMUNITY IS YOUNG AND THE FASTEST GROWING BY FAR –

MORE THAN 50 PERCENT OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE IN CANADA ARE UNDER THE AGE
OF 15. THIS IS THE TIME TO STOP GENERATION AFTER GENERATION OF DISASTER,
POVERTY, ISOLATION, ADDICTION AND SUICIDE – WE’VE CREATED ALL THAT. WE
HAVE AN APARTHEID SYSTEM DESIGNED TO OPPRESS PEOPLE AND IT’S GIVEN THE
EXACT RESULTS IT WAS DESIGNED TO PRODUCE. TAKE AWAY THEIR CULTURE, THEIR
LANGUAGE, THEIR ABILITY TO EARN MONEY, THEIR ABILITY TO HAVE LAND, AND
THEN, OH, WE’RE SURPRISED THEY’RE THE MOST UNHEALTHY PEOPLE IN OUR
COUNTRY? IT’S NOT A SURPRISE AT ALL.”
André Picard
426
YWCA was housed. This was where transitional housing occurs. This has displaced 33
families. And, as I was preparing my – for the conference and to resolve the emergency
protection orders, I said to ... the executive director, “This is an emergency protection
order waiting to happen.” And she said, “Pertice, it’s already happened. They’ve moved
people into other housing across Yellowknife, not with a security guard, and one woman
has recently had her door kicked in and does not feel secure.”
So, what they were providing in 2017–18, the YWCA provided transitional housing up
to one year to 57 families and 94 children, and there were 21 youth in Hope’s Haven, as
we said, and the Yellowknife’s Women’s Society opened eight semi-independent units
for single women.
So, I think we have a further crisis brewing for our small population. And the numbers
may not seem large to you, but we’re a small population really spread across the North,
and as an Elder said to me once in the community, “I count as a person.”75
In other testimony, we heard how women whose relationships break down because of violence are
then faced with challenges related to housing because of community policies or practices. Michele
G. described how, because of band policy, she was not allowed access to her marital home.
Soon we decided to separate and divorce and it became a fight for who would get the
marital home on the reserve that was in both our names. Because you can’t sell the land
on reserve – it’s Crown land – you have to revert to band policy. I remained living in the
house with my three kids and I became subjected to violence by some members of his
family who didn’t want me in there. One day I had 100 rotten fish dumped on my yard
and a bicycle thrown through the front window. I wasn’t home but my six kids were and
they phoned 911 and hid in an upstairs closet terrified, but the police didn’t attend. When
I got home I was livid. Talked to some sergeant in [a police department] who apologized
and said they thought it was a prank. I went to Chief in Council about the lack of policy to
protect women from being shoved out of homes on the reserve to go live in poverty in the
east end. They had no answer for me. I left the reserve at that time.76
For Indigenous women living in urban settings, or for the many Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people who decide to leave their community, access to safe and affordable hous-
ing continues to be a problem that puts them at additional risk for violence. For example, Jen-
nisha Wilson, programs manager with Tungasuvvingat Inuit, talked about how, for Inuit women
who resettle in the South, the only options for affordable housing are often in neighbourhoods
where there are higher levels of violence and police presence: “Within Ottawa, Vanier tends to be
one of the hubs where a lot of Inuit live. It also tends to be the number one spot that has the high-
est rates of sexual assault within the province. It also happens to be a place where surveillance and
policing happens constantly.” For Wilson, again, it is important to position these challenges in
accessing safe and affordable housing within a colonial context that continues to jeopardize
540
women’s security and safety. For her, the high number of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit women
living in low-income, high-crime neighbourhoods is an example of “how violence is rearticulated
through geography.”77
Indigenous women were 3.3 times more likely to report people being drunk or rowdy in their neigh-
bourhood, 2.3 times more likely to report someone being attacked due to skin colour or ethnicity or
religion, and 2.6 times more likely to report people using or dealing drugs than non-Indigenous
women.
In her testimony, survivor Rebecca M. talked extensively about the difficulties she faced as
a low-income First Nations woman seeking housing in Halifax. She spoke about how she
perceived a connection between living in an unsecure public housing unit in Halifax and the
increased likelihood of violence.
[T.] Housing, that’s Native housing in Halifax, so it’s like public housing for Native
people. And – and they’re really slummy. They’re like slum lords, so they have a lot of
problems. The apartment – me and [my sister] lived there, we lived there for five years.
The back door … was insecure, so like the wind could blow it in, and stuff, and it was
like that the whole five years.
From before we moved in to after, and it eventually led – so it was insecure the whole
time, and even though I stressed to them, “You know, it’s – it’s me and my sister, my
younger sister, like, we’re young women and we live on our own, and you know, it’s
really unsafe,” they never fixed it.
541
and having an internal locus of control further they’ll set your leg. They’ll put a cast on it. And
reduced the risk of suicide.” VI As the researchers you’ll go away and you’ll feel like you’ve received
explain, “Individuals are likely to search for identity some sort of help and, like, you’re on the way to
during developmental crises where psychological getting better. But when you look at our mental
growth can be triggered through the experience of health system, the challenges there exist. They’re
stressful life events…. If such meaning cannot be real for our children and our youth.… You take the
located and the struggle for identity cannot be same child that’s suffering with mental health
resolved, then a serious period of hopelessness or issues, whatever it is, you know, ADHD, anxiety,
depression occurs.” VII The failure to find continuity or OCD, ODD, youth – there’s so many of these
a sense of belonging can lead youth to adopt different diagnoses. If you take that same child
addictive lifestyles or to adopt unhealthy self-images into that same emergency room or that same
leading to suicidal thoughts or attempts. health clinic, that child sits there for 10, 12, 14, 16
hours. And you know what happens? Someone
Compounding these problems is a perceived sense on a phone says, send them home. So those kids
of isolation in some communities, and a lack of access go home. I’m telling you, we’re dealing with life-
to services that could help in a crisis situation. As and-death situations when that happens.X
O’Soup testified, the challenges in addressing mental
health are particularly severe in northern and remote
communities: “We have 15 child psychiatrists – and
Suicide among Inuit Youth
I’m just using this as an example – in Saskatchewan.
In the decades before the way of life based on the
One of them travels one day every two weeks to our
land and in geographic mobility was changed to a
northern communities. So I’m guessing that the
more sedentary life in centralized settlements as a
actual wait list for them is longer than two years.”VIII
result of colonization, Inuit suicide was a pheno-
In her testimony, Tanya Talaga highlighted a similar
menon reserved for a very few and older Inuit. Back
issue, citing the example of the community of
then, Inuit who were suffering from illness, famine, or
Wapekeka, a community of approximately 400
old age could decide which moment they wished to
people in northwestern Ontario, where youth
die. The choice by individuals to die by suicide was in
experiencing mental health crises and needing to see
keeping with the respect Inuit have for the autonomy
someone “have to be flown away, flown away from
of their fellow Inuit to make decisions about their
their families, flown away from everything that they
own matters and lives.XI However as societal changes
know, put in a hotel or put into the Sioux Lookout
occurred through colonization and settlement, the
Hospital…. I mean, all by themselves, you know,
death of Inuit youth by suicide began to occur.
without any support. And, these are children in
While Indigenous groups across Canada have also
crisis.”IX In part, and as we heard in many testimonies,
experienced increased suicide rates among their
improving outcomes includes properly resourcing
youth, Inuit have seen very high suicide rates. Inuit
health services, including mental health services,
youth suicides began in the 1970s followed by a
for children and youth, to decrease these kinds of
dramatic increase in the 1980s, and Inuit youth
barriers to well-being.
suicide rates continued to rise since. In Inuktitut
someone who chooses to end one’s life is qivittuq
Part of the problem, as O’Soup testified, is the way
and more commonly now, imminiartuq, taking one’s
that mental health issues are treated in Canada today.
own life.
He pointed out:
According to the “Learning From Lives That Have Been
When you break your leg or you have a flu … when
Lived,” Nunavut Suicide Follow-Back Study: Identifying
something like that happens to you, what do
the Risk factors for Inuit Suicide in Nunavut, Nunavut,
you do? You go to the doctor. You go to the
as in the three other Inuit regions of Canada,
emergency room if it’s really bad. And the doctor
currently has a suicide rate 10 times higher that the
sees you. They’ll give you some medicine. They’ll
Canadian suicide rate. Nunatsiavut and Nunavik
write you a prescription. If your leg’s broken,
suicide rates are similar to the Nunavut region.
428
When Rebecca – like so many other Indigenous women – is forced to move in an attempt to
restore safety, she is placed in additional danger.
For 2SLGBTQQIA people, access to safe housing within their territory or community may be
complicated by sexism, transphobia, homophobia, and other discriminatory beliefs about gender
identity, expression, and sexual orientation. Marge H. described how, as a lesbian, she was
pressured to leave her community.
I was outed from my community because I was a lesbian. I’d – there was no room … it
was suggested by various family members for me to take a vacation. So I was working in
the cannery at the time. And I was – saved up a couple of cheques. And I got on the – the
ferry boat to Vancouver. And it really hurt because [of] the way I was treated. I had no –
I lost friends really quick. And there was, of course, rumours and gossip, and stuff like
that. And – so I left.80
Viola Thomas also commented on the lack of safety faced by 2SLGBTQQIA people in their
communities and the pressures this puts on them to move.
For many Two-Spirited people, they end up being displaced from their territory and from
their communities because they’re – they don’t feel safe and they don’t feel welcome
because of their uniqueness. And so you have a large population of Two-Spirited peoples
across the country that end up moving to urban areas, so that they have a space where
they can feel a likeness to other folks and feel welcome for who they are.81
For many who are pressured or forced to move, these same problems exist within the city. For
Jamie L. H., these concerns about finding safe, affordable housing are also complicated as she
gets older and realizes the lack of housing options for aging transwomen and Two-Spirit people.
I’ve been studying a model down in Mexico for Indigenous, retired women and they –
and they have this home and it’s a place that they live together in community. And I
would like to see places like that for our LGBTQ+ communities. And, you know, we
need that because I think right until you exit physically this earth, you need that sense of
love and belonging. And so I fear the most that, you know, if I get really ill, where am I
going to be put? And you know, so I think we need to address that.82
Homelessness and Exploitation

For many Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, poverty makes access to any form
of housing impossible, and they are forced to live in shelters, on the street, or in other forms of
precarious housing. In sharing the circumstances leading up to the disappearance or death of their
loved one, many family members described how their loved one was homeless or precariously
housed at the time of her disappearance or death. For example, Cee-Jai explained that it was when
543
her sister was living on the street that she was murdered. Despite Cee-Jai’s efforts to protect her
sister, the vulnerability she faced as an Indigenous woman living on the street was too great.
Monique F. H., who now works as an advocate with an AIDS organization, drew on her own
memories of her life as a young homeless girl living on the streets and the fear she lived in as a
result of the almost constant threat to her security and safety.
The violence that I experienced in my life has made me I think, more understanding to the
women that I work with. A lot of them don’t realize when I hear their stories, I hear myself,
so when I was – when I was younger and on the street it was very – very difficult.
I remember seeing girls getting beaten up all the time. Shooting up. Living that lifestyle.
Always fearful of what was going to happen next. And I was scared even though I may
not have acted scared, I was scared.83
In sharing her experiences of living on the streets, Marlene J. talked about how violence becomes
a way of life – and often something she endured to meet her basic needs for housing and food.
I would say I was raped three sometimes four times a week.… I was just trying to survive.
I was drinking a lot to not have the pain. I was always drunk. I drank pop to kill the pain of
hunger. I’d steal. Go in the liquor store and steal bottles of booze. I’d be drunk and then I
ended up with these men. They figured oh yeah we’re going to have a party and then end
up being raped. How many parks I had to crawl out of. I was always alone.84
Poverty can also contribute to violence because of the way people may use drugs and alcohol to
cope with the challenges associated with having no money or home. As Marlene explained, alco-
hol allowed her to survive the violence, hunger, and emotional pain she endured on the streets,
even though it increased the risk that others would target her for violence.
These people that had raped me, they pretended to be my friend. They said, “We can just
sit and talk.” Because I was homeless they decided that they would take advantage of the
situation. Sometimes I’m drunk I don’t remember, but I do know – I don’t know. Like I
said, being in residential school what they tell you every day that you’ll amount to
nothing sort of sticks with you and then you just don’t care about yourself the way
you should.85
Mealia Sheutiapik, an Inuk woman who shared her experience of homelessness on the streets of
Ottawa, talked about how drug use became a way of surviving not only the harsh living condi-
tions but also the trauma she carried with her as a result of the violence she had witnessed and
the separation she felt from her family and culture.
I was smoking hash. I didn’t know any other drug that time. He got me into smoking
hash. So, I tried to kill that pain when I was a witness to that murder. So, I just ended up
544
I Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 97.
II Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 109.
III CBC Radio, The Current, “Suicide shouldn’t be ‘normal.’”
IV Harder, Rash, et al., “Indigenous Youth Suicide,” 134.
V Ibid.
VI Ibid., 134-135.
VII Ibid., 138.
VIII Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 99.
IX Tanya Talaga (Anishinaabe/Polish), Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 91-92.
X Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 98.
XI Thorslund, “Why Do They Do It?,” 151.
XII Chachamovich, Tomlinson et al., Learning From Lives, 28.
XIII Ibid., 15.
XIV Ibid., 32.
XV Ibid., 33.
XVI Ibid., 37.
XVII Ibid., 42.
XVIII Ibid. See also Inuit Tapitiit Kanatami's “National Inuit Suicide Prevention Strategy,” https://www.itk.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/ITK-Na-
tional-Inuit-Suicide-Prevention-Strategy-2016.pdf.
XIX Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, pp. 99-100.
XX Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 103.
XXI Dr. Cindy Blackstock (Gitxsan), Part 3, Public Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 232.
XXII Harder, Rash, et al., “Indigenous Youth Suicide,” 138.
XXIII See Saskatchewan Advocate for Children and Youth, Shhh…Listen!! We Have Something to Say! Youth Voices from the North: A
Special Report on the Youth Suicide Crisis in Northern Saskatchewan. Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First Nation),
Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 99.
XXIV Corey O’Soup (Métis/First Nations from the Key First Nation), Part 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 99.
431
Seeing Health and Wellness in the Context of Colonialism
As with many of the challenges facing Indigenous Peoples and communities, Indigenous people
themselves are often blamed for poor health, especially within dominant medical and health pro-
motion models that focus on individual behaviour and choices as the route to good health and
wellness.46 However, as health researchers such as Amy Bombay, whose research focuses on in-
tergenerational and multigenerational trauma, explained, the health of Indigenous Peoples must
be contextualized within historical, social, and economic factors connected to the cumulative
impacts of colonization, as well as persistent and harmful policies that serve to harm communi-
ties and individuals.
For example, researchers have found that, compared with those who did not attend residential
school, residential school survivors are more likely to suffer various physical and mental health
problems.47 According to Bombay, the most recent First Nations Regional Health Survey like-
wise found that residential school survivors are “more likely to report higher levels of psycholog-
ical distress, poorer self-rated health, and … [are] more likely to be diagnosed with various
chronic health conditions.”48
In their descriptions of health, witnesses made connections between colonial violence and physi-
cal, mental, emotional, and spiritual wellness. Wet’suwet’en Chief Vivian T., for example, who
testified in relation to her daughter, explained how she has ongoing health issues from infant
pneumonia and tuberculosis when she was seven or eight. Her mother “was not sure” if the
doctors treated her properly for her illness.49
Viola Thomas connected the high rate of chronic health conditions among the Indigenous
population with the forcible displacement of Indigenous Peoples from their communities.
And also there’s the other side of that displacement where it’s, what I would refer to as
forcible displacement. Because of the historical, irreparable harms that’s been inflicted
on our people, we have a large number of folks that are displaced, who must travel long
distances to be able to access health services, for example. We have a high chronic
disease within our communities.50
432
Indigenous women who have experienced discrimination are almost twice as likely as those who
have not experienced discrimination to report having only fair or poor overall health. This difference
is especially pronounced for Métis women.
In her testimony, Shara L., a residential school survivor, described how she continues to live with
the traumatic memories of the abuse she experienced there, and how, despite efforts at healing, it
is still easy for her to become triggered, especially in the absence of proper support. Shara, who
was staying in a hotel to be close to her hospitalized grandson, reported how the smell of the
vinyl shower curtain in the bathroom triggered her memories of residential school. As she
explained, it reminded her of
the shower room in residential school, and that’s where they would sexually abuse
you…. They made you suffer in there. They scrubbed your skin with a – with a nail file,
you know, those really hard coarse brushes. And if you had scabs on your skin you’d just
scrape it like they were trying to scrape off your skin ... because you’re dirty. Dirty little
Indian.51
Shara collapsed in the bathroom of the hotel, paralyzed with fear. As she recalled:
I just collapsed there and I couldn’t get up, and I couldn’t get out of that bathroom. I
started sobbing. It controlled me like a child. And I was screaming. I wanted to get out of
there. I don’t know why I couldn’t move. I just couldn’t get out of there…. I was in that
room for a while, I just couldn’t move. I just laid – collapsed on the bed and I just laid
there. I was just crying.52
433
As Carol M. suggested, the health impacts of colonial violence – particularly in the absence of
adequate health supports – continue to threaten the health and well-being of Indigenous people
and their communities. As she reported, “I did some heavy work on myself and I thought,
doesn’t the healing ever stop? It never stops. It’s like you think you deal with it, and it’s like
something else pops up, and it’s right there.”53
“AND ALSO THERE’S THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT DISPLACEMENT WHERE IT’S, WHAT
I WOULD REFER TO AS FORCIBLE DISPLACEMENT BECAUSE OF THE HISTORICAL,
IRREPARABLE HARMS THAT’S BEEN INFLICTED ON OUR PEOPLE. WE HAVE A LARGE
NUMBER OF FOLKS THAT ARE DISPLACED, WHO MUST TRAVEL LONG DISTANCES TO
BE ABLE TO ACCESS HEALTH SERVICES, FOR EXAMPLE. WE HAVE A HIGH CHRONIC
DISEASE WITHIN OUR COMMUNITIES.”
Viola Thomas
To be sure, the long-term health impacts associated with residential and day school attendance,
relocation, and other forms of colonial violence and abuse, which, as Carol described, never
seem to stop, continue to be felt by the children, grandchildren, and other family members of
those struggling with trauma associated with these experiences. Research shared by Amy
Bombay demonstrates how the health consequences of surviving residential school “branch out”
– as Sharna S. described – to later generations. For example, First Nations adults living
off-reserve, compared to those living on-reserve, who had at least one parent or grandparent who
attended residential school were more likely than those who did not have a relative who was a
residential school survivor to experience psychological distress: approximately 54% to 40%.54
Many witnesses spoke about how the health-related impacts of historical colonial policies
continue to shape the health of the children and grandchildren of those directly affected by these
policies. Chrystal S. shared how the spiritual and emotional health impacts associated with the
removal of her ancestors from their lands have been “passed down” to the next generation and
can contribute to stressors that create poor health outcomes.
I believe that is so true with our First Nations people is that our body, our mind, our
blood has been without our homes, without our food, without a place where we
belonged. And I believe that is one of the many causes of the stress, the depression,
and that longing … just to go home and not knowing where that is.
That happened, I can imagine, way before residential schools because we were moved
first, before residential schools, and we were killed off, many of us, by the diseases,
smallpox and TB [tuberculosis], so before we were even moved, many of us were killed
off, but I believe those 10% that survived had that longing for their home, and I believe
that’s been passed down ever since in our genes, in our blood, as we don’t have our
home anymore. We don’t have that place of peace, that place of belonging, that place of
safety, because we were moved to a different part of the land that we never grew up on.55
434
And she – she picked that life because when she tried to reach out to the system, and the
system didn’t want to be there for her, and to – to acknowledge any of the concerns that
she tried to – to talk about.98
For Mealia Sheutiapik, a lack of understanding and awareness about her experiences as an Inuk
woman made pursuing an education and getting a job even more difficult.
Well, when I started taking the courses and got the certificates from doing the courses,
then I started looking for work, because I didn’t want to be on the street anymore, and I
knew I could do better. I was looking for work, but since I’ve been off work for so many
years that I was not accepted. Even though I hand out my resumé, I was not accepted. It
took how many years to find another job, a normal job, like – and then after almost 18
years, I went back to Inuit Broadcasting and I worked as an editor. I went back to acting,
and then I started editing. And, I was there for almost four years. But, something
triggered me again, and I just went right back to the drugs, the alcohol and drugs. And I
got laid off. And it was not easy to find another job after getting laid off. And getting laid
off, that led me to drinking again, and that took over me again, that drinking.99
In sharing the story of her daughter, who was murdered by a man unknown to her who had a
long history of violence, Connie L. talked about how Jarita had been a student, travelling approx-
imately 50 kilometres each day from her home community of Onion Lake to Lloydminister.
Jarita’s mother described the role of education in Jarita’s life and in supporting her children.
They’d [Jarita’s children] stand at the window and watch her walk away to go to school,
and they got used to her going to school. She – her education meant a lot to her, and the
two, they’d stand at the window and they’d watch her leave, and they’d be waving at her,
and she would stand and wave back. She had to go down to the confectionery to catch the
shuttle to go to school in Lloyd[minister], and that was the time of her death, so it was
really hard to watch my grandchildren stand there and wait for their mom to come back,
and she never came back, and they’d ask me questions. Where’s my mom? I didn’t know
how to explain. That was really hard to explain that she wasn’t going to come back.100
At the time of her murder, Jarita had been unable to get a ride home from Lloydminster and had
rented a hotel room for the night. It was in this hotel room where she was brutally murdered by a
stranger who, despite being charged, was never convicted, due to a technicality in the court pro-
ceedings. As her mother described, the scholarship at Lakeland College established in Jarita’s
memory is a testament to her value as an “honoured student”; it is also a poignant reminder of
the loss of those accomplishments and possibilities Jarita would have surely achieved, had she
been able to complete her education free from violence.
Many family members who spoke about the disappearance or death of their loved ones also
spoke passionately about the way violence had stolen the potential accomplishments their loved
ones were pursuing at school and work at the time of their disappearance or death.
549
In their testimony, the Potts family talked about the educational pursuits and achievements of
sister Misty P., who, at the time of her disappearance, was a teacher at a First Nations college,
and she was pursuing her PhD at the University of Manitoba and undertaking important research
on the environment and traditional culture.101
In her testimony, Leslie K. remembered her daughter’s, Candace O.’s, skill as a welder: “There
was nothing, I guess, in my girl’s way that she wouldn’t – if somebody told her you couldn’t do
it, she would do it. She was stubborn like that I guess, like me.”102 As her sister, Raylene K.,
remembered, “[Candace] was driven with education, her goals. She made me who I am today,
strong, independent.”103
These stories paint a troubling picture of the pervasiveness of violence in the lives of all Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Even in those circumstances where Indigenous
girls and youth manage to overcome the many barriers placed in their way in order to pursue
education, the threat of violence is ever present.
For Jenny L., whose mother, Linda B., was murdered by her husband, who later died by
suicide when Jenny was four years old, violence that leads to the death and disappearance of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2LSGBTQQIA people impacts access to education in a unique
way for their children “left behind.”
Another thing that is really important for me, I’m almost done my first degree, and I’ve
had a really hard time with funding and, you know, having enough resources for myself,
because I have no parents to support me. And I think that there should be more bursaries
and scholarships available for families of MMIWG who want to start their education, or
continue their education, because they’re the ones who are going to be very helpful in
the future for family members to change how this happens to people, and to support
those who have been affected by it, because they’ve been through it themselves. I think
that’s really important.104
Enabling women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to access education as a way to increase
security is an important way to combat violence at its very root.
“THEY’D [JARITA’S CHILDREN] STAND AT THE WINDOW AND WATCH HER WALK AWAY
TO GO TO SCHOOL, AND THEY GOT USED TO HER GOING TO SCHOOL. SHE – HER
EDUCATION MEANT A LOT TO HER, AND THE TWO, THEY’D STAND AT THE WINDOW
AND THEY’D WATCH HER LEAVE, AND THEY’D BE WAVING AT HER, AND SHE WOULD
STAND AND WAVE BACK. SHE HAD TO GO DOWN TO THE CONFECTIONERY TO CATCH
THE SHUTTLE TO GO TO SCHOOL IN LLOYD[MINISTER], AND THAT WAS THE TIME OF
HER DEATH, SO IT WAS REALLY HARD TO WATCH MY GRANDCHILDREN STAND THERE
AND WAIT FOR THEIR MOM TO COME BACK, AND SHE NEVER CAME BACK, AND THEY’D
ASK ME QUESTIONS. WHERE’S MY MOM? I DIDN’T KNOW TO EXPLAIN. THAT WAS
REALLY HARD TO EXPLAIN THAT SHE WASN’T GOING TO COME BACK.”
Connie L.
550
Threats in Moments of Transition
Many Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people whose safety is routinely compro-
mised through violence, poverty, homelessness, barriers to education and employment, and other
forms of economic and social marginalization, make decisions with the hope of improving their
safety. Economic and social marginalization often means people have to move in order to miti-
gate these forms of oppression and violence. Jennisha Wilson listed the various reasons why an
Inuk woman or girl might choose to leave her community.
Some of these items are in search of higher education or educational opportunity, job
prospects, visiting family by choice or to reconnect with relatives, foster care relocation,
incarceration, mental health and addiction supports, primary medical care needs and
supports, poverty reduction, so looking for a better life, access to better housing,
affordable food and things that would empower one’s well-being to the best status
possible.105
For many Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, the decision to move or relocate
is made in order to escape ongoing violence. For some, this means leaving a remote community
to go to urban centres; for others, it means running away from foster homes and living on the
streets; and, for others, it means running to precarious or violent partners because no other
option exists.
Speaking as a survivor and advocate with the Canadian Aboriginal AIDS Network, Monique F. H.
– who began her testimony by saying, “I’m a mother, and a grandmother. I’m also a survivor of
violence, many forms of violence”106 – talked about how, at age 13, in her effort to escape the
sexual abuse she was experiencing at home, she ran away and lived on the streets – a move that
was only to be met with further sexual abuse.
Well, because of the sexual abuse that I went through and not really feeling like anybody
would help me … I left. And I didn’t want to look back. I wanted to just escape from all
of that pain and all of that stuff. I don’t know what you want to call it. I just wanted to
run and get away from it and it just took me to a deeper level of sexual violence. A
deeper level of violence that I was not expecting. You know, many years – many of those
years being on the street I was raped a number of times. Drugged, raped.
And I tell this story today because I never want that – my daughters and my
granddaughters to ever go through that. I’m very protective over my daughters. Probably
too protective. But I pity anybody who comes and hurts them.107
Like Monique’s story, one of the prominent stories that witnesses shared was that in their efforts
to restore safety and escape violence or to seek a better life, they often encountered more violence.
Inadequate infrastructure and transportation, or transportation that itself becomes a site for
violence, punish Indigenous women trying to “make a better life” through efforts to escape
551
violence or improve their lives or find safety. The lack of supportive infrastructure and
transportation further violates that safety. Rather than the safety and protection she sought,
Monique found what she aptly described as a “deeper level” of violence.
As witnesses described, in moving from one place to another, Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people face significant risks for violence. As Jennisha Wilson said, in speaking
of the journey Inuit women take in resettling in the South:
And, in that 1,000 kilometres, a lot can happen, right? This is what contributes to
missing and murdered Indigenous women, right? Having to go out of your way, which is
a significant barrier, to accessing services will often push individuals to either not access
services and continue being vulnerable. You will see people become really resilient in
the sense where they will come up with their own alternatives, which may or may not be
the best solution and/or they will go to services that will – that are harmful just because
it’s closer. So, I think that, and what I’m trying to say is that, yes, we can look at
St. John’s as a place, but we also have to look at where those other factors are that may
or may not contribute to provoking unsafe access to resources and increasing
vulnerability and trafficking of women and girls.108
In part, the additional risks to safety that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
face in their attempts to relocate or move result from a lack of adequate, safe transportation. A
lack of safe and affordable transportation can mean that people may be forced to rely on other
methods, such as walking or hitchhiking, not only to escape dangerous situations but simply to
travel for education or employment.
As Josie Nepinak explained, the lack of resources for transportation mean that women already in
extremely vulnerable and dangerous situations as they leave violent relationships are sometimes
forced to put themselves at significant additional risk in order to access a safe house or emer-
gency shelter – for example, by hitchhiking in order to reach a safe space. Nepinak spoke about
how proper funding for transportation to support the needs of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in those moments when they are trying to escape violence would be a
meaningful way of preventing further violence.
“ANOTHER THING THAT IS REALLY IMPORTANT FOR ME, I’M ALMOST DONE MY FIRST
DEGREE, AND I’VE HAD A REALLY HARD TIME WITH FUNDING AND, YOU KNOW,
HAVING ENOUGH RESOURCES FOR MYSELF, BECAUSE I HAVE NO PARENTS TO SUPPORT
ME. AND, I THINK THAT THERE SHOULD BE MORE BURSARIES AND SCHOLARSHIPS
AVAILABLE FOR FAMILIES OF MMIWG WHO WANT TO START THEIR EDUCATION, OR
CONTINUE THEIR EDUCATION, BECAUSE THEY’RE THE ONES WHO ARE GOING TO BE
VERY HELPFUL IN THE FUTURE FOR FAMILY MEMBERS TO CHANGE HOW THIS HAPPENS
TO PEOPLE, AND TO SUPPORT THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN AFFECTED BY IT, BECAUSE
THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH IT THEMSELVES. I THINK THAT’S REALLY IMPORTANT.”
Jenny L.
552
If someone calls us from – you know, from another province, even, which we often have
women come from other provinces, but they have no way to get to us and they have no
resources where they are. They may be in the city of Saskatoon or Regina. So, you know,
if we had, you know, an ability to be able to say, you know, we’re going to send through
the bus depot, you know, et cetera, and to be able to do those things.109
For some of the family members who shared the stories about loved ones who had been mur-
dered by a violent partner, the lack of access to housing – and particularly transition houses and
shelters – stands as a pivotal moment in understanding the circumstances surrounding the death
of their loved one. The compounded threats created by targeting Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in moments of transition, or in moments of vulnerability, are an important
reminder of the role that prevention and detection services can play. In her testimony, for in-
stance, Jenny L. talked about how a failure to recognize her mother’s vulnerability after leaving a
transition house became a catalyst for the violence that later took her life.
I personally feel that my mother would not have been murdered if someone had went
with her to visit me and my sister. She was in a transition home at the time…. It’s for
women who are suffering domestic violence. I had stayed there a while with her. And, I
just – I don’t understand how come no one went with her.
She just came back from Thompson and, you know, she was going to tell my father that
she wanted to take me and my sister. And they should have known. They should have
known, and they should have – should have been smart enough to know the history of
domestic violence that they had with each other. And they should have provided maybe
even a police officer, or someone just to go with her to get us, or to visit us. They
shouldn’t have allowed her to go alone, because I feel like she would still be alive if they
didn’t let her go alone.110
In offering testimony related to human trafficking, Diane Redsky, the executive director of Ma
Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre, talked about the way predators target Indigenous girls at bus depots
or airports in order to take advantage of their vulnerability during a period of transition such as
aging out of care.
We [the Youth Task Force] highlighted that one of the key risk factors is the inconsistent
provincial child protection policies in Canada. We had six provinces in our country
where child welfare taps out at 16. So if you’re 15 and a half and you are in need of
protection, chances are there’s actually a risk that you could be denied service. And, in
fact, we heard from survivors that they were denied service because of their age. Given a
bus ticket and an address to the closest co-ed youth shelter where we know traffickers
just park outside. They are just waiting to recruit and lure from these.111
553
Sexual exploitation and anti-human trafficking advocates such as Jennisha Wilson and others
emphasized that there exists an important opportunity to prevent violence and trafficking by
intervening at these points of transition – for instance, by
making sure that awareness and information is being utilized and provided through
airlines and different forms of transportation between urban spaces, so that folks know
that if they are being provided with a plane ticket to come to the South and being
promised employment that, that may or may not be true, but it may also be a form of
being groomed and then being trafficked. And, it’s better to know that information
before you get off a plane and where you can access information than when it’s too late.
And, unfortunately, many of the individuals that we have seen, it’s been after the fact
that they’ve been trafficked, and they’ve been groomed that we are providing crisis
support.112
Jamie Lee Hamilton also spoke about how, when Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people are forced to move, it can disrupt their connection to a community that helps protect them
and keep them safe. She spoke about the impact of her displacement from her community in
Vancouver’s West End.
You know, I always feel safe in community where I’m part of and accepted and
welcomed and loved. And that’s very, very important. I know, you know, I would – I
could go way back in 1984, you know, I was one of the young people expelled from our
west end community by a court injunction of July 1984 granted by Judge McEachern,
which displaced us for – state mass evicted us from the west end. Whether, you know,
that was because we were sex workers or was it because we were queer people? Whether
we were Two-Spirited people? There was so many intersections.
But they wanted a cleansing of the community to make it more white and middle class.
The west end at that time was very working class. It – it was affordable. And I find that
when you are displaced, it has a profound effect. You’re going to for sure encounter
more violence, usually often resulting in murder. You’re going to be targeted by
predators, such as, you know, pimps or – or those that are going to hurt you.
And so I find my survival, I believe was the result of being connected to a community
and – and remaining firmly rooted, but when I was displaced, I had to find a new
community. And sometimes that’s not always easy. And it gets harder as Mark alluded to
as you age, and especially in our LGBTQ+ community, you know, it just seems that
more of the emphasis is on the young. And Elders of the community are put out to
pasture. And so displacement has a profound effect on our lives.113
554
Child Welfare and Aging Out of Care
For Indigenous girls and 2SLGBTQQIA youth, the dangers associated with moving from one
place to another or with being displaced from a safe community are significantly heightened.
However, given the extensive violence and abuse experienced by many youth in care, leaving a
foster home or other living accommodation may be the only option that seems to exist in order
to escape violence.
In recounting the violence and abuse her sister, Laney E., experienced while in foster care,
Danielle E. reflected on her sister’s efforts to create safety for herself in a world where it was
otherwise unavailable: “I don’t believe my sister in her entire life ever felt safe, that the only
safety that she had was what she could create when she was able to get out of care.”114 Like the
stories we heard of many other Indigenous and 2SLGBTQQIA girls, youth, and young adults
whose disappearance or death occurred while displaced from or living in the foster care system,
Danielle’s story about her sister was echoed in various ways by other witnesses, whose truths
demonstrated how many of those factors that impede safety in the lives of adults – such as
poverty, homelessness, addiction, seeking or travelling to find services or meet basic needs, and
fleeing violent situations – are most prevalent or heightened for young Indigenous girls, youths,
and young adults in foster care or those who have “aged out of care.” Erin Pavan, the manager of
STRIVE Youth in Care Transition Program, poignantly described the lack of security that exists
for Indigenous girls, youth, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in these contexts: “So, aging out of care is
really like a euphemism for the abrupt termination of all … services. Like, this ‘aging out,’ I
don’t even like this term, I think it’s too gentle for what the experience is; it’s like being pushed
off a cliff, right?”115
For many of the family and friends who shared their truths, the failure to address the realities of
abuse and violence experienced by children and youth within child welfare forces many youth, in
their attempts to escape violence, to enter into more dangerous situations, which usually begin
with running away. Even for those youth who do remain in care, aging out of care and the lack of
support are akin to – as Erin puts it – pushing them off a cliff. In both cases, poverty, housing,
barriers to education, and unique vulnerabilities to drugs, trafficking, and other forms of interper-
sonal violence collectively remove safety. As we heard from many families, recognizing what
happens at the edge of this cliff and how basic economic and social security is undermined here
is key to understanding the violence that leads to the disappearance and death of Indigenous
women and girls.
In speaking about the experiences of aging out of care, members of the Youth Panel in Vancouver
talked about the daily realities of poverty and the constant threat of homelessness. Fialka Jack
talked about her struggle to find housing.
A month after aging out of care, my social worker moved me to the Downtown core of
Vancouver into an SRO [single room occupancy]. And until that day, I didn’t know what
the word SRO stands for. And it was horrifying to see, so fresh into my adulthood, to see
that this is where people were living. Like, I couldn’t imagine how people could live
555
one of the main reasons Indigenous and non- the institutional racism Indigenous Peoples often
Indigenous users cited for not calling 911 in the encounter in these settings. In order to ensure people
event of an overdose and/or the administration of do seek support in these extremely vulnerable times,
Naloxone was because of a fear of police involve- services that are culturally appropriate and responses
ment.XIX that do not create further harm or difficulty – for
instance, by criminalizing an individual for drug
Creating Solutions possession during an overdose – are essential.XXI
Addressing the opioid crisis as it impacts Indigenous Beyond reactionary responses to managing the
Peoples requires Indigenous-specific solutions. current crisis, however, Indigenous health care
Advocates highlight the importance of harm- advocates and others emphasize the necessity of
reduction interventions, such as needle exchange addressing the structural and institutional inequalities
programs, access to drugs not laced with other that continue to impact Indigenous people and
harmful substances, and the distribution of contribute to the crisis in the first place. This includes
Naloxone, but also emphasize that these interventions addressing many of the socio-economic factors, such
must also be grounded in Indigenous values and be as poverty and housing, that continue to create risk in
delivered in ways that are culturally appropriate.XX Of the lives of Indigenous people. This also involves
the witnesses who spoke about their help-seeking providing culturally appropriate addiction and mental
experiences during the Truth-Gathering Process, many health support that allows space for Indigenous
talked about how, as an Indigenous woman, girl, or people to understand and access support that assists
2SLGBTQQIA person, especially one using or involved them to work through the trauma, pain, and suffering
with drugs, reaching out to health care, emergency they may be carrying so that using drugs does not
responders, or the police may not be safe, given have to be the only means of survival.XXII
I Belzak and Halverson, “Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis.”

II Ibid.
III Public Health Agency of Canada, “Overview of National Data.”
IV Canadian Institute for Health Information, “Opioid-Related Harms in Canada,” 5.
V Toward the Heart, “Opioid Overdose in BC.”
VI Public Health Agency of Canada, “Overview of National Data.”
VII Belzak and Halverson, “Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis.”
VIII Alberta Health Services, “Carfentanil – Backgrounder.”
IX Belzak and Halverson, “Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis.”
X Public Health Agency of Canada, “Overview of National Data.”
XI Canadian Institute for Health Information, “Opioid-Related Harms in Canada.” See also Belzak and Halverson,
“Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis.”
XII Belzak and Halverson,“Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis,” 228.
XIII First Nations Health Authority, Overdose Data and First Nations, 8.
XIV Ibid., 7.
XV Lavalley, Kastor, Valleriani, and McNeil, “Reconciliation and Canada’s Overdose Crisis.”
XVI First Nations Health Authority, Overdose Data and First Nations, 6.
XVII Lavalley, Kastor, Valleriani, and McNeil, “Reconciliation and Canada’s Overdose Crisis.”
XVIII First Nations Health Authority, Overdose Data and First Nations, 2–3.
XIX As cited in Belzak and Halverson,“Evidence Synthesis – The Opioid Crisis,” 228.
XX Lavalley, Kastor, Valleriani, and McNeil, “Reconciliation and Canada’s Overdose Crisis.”
XXI First Nations Health Authority, Overdose Data and First Nations, 4-5.
XXII Ibid.
441
They’re also less likely to have a job. They’re going to make less money. A lot of them
are relying on income assistance right off the bat, 40% will go right onto income
assistance.
The income assistance rate just finally got raised in BC, but for Vancouver it is not even
near enough money to live off of. You can’t even pay rent with it, never mind buy food.
So they’re going into extreme poverty right off the bat, with no high school diploma, not
enough supportive people in their lives. Obviously, by definition, anyone who’s been
through care is going to have trauma. So they’ve got trauma; they’re more likely to have
issues with their mental health, with substance use, more likely to be involved with the
criminal justice system, become young parents. They’re more likely to die young. Of
the 1,000 youth who age out of care in BC every year, three to four will be dead before
they turn 25.
So I think you can really see the connection, right, between the missing and murdered
young women and the care system.118
557
In Care, In Danger:
Understanding the Risks to Safety in the
Context of Child Welfare
While the National Inquiry heard many testimonies related to the abuses of child welfare as related to
culture, it also heard about the ways in which disconnection from culture and from family could work to
target children for violence. Of these experiences, many testimonies were in-camera, in order to protect
witnesses’ privacy. These testimonies often featured particularly egregious accounts of violence and abuse
within a system that, by mandate, is intended to protect, across different provinces and territories.
While many of these accounts are in-camera, others

exist, which are already public, that help to reveal
Social and Economic
how the four pathways identified by the National Marginalization
Inquiry work together to maintain colonial violence.
Angel’s story, as documented by the Manitoba Angel and her family were never given the
Advocate for Children and Youth, is just one. opportunity to succeed. Angel’s family lived in
poverty, often in local crisis centres in between CFS
Historical, Multigenerational, apprehensions and placements.IV Despite the intense
trauma that Angel and her family experienced, there
and Intergenerational Trauma were no appropriate support systems in place in their
community. Angel and her mother would have to
Angel suffered from various forms of trauma travel out of their communities to access addiction
throughout her life; she was exposed to traumatic programs, mental health support, or sexual assault
childhood events that were never appropriately centres.V This further isolated Angel and her mother
identified or addressed.I Her first encounter with from each other and their communities.
Child and Family Services (CFS) in Manitoba began in
1999 when she was 17 months old. By the time she
was 17 years old, CFS had apprehended Angel 14
Maintaining the Status Quo
timesII and placed her in 46 different homes.III The and Institutional Lack of Will
constant instability in Angel’s life is itself a form of
trauma. Further, Angel was sexually assaulted first at The institutions set in place to protect and help Angel
21 months old and again at seven years old, and was utterly failed her. CFS did not meet or follow the
subsequently sexually exploited during her time in provincial standards in Angel’s case: namely,
foster care. Her mother’s addiction, which affected assessments, case planning, service provision, and
her ability to care for her children and consequently evaluation.VI Each time Angel was apprehended or
led to CFS involvement in Angel’s life, is also a sign of placed with CFS, she was eventually returned to her
intergenerational trauma. mother’s care, but the required supports to assist her
558
mother were never in place.VII CFS was aware that Ignoring the Expertise and
Angel’s mother suffered from addiction, yet placed
Angel back in her care, continuing the cycle of Agency of Indigenous
Angel’s apprehension and placements with CFS.VIII
Similarly, once she was in her teenage years and in Women, Girls, and
foster care, whenever Angel was allowed to visit her
mother, CFS made no plans for her safety,IX despite 2SLGBTQQIA People
knowing that she had been sexually abused by three
members in her communityX and that she spiralled CFS ignored the expertise and denied the agency of
further into her substance abuse and self-harming Angel and her mother in numerous instances. In
after each visit home. 2006, Angel’s mother told CFS that she did not want
to send Angel to a therapist who was outside of the
CFS also ignored signs of sexual abuse, substance community; she did not trust that confidentiality
abuse, and mental health issues throughout their would be maintained and that a therapist outside the
many interactions with Angel. On two occasions in community would not be sensitive to the specific
2013, CFS was made aware by Angel’s school and her needs of Angel.XVIII Angel’s mother was not opposed
foster family that she was being sexually exploited for to Angel’s receiving mental health support, but there
drugs and alcohol; however, CFS never followed up was limited support for that in their community.XIX
on these concerns.XI Similarly, CFS was aware of Still, CFS determined that Angel would meet with
Angel’s substance abuse. As young as 10 years old, the outside therapist biweekly for six months.XX CFS
Angel began sniffing glue and gasoline as a coping failed to listen to the expertise of Angel’s mother and
mechanism for her trauma.XII In her teenage years, provide culturally appropriate mental health
Angel was hospitalized and fined multiple times for solutions for Angel.
underage substance use and public intoxication. CFS
recommended that Angel be placed in a drug In 2007, after another CFS apprehension, Angel was
treatment program, yet they never followed up on returned to the care of her mother, despite the fact
their recommendations, and Angel continued to that Angel expressed concern to CFS about her
abuse substances.XIII mother’s ability to care for her and her siblings.XXI
Angel told CFS that her mother often left her and her
Further, CFS was keenly aware of Angel’s mental siblings unattended, yet CFS declared Angel’s claim
health issues. Angel expressed thoughts of suicide as unfounded without looking into it. CFS failed to listen
young as eight years old.XIV Throughout her life, Angel to Angel and continued the cycle of instability in her
was hospitalized for serious mental health issues. In life by placing her back with her mother. However,
2007, a mental health worker recorded that Angel’s in her teenage years, while living in foster care and
mental health was suffering and recommended to after being made a permanent ward of CFS, Angel
CFS that Angel be monitored and encouraged to explicitly expressed her desire to connect with her
return to counselling; CFS never followed up on these mother. She stated that much of the sadness she felt,
recommendations.XV Despite all of this, Angel’s 2014 and, subsequently, her desire to use substances and
case plan blamed Angel for her life circumstances her self-harm, was because she was not with her
and demonstrated no understanding of the trauma mother.XXII Despite this, CFS made no efforts to
that Angel was experiencing.XVI Angel was described connect Angel with her mother.
as “out of control” and that her behaviour was a result
of her mother’s drinking while pregnant.XVII
559
Setting a New Course Tina’s experiences of family fracturing, domestic
violence, exploitation, addiction, loss, grief,
resilience, determination, hope, and searching
In March of 2019, the Manitoba Advocate for Children
for belonging, must not be viewed in a vacuum.
and Youth released its report into the death of Tina
Tina’s life, in many ways, echoed experiences
Fontaine entitled A Place Where it Feels Like Home. It is
lived by others, including her parents and the
the story of teenager Tina Fontaine, who was
many members of her extended family, some
murdered in August of 2014. As the report notes,
whom she knew, others whom she did not. This
Tina’s story echoes that of many others, and its
context is important because only when we
themes identify some of the important ways in which
come to a universal acceptance and under-
child and family services fail to keep families and
standing of the realities of historical and current
children safe. They are evidence of a wider reality, and
discrimination, injustices, systemic racism, and
need for a broader change. As the report notes,
that not all people are allowed access to
opportunities on equal measure, will we ever
have a hope to correct historical, long-standing,
and ongoing injustice.XXIII
I Manitoba Advocate for Children and Youth, Angel’s Story, 56.

II Ibid.
III Ibid., 82.
IV Ibid., 40.
V Ibid., 21.
VI Ibid., 19.
VII Ibid., 8.
VIII Ibid., 20.
IX Ibid., 22, 40, 43, 45.
X Ibid., 41.
XI Ibid., 45, 42.
XII Ibid., 26.
XIII Ibid., 31, 32.
XIV Ibid., 24.
XV Ibid.
XVI Ibid., 49.
XVII Ibid.
XVIII Ibid., 21.
XIX Ibid., 23.
XX Ibid., 22.
XXI Ibid., 24.
XXII Ibid., 47.
XXIII Manitoba Advocate for Children and Youth, A Place Where it Feels Like Home, 14.
560
DEEPER DIVE
Enhancing Interjurisdictional Cooperation

to Promote Safety
As our Interim Report revealed, there are over 1,200 current National Inquiry (given its national scope,
recommendations logged with various reports and federal authority, and support from the provinces) is
commissions linked to combatting violence against to address and make recommendations for the future
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The need for concerning greater interjurisdictional cooperation in
greater interjurisdictional cooperation is a crucial efforts to address violence against Indigenous
recommendation in existing reports concerning women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
violence against Indigenous women and girls. In
these reports, important areas highlighted for The need for greater interjurisdictional cooperation
cooperation include national awareness campaigns; is necessary to close gaps in services that lead to
national action plans; better public transportation greater targeting of, and violence toward, Indigenous
services; reform of legal instruments; improved social women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The difficulties
services and programming; and reforms of the in accessing these services, as the National Inquiry
criminal justice system, including criminal law heard, are important factors that, according to many
provisions concerning sex work and trafficking, witnesses, served to place them or their loved ones
policing, and the administration of prisons and in danger. Many of the concerns the National Inquiry
penitentiaries. heard about included the idea that many Indigenous
Peoples and their territories do not fit neatly within
Of the recommendations aimed at only one jurisdictions. These realities represent important
jurisdiction, the majority were directed at provincial challenges; for instance, the Algonquin of Quebec
and territorial governments, followed by those and of Ontario share the same traditional territories
directed at the federal government. The fewest and ancestors, but are divided by the provincial
recommendations were directed at Indigenous border and do not enjoy mobility and freedom within
governments. At the same time, it is important to their territories. In other cases, Inuit in Nunavut must
note that even recommendations that involved only travel to Manitoba, Ontario, and Alberta to access
one jurisdiction could still include the need for services; it is within those centres that women, girls,
greater communication, cooperation, and colla- and 2SLGBTQQIA people are often targeted for
boration among different agencies and regions violence.
within that single jurisdiction.
In this Deeper Dive, the National Inquiry takes a

Defining Interjurisdictional
systems-level approach to understand how the lack Neglect
of cooperation and coordination in complex
jurisdictional landscapes maintains violence against “Interjurisdictional neglect” refers to situations in
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. which groups or individuals might “fall through
The prominence of recommendations concerning the cracks,” due to a lack of interjurisdictional
the need for greater interjurisdictional action is cooperation. As is documented in part in the Deeper
important to note for two reasons in particular. First, Dive focusing on the Métis, cases of interjurisdictional
confusion or disputes between federal and provincial neglect have important consequences for safety. In
governments over their respective jurisdictions vis- many cases and as the testimonies reveal, the lack of
à-vis Indigenous Peoples has contributed to the coordinated services due to the failure of govern-
inadequate provision of funding and services to mental jurisdictions to work with each other to solve
Indigenous communities. Second, one of the unique, problems and to enhance safety can mean the
and perhaps most important, opportunities for the difference between life and death.
561
Canada has failed, partially through a lack of Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) report
interjurisdictional cooperation, to ensure that found that section 35(1) of the Canadian Constitution
Indigenous Peoples have access to adequate included the right to self-government, affirmed that
resources and the supports necessary to have their this right was inherent, and noted it was recognized
human dignity, life, liberty, and security protected. in the Constitution and federal constitutional
As this report has already shown, the particular common law. Thus, RCAP asserted that more explicit
constitutional responsibilities for First Nations, recognition of the right, or of its constitutional
associated with the long-time lack of constitutional protection, was therefore not required. RCAP made a
recognition of other Indigenous groups, alongside series of recommendations concerning Indigenous
the realities of provincial and territorial service self-government in Volume 5 of its final report.
delivery in key areas like education and health, have
all resulted in a complicated jurisdictional landscape. In practice, Indigenous self-government and the
The complexity of the landscape, however, doesn’t exercise of Indigenous jurisdiction can take different
mean that rights can simply be ignored. forms: Indigenous governments are recognized in
historical and modern Treaties with Canadian
Interjurisdictional neglect represents a breach of governments, and they can constitute First Nations
relationship and responsibility, as well as of a band governments under the Indian Act. Other
constitutionally protected section 7 Charter right to Indigenous governments (those not parties to
life, liberty, and security of the person. Denials of Treaties or registered under the Indian Act) can
protection and the failure of Canada to uphold these advocate for, and attempt to exercise, their inherent
rights – specifically, the right to life for Indigenous jurisdiction with varying extents of recognition by
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people – are a breach Canadian governments. Ultimately, depending on
of fundamental justice. These deficits, then, are about the capacity of Indigenous governments, as well as
much more than the organization of services, or the their legal and political relationships with Canadian
specifics of their delivery: they are about the governments, gaps between, and conflicts over,
foundational right to life, liberty, and security of every their respective jurisdiction can arise and impact
Indigenous woman, girl, and 2SLGBTQQIA person. Indigenous Peoples’ rights and well-being.
Complex Jurisdictional Most recently, the current federal government

committed to Nation-to-Nation relationships with
Landscapes First Nations and Métis peoples and an Inuit-to-
Crown relationship, recognizing that “all relations
Multiple jurisdictions have overlapping authority with Indigenous Peoples need to be based on the
over, and responsibility for, many aspects of recognition and implementation of their right to self-
Indigenous Peoples’ well-being, based in founda- determination, including the inherent right of
tional human rights to liberty and security. In many self-government.”A Several provinces have similarly
cases, this overlapping has resulted in the direct recognized Indigenous rights to self-government.B In
denial of services that could have saved lives. addition, at least in its rhetoric, the current federal
government (in contrast to the previous govern-
Indigenous Nations and governments have ment) appears to be pursuing what some have called
maintained their inherent right of self-government, “reconciliatory federalism,” in which it has been
which predates colonization. Self-government emphasizing the importance of greater cooperation
includes the administration of social and other and partnership with provincial and Indigenous
services. The origins or source of Indigenous governments.C However, the extent to which this has
jurisdiction is in Indigenous Peoples’ persisting sover- been achieved in practice appears limited.
eignty. As such, it can be considered independent
from Canadian governments. This fact is recognized Second, under the Canadian Constitution, both
in different ways and to different extents in both provincial and federal governments have over-
Indigenous and Canadian legal systems. The Royal lapping jurisdiction over a variety of services for
562
Indigenous Peoples. The federal government is
authorized by section 91(24) to govern “Indians and
Consequences of the Lack
Lands reserved for Indians.” This legally applies to of Interjurisdictional
those with Indian Status as well as Inuit communities.
More recently, in 2016, the Daniels decision from the Coordination and Cooperation
Supreme Court of Canada has also asserted that
Métis and non-Status people are “Indians” within the Interjurisdictional neglect and interjurisdictional
meaning of section 91(24). This has resulted in, as conflicts continue to present a major contributing
scholar Julie-Ann Tomiak explains, “a patchwork of factor to current deficits in the development and
fragmented services, problems with coordinating delivery of services to Indigenous Peoples, services
programs, underfunding, inconsistencies, service that could otherwise promote safety in areas related
gaps, and a lack of integration.”D It appears as though to culture, health, human security, and justice. This
Métis and urban non-Status Indigenous populations lack of interjurisdictional coordination and coopera-
are especially adversely impacted by jurisdictional tion concerning measures to address the root causes
disputes,E although growing constitutional recog- of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
nition of Métis governments may result in greater 2SLGBTQQIA people remains a significant barrier to
equality for Métis people.F their safety, and thus infringes their rights.
The federal government also has authority over There are four general and interrelated ways in which
“Marriage and Divorce” under section 91(26); aspects this lack of coordination presents.
of criminal law under section 91(27); and the
establishment, maintenance, and management of 1. Program policies, service plans, and strategies
penitentiaries under section 91(27). The provinces tend to be made by separate agencies and
have authority over the establishment, maintenance, jurisdictions in isolation from one another. The
and management of provincial prisons under section result is that they fail to comprehensively
92(6); authority over hospitals and other health address Indigenous Peoples’ needs, especially
institutions under section 92(7); municipal insti- when Indigenous representatives are not
tutions under section 92(8); the “Solemnization of adequately included in the development of
marriage in the province” under section 92(12); broad policies and plans.
authority over “Property and Civil Rights in the
Province” under section 92(13); and authority over 2. Provincial and federal governments tend to
the administration of justice, including provincial civil legislate separately from one another, even in
and criminal matters, under section 92(14).G areas in which their jurisdiction overlaps. The
result is that there can be gaps or inconsistencies
These constitutional sections (referred to as involved for Indigenous people who must
constitutional “heads of power”) are very compre- navigate provincial and federal regimes to obtain
hensive, affecting most aspects of daily life for basic services.
Indigenous Peoples in Canada. They can also lead to
interjurisdictional neglect and conflicts that prevent 3. In instances in which provincial and federal
the timeliness and comprehensiveness of social and jurisdictions overlap, conflicts between
other services for Indigenous Peoples, which in turn governments over which one should fund these
constitute barriers to Indigenous women’s, girls’, and services can effectively deprive Indigenous
2SLGBTQQIA people’s rights. These gaps and conflicts Peoples of receiving the services.
over jurisdiction are due to the fact that there is very
limited legal or political infrastructure to facilitate and 4. There is a significant lack of data collection
support consistent coordination and cooperation and information sharing across jurisdictions
among all of these jurisdictions. (especially with Indigenous jurisdictions)
concerning the current challenges faced by
Indigenous populations, including the exact
563
involvement whereby “a coterie of private, public, and third sector parties filled the policy void
with a complex array of still-operational programs that remain burdensome to navigate.”81 Low-
income First Nations who live off-reserve can apply for Canada Mortgage and Housing Corpora-
tion (CMHC) programs available to all Canadians, as well as the host of other programs funded
by the federal government, including public housing, non-profit housing, rent supplement pro-
grams, the Rural and Native Housing (RNH) program, the Urban Native Non-Profit Housing
program, and cooperative housing. There are relatively few urban Aboriginal housing-specific
programs. This means that little money is available to improve housing conditions that, in many
cases, contribute to poor health.
For many witnesses, without necessary resources and supports available, there are few options to
improve these situations.
In her testimony, Verna W. described how this traditional way of life practised by her parents
when she was a child enabled them to feed, house, and keep healthy a large family, as well as
other members of the community.
We were a very happy family of 10 kids, and my mom and dad. Mom would take us
picking berries in the summer, and Dad would take us out fishing…. When we finished
picking berries, we would help Mom wash the berries and she would show us how to can
them. My sister … and I, because my other sisters were too young, but – we were too
young, too, but we had to learn at a young age. When my dad went out fishing for food,
we had to give to the Elders first, but my dad would always make sure everyone got
enough for the winter.82
For Verna’s family, like many other Indigenous families, this way of maintaining family and
community health through traditional practice was undermined when Verna and her brothers and
sisters were taken to residential school.
In other situations, destruction to traditional environment and territories has also interrupted the
ability of Indigenous people to meet their basic needs within their own communities. In addition,
there are many First Nations communities that have been directly threatened by development and
pollution. Members of Grassy Narrows First Nation, for instance, subjected to mercury poisoning
as of the 1960s through the dumping of chemicals into the river system, are, today, six times more
likely to suffer from a wide range of debilitating health issues than those not living in the commu-
nity. Those diagnosed with mercury poisoning as a result of living in the community are:
• almost six times more likely to have a neuropsychological disorder;
• five times more likely to have stomach and intestinal problems;
• four times more likely to suffer from a range of problems, including hearing loss and
joint pain in people over 30 years old; and
• three times more likely to have blindness or vision problems.83
445
Urban Migration, Health, and Wellness
As many witnesses shared throughout the Truth-Gathering Process, many First Nations, Inuit, and
Métis make the decision to migrate to urban centres in order to access better services, including
health care. The most common reasons for First Nations adults to move away from their commu-
nity are education (45.3%) and employment (44.8%). However, housing (16.9%), marital/domestic
problems (3.6%), other medical needs (1.5%), and support for disability (0.9%) are also factors that
may prompt migration to an urban centre.84 In 2011, 62.4% of First Nations people lived off-re-
serve, and one quarter of Métis in Canada lived in Winnipeg, Edmonton, Vancouver, and Calgary,
as well as significant populations in Saskatoon and in Toronto.85 Although, according to Statistics
Canada’s 2011 National Household Survey, most Inuit live within Inuit Nunangat, just over one
quarter lived outside, with 37.5% of those in large urban population centres including Edmonton,
Montréal, Ottawa-Gatineau, Yellowknife, and St. John’s.86 Again, however, despite their attempts at
making a better life in a larger city, Indigenous people living in urban centres experience greater
health inequities than those living on-reserve.87 As health researchers Ashley Goodman and others
observe in their research focusing on the health care experiences of Indigenous people living in
downtown Vancouver, “with comparatively higher rates of homelessness, suicide, tuberculosis,
HIV/AIDS, and diabetes, and an increased risk of substance use, urban Aboriginal peoples are
likely to experience immense vulnerability to health-related harms.”88
The health-related concerns of Indigenous Peoples are often compounded by the way poverty,
homelessness, and other related barriers interfere with their ability to access health care services.
Despite the praise Canada often receives for its provision of universal health care, as Goodman et
al. observe, research of the experiences of Indigenous Peoples’ access to such care demonstrates
that the Canadian health care system “fails in meeting the healthcare needs of many of its most
vulnerable citizens.”89 Doris G. provided an example of this inequality when she described the chal-
lenges she faced in meeting her financial needs after she received a diagnosis of cervical cancer.
So now my son takes care of me, and I get $600 from Alberta Works, but I feel it’s just
not enough. They also cut my health benefits because – because I became First Nations.
I used to have both – like, my First Nations was my primary coverage, and then the
Province was my secondary coverage, but they’re refusing to [cover] that [if] you have
both coverages, you can only have one coverage. So now I’m down to the one, where
First Nations coverage will cover certain things where the Province doesn’t cover certain
things, so I would like to have them both back.90
The health care needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in relation to their
experiences of violence are often extensive. Nonetheless, accessing health care supports to meet
these needs is often complicated within settings where few health care resources exist, but also
where few other supports, such as safe housing and adequate and healthy food, necessary to
healing from such injuries are available.
As a result, and as the National Inquiry heard, the issue of poverty is inextricably linked to the
issue of health and well-being, linked to the issue of violence and abuse, and linked to the
violation of the foundational right to health and well-being.
446
DEEPER DIVE
Understanding Distinctive Experiences of

Danger in the Lives of 2SLGBTQQIA People
Included in the Truth-Gathering Process are the In this Deeper Dive, we look more closely at those
experiences of Indigenous people who identify as truths that draw attention to violence in the lives of
Two-Spirit, transgender, lesbian, bisexual, queer, Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people. We share the stories
questioning, intersex, asexual, and/or gender diverse of some of the missing or murdered 2SLGBTQQIA
or non-binary (2SLGBTQQIA). In some cases, these people whose experiences were shared during the
truths were shared by the family members of missing Truth-Gathering Process, and we acknowledge those
or murdered Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people. In whose stories remain hidden and unknown. We also
other cases, Indigenous people who are part of share some of the teachings that family members,
the 2SLGBTQQIA community shared their own Knowledge Keepers, experts, and advocates offered
experiences as survivors of violence. Each of these about the distinct challenges Indigenous people in
truths offered unique accounts of the way gender 2SLGBTQQIA communities encounter in their efforts
identity and expression and sexual orientation to meet their needs for culture, identity, health,
intersect with race, socio-economic standing, security, and justice in the face of discrimination
geography, and ability, and with other identity and violence. Enforced colonial gender binaries,
factors, to shape the individual experiences of homophobia, and transphobia are symptoms –
Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people living within and effects – of colonization and assimilation, and
dominant systems that are racist, sexist, homophobic, occur in these areas both outside of Indigenous
and transphobic. Common to these truths, however, communities as well as within. The testimonies heard
was the call to prioritize 2SLGBTQQIA communities before the National Inquiry reinforce the point that,
and immediately address the way members of these when Indigenous communities are homophobic or
communities and their loved ones have been transphobic, they are reinforcing colonial actions.
impacted by colonial violence in ways that are both We consider how, despite these challenges, many
similar to, and distinct from, the experiences of Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people are resisting the
Indigenous cis-gender women and girls.A marginalized positions the colonial state would have
them occupy through reclaiming their traditional
Many witnesses also argued that 2SLGBTQQIA roles in community and culture, and taking up
victims are most often forgotten in discussions about positions as effective advocates working to end
violence. As Jasmine Redfern, the past assistant colonial violence and its distinct impacts on gender
director of Social and Cultural Development with and sexual minorities.
Nunavut Tunngavik, pointed out:
I think what immediately comes to mind when a

Recognizing What Was,
lot of people talk about violence against and What Is
Indigenous women is immediately thinking about
men harming women, and that can leave out The term “Two-Spirit” is a relatively new one,
some of the lateral violence that happens although gender- and sexually diverse people
between women, but also, specifically, can leave have existed in different communities since time
out the violence in LGBTQ couples, or on trans immemorial. Expert Witness Albert McLeod explained
bodies, or trans individuals, or people who are how questioning these identities, historically, could
outside of the gender binary.B be seen as a questioning of life itself.
447
access to quality education from kindergarten to their needs met, and incurred fees to do so. The
grade 12.Y However, these agreements appear to province charged a fee for First Nations children to
apply to specific First Nations, and thus can exclude attend their schools, which was prohibitively high,
many Indigenous students – including those off- making it virtually impossible for students to attend
reserve or without Status. these schools while remaining on-reserve.
Other methods are being pursued, as well. To address The case was put on hold while a report was
the lack of provincial assistance in northern prepared concerning this issue. The resulting report
Saskatchewan, nine First Nations are working to noted that there were certain simple amendments to
create a unified school system, seeking to close the provincial law in the province that could allow for
gap by folding their schools into mainstream boards.Z more interjurisdictional flexibility for students with
Manitoba instituted a First Nations school system special needs, ensuring they would have better
in 2017, designed and operated by Indigenous access to education without the exorbitant fees.
communities. Educators determine the curricula and It made specific recommendations concerning
professional development, and the hiring of faculty possible changes to provincial legislation to remove
and staff, and have more access to resources and these fees and ensure equity for First Nations
opportunities than before, due to a new funding students, as well as improved information sharing
formula.AA There is also a provincial 2016–2019 First with First Nations and specific efforts to strengthen
Nation, Métis, and Inuit Education Policy Framework the role of First Nations in provincial schools.FF Thus,
for making education more responsive to Indigenous federal, provincial, and First Nations governments
students’ needs – including Indigenous Peoples’ were required to share information, amend their own
histories in curricula and training teachers to deliver legislation, and address funding issues among
it. The framework is enshrined in the Education themselves in order to ensure access of all First
Administration Amendment Act.BB Yukon and the Nations children to adequate schooling. While the
federal government entered into an MOU with the extent to which the recommendations in the report
Council of Yukon First Nations and all 13 First Nations have been implemented appears limited to date, it
in Yukon to address the education gap between may offer a template for interjurisdictional coopera-
Indigenous and non-Indigenous youth.CC As a result tion in other jurisdictions in Canada.
of the MOU, a 10-year plan to close the education gap
between Indigenous and non-Indigenous students Poverty
was created.DD
Three existing reports spanning from 2003 to 2009
The Assembly of First Nations has long advocated for address the specific need for governments to
greater interjurisdictional coordination via specific develop policies and strategies to eliminate poverty
permanent mechanisms or units to “promote among Indigenous Peoples. It should be noted that
coordination, consistency, monitoring and evaluation the other sub-themes in this section also indirectly
of activities across all sectors and levels of address specific indicators of poverty in Indigenous
government, ensuring policy and services for communities. This sub-theme, in contrast, concerns
children are equitable and that jurisdictional gaps or the need for Canadian governments to specifically
disputes are resolved.”EE consider Indigenous women’s needs when creating
and implementing anti-poverty strategies and
A legal challenge was recently brought by the initiatives.
Mississaugas of New Credit First Nation, alleging that
funding for First Nations special needs students was Of the three reports that specifically concern the need
not comparable with that received by non- for poverty-reduction strategies, one is aimed at the
Indigenous students in Ontario. Their case concerned government of Saskatchewan, one at the federal
the interjurisdictional barriers that can violate government, and one for all Canadian jurisdictions. All
Indigenous students’ rights. Despite the fact that the reports note the need for poverty-elimination
federal government promised equality for First strategies to be developed in consultation with
Nations students, students with special needs were Indigenous leadership and agencies, in addition to
dependent on attending provincial schools to have non-governmental organizations.
567
The federal government is in the process of to address this issue appear lacking. At the
working on a national anti-poverty strategy.GG It is same time, Indigenous communities are
unclear whether, or to what extent, this national showing significant creativity and
strategy would be able to facilitate increased resourcefulness, developing and using micro-
interjurisdictional cooperation and coordination loans for independent housing, rather than
concerning anti-poverty initiatives. Several provinces social housing models, and developing more
also have poverty-reduction plans and strategies. sustainable local economies to assist with
However, while the majority of plans include individual housing needs.II
recognition of increased rates of poverty in
Indigenous communities, only the plans in Ontario In 2017, the federal government began a public
and Yukon include any mention of programs or consultation process to improve housing on
initiatives specifically for Indigenous women. reserves.JJ There is a federally and provincially funded
None of these plans include specific measures Investment in Affordable Housing Extension that
to increase interjurisdictional cooperation or provides dedicated funding for off-reserve housing
coordination of services, though several plans for First Nations people. Nova Scotia, Prince Edward
include some reference to consultation with Island, and New Brunswick appear to rely on federal
Indigenous representatives (generally governments funding to address the housing needs of First Nations
or agencies). people in those provinces.KK
Safe Housing The federal government does not have a compre-

hensive strategy for addressing the housing needs of
Seventeen existing reports spanning from 1991 to Indigenous Peoples off-reserve or without Status, or
2016 address this theme, with approximately 39 a comprehensive strategy to address the needs of
recommendations also calling for greater interjuris- Inuit or Métis across Canada.
dictional action on this issue. These reports identify
precarious housing and a lack of access to shelters Again, MOUs have been utilized in this area to
as factors that contribute to violence against formalize interjurisdictional efforts to address the
Indigenous women for two reasons: 1) homelessness housing needs of First Nations. British Columbia’s
or overcrowded housing can put women at higher Transformative Change Accord and Métis Nation
risk of violent interactions; and 2) the threat of Relationship Accord include a commitment to closing
homelessness or otherwise inadequate housing the housing gap between Indigenous and non-
makes Indigenous women and children less able to Indigenous people. In 2008, the British Columbia
leave violent living situations. and Canadian governments signed a Tripartite
First Nations Housing Memorandum of Under-
A recent report from the Standing Senate Committee standing with the First Nations Leadership Council to
on Aboriginal Peoples studied on-reserve housing collaborate on a comprehensive approach to
throughout Canada and identified two critical issues: improving on- and off-reserve housing.LL
1. insufficient housing units to accommodate In Yukon, a partnership between the Government of

Canada’s rapidly growing Indigenous population; Yukon and Kwanlin Dün First Nation has increased
and Whitehorse’s emergency shelter capacity.MM
2. quality and safety concerns with what limited Health Services

housing there was, often not meeting relevant
building codes, though conditions differ greatly Nineteen existing reportsNN spanning from 1996 to
among individual First Nations.HH Jurisdictional 2016 address health care gaps between Indigenous
uncertainty and disputes are also responsible for and non-Indigenous populations as well as the need
the lack of action at the federal and provincial for more culturally responsive health care services.
levels concerning the housing gap. Efforts at Approximately 86 recommendations fall under this
interjurisdictional cooperation and collaboration theme. Reports are unanimous in identifying that the
568
lack of health care available to Indigenous popu- progress reports are being published by the federal
lations is due to ongoing discrimination. Further, government, and neither is current spending
mental health and addictions issues are often sufficient to close the health gap.
attributed to legacies of colonization and residential
schools. Ill health is both a contributing factor to, and In British Columbia, Indigenous authority over the
result of, higher rates of violence against Indigenous provision of health care to Indigenous populations is
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. growing. The First Nations Health Authority (FNHA)
was established and assumed control over
Recommendations in this sub-theme are primarily developing and delivering the programs, services,
directed toward either provincial and territorial and responsibilities of Health Canada’s First Nations
governments on their own or provincial and federal Inuit Health Branch – Pacific Region. The FNHA is an
governments together. Interestingly, few recommen- Indigenous-governing structure that works with First
dations address interjurisdictional issues, despite the Nations in British Columbia to meet identified health
fact that they appear to be a significant hurdle in the goals and priorities, involving the transfer of funding
provision of timely and sufficient health care to to First Nations via community contribution agree-
Indigenous populations. ments ensuring local control over resources. At the
same time, there have been concerns expressed over
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) the authority’s transparency and discriminatory
recommended that the federal government identify treatment of Indigenous women working in the
existing health gaps and create goals to address institution.SS
them. The TRC also sought to ensure accountability
in this process, requiring the government to publish Other provinces have strategies or forums at which
annual progress reports summarizing efforts to meet interjurisdictional coordination of health services can
their goals and close the health care gap. The Jordan’s be addressed. Alberta’s Aboriginal Mental Health
Principle Orders contributed in important ways to Framework’s strategic directions for action include
pushing the government to act. Jordan’s Principle, the need to address jurisdictional issues that impair
discussed elsewhere in this report, is a principle the provision of services and the need to identify
that “ensures that First Nations children can access and address existing policy gaps in health care
public services on the same terms as other children services for Indigenous individuals with mental
without experiencing any service denials, delays or health challenges.TT The Mi’kmaq–Nova Scotia–
disruptions related to their First Nations status.”OO In Canada Tripartite Forum has also released “Exploring
2016, the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal (CHRT) Health Priorities in First Nation Communities in Nova
found that “Canada’s failure to ensure First Nations Scotia,” a report in which mental health was identified
children can access government services on the same as the primary health priority, followed by addictions.
terms as other children via Jordan’s Principle was The Department of Health has been working with
discriminatory and contrary to the law,” and ordered health system partners to advance these two
Canada to implement its full meaning and scope. priorities for inclusion in program and project
Later the same year, the CHRT issued two orders planning to assist Mi’kmaq and other Indigenous
against Canada for its failure to comply and because Peoples in Nova Scotia.UU No publicly available
the new formulation of the principle was still too progress reports or evaluations of these measures
narrow.PP After the 2016 CHRT decision was released exist since they were introduced in 2009.
concerning rulings, Health Canada initiated a review
of health care services for people living on-reserve. In addition to health services, reports underline
The resulting report found that the government is poor living conditions that give rise to health
failing to provide adequate services and treatment.QQ disparities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous
The federal government has since promised more populations. For example, the United Nations recog-
funding for Indigenous health and mental health nizes that access to water and sanitation are
needs. It has also promised to negotiate a new health international rights, and that the lack of this access
accord with certain Indigenous leaders.RR To date, it can have a “devastating effect” on people’s health,
does not appear TRC-recommended studies and dignity, and prosperity, and can also constitute a
569
significant barrier to the realization of other human federal budget contained a promise to ensure that
rights.VV In Canada, 134 water systems in 85 First First Nations’ access to clean drinking water would be
Nations across the country are subject to “boil water” equal to that enjoyed by non-Indigenous Canadians,
advisories and otherwise limited access to clean there have not been any comprehensive assessments
drinking water or adequate waste-water treatment. of progress made to date.
Water in these reserve communities is often
contaminated with E. coli (which would point to poor
waste-water management infrastructure), as well as
Institutional Lack of Will and
trihalomethanes and uranium, which can lead to Maintaining the Status Quo
increased rates of cancer (which may point to source
water contamination).WW A Human Rights Watch Approximately 51 recommendations from 22 existing
report found that caregivers, often Indigenous reportsZZ call for governments to ensure that services
women, tend to shoulder the burden of avoiding and programs for Indigenous women are adequately
exposure to contaminated water by children, Elders, and sustainably funded and at levels equal to
and those with chronic illnesses or physical or mental funding provided to services for non-Indigenous
challenges. The lack of drinking and waste-water women. The reports span from 2003 to 2016.
infrastructure on many reserves also impacts housing
– delaying or preventing the construction of new Almost half of these recommendations are directed
housing due to already overburdened water systems. at provincial governments, which is to be expected,
Further, the lack of access to clean water can also given provincial jurisdiction over social services. At
significantly disrupt fishing and hunting practices by the same time, almost half of the recommendations
poisoning the animals and making them disperse or concern the need for better interjurisdictional
die, as well as ceremony and the transmission of cooperation in the development and provision of
traditional knowledge. As the Human Rights Watch programs and services to Indigenous people – again
report makes clear, “According to custom and understandable, due to shared provincial/territorial
tradition among many communities, women are the and federal jurisdiction over services for Indigenous
keepers and protectors of waters. Many First Nations Peoples. Recommendations calling for better
persons see water as living, and as a form of interjurisdictional cooperation identify the lack of
medicine. Not being able to drink the water from coordination as a barrier to government efforts to
their own community is distressing to some.” This effectively address root causes of violence against
represents, among the violation of all other rights, an Indigenous women and girls. At the same time,
important violation to cultural rights.XX several recommendations directed at single
jurisdictions stress the need for better coordination
Generally, provincial and territorial governments are and communication among different types of
responsible for drinking water and waste-water services within the jurisdiction. Approximately 25%
facilities (often operated at the municipal level) of recommendations under this theme are addressed
across the country. However, provincial and territorial to the federal government.
governments tend to claim their jurisdiction does
not extend to reserves, which fall under federal To date, it appears that although Canadian govern-
jurisdiction. At the same time, the federal ments are in some cases increasing funding for
government has failed to develop comparable services for Indigenous Peoples, this funding
drinking water or waste-water regulations that may is insufficient and fails to explicitly address conflicts
be applied to reserves in the provincial/territorial among governments over funding specific
vacuum. To date, it appears as though the federal Indigenous services.
government has addressed water issues on a
contract-by-contract basis in individual reserves. This Over the last decade, the previous federal govern-
inconsistent approach depends on independent ment systematically cut funding from many
contractors to provide these essential services, and Indigenous-specific programs, as well as Indigenous
results in significant disparities in quality of services leadership organizations.AAA These extensive funding
from community to community.YY While the 2016 cuts effectively closed the Aboriginal Healing
570
Foundation, First Nations Statistical Institute, National but critics have said that amount is less than half of
Aboriginal Health Organization, and NWAC’s Sisters what is really needed to bridge the gap. Indigenous
in Spirit Initiative, among others. The far-ranging advocates argue the same is true for First Nations’
impacts of these cuts have yet to be fully docu- housing and employment training needs, and the
mented and understood. same applies to Inuit and Métis.GGG While the 2018
budget marks a shift toward more equitable
At the same time, the current federal government has spending,HHH more work is still required. In addition,
since increased its funding to Indigenous and as some of these initiatives make clear, when an
organizations and initiatives over the last two years. issue impacts all Indigenous Peoples but the promise
In 2016, the federal government promised to lift its or measure taken by government is with respect to
2% funding cap on annual funding increases for on- First Nations, Métis, or Inuit alone, it means that the
reserve programming. They also undertook to issue is being addressed for only a segment of the
negotiate with First Nations in order to create a “new Indigenous population.
fiscal relationship.”BBB In 2017, the federal budget
added to the First Nations funding promised in 2016, Certain provinces are addressing general funding
bringing total base funding for on-reserve gaps in service provision to Indigenous Peoples.
programming to a planned $11.8 billion over the next
six years. Much of this funding focuses on clean water • Ontario has released a strategy for implementing
and housing needs on reserve, as well as mental the province’s commitment to reconciliation as
health programs and more funds to support a response to the TRC report. The strategy
Indigenous students, though this will mostly benefit includes increased funding to address the socio-
those with Indian Status.CCC The 2018 budget contains economic marginalization and discrimination
a chapter concerning reconciliation, which promises against Indigenous Peoples in the province. It is
new funding for Indigenous child welfare, health unique in its approach to service provision as a
care, water, and housing, as well as new funding response to legacies of colonialism and the
arrangements for self-government and modern-day residential school system.III
Treaty negotiations.DDD
• In Newfoundland and Labrador, the provincial
The federal government appears to be in the process government established an Annual Leaders
of addressing certain jurisdictional funding gaps, and Roundtable with Indigenous governments and
committing to broader Nation-to-Nation and Inuit- organizations in order to collectively establish
to-Crown relationships with Métis and Inuit priority policy areas and ensure that provincial
leadership. The 2016 budget also marked the programming and services meet the needs of
first time that Métis people were recognized and the province’s Indigenous population.JJJ
included in the federal budget: $25 million was
pledged over five years for Métis people’s economic • In 2017, the Quebec government launched a
development.EEE The Inuit also signed an agreement public commission of inquiry to examine how
with the federal government in February 2017 to Indigenous Peoples have been treated by police
address the land claim process, socio-economic and social services (including by government
equity issues, and collaboration on reconciliation employees, doctors, social workers, correctional
between Canada and Indigenous Peoples.FFF officers, and others) in the province.KKK
While these funding increases are a step in the right However, more widespread provincial effort is
direction, pledged amounts still fall short of required in this area – especially formal undertakings
Indigenous communities’ needs – and, in several and legal mechanisms to ensure interjurisdictional
areas, Indigenous Peoples still receive less funding coordination in all of these efforts.
compared with non-Indigenous people. For example,
the federal government pledged $2.6 billion over five
years to address the education gap for First Nations,
571
Recognizing the Importance Indigenous governments also appear to have
stepped in to address service gaps. For example, the
of Self-Determination and Mi’kmaq Confederacy of Prince Edward Island
provides an Indigenous Justice Program, education
Agency assistance, employment services, and family-based
programming (including work on child welfare
Significantly, Indigenous communities and agencies issues). However, again, there appears to be little
work hard to fill gaps in government assistance progress in developing explicit and mandatory
and address unique needs of Indigenous populations mechanisms to ensure these Indigenous govern-
in culturally grounded ways. The report “Urban ments and agencies are being supported and
Aboriginal Service Delivery” in Saskatchewan found: coordinated with those of Canadian governments.
In the context of an increasingly urbanized and Ultimately, when it comes to funding for services for
mobile population of Aboriginal people in Indigenous Peoples, much more coordination is
Canada, an “invisible infrastructure” of urban urgently required. This is especially true in cases
Aboriginal service delivery organizations has involving overlapping federal and provincial
emerged to meet identified needs in such jurisdiction in which each jurisdiction declares it is a
sectors as social services, language and culture, “provider of last resort,” responsible for funding a
economic development, employment, edu- particular service only if the other jurisdiction is not
cation, and health. Yet Aboriginal people also potentially responsible.MMM As many Indigenous
face gaps and lags in service delivery because of people (especially those belonging to First Nations
a range of systemic and other factors related and Inuit communities) may have multiple service
to the history of colonization and ongoing providers, including federal and provincial agencies,
marginalization. their lack of access to services may be the result of
service providers’ unwillingness to pay for services
It noted the failure of municipalities and provinces to rather than any actual lack of those services
create space for urban Indigenous people, therefore themselves. Further, agencies’ budgets and service
forcing them to be “accommodated” in non- priorities are rarely developed in consultation with
Indigenous centres, which lack the policies and Indigenous Peoples or governments, and, as such,
programs to meet their social and cultural needs.LLL tend to be ill-equipped to address Indigenous
populations’ needsNNN – including protocols or other
mechanisms to address interjurisdictional funding
disputes.
Findings
• The existing areas of jurisdiction, as defined by sections 91 and 92 of the Constitution Act, create
interjurisdictional disputes that result in inequalities and inequities in the provision of essential services to
First Nations, Inuit, and Métis people and communities. These interjurisdictional disputes violate human and
Indigenous rights, and contribute directly to systemic violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
• Jurisdictional neglect, coupled with a failure to recognize, protect, and support Indigenous-inherent
jurisdictions, results in the denial of essential services, violations of human and Indigenous rights, and systemic
violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
• The laws, policies, and practices of the Canadian state fail to adequately recognize, respect, and make space
for the inherent right of Indigenous self-governance and self-determination.
572
A Canada, Department of Justice Canada, “Principles Respecting CC “Memorandum of Understanding on Education
the Government of Canada’s Relationship.” Partnership,” https://cyfn.ca/wp-
B See, for example, Heritage Newfoundland and Labrador, content/uploads/2013/09/MOU-official-copy.pdf.
https://www.heritage.nf.ca/articles/politics/aboriginal-self-gov- DD Yukon First Nation, Joint Education Action Plan 2014–2024.
ernment.php. See also Hogg and Turpel, “Implementing Aborigi- EE Assembly of First Nations, “Submission of the Assembly
nal Self-Government.” of First Nations,” 14.
C Dunn, “Harper without Jeers.” FF Ontario First Nations, “Special Education Review Report.”
D Tomiak, “Indigenous Self-Determination, Neoliberalization,” 120. GG Canadian Press, “Six cities chosen as test sites.”
E Ibid., 252. HH Standing Senate Committee on Aboriginal Peoples,
F Uribe, “A Study on the Relationship,” 13. “On-Reserve Housing and Infrastructure.”
G Constitution Act, 1867, ss 91–92. II Curtis, “Repairing, rebuilding of First Nations housing.”
H See Office of the Auditor General of Canada, “Report 5: Socio- JJ Canada, Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs
economic Gaps”; Office of the Auditor General of Canada, “Re- Canada, “On-reserve Housing Reform.”
port 6: Employment Training for Indigenous KK Borden Colley, “New housing to help”; CBC News,
People.” “PEI taking different approach.”
I Meyer, “Feds ignoring data.” LL First Nations Housing Memorandum of Understanding,
J Petten, “Framework for cooperation.” http://www.housing.gov.bc.ca/pub/housingpdf/Tripartite_FN-
K United Nations, “Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Traf- Housing_MOU.pdf.
ficking.” MM Yukon, “Alternative Emergency Shelter Slated.”
L Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Trafficking of NN Including the reports of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peo-
Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada,” 3. ple and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada.
M Grant, “Missing and murdered: The trafficked.” OO First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada,
N Canada, Statistics Canada, “Trafficking in Persons in Canada, “Jordan’s Principle,” 1.
2016.” PP First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada, “Cana-
O Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls,” 209. dian Human Rights Tribunal Decisions,” 2.
P See Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Boyfriend or Not.” QQ Galloway, “Ottawa still failing to provide.”
Q Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls,” 210. RR Kirkup, “Trudeau announces new funding.”
See also Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Trafficking of SS O’Neil, “Auditor General criticizes B.C.”; Barrera, “Spouse of sen-
Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada,” 6–9. ior official.”
R Inspector Tina Chalk, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 15, TT Alberta Mental Health Board, “Aboriginal Mental Health.”
St. John’s, NL, p. 95. UU Mi’kmaq, Nova Scotia, Canada Tripartite Forum, “Exploring
S Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls,” 209. Health Priorities”; Nova Scotia, “Preventing Poverty, Promoting
T Ibid. Prosperity.”
U Assistant Commissioner Joanne Crampton, Mixed Parts VV United Nations, “Human Rights to Water and Sanitation.”
2 & 3, Public Volume 15, St. John’s, NL, pp. 78–79. WW Human Rights Watch, “Make It Safe.”
V Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls,” 208. XX Ibid.
W Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Trafficking of YY Ibid.
Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada,” 4. ZZ Including the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights,
X Including the RCAP, Invisible Women, and TRC reports. Indigenous Women and Their Human Rights in the Americas, Re-
Y British Columbia, “Aboriginal Education Enhancement port of the Special Committee on Violence Against
Agreements”; Kitchenham et al., “Aboriginal Education Indigenous Women, Invisible Women – A Call to Action, and
Enhancement Agreements.” Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women,
Report of the Inquiry… 2015.
Z McKenna, “Addressing Aboriginal education gap.”
AAA Aboriginal Peoples Television Network, “AANDC Cuts to First Na-
AA Pauls, “New Indigenous school board.” tion Organizations”; Barrera, “Aboriginal organizations hit.”
BB Manitoba Education, https://digitalcollection.gov.mb.ca/ BBB Smith, “Lifting First Nations funding cap.”
awweb/pdfopener?smd=1&did=25297&md=1.
CCC McSheffrey, “Here’s what Budget 2017 means.”
573
DDD Barrera, “Budget boosts funding.” KKK Québec, Commission d’enquête du Québec (Viens); CBC News
EEE Spurr and Smith, “Budget commits nearly 8.4 billion.” Montreal, “Québec’s Indigenous inquiry to explore”; Peritz,
“Quebec launches public inquiry.”
FFF Canada, “Inuit Nunangat Declaration on Inuit-Crown
Partnership.” LLL Findlay et al., “The Urban Aboriginal Service Delivery
Landscape.”
GGG Spurr and Smith, “Budget commits nearly 8.4 billion.”
MMM Dion, “Falling through the Cracks,” 12.
HHH See Gaspard, “A way forward.”
NNN Ibid.
III Ontario, The Journey Together.
JJJ Newfoundland and Labrador, The Way Forward.
574
For many who live in poverty or on the streets, the lack of shelter, food, or other supports is seen
as a direct result of a lack of political will or institutional response. Many of those who testified
in relation to their loved ones discussed how that person sought, but was denied, help, or how the
general lack of will or support for life-saving organizations and institutions has an important im-
pact on achieving security. Here, we focus on stories families shared about the relationships they
formed and the encounters they had with institutions, organizations, agencies, or other systems in
their pursuit of safety.
In many cases, the security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people was directly
compromised by deficits in the following areas: accessibility; funding; cultural training and cul-
turally relevant services, particularly related to trauma; policies and procedures in legislation;
and lack of moral and political will to change. Ultimately, institutional response – or lack thereof
– and lack of political will for changes to relevant legislation and policies related to anti-violence
have a direct bearing on the rights to safety and security of Indigenous women and girls. These
inadequate responses become another weapon through which what Josie Nepinak described as
“the war on Indigenous women” continues to be fought.119 In many cases, the institutions that
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people turn to at some of the most vulnerable times in their
lives often act in ways that affirm the belief that the safety of Indigenous women is not important.
Barriers to Accessibility
The testimony presented at the National Inquiry confirmed what is already well known by In-
digenous advocates, families, and survivors: services that exist to promote and ensure security
for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who have experienced violence or who
experience economic, social, or political marginalization are significantly lacking. In particular,
there are barriers to accessing anti-violence support and other related services, including housing
and shelters, education and training, and employment supports for Indigenous Peoples and in
Indigenous communities.
In its current budget, the Canadian government increased its funding to services with a mandate to
provide assistance to women facing violence.120 Additional funding is earmarked for services
specifically for Indigenous women and girls.121 As a result of this limited budget, anti-violence
supports and services, such as shelters, transition shelters, outreach workers, and sexual assault
crisis centres, are significantly limited, especially when it comes to Indigenous-specific anti-vio-
lence services. For example, according to the most recent Statistics Canada Transition House Sur-
vey, there were 627 shelters for abused women operating across Canada on a snapshot on April
16, 2014. On that day, 338 women and 201 accompanying children were turned away from shel-
ters. In 56% of these cases, the reason for being turned away was a lack of space, though other
reasons included drug and addiction issues, and mental health issues.122 First Nations, Métis, and
575
Inuit women leaving violence face a significant disadvantage in access to Indigenous-specific
transition houses and shelters. According to the National Aboriginal Circle Against Family Vio-
lence, the federal government provides funding for only 41 shelters to serve the 634 recognized
First Nations communities in Canada, and, as of January 2018, only 38 shelters were operational.123
Inuit women fleeing violence often face an even greater challenge in accessing services. Accord-
ing to a 2018 study by Amnesty International, there are roughly 15 shelters and transition houses
serving 53 Inuit communities across the Arctic. Some of these shelters are extremely small, and
most communities are accessible only by air.124 Many Inuit women may be long distances away
from the nearest shelter, and even if they are able to make the often cost-prohibitive flight to a
shelter, there may not be room for them to stay. The federal government doesn’t provide funding
to shelters in Inuit communities.125
For those who do relocate to new centres, the challenges there can also be daunting. As Susan
Aglugark explained about her own experience in relocating to Ottawa in 1990:
The first challenge for me was the city buses, which is like, oh, they are just city buses.
They are just bus drivers. But, they are qallunaat bus drivers and they are all qallunaat on
that bus, and I am just a little Arviatmiut. Maybe they are going to figure it out that I am
this little Arviatmiut Eskimo who is trying to get from point A to point B, and maybe they
have a right to say, “No, you can’t get on this bus.” I harboured that kind of fear and lived
with that kind of fear. And, fear is not the right word. The word in this context is ilira. In
our dialect, ilira is the root word for ilirasuk…. I was in a constant state of emotional fear.
They had power over me. I needed their permission to get on the bus to get to my job.
Every morning – so some mornings, it was too much and I would walk the five miles
rather than confront this bus – thinking I had to confront the poor guy. He had no idea, but
I did. I had the fear in here. So, that was the first thing I had to tell myself, “Don’t be silly.
It’s okay. You just – this is just a bus getting you from point A to point B.126
In other cases, witnesses testified about how there weren’t enough services, or they didn’t know
how to navigate them, which forced some people to stay in unsafe situations. Josie Nepinak ex-
plained that in 2015–16, 16,359 women were turned away from shelters in Alberta and, of these,
65% identified as Indigenous women.127 Sandra Montour, the executive director of Ganohkwasra
Family Assault Support Services in Ontario, likewise talked about how a lack of services for
Indigenous women and children experiencing violence means that they are often turned away or
forced to wait sometimes for months in order to get services.
Our women’s community counselling program has 20 to 30 women waiting every single
month. Our men’s counselling program, Sahoˆnikonrí:ione, “his mind has been healed,”
that has a waiting list usually about anywhere from 15 to 20. Our children’s program,
Gaodwiyá:noh, they have a waiting list usually in the 20s and 30s. We cannot keep up.
And this has been like this for years. I lay awake at night and I worry about losing our
people to death as they’re waiting on our waiting list.128
576
As the testimonies from families suggest, Sandra’s concerns about “losing our people to death as
they’re waiting” for support in their most vulnerable moments are understandable. In their testi-
mony, family members often pointed to significant encounters when their now missing or mur-
dered loved one had reached out for support but had been turned away. For example, Barbara H.
described how she tried to get help for her daughter Cherisse H., who was murdered in 2009.
She was on the street and she was addicted to drugs. And, there was one time there when
she said to me, “Mommy, I need help.” This was after she had her son. She was still
doing drugs, and then she finally realized that she wanted to get the help she needs so
she could be a good mom. So, she said to me that she needed help, if I could phone her
CFS [Child and Family Services] worker so they could place her in a locked facility so
she doesn’t have to run to the streets to do drugs. I guess she used drugs, too, to cope
because they took her son right at birth.
So, I phoned her worker, and her worker said to call back. So, I called back and she said
there’s no facilities that could take Cherisse, and I guess that she – I guess she felt let
down or – you know? So, she went back to the street, and a week after that, that’s when
– couple weeks after that, that’s when they found her body.
In describing the circumstances leading up to the murder of her sister, Patricia, Charlotte M.
talked about how, if there had been services available, her sister might still be alive.
So our families resided in Kitchenuhmaykoosib, which is a reserve north of here, about
500 kilometres. And it’s a fly-in community only, so it’s very isolated. So back during
the time before my sister Patricia was murdered, there really wasn’t much in place on the
reserve, as far as supports. For example, there was no family drop-in places where she
could take her kids. At the time, there was no sexual assault workers. They had no
advocates to go with them during meetings with Child and Family Services, which in our
area is Tikinagan. And – and so I’ve always believed that if we had more services, like
those in place, that the circumstances leading to my sister’s death, her murder, may not
have happened.130.
Likewise, Chief Vivian T. spoke about the missed opportunity that existed to protect Destiny
when she, too, reached out for support.
At that time I don’t think our band had a drug and alcohol counsellor. And she wanted to
go to a treatment centre but she kept on asking or phoning and tried to get help to go into
a program where she would quit drinking. And they kept on stalling or they just didn’t
bother returning her calls. And she finally got upset and she just started drinking again.131
Destiny T. was brutally beaten to death by her boyfriend in 2013.
577
Lack of Culturally Appropriate Services
While a complete lack of accessibility is one issue, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people often face additional challenges in accessing services related to housing, anti-violence sup-
port, or other types of social services that fail to reflect their unique needs as Indigenous people.
In her testimony, Halie B. spoke about the need for culturally relevant services for Indigenous
women impacted by violence, poverty, addictions, and other issues.
There are too few culturally relevant services and places for our women, and for our
youth. And, they need to be culturally specific. I’m a [speaking in Kwak’wala]
woman. I’m Kwa’kwa’kawakw. That’s my culture, that’s my tradition. It was my
Kwa’kwa’kawakw granny who saved me. And, it was my Kwa’kwa’kawakw laws
that inoculated me and helped me through that system. And so, it has to be
culturally specific.132
For many Indigenous women seeking support after exposure to violence, access to anti-violence
support services, such as a shelter, transition house, sexual assault crisis centre, or other type of
support, is often an important first step. These services are often deeply underfunded, and they
are often not necessarily designed or equipped to meet the unique needs of Indigenous women.
For example, the National Inquiry heard about a common policy held by many shelters that they
are unable to accept clients in an active addiction to drugs and alcohol. For many Indigenous
women who use drugs and alcohol to cope with extreme violence and trauma, this policy creates
an additional barrier to getting support, often at some of their most vulnerable moments – a
barrier that may send women back out onto the street.
Of the Indigenous women who do use non-Indigenous-led shelters, transition houses, or other
domestic violence services, many are often placed in, or participate in, programming that does
not respond to their own modes of healing through cultural and spiritual practices.
“SHE WAS ON THE STREET AND SHE WAS ADDICTED TO DRUGS. AND, THERE WAS
ONE TIME THERE WHEN SHE SAID TO ME, ‘MOMMY, I NEED HELP.’ THIS WAS AFTER
SHE HAD HER SON. SHE WAS STILL DOING DRUGS, AND THEN SHE FINALLY REALIZED
THAT SHE WANTED TO GET THE HELP SHE NEEDS SO SHE COULD BE A GOOD MOM.
SO, SHE SAID TO ME THAT SHE NEEDED HELP, IF I COULD PHONE HER CFS WORKER
SO THEY COULD PLACE HER IN A LOCKED FACILITY SO SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO RUN
TO THE STREETS TO DO DRUGS. I GUESS SHE USED DRUGS, TOO, TO COPE BECAUSE
THEY TOOK HER SON RIGHT AT BIRTH. SO, I PHONED HER WORKER, AND HER
WORKER SAID TO CALL BACK. SO, I CALLED BACK AND SHE SAID THERE’S NO
FACILITIES THAT COULD TAKE CHERISSE, AND I GUESS THAT SHE — I GUESS SHE
FELT LET DOWN OR — YOU KNOW? SO, SHE WENT BACK TO THE STREET, AND A
WEEK AFTER THAT, THAT’S WHEN — COUPLE WEEKS AFTER THAT, THAT’S WHEN
THEY FOUND HER BODY.”
Barbara H.
578
For Josie Nepinak, the Awo Taan Healing Lodge – an Indigenous-led and -run shelter for Indige-
nous women and children leaving violence – provides an important counter-example: when
Indigenous women attend the Awo Taan Healing Lodge, “your first entrants into the facility are
Indigenous women helping Indigenous women. And so that – that’s part of the healing.”133
Nakuset, a Cree woman from Lac la Ronge, Saskatchewan, and executive director of the
Montreal Native Women’s Shelter, drew on her experience working with Indigenous women
seeking housing to explain the importance of culturally relevant housing options:
The thing is, if you shove someone into a tiny little apartment and be, like, there you go,
now you’re housed, they’re not going to stay because there’s no support from them, so
basically it’s almost like a little jail. So we noticed that people will still leave their
housing … to go back and have a community and spend time out there, and whatever
underlying issue they have that’s not resolved, whether it be drugs or alcohol or
whatever, they’re going to end up losing their housing again.134
Cee-Jai’s description of how she felt upon receiving housing in a rooming house illustrates
Nakuset’s observation.
It was hard because it was so different from sleeping outside, and being on the street. I
think the first few days we were, like, “Grab our pillows and our blankets they just gave
us from donation and let’s go sleep outside.” So we’d find our shopping cart and we
would push it and go sleep under the – what do you call those? Overpasses.
It’s funny, this one – one morning, too, I think it was like, second or third day and we
kept doing that because we had a hard time sleeping in those rooms. It was like haunted.
Those hotel rooms are haunted. Anyways, we were sleeping outside and our king-sized
bed was the pavement.135
Lack of Financial Support for Anti-Violence Services

While the institutional barriers that exist are sometimes rooted in the agencies and programs
themselves, in many cases, the barriers are created and sustained by underlying systemic and
structural issues that make it difficult for these agencies and programs to provide services in the
ways that they know would best fit the needs of those who use them. In the context of anti-
violence services – and, specifically, Indigenous-led anti-violence services – limited access to
funding from government and other sources, particularly stable, multi-year funding and not proj-
ect-based funding, must be recognized as being at the root of the inaccessibility Indigenous
women face in seeking safety.
As Sandra Montour makes clear, there is a direct link between the complexities and unwilling-
ness of government funders and others to hand over the purse strings and violence in the lives of
Indigenous women and girls: “If we were all able to have equitable funding, we could save lives,
I guarantee it. That’s a no brainer, we would save lives.”136
579
The lack of core funding – as well as the many stipulations and limitations attached to this fund-
ing – creates significant barriers and difficulties for the provision of services and, ultimately, the
protection of safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. In her testimony,
Nakuset talked about the additional burden placed on staff and directors who, while already per-
forming difficult work, are forced to spend a significant amount of their time raising funds to
ensure they are able to keep their doors open. In her testimony, Nakuset spoke about how, once
again, this limitation impacts Indigenous women in distinct ways. Because Indigenous women
may come to the shelter with a complex history of trauma, the types of supports, such as special-
ized trauma counselling, long-term one-on-one support, or culturally specific services, that are
best suited to address these needs and challenges are often those that require the most time and
attention from staff. Agencies such as the Montreal Native Women’s Shelter and Awo Taan Heal-
ing Lodge do not receive funding in order to keep important professionals like nurse practitioners
and trauma counsellors and are forced to fundraise on their own; again, an activity that takes
significant additional time and effort.137
Limited or inadequate funding also holds significant challenges for staff who are often paid very
low salaries for frequently very difficult and dangerous work that comes with working at a shel-
ter or transition house. Associated with low pay is retention of staff: a revolving door of staff
people can often mean that clients who are more likely to need long-term services do not have
the benefit that comes with long-term, consistent care and support.138
Nakuset spoke specifically about the distinct barriers that come with seeking support for Indige-
nous women’s organizations.
So what I have to do or I choose to do is go to different agencies and different schools
and do workshops on Indigenous realities. And only then do they sort of get the light
bulb. And then they are more empathetic. And then they say, “Hey, I know someone who
might be able to help out. I know someone who may have some money.” And that’s
where – you know, those are the kind of things you have to do. You have to keep
advocating on behalf of the women and spreading the word that, you know, we are
incredibly resilient, but we still need to get from A to B. And there’s nothing right now in
the city that’s appropriate.139
“AS YOU HEARD MY DAUGHTER SPEAKING ABOUT HER ADDICTION, UP IN THE NORTH
THERE’S EXTREME RATES OF POVERTY AND THERE IS A SERIOUS NEED FOR HEALTH,
HEALING, AND WELLNESS CENTRES EVERYWHERE, NOT JUST IN THE NORTH BUT
ACROSS CANADA. AND THE ONE THING THAT BOTHERS ME THE MOST ABOUT THE
NEED FOR ALL THESE THINGS IS THAT WHEN THE GOVERNMENT DECIDES THAT
THEY’RE GOING TO GIVE IT TO US THEN THEY GIVE IT TO US FOR TWO YEARS. WHAT
HAPPENS AFTER THAT TWO YEARS? THAT’S THE SAME WITH THE SHUTTLEBUS SERVICE.
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THAT TWO YEARS? THE GOVERNMENT PULLS THEIR FUNDING
AND THEN WE’RE DONE. THEN WE HAVE TO START FROM ROCK BOTTOM AGAIN AND
START ALL OVER AGAIN.”
Gladys R.
580
For Nakuset, this work often involves balancing stereotypes about Indigenous women while
getting support for what is needed. She provided the following example of such an encounter
between her and municipal representatives when she was trying to get funding to support an
event for Aboriginal Day.
And the City of Montreal said, “Do you really think that’s appropriate? Like, why don’t
you help your people?” And me, I am, like, super dynamic, “Oh, my God. This is
incredible.” I’m talking, like, you know, like I’m a talk show host or something because
I know that if I answer the question in a way that’s going to straighten them out, I may
not get that funding. So I have to find a way to present it in a positive way to – almost
extinguish their negativity and their discrimination. She was, like, “Well, you know,
Aboriginal Day, it’s not just for Aboriginals.” Like, “Oh, really?”140
Nakuset described how these issues are further complicated by the way the expertise Indigenous
women and 2SLGBTQQIA people hold is ignored.
And then there’s many times where they will go, let’s say the government will go
elsewhere to find the expertise, and it’s almost like duplicating the work. And that’s a
little bit insulting. And we have to, sort of, explain to them, “Oh, by the way, we’ve been
doing this for ten years. So why don’t you just come to us?” So this is super important
that they acknowledge the work … that we are doing.141
As part of her truth, Gladys R. spoke passionately about the way in which government funding
structures that provide short-term, time-limited funding demonstrate a fundamental lack of un-
derstanding and respect for the unique safety needs of Indigenous women and those who provide
services for them.
As you heard my daughter speaking about her addiction, up in the North there’s
extreme rates of poverty and there is a serious need for health, healing, and wellness
centres everywhere, not just in the North but across Canada. And the one thing that
bothers me the most about the need for all these things is that when the government
decides that they’re going to give it to us, then they give it to us for two years. What
happens after that two years? That’s the same with the shuttlebus service. What happens
after that two years? The government pulls their funding and then we’re done. Then we
have to start from rock bottom again and start all over again. When we put in these
health, healing, and wellness programs, they need to be permanent processes to protect
women and children…. So the health, healing and – when you – when the government
offers funding, I don’t care if it’s two years, they can do it for life because these cycles
are ongoing. These cycles are ongoing. They’re going to be – we need a permanent fix
for this, not part-time. Band-aid fixes haven’t worked thus far so we need it. We need it
permanent.142
581
This concern about short-term funding was echoed by many other service providers who work in
the anti-violence sector as a significant barrier to creating services that can meaningfully restore
safety and security. Moreover, the complicated and bureaucratic reporting mechanisms that ac-
company such funding create the sense that Indigenous women and organizations need to report
back and justify their efforts to create safety. Hearing about the creativity and resilience with
which women like Nakuset, Nepinak, Gladys, and many others manage to succeed, despite the
institutional and government constraints placed on their services, makes it clear that with the
proper funding, these women could create safety and end violence.
Insufficient Policies, Legislation, and Procedures
In their stories about the lack of safety and security in the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, and the way this lack of safety and security is enforced through institu-
tional and structural practices, witnesses pointed to a number of larger policy, legislative, and
organizational practices that continue to impede access to safety at the structural level.
In her testimony, Josie Nepinak provided an important discussion of the way the very notions of
“safety” and “danger” are conceptualized differently within Indigenous and non-Indigenous
contexts. This holds repercussions for access to funding for services, police response, and safety
measures such as emergency protection orders. Josie Nepinak and her staff compared the meas-
urements on an assessment tool of perceived danger widely used by anti-violence services in
Canada among Indigenous women, immigrant women, and settled Canadians who use their
services. They found that, when comparing the level of perceived danger in the same situation,
Indigenous women did not perceive themselves to be in as much danger as did immigrant or
settled Canadian women.
As Nepinak explained, this result suggests that the assessment tool does not “speak to the lived
experiences of Indigenous women. It does not take colonization, the paternalistic policy, the
oppression, residential school experiences, the … child welfare experiences.” As such, “the danger
assessments are not adequate to the experiences and lives of Indigenous women … because until
we can recognize that violence against Indigenous women is manifested through colonization, then
we’re not going to get an accurate picture of what violence is for Indigenous women.” Nepinak
believes that, when the experiences and levels of danger Indigenous women face are not being
measured in a way that attends to their distinct history and culture, and instead are understood
through colonial tools and frameworks, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people risk
being put in even greater danger because they are denied the necessary intervention or support.143
The ongoing lack of institutional will to enhance protections to Indigenous women is another
manifestation of colonialism’s tactics of ignoring, normalizing, and erasing violence. In her
testimony, Sandra Montour provided a concrete example of this when she talked about the
requirement of incorporation in order to get access to funding equal to that given to non-
Indigenous shelters and transition houses.
For a long time, I was busy educating the funders. They would say, “Sandy, how come
you didn’t apply for this funding?” And I’d say, “Because your – your very first line
582
says, ‘Must Be Incorporated.’” And I would say, “You know what? Ganohkwasra is a
30-year organization that never once – never once have we ended a year in the red.
Never once. We’re reputable and – and we will do what we say we can do, and then
some. But your – your line item that states you must – ‘Thou Must be Incorporated,’ it
eliminates First Nations shelters right away.” So that was one of the things that I’ve had
to – I tried my best to educate funders about. And – and that’s changing slowly.144
For some organizations, the approach to service delivery they offer can be circumscribed or
dictated by the terms of the funding agreements or organizational policies that govern their work.
For example, women working in the sex trade may be limited in receiving services by an organi-
zational requirement that they be in the process of exiting the sex trade in order to receive these
services.145 More generally, organizations may be required to work within colonial or dominant
models that favour an abolitionist rather than harm-reduction approach to addictions, sex work,
or other strategies that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people use to cope with
experiences of violence and to meet their basic needs.
Sometimes, the organizational policies or mandates that govern organizations mean that Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLBGTQQIA people have to “prove” their worthiness as a receiver of
those services. In describing her efforts to secure housing, Cee-Jai provided an example of how it
was only after Cee-Jai and her partner were able to demonstrate to an authority figure that they
were ready “to change” that they received access to housing.
I remember getting an SRO [single room occupancy] because I was homeless on the
street, crawled out of that back alley, you know. This minister guy, or chaplain, or, like,
church person, or whatever they call them, anyone that’s Christian, forgive me. But you
know what I mean, right? But he actually believed us that we wanted to stay sober, so he
got in a – us a single room occupancy in the Downtown Eastside. But in that rooming
house, there was Christians, and they were all clean and sober. He got us that room and
we were warm and started cleaning up.146
Poor institutional response to the very real needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people experiencing violence, as well as a lack of will to initiate changes that address the root
causes of violence in the first place, demonstrate yet another way in which violations to the
security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are ignored and exacerbated
through the structures and systems within which they live. As Nakuset emphasized, turning away
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in those crucial moments in which they may
be seeking safety is to, in effect, participate in the normalization of violence and reinforce a
message many have learned from early childhood that their safety does not matter.
Because they’re turned away, they expect that this is the norm, and we have to show
them that it’s not, and we have to help them by being there and advocating on their
behalf so that they can see, hey, this is the way I’m supposed to be treated, this is not the
norm anymore.147
583
and strong physical, spiritual and emotional health; a connection to language, land,
beings of creation and ancestry; the support of caring family and environment; and an
interconnectedness enriched by hope, belonging, purpose and meaning. On the other
hand, Western biomedical models view mental wellness as the absence of mental
illness.97
Source: “Mental wellness is supported by culture, language, Elders, families, and creation and is necessary for healthy individual, community, and
family life.” – First Nations Mental Wellness Continuum Framework, https://thunderbirdpf.org/first-nations-mental-wellness-continuum-framework/.
Expert Witness Allan Wade said that the poor treatment many Indigenous people receive when
seeking mental health support should not be surprising, given the colonial roots of dominant
approaches to mental health and psychiatric care.
So, you know, the cultures that gave us the prison camps that are called residential
schools also gave us the talking cure, they also gave us psychiatry. So, it would be, kind
of, surprising if there were not linkages, wouldn’t it, between the discourse and the
465
to go to. And so, often those are – when they Negative behaviors associated with “blowing off
come into town to “blow off steam,” you know, steam” may be compounded by the fact that
they have tons of money because they have been many of the transient workers do not have
working in the bush for this many days, and then families or other ties in northeast BC. “There’s no
they come in and they get to let loose, you know? attachment to the community and there’s no
It’s a high-pressure job that they are doing. attachment to the women,” Amnesty Inter-
national was told. Community activist Connie
I often – I cannot imagine being under that Greyeyes believes that the large numbers of
circumstance anymore. I actually did used to short-term and temporary workers in Fort
work in the industry, I was a medic on drilling St. John have made the community more unsafe
and service rigs, and I remember those days. And for women. She told Amnesty International,
I remember going into town and blowing off “It’s very easy to be an unknown in this town. You
steam with the guys. And, you know, it was often can commit a crime and no one knows who
[fraught] with a lot of drugs and alcohol and, you you are.”C
know, picking up women in [the] community.
And, you know, being a front-line, kind of, T. J. Lightfoot, a Two-Spirit Mi’kmaw person originally
grassroots person, I have often talked to women from Elsipogtog First Nation, also told the National
who have experienced violence the previous Inquiry that the work camps associated with
night from somebody that they met that is just industrial resource extraction can pose a risk of
in town working. And, more often than not, it has violence for Indigenous women and children.
often – almost always been, “I didn’t know them,
but they were here working for so-and-so.” There are two types of man camps. There are
man camps that are set up by resource extractive
You know, that is how it is in Fort St. John. I mean, industries. So, the company pays to have, say,
like, when you go in – I have lived there my entire like, a number of portable housing put onto a
life. I know a lot of people there. And I don’t go plot of land, or there are informal man camps
out very often. You know, like, once in a blue which are – private individuals will go ahead and
moon, I will go out with my friends and we will set up a number of, like, mobile homes and put
go dancing, and the amount of workers is it on their property knowing that the workers are
incredible that are not from Fort St. John. working within the resource extraction industry,
so as seen in Alberta, and BC and other areas.
You know, even sitting at the Fort St. John So, what happens is there is an influx of workers
Airport with the shuttle that comes in to bring that are coming from an understanding that
industry workers to and from the dam or sometimes, and not all times, but sometimes
wherever, I mean, like, it is there every flight, these people are coming from impoverished
bringing people into Fort St. John. And, when communities themselves. They are often cis,
you have that dynamic of all of that money, all of heterosexual males that are Canadian. And I use
that pressure working, and then they get to blow that, meaning that they are not Indigenous.
off some steam and come into Fort St. John and
party? It is a bad mixture for the women and girls So, the influx of workers in these areas, what we
of the communities.B have seen is that they have led to increased rates
of sexual violence and physical violence, the
Jacqueline Hansen from Amnesty International abduction of Indigenous women and children.D
provided the National Inquiry with a report she and
Greyeyes helped produce. The report, titled Out of Lightfoot provided the National Inquiry with a report
Sight, Out of Mind, also argued that the transient by the Women’s Earth Alliance and the Native Youth
workforce associated with resource extraction Sexual Health Network that documented how
constitutes a threat to the safety of Indigenous extractive industries can affect the health and safety
women and girls. of Indigenous women and children. It discusses
several examples of physical and sexual assaults
585
against Indigenous women and girls by transient levels, including drug- and alcohol-related
workers in extractive industries. The report included offenses, sexual offenses, and domestic and
the following statement from Melina Laboucan- ‘gang’ violence, have been linked to “boomtown”
Massimo, a woman from the Lubicon Cree First and other resource development contexts.
Nation. Unlike population growth in other rural contexts,
resource development activities often bring an
The industrial system of resource extraction in in-migration of young men with high salaries
Canada is predicated on systems of power and and little stake in host communities. The influx
domination. This system is based on the raping of money and workforces into communities can
and pillaging of Mother Earth as well as violence influence gang and sex trade activities, and can
against women. The two are inextricably linked. increase access to illegal substances within
With the expansion of extractive industries, not communities. Increasing crime levels can also be
only do we see desecration of the land, we see fueled by the increased consumption of alcohol
an increase in violence against women. Rampant and drugs, the social isolation of camp
sexual violence against women and a variety of environments, “hyper-masculine” camp cultures,
social ills result from the influx of transient and the disconnection of workers from local
workers in and around workers’ camps.E communities.G
Other reports corroborate these findings. A regional James Anaya, former United Nations Special
cumulative-effects assessment of hydroelectric Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples,
development in Manitoba revealed that the arrival of explained that his research as special rapporteur
a large transient workforce in northern Manitoba revealed a connection between the influx of transient
resulted in Indigenous women’s and children’s being workers and violence against Indigenous women.
targeted for racial and sexual violence.
Over the last several years I have carried out a
The arrival of a largely male construction study and reported on extractive industries
workforce led to the sexual abuse of Indigenous affecting indigenous peoples. It has become
women: people spoke of construction workers evident through information received within
getting them inebriated and then taking the context of the study that extractive
advantage of them. People spoke of witnessing industries many times have different and
rape and being unable to interfere. Some spoke often disproportionately adverse effects on
of instances of institutions intended to protect indigenous peoples, and particularly on the
people, particularly the Royal Canadian Mounted health conditions of women. For example, I have
Police, brutalizing men, permitting the learned that in many cases indigenous women
exploitation of women, and failing to take local living in communities near oil, gas and mining
complaints seriously, although there were also operations are vulnerable to sexually transmitted
instances of these complaints being addressed. diseases, including HIV/AIDS, which are often
Indigenous children felt themselves to be the introduced with a rapid increase of extractive
target of racial violence and discrimination.F workers in indigenous areas. In addition,
indigenous women have reported that the influx
A report by Northern Health and the Provincial of workers into indigenous communities as a
Health Services Authority of British Columbia result of extractive projects also led to increased
discussed the relationship between crime rates and incidents of sexual harassment and violence,
resource extraction, including the physical and sexual including rape and assault. In one case in which
assault of Indigenous women by transient workers. I intervened indigenous girls walking to school
were sexually assaulted by workers operating
Adverse impacts to community safety and crime under a concession granted by the government
levels as a result of resource development for the extraction of forest resources in the
activities have been well-documented in Canada indigenous peoples’ traditional territory.H
and throughout the world. Increased crime
586
And I said, “You're letting me back in here.” I said – he had my stuff all packed. He said,
“Well, you didn't come back here last night.” I said, “I was removed here by the police
last night.…”
[The worker] wouldn’t let me in. Hands me all of my stuff in a white plastic bag and
says, “We have already given your room to somebody else.”
In response, Sharna, by her own description, “became desperate,” taking all of the medication she
could find and admitting herself to the hospital for an overdose so that she could get back in.99
Paula P. described a similar experience in which the negligent mental health treatment she
received created further health problems and deepened rather than alleviated her suffering. Paula
reported that, at one point, she went for counselling for help dealing with her sexual abuse. After
six months, the counsellor told her that everything Paula had told her in the beginning was true.
She said, “Now I’m going to begin helping you.” Paula felt “psychologically raped” because she
hadn’t been believed and the counsellor had to investigate everything before she would help her.
Paula was still a teenager at that time. As she explained, she gave up, stopped reporting rapes,
and quit standing up for herself.100
Paula’s experience reflects the particular challenges Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
survivors of violence may encounter when seeking mental health support, and the way in which
the “colonial code of relationship” described by Allan Wade plays out in the specific context of
counselling for those who have experienced interpersonal violence. As Wade explained:
We have developed all kinds of models in the interpersonal violence field that continue
to blame victims, particularly women, and that hide the nature of violence. A good
example is the so-called cycle theory of violence.… The three-part cycle, there is, like,
an explosion, honeymoon phase, tension building. You will notice in this model there is
no social context, there is no reference to culture, we do not know where the people are.
And, why – if the man has been committing violence, why do we have the women sitting
in the middle?
You will see this over and over again. What happens is instead of focusing on the
violence by the man, we focus on the brain, body of the woman. We have been inside the
minds of women for 125 years, trying to change the behaviour of men. It has never
worked. It cannot work. It will not work.101
Vanessa B., speaking for her sister, who was murdered, leaving behind five children, also identi-
fied significant problems in mental health services.
467
There is an exponential huge breakdown in mental health services. Trust me, I’ve lived
it. I’ve seen therapists that look at their client and – and the worst of it, at a child, and
make them feel so bad that they don’t want to talk. And my theory is if you’re not in
your job to do your job, if you don’t want to wake up and do what you believe you’re
trying to do and helping somebody, get the hell out of it because you’re doing more
harm than you are doing good. And I believe that if our workers are – are getting so
overworked both in the social services and the mental health aspect of – of the jobs, then
you need [a] break because you’re not – you’re no longer helping. And it’s the same
thing I found with Tanya. She didn’t – she could have used these services and she could
have had these services, but if she felt at some point that she wasn’t getting what she
needed, you’re not really helping her, are you? So … there we go. We have failure
right there.102
In addition to the challenges many Indigenous women, girls, 2SLGBTQQIA people and their
families face in terms of accessing unbiased and culturally appropriate mental health services,
many witnesses also talked about the difficulties of accessing any mental health services due to
long wait-lists and a lack of options. As Adrienne B. noted, in an urban context:
You know, if I was to access these resources in Edmonton, there’s a two-month wait to
see a mental health worker. I booked an appointment with a psychiatrist because I knew
what I was feeling was coming up. I started getting, you know, triggers, flashbacks. That
appointment was rebooked for next month. Like a lot of these resources here need to be
put in place to help the parents and relatives who are dealing with missing and murdered
women.103
“SO WHEN THE AMBULANCE CAME, AND THIS IS WHAT MY MOM TOLD ME, WHEN THE
AMBULANCE CAME SHE WAS ON THE GROUND AND IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN. AND SHE
THOUGHT THEY WERE TREATING HER AS THOUGH SHE HAD FALLEN OVER BECAUSE
SHE WAS DRUNK. AND THEY PICKED HER UP – AND SHE WAS A FAIRLY HEAVYSET
WOMAN – THEY PICKED HER UP AND PUT HER ON HER FEET, AND SHE FELL AGAIN,
BECAUSE SHE HAD A BROKEN HIP IN THE BEATING. AND THEY LAUGHED AT HER. AND
THEY PICKED HER UP AGAIN. SHE SAID, “I CAN’T. IT HURTS. MY HIP HURTS.” AND WHEN
SHE FELL AGAIN THEN THEY THOUGHT MAYBE THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE WRONG,
SO THEY – I GUESS THEY PUT HER ON A STRETCHER AND THEY TOOK HER AWAY TO
THE HOSPITAL.”
Dianna B.
Lorna B. spoke of a particular case in one centre in British Columbia where services are severely
limited.
I work at Canada’s First Nations Radio and we service 42 communities throughout the
northwest, so we’re talking from Haida Gwaii, Terrace, Kitimat, Prince Rupert. Those
are the bigger centres so we have a lot of people that come in from those communities.
468
Research by Pauktuutit Inuit Women of Canada into Provincial Health Services Authority of British
the impacts of resource extraction projects on Inuit Columbia noted a strong relationship between
women documented a significant increase in alcohol resource extraction and substance abuse in northern
consumption in Baker Lake, associated with the British Columbia.
construction of a gold mine. This increase in alcohol
consumption was associated with increases in Research suggests that many camp workers
domestic violence. spend large proportions of their income on
alcohol and drugs. A pattern of problematic drug
Alcohol consumption in Qamani’tuaq has and alcohol use prevalent amongst camp
increased considerably. RCMP reports reveal that workers in Northern British Columbia has been
permits issued for the import of alcohol linked to a number of factors including work
increased from 3,000 in 2009 to 6,105 in 2011, an conditions and the camp environment (e.g.
increase of over 100%. Incidents in which the isolation from social and family relationships,
RCMP are involved have increased from “hyper-masculine” cultures in industrial camps,
approximately 540 in 2008 to over 800 in 2011. long hours and stressful working conditions,
Many of these involve domestic disputes, limited social and recreational activities).
including incidents of domestic violence. Inuit Individuals who have worked in the oil and gas
women painted a picture of intersecting impacts. industry since they were teenagers reported that
The “two-week in, two-week out” work schedule their entry into industry-related employment
gives rise to jealousies and suspicion that affects also provided them with entry into a drug scene.T
interpersonal relationships. Relationships that
may have been unstable prior to mine
employment are further impacted by distance
Economic Insecurity
and the fear that a partner may be carrying on an
Extraction can drive economic insecurity for
affair or developing a relationship with someone
Indigenous women. Indigenous women face
else at the mine. In the presence of alcohol, the
significant barriers to participating in the extractive
purchase of which is facilitated by an increase in
economy. Rotational work schedules make it
disposable income, fears and jealousies lead to
impossible for many women with children to
domestic incidents, including violence.R
maintain employment at a mine or oil field.
Experiences of sexual harassment and assault, as well
In her testimony before the Inquiry, Jacqueline
as racist discrimination and “hyper-masculine” work
Hansen from Amnesty International explained how
environments, also act as barriers to Indigenous
rotational shift work can exacerbate addictions and
women’s participation in the workforce.U The
other mental health issues by making treatment
Indigenous women who do get work at mines are
difficult.
often stuck in relatively low-paying jobs in
housekeeping, cleaning, and food services.V At the
And, when we were looking at the conditions
same time, the rapid growth in population associated
that people were working under, we are talking
with resource booms can drive high rates of inflation
about people sometimes being in camp for a
and housing shortages.W
month, you know, working in incredibly difficult
conditions, very long hours, often away from
Witnesses told the National Inquiry that this
family, friends, other supports, doing shift work
combination of low participation in the extractive
where you are not going to be able to get into
economy and rising costs of living can result in
Fort St. John to seek addictions treatment or to
extreme economic insecurity for Indigenous women,
– for mental health care or for any health care.S
placing them at risk of being targeted for violence.
For example, Connie Greyeyes told the National
The connection among resource extraction,
Inquiry that many Indigenous women in northern
substance abuse, and violence against Indigenous
British Columbia remain in abusive relationships
women is also examined in many other reports.
because they are economically dependent on their
For example, the report by Northern Health and the
spouse.
589
Within Fort St. John, it’s near impossible for a Sex work and other forms of commercial sex are
woman to actually leave a relationship and not highly stigmatized and commercial sex is largely
live in deep poverty. Because of the industry that criminalized by virtue of the fact that buying
surrounds Fort St. John, we’re known as the sexual services is illegal in Canada. The stigma
“energetic city” for a reason. The development is surrounding commercial sex, the fact that
rampant there, which has caused food, housing, commercial sex is largely criminalized or that
everything to skyrocket. You know, you can rent illegal drugs were involved, may make women
a really, really rundown one-bedroom apartment who sell sex reluctant to report violence for fear
for upwards of $1,200 a month. Or, you know, of mistreatment and punishment by law
you’re looking at paying hydro bills that are $400 enforcement officials, and men may exploit this
to $500 a month – or, every three months now reality and engage in violence with impunity.Z
because, you know, we have to pay for this
project that’s trampling on our rights. The report by Northern Health and the Provincial
Health Services Authority of British Columbia also
So, we’ve found that often women, when they’re drew connections among resource extraction,
speaking about leaving and, you know, we’re economic insecurity, sex work, and violence.
there to support, often say, “I can’t leave. I’m
going to put up with it because I don’t want my In-migration related to industry projects can
kids to live in poverty. You know, he says that if I increase the number of individuals that are
leave, then he’s not going to help me.”X drawn into sex work in small communities near
mines, pipelines, and other developments. This
According to the report by Amnesty International, has largely been attributed to the influx of
the economic insecurity associated with resource hundreds to thousands of temporary workers
extraction can also lead Indigenous women into who are often young, male, and single, have high
unsafe situations to make ends meet. disposable incomes, and spend long stretches of
time in isolated camp settings. This outcome is
Life in northeast BC can be precarious for anyone particularly concerning for women and girls, as
without access to the high wages of the resource they are more likely to become employed in the
industry. As energy development has expanded sex trade. In addition … family violence and
in the northeast, costs for housing, food, economic and housing insecurity are reported
childcare, and transportation in the region have impacts of resource development, which are
risen in line with the high wages paid to resource factors that are known to contribute to the entry
industry workers, making it harder than ever for of individuals into the sex trade. Sex work has
those without access to such wages to make been associated with a number of health and
ends meet. Competition from workers coming to safety risks, such as increased rates of STIs and
the region for jobs has created periodic local violence.AA
shortages of necessities such as housing and
childcare. People in lower wage jobs, on fixed
incomes, or laid off from industry, can be
Industry Initiatives and the
severely constrained in the choices they make Safety of Indigenous Women
about where to live and work. This can push
people into precarious situations like unsafe Representatives of the mining industry often point to
housing or late night shifts where there is no the initiatives that companies have taken to ensure
public transportation. Some women told the safety of Indigenous women. For example, Alex
Amnesty International that lack of other options Buchanan, vice-president of the NWT & Nunavut
led them to engage in commercial sex to make Chamber of Mines, responded to T.J. Lightfoot’s
ends meet.Y testimony in a letter to the newspaper Nunatsiaq
News. Buchanan suggested that Lightfoot had
The report notes that sex work can pose significant exaggerated the extent to which mining places
safety risks to women. Indigenous women at risk.
590
We share a strong focus on the health and safety them from working for the company in the
of our employees. We have been subject to future. Others said their complaints were ignored
rigorous environmental assessments and and that the work environment was one in which
must comply with socio-economic terms and harassment was tacitly condoned by the inaction
conditions based on real community concerns. of supervisors and other workers.CC
We are all obliged to maximize Inuit involvement Amnesty International also documented that many
in our operations, including Inuit women. women do not report sexual harassment and assault
because of fear of reprisals.
Furthermore, we all share similar corporate
governance structures. As industry and labour One woman told Amnesty International of a co-
standards insist, these include provisions for worker who was sexually assaulted on a
worker disclosure, harassment procedures, construction site and did not report the assault
security measures, cultural awareness, and steps because she feared losing her job. Another
to terminate workers for unacceptable behaviour. woman told Amnesty International that a co-
worker who reported being sexually assaulted
These policies are in use on a daily basis, up to lost her job and could not find other work in the
and including terminating male employees industry. One woman said that she did not report
exhibiting unacceptable behaviour towards their harassment to her supervisors because she was
female colleagues. new to her job and did not want to jeopardize her
… reputation and future employment prospects. Of
her male colleagues who witnessed her
As a result of how we operate, and also due to harassment, she said, “nobody stood up for me.”DD
our regulatory and land tenure regime, the
mines in Nunavut are safe places for women to
live and work.
Extraction, Decision Making,
and the Safety of Indigenous
Mining companies are human organizations.
Although we strive for zero harm, incidents where Women
women experience abuse can and do occur.
Indigenous organizations and women’s groups
As publicized as some incidents may be, the fact have repeatedly called for socio-economic impact
remains: women are an order of magnitude safer assessments of proposed resource extraction
at our mines than at home. This fact was missing projects to include gender-based analyses.EE An
from Lightfoot’s testimony.BB analysis of environmental reviews in northern
Quebec, Nunavut, and the Northwest Territories
The suggestion that “women are an order of found considerable variability in the extent to which
magnitude safer at our mines than at home” is a gross gender is considered in socio-economic impact
mischaracterization of the ways extractive industries assessments.FF According to Amnesty International,
can affect the safety of Indigenous women and girls. the gendered impacts of extraction are not
Moreover, even though most companies have sexual adequately considered in decisions about extraction
harassment policies, it is not clear that these policies in British Columbia.
are being consistently implemented in a meaningful
way. According to Amnesty International, there is Decisions are made on a project-by-project basis
considerable variability in how supervisors respond with inadequate attention to the long-term
to complaints about sexual harassment at work sites cumulative social impacts, including the specific
in northern British Columbia. impacts on Indigenous women and girls. Land
rights of Indigenous Peoples protected in
Some women told Amnesty International that historic treaties and enshrined in the Canadian
their supervisors acted quickly when harassment Constitution are not formally incorporated into
was reported, firing the offender and barring the approvals process. Moreover, analysis of the
591
distinct impacts of initiatives on people of all outlined in the IIBA as community needs or risks
genders, in particular women and girls – which to monitor and provide funds to support. Yet,
is a requirement for projects involving Canadian despite the IIBA anticipating the effects of the
government-supported overseas development mine on employees, their families, and the
assistance – is almost never part of the decision- community, none of the needs outlined in the
making process domestically and has never been agreement have been regularly assessed and no
part of the decision-making process for projects comprehensive programmes or services imple-
in northeast BC.GG mented to address them despite transfers of
funds from the mining company to the regional
Research conducted by First Nations as part of the Inuit association. To date, there has been no
assessment of a proposed natural gas pipeline wellness report completed and made publicly
revealed that the social effects of work camps are not available, leaving a serious gap in knowledge
effectively considered in development planning in around the impacts of the mine on Qamani’tuaq
British Columbia. and on women in particular.
Social and cultural effects of industrial camps are Political interests and limited organisational
not effectively considered in the planning for capacity at the local, regional, and territorial
economic development. Currently Indigenous levels appear to have all played a role, as well as
communities, particularly women and children, limited public accountability and transparency
are the most vulnerable and at risk of in the implementation of the agreement.KK
experiencing the negative effects of industrial
camps, such as sexual assault. The focus of Spokespersons for several Indigenous communities
environmental assessment must change to and organizations have also demanded that the
ensure communities, and in particular women Government of Manitoba initiate a public inquiry into
and children, do not shoulder the burden of sexual violence and racism at hydroelectric projects
impacts of industrial camps. This means that all in northern Manitoba, including chiefs from York
parties need to consider social, cultural, and Factory, Tataskweyak, War Lake, and Fox Lake First
environmental issues in industrial camp review Nations,LL as well as the Manitoba regional chief for
and siting. Ministries and agencies need to plan the Assembly of First Nations.MM
service delivery in the north, specifically to
manage the issues raised in this work, and There is substantial evidence of a serious problem
connect and adequately fund service delivery to that requires focused attention on the relationship
already vulnerable populations.HH between resource extraction projects and violence
against Indigenous women. The results of this kind
Some scholars have suggested that Impact and of focus could help provide justice for victims of
Benefit agreements, negotiated between industry crime, as well as information to inform strategies to
and Indigenous communities, could provide a useful address the problem in the present day.
mechanism for minimizing the negative impacts that
resource extraction projects can have on Indigenous
women.II However, research shows that programs to
Conclusion
increase Indigenous Peoples’ participation in the
The National Inquiry believes there is an urgent need
mining, oil, and gas workforce often fail to
to consider the safety of Indigenous women
meaningfully address the barriers to Indigenous
consistently in all stages of project planning,
women’s employment.JJ Researchers studying the
assessment, management, and monitoring of
socio-economic impacts of mining in Nunavut argue
resource extraction projects. Federal, provincial,
that an Inuit Impact and Benefit Agreement (IIBA)
territorial, and Indigenous governments should
ultimately did very little to address the negative
employ a gender-based analysis in the socio-
effects of mining on Inuit women in Baker Lake.
economic assessments and monitoring of reports for
all proposed and operating extractive projects in or
Many of the challenges and negative impacts
near Indigenous territories. Indigenous governments
experienced by the research participants were
592
and industry should include provisions to address which violence is ignored and normalized as part of
impacts on the safety of Indigenous women and girls the work environment. This emphasizes the idea,
in all Impact and Benefit Agreement negotiations. threaded throughout this Final Report, that
relationships are important, and can be trans-
In addition, the kinds of violence cited by witnesses formational – but that, ultimately, the kind of change
indicate the extent to which addressing the crisis of that will see better outcomes for Indigenous women,
missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people rests in a combination
2SLGBTQQIA people requires the involvement of all of systems-level changes and positive individual
Canadians, including those workers who may choices from those who now promote racist, sexist
contribute to the problem by participating in and misogynist structures and who keep them in
violence themselves, or by creating situations in place as a part of the existing status quo.
Findings
• There is substantial evidence of a serious problem demonstrated in the correlation between resource extraction
and violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Work camps, or “man camps,”
associated with the resource extraction industry are implicated in higher rates of violence against Indigenous
women at the camps and in the neighbouring communities.
• This increased rate of violence is largely the result of the migration into the camps of mostly non-Indigenous
young men with high salaries and little to no stake in the host Indigenous community.
• Industries that create “boom town” and “man camp” environments are implicated in increased rates of drug-
and alcohol-related offences, sexual offences, domestic violence, and gang violence, as well as sex industry
activities in the host communities. These occurrences disproportionately impact Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
• The influx of people as a result of “man camps” near or within Indigenous, remote and rural communities further
results in stress on already limited social infrastructure, such as policing, health, and mental health services.
• In addition to the adverse social impacts that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people experience
as a result of these industries, it is clear that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people do not have
equitable access to the economic benefits these industries can provide.
• Indigenous women face significant barriers to participating in the extraction industry due to work
environments that are often hypermasculine and hypersexualized. For Indigenous women working within
these camps and these industries in general, there are elevated rates of workplace racism, sexual harassment,
and violence. These camps are also often far from law enforcement, and therefore are largely unpoliced.
• The nature of the work, particularly shift work in and out of isolated locations, also deters women from
participating in these industries, since it is not compatible with raising a family and meaningful participation
in family and community life. When women do find employment in these industries, it is often within the low-
paying jobs, such as housekeeping, cleaning, and food services.
• The creation of a “boom town” as a result of the extraction industry often results in high rates of inflation and
an increased cost of living in the host communities. Indigenous women are disproportionately impacted by
this, in terms of increased economic insecurity.
593
A Deneault and Sacher, Imperial Canada Inc., 16; TMX Group, “Min- T Aalhus, “The Social Determinants of Health Impacts.” 17.
ing.” U Mills, Dowsley, and Cameron, “Gender in Research.”
B Connie Greyeyes (Bigstone Cree Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public V National Aboriginal Health Organization, Resource Extraction.
Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, pp. 58–60.
W Ensign, Giles, and Oncescu, “Natural Resource Exploration”;
C Amnesty International, Out of Sight, 44. Aalhus, “The Social Determinants of Health Impacts”;
D T.J. Lightfoot (Mi’kmaq), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, Nightingale, Czyzewski, Tester, and Aaruaq, “The Effects of
NU, pp. 155–156. Resource Extraction”; Rodon and Levesque, “Understanding the So-
E Women’s Earth Alliance and Native Youth Sexual Health Network, cial and Economic Impacts,” 41.
Violence on the Land, 31. X Connie Greyeyes (Bigstone Cree Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
F Manitoba Clean Environment Commission, “A Review of the Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, pp. 50–51.
Regional Cumulative Effects,” 36–37. Y Amnesty International, Out of Sight, 45.
G Aalhus, “The Social Determinants of Health Impacts,” 24. Z Ibid., 49.
H Anaya, “Statement to the International Expert Group.” AA Aalhus, “The Social Determinants of Health Impacts,” 25–26.
I T.J. Lightfoot (Mi’kmaq), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 3, Iqaluit, BB Buchan, “Chamber of mines responds.”
NU, p. 155. CC Amnesty International, Out of Sight, 43.
J Czyzewski, Tester, Aaruaq, and Blangy, Impact of Resource DD Ibid.
Extraction.
EE Archibald and Crnkovich, If Gender Mattered; Czyzewski, Tester,
K Amnesty International, Out of Sight, 43. Aaruaq, and Blangy, “Impacts of Resource Extraction.”
L Aalhus, “The Social Determinants of Health Impacts.” FF Dalseg, Kuokkanen, Mills, and Simmons, “Gendered Environmental
M Nightingale, Czyzewski, Tester, and Aaruaq, “The Effects of Assessments.”
Resource Extraction,” 376–77. GG Amnesty International, Out of Sight, 5.
N Czyzewski, Tester, Aaruaq, and Blangy, Impact of Resource HH Firelight Group with Lake Babine Nation and Nak’azdli Whut’en,
Extraction, 31. “Indigenous Communities and Industrial Camps,” 6.
O National Aboriginal Health Organization, Resource Extraction, 5. II O’Faircheallaigh, “Making Social Impact Assessment Count.”
P Aalhus, “The Social Determinants of Health Impacts,” 16. JJ Mills, Dowsley, and Cameron, “Gender in Research.”
Q Women’s Earth Alliance and Native Youth Sexual Health KK Nightingale, Czyzewski, Tester, and Aaruaq, “The Effects of Resource
Network, Violence on the Land, 28. Extraction,” 380.
R Czyzewski, Tester, Aaruaq, and Blangy, “Impact of Resource LL CBC News, “First Nations rally.”
Extraction,” iii.
MM CBC News, “AFN seeks public inquiry.”
S Jacqueline Hansen, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec
City, QC, p. 57.
594
Pathway to Violence: Denying Agency and
Expertise in Restoring Safety
In response to Nakuset’s powerful call to challenge the norm that says that the security of Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBQQIA people does not matter, we now share the many examples
provided by survivors, families, grassroots organizers, and advocates who are working tirelessly
to restore and protect the rights to security that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people hold. As we have argued throughout this report, threats to human security directed against
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are also important sites of resistance,
agency, and expertise. As we heard over and over again, Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people know what is necessary to keep themselves and those around them safe.
Here, we look more closely at the concrete strategies and recommendations witnesses shared as
being important to addressing interpersonal violence, poverty, homelessness, barriers to educa-
tion and employment, and other forms of social, economic, and political marginalization.
Honouring Resistance and Understanding What Has Been Lost
In sharing stories of violence and the loss of safety, families and survivors also shared stories of
resistance to that violence and demonstrated the often extraordinary efforts they go to in order to
protect their families and communities, and the extent of what is lost with the disappearance or
death of a loved one.
Michele G. described how she kept herself safe as a homeless 14-year-old by walking around
and hiding.
Lots of nights I just walked around all night because it made me feel more in control. I
never drank by myself. I was straight all the time except when I interacted with others. I
never panhandled for money to drink or do drugs. I panhandled to eat. And as I walked
at night I could always tell when a creep spotted me because they would start circling the
block in their car trying to find where I went, and every time I’d just find somewhere to
hide until they left the area…. And I always remember the one prevailing thought I
always carried was, Does anybody care?148
Chief Vivian T. described the efforts she went to in order to resist the violence she experienced as
a child: “I used to hide in the attics, I used to hide in the back of the bush, I used to hide in the
haunted hall.” Her own lack of safety caused her to ensure her own children did not have to
experience the same fear while at home.
When I went back to school, college or university, I made sure that they [her children]
were well taken care of, protected. When my husband drank, he would go outside the
home. He wouldn’t come home with a party or wouldn’t come home drunk. And he
respected the rules of the house as not to drink at home. And I’m glad, you know, the
kids had a safe place.149
595
In reflecting on the lives of their missing or murdered loved ones, family members honoured
those ways in which they had also resisted violence. Despite the violence that dominated her
mother’s life and, consequently, her own, Cee-Jai described her mom as “my hero” – her heroism
revealed as she tried to restore safety for herself and her children without any support.
I always remember my mom – my mom was my hero. She still is today. From when we
went into Vancouver on the Greyhound bus with my sister and my mom, I didn’t know
where we were going, but somewhere new. I think my mom had the idea of, if I get away
from here, it’ll be a better life for us. Going to take my daughters with me. She must
have fought hard with her alcoholism to get us back. But being a single mother, she may
have not had as much support.150
For Grace T., evidence of her mother’s desire to protect her children’s safety amidst poverty and
the constant threat of violence from an abusive husband came in the form of wiener fried rice.
Any chance he would, he would buy whatever he wanted to buy for himself, and we
went hungry a lot of the time, and we had the very basics, and I always commend my
mom because I’ve never, ever tasted a fried rice like hers. It was wiener fried rice, and it
was the best, and baloney ketchup stew was the best, and I crave those things as an adult
because it’s comfort to me because she made it with love, and she was a really good
cook, so she always – her best intentions were always to make sure our childhood was
like her childhood: happy, fed, loved.151
“LOTS OF NIGHTS I JUST WALKED AROUND ALL NIGHT BECAUSE IT MADE ME FEEL
MORE IN CONTROL. I NEVER DRANK BY MYSELF. I WAS STRAIGHT ALL THE TIME EXCEPT
WHEN I INTERACTED WITH OTHERS. I NEVER PANHANDLED FOR MONEY TO DRINK OR
DO DRUGS. I PANHANDLED TO EAT. AND AS I WALKED AT NIGHT I COULD ALWAYS
TELL WHEN A CREEP SPOTTED ME BECAUSE THEY WOULD START CIRCLING THE BLOCK
IN THEIR CAR TRYING TO FIND WHERE I WENT, AND EVERY TIME I’D JUST FIND
SOMEWHERE TO HIDE UNTIL THEY LEFT THE AREA…. AND I ALWAYS REMEMBER
THE ONE PREVAILING THOUGHT I ALWAYS CARRIED WAS, DOES ANYBODY CARE?”
Michele G.
Inuit families most often described their lost loved ones with endearing words and memories.
They would share loving memories of loved ones’ personalities, such as their being extroverted
or happy-go-lucky, always joking, a very nice child and never acting out, very kind and helpful
to others, and beautiful. The death of loved ones and the experience of violence and tragedy
brought out a great sense of loss for which the consequences meant ongoing struggles for per-
sonal health and well-being. The experiences that missing and murdered Inuit women and their
families had, and the encounters they had in their attempts to regain control of their lives, to be-
come healthy and well, to gain justice and safety, determined the outcome of their lives.
596
Within Inuit communities, the crisis of child welfare son and his wife had – had problems at the time.
is exacerbated by distance and the way in which Inuit There we sort of tried to ask for help to – for them
children and youth are often sent south to encounter to intervene and see if they can prevent – help
a completely different way of life. The mistrust of prevent from our grandsons being taken out of
many Inuit for the qallunaat, or “white people’s” town, but we did not hear back from them.
systems and laws is also heightened by the relatively Eventually they were … permanent care children.
recent experiences of relocation and colonization in … My son and his wife were called to court, and
the North. Harriet (Rutie) and her husband Johannes we were there to listen to their hearing…. Our son
L. of Nain, Labrador, spoke to this, in memory of their and his wife – we were asked to speak, and I did
daughter Kimberley J., who was murdered by her speak. What we had to say or wanted to say did
boyfriend at age 20. Johannes shared about how not seem to have an impact whatsoever. The
families in Inuit communities are under threat. lawyer for the Child, Youth, and Family services
was the only person who spoke with authority.W
And then there are, like, certain families who live in
poverty, who don’t have the means to support The loss of their children and the lack of control or
their children and grandchildren and do not have say over how long they could have visitation rights
enough money to support their families. And this impacted children, parents, and grandparents. That
is because the education system has taken children the children were being fostered outside of their
away from their Inuit families as if education – the community made it particularly hard for Katie after
education system has become more responsible her husband and the children’s father had died.
for the children, for the education of the children, Gordon explained that he felt it important that
so that responsibility has been taken away from children be reconnected to their parent, especially
Inuit; so our culture, our language is no longer when a parent was mourning, and that it is best when
being taught to our Inuit children and they grow up at home. For Katie, this separation from
grandchildren. Our Inuit way of being – is being her children was very difficult; she missed her
used less and so our way of life has been children, and she was grieving and lonely. Already
diminished. There are youth who have forgotten alienated, she isolated herself even further from her
whether they are Inuit. They ask, “Am I Inuit or am I in-laws. Those encounters in her life made her
not?”V particularly vulnerable during that time.
In their testimony, Gordon and Silpa O. described

how the separation of children and breakdown of
Contemporary Social and
family through government intervention create Economic Contexts
unforeseen repercussions for Inuit parents, and in
particular for the safety and well-being of women. In The impact of colonial policies and practices on Inuit
Nain, northern Labrador, Gordon and Silpa O. family and kinship systems, as well as on Inuit
tragically lost their daughter-in-law, Katie. Their son, connection to the land and traditional practices,
her husband, had died previously from tuberculosis. extends beyond the emotional well-being of Inuit
They had four children who were already under the families and communities to also hold significant
care of child welfare services before the parents died social, economic, and health consequences. Despite
and the children were fostered by non-Inuit away the strength and resilience of Inuit families and
from their hometown. In talking about the impact communities, the barriers many face in meeting basic
child welfare services had on the children, Gordon O. needs for housing, food, and health are significant.
explained: As witnesses and research demonstrate, many of
these barriers to adequate social and economic
I had [written] a letter … to the minister of infrastructure contribute to conditions that increase
Health and Social Development of Nunatsiavut the likelihood of violence and other threats to health
Government … of what happened and how we and well-being.
tried to intervene as a family … knowing that my
477
In talking about their experiences and efforts to improve safety in their own lives and the lives of
other Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, witnesses offered powerful narratives
of transformation that demonstrate the possibilities for change that exist when the agency and
expertise held by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are reflected and hon-
oured within the structures and services in which they live.
In her testimony, Jocelyn K. explained how being able to access a safe house during a crucial mo-
ment in a relationship with a violent partner who threatened to kill her not only saved her life, but
also started her down a different path in which she was able to create the protections she needed to
decrease the level of violence in her life.
I took her [Jocelyn’s daughter] … out of Squamish in a weekend and to Kelowna. We
stayed at another safe house. Within 30 days I found myself employment, I found us a
place to live, I got us on welfare, I got her into school, I got her into counselling and me
into counselling in under 30 days. We moved out of the safe house into a place of our
own. Now, it wasn’t easy. Like, he’s made our life very hard.153
Cee-Jai, likewise, ended her testimony by providing an example from her own life about what
many housing advocates and researchers told the National Inquiry: access to safe and affordable
housing is an integral first step in restoring safety to the lives of Indigenous women and girls. For
Cee-Jai, finally being provided access to an apartment – something for which she worked tire-
lessly for years – was a significant encounter that began her down another road, where she was
able to stop drinking, get a job, and eventually move out of the rooming house and get her own
place. She now works as an outreach worker for women with similar experiences as her own.
She closed her powerful testimony with the following words:
I found the medicines and … I’m clean and sober today. I’m a strong woman today. I
believe in the Creator. I believe I survived so this moment here and now could happen. I
left Vancouver Downtown Eastside to come to Thunder Bay – I left the province to come
here to tell you to hear me, listen to my voice, I survived. My sisters, my friends, they’re
gone on to a better place, but I’m here telling you my lived experience. To share their
story, my story with you.154
“I CAN TELL YOU THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH RESOURCES WHATSOEVER, ESPECIALLY FOR
INDIGENOUS WOMEN. THERE ARE PROGRAMS, BUT THERE IS NOT HEALING. THERE IS
NO REAL HEALING LODGE. THERE IS REALLY NO PLACE FOR THEM TO GO. IN THE
DOWNTOWN EASTSIDE, WHERE YOU HAVE THIS CONCENTRATION OF POVERTY, AND
YOU HAVE ADDICTIONS, AND YOU HAVE SOME OF THE WORST ABUSES HAPPENING
DOWN THERE, YOU KNOW, TO SEND THEM AROUND THE CORNER TO GET HELP – THEY
NEED SUPPORT. THEY NEED SOMEONE TO ACTUALLY PHYSICALLY – I’M NOT KIDDING,
PHYSICALLY, TAKE THEM ONE BLOCK SOMETIMES, OR THEY ARE LOST WITHIN THAT
BLOCK. SOMEBODY WILL APPROACH THEM. SOMEBODY WILL TAKE THEM OFF THEIR
PATH. THEY NEED OUR ELDERS, AND OUR AUNTIES, AND OUR WOMEN, AND OUR
PEOPLE TO BE THERE FOR THEM.”
Halie B.
598
Social and economic factors, such as lack of housing, of Kangirlliniq/Rankin Inlet. She was a child when she
food insecurity, and inadequate support and care, was assaulted, and it was years later, as a young adult,
contribute in significant ways to the challenges that she felt she had to leave her community after
facing Inuit communities and others living in remote particularly trying times.
and northern communities. These factors intersect in
ways that contribute to violence directed against It took almost a year from the point of giving my
Inuit women and girls. statement to that first court hearing. [The circuit
court delayed the court proceedings], and in that
Confronting Violence in year, we’re living in the same community. This is
when all of the mental health issues that I believe
Northern and Remote could be managed got worse up to that point,
beside the isolation. I’ve always had amazing
Communities family support. This is when, in that year, waiting
four months, “Oh no, he didn’t get a lawyer.” Next
In discussing the problems and challenges of time, “Another four months.” … In that year, the
confronting violence in northern and remote following mental health conditions developed.
communities, witnesses once again emphasized the Small ticks, the twitching got worse. Hyper-
importance of understanding the role of family, awareness of my surroundings. Are you a threat?
kinship, and culture in relation to the safety of Inuit Do you hate me? What are you going to say to
women and girls living in this environment, and me? It’s no longer your community. You don’t
the way colonialism has fundamentally disrupted belong here anymore. Anxiety attacks. And the
this safety net. Inukshuk Aksalnik, Qikiqtani Truth biggest one for me was trust. Who do you trust in
Commission coordinator, described some of the your community? Who do you talk to? Everybody
distinct historical, socio-economic, and geographical knows everybody. The isolation makes you
factors that can spur violence in these communities. socially inept…. All relationships struggle…. I
stayed on here in Rankin trying to get back my life
Contributing factors to violence experienced until he showed up in church after serving his
by girls and women included Qallunaat demo- time, and he wanted to shake my hand, and I
graphics, namely, the prevalence of young single knew then that I had lost the community. Not
men living together with little supervision, no because the people chose, but the system makes
parents or spouses that would have regulated us choose. It protects him more than it protects
their behaviour, drunkenness as a form of the victim. And I had to leave…. Searching out
entertaining, and drunkenness as a defence for anything, something better, whatever it is.VV
criminal acts. The breakdown of Inuit family units
that could protect Inuit girls and women from Despite winning the case, Susan lost her sense
harm. Families were split up when parents were of belonging in the small community, because
taken south for health treatments as one “everything had changed.” As she explained, “The
important example. Other contributing factors whole process left me unsettled…. I left because
were alcohol consumption within Inuit families, there was no emotional support. There was no place
and as well, inadequate and crowded housing. In to go for an overall sense of safety…. There was no
addition to assaults by police … violence place to go to understand that I had lost the sense of
experienced by girls attending residential schools self … that is where I was at when I left roughly 27
and living in hostels and confined to hospitals years ago and moved to Ottawa.” WW This sense of
in the South. Women and men spoke about vulnerability never left her – a “constant companion,”
domestic assaults of all kinds.UU as she described it, common to many survivors: “We
feel always vulnerable, so we create a life around
In sharing her truth with the National Inquiry, Susan protecting ourselves from that vulnerability, and this
A. reflected on her own experience of enduring is a normal state in many of our communities.”XX Had
violence within a small community. Susan explained she had access to support, Susan said, she would
how she survived the sexual abuse of a predator who have stayed to create a life in her community and
had also abused many others in the Inuit community among Inuit.
481
As this account demonstrates, for Inuit women living In sharing their truths before the National Inquiry,
in a small northern community where most people Emilia and Arsene A. illustrated the barriers they and
know one another and who are bound to be related their daughter faced in receiving services and
through kin, custom adoption, or marriage, obtaining protection that may have saved their daughter’s life.
justice has its particular set of challenges. Among Emilia and Arsene A.’s daughter had had two children
Inuit in the past, abusive behaviour was often from a previous relationship, and was close with her
stopped, and if it did not stop or if it worsened, the parents. She had always wanted to be out on the
parents of an abused daughter would remove her. land, and enjoyed on-the-land activities and joking
Sandra Omik, lawyer at the Nunavut Tunngavik around, and was able to confide in her father about
Incorporated based in Iqaluit, said: her life. Her current partner, however, was violent,
and she experienced significant violence within the
They resolve the problem right away…. If there relationship. Her mother, Emilia, said:
was violence they would split them, if it’s [going
on] too long. So they would just split them. I felt very much that she couldn’t stay home
Looking at their future, it’s not going to be anymore, even though I felt – I know that she was
beneficial for the future if that keeps up…. So we being controlled. And when they started arguing
have to use the laws.... They always protected and she would get beat up … and told her dad
things before – before something happens. But she thought she was going to be killed. I wrote a
Canada’s law works afterwards, like they arrest statement to the RCMP … they went there to go
them and they try to fix the person after they see them and they said they were fine.AAA
arrested him or her … I think it’s jumbled up. YY
The abuse went on; Emilia and Arsene described how,
With kinship bonds weakened through colonialism, at different points, their daughter would have
and the RCMP’s being a fundamental part of bruises; another time, she had a broken nose and a
colonialism, Inuit deal with laws that do not work for broken wrist. She would tell her father. However,
them in the northern context. For women living in Emilia and Arsene said that they were told that if she
remote or northern communities, turning to the needed help, she would have to make the call herself.
police for help may put them at risk of further Emilia explained why it was difficult for her daughter
violence from community members. Farida Deif, the to report the violence, and how her decision not to
Canada director of Human Rights Watch, spoke about do so was motivated by a desire to protect her family:
some of these distinct challenges. “Yes, she had to go ask for help for herself as they said
she was an adult now. But she was afraid and … she
In the North, the remoteness of many of the mentioned one time that if she tells on him, that he
detachments that are there, the feeling of sort of would come after us, too, us family. So because she
isolation, of the real fear of filing a complaint was afraid, then she couldn’t speak out…. she was
because there are only, you know, two police trapped.”BBB
officers in that detachment. The community is
very, very identifiable. They’re – you know, if you As her mother recalled, she started calling social
suffer any kind of abuse at the hands of police services to ask for support for her daughter in fear for
officers, if you file a complaint in a remote part of her safety, and was told by social services that she
northern BC, it’ll be very clear who you are to the could do things on her own. They also directed her
community. And you are, you know, in many ways to the RCMP, who said they couldn’t help. In the
a lot more vulnerable when you are in a remote aftermath of her daughter’s murder, Emilia recounted
setting with only, you know, two police officers, her feelings when the RCMP came to see them.
for the most part two male police officers. And so
in that sense, I think that there was an added level The RCMP started coming to our place. The one
of, you know, potential, in a way, for abuse, RCMP officer called me and probably came to visit
because of the remoteness, because of the us [after she had been murdered], but myself, I
isolation, the less options for remedies that you didn’t want to see them anymore…. I was too
might find in a city environment.ZZ angry. They were – it was too late. We didn’t want
482
the RCMP to come around anymore because called by the mother of a daughter before her
when we asked for their help they never came…. murder, requesting that her daughter be helped, the
Like where was the help when I needed it? Why stories also show that young Inuit women were not
wait so late – like so late for it after?CCC offered any kind of resources for help. They were not
offered counselling programs and, most important of
As Arsene also said: all, no safety networks were made available to them.
And, in the majority of Inuit women killed by their
Because we are here in a small community, we’re spouses, intergenerational trauma is connected.
not living in the city – my wife used to ask for help, Although the Nunavut Court of Justice decisions
but there’s too much red tape. They’re using – clearly show that link, the police do not bring this
we’re using the same rules and laws as down knowledge to their work in protecting Inuit women
south, it shouldn’t be like that. They probably from violent spouses.
would have been able to help and we probably
wouldn’t have gone through this. They already As Sophie N. put it:
knew, the RCMP, what was happening. But
because of the laws and they’re using the laws, Why is it that men hurt and beat women? I
they couldn’t do anything.DDD thought the point of our union was love and
caring. We as women are happy when we are
Inuit families and Elders continue to express how loved, it’s a very joyous relationship. It’s very, very
today’s laws do not work in Inuit communities. The fearful when we get beaten up in a drunken state.
enforcement of these laws, especially as seen in the There is no place to go, there is no shelter, there is
example of the non-interference of RCMP and their no one to talk to, and so we lose our strength and
inability to act unless they receive a call from our train of thought as to plan some sort of
someone whose life is in danger, goes against what escape…. I have walked out of the mental health
Inuit parents see. Inuit parents watch helplessly as service offices and I was struggling. What we
their daughters’ lives deteriorate and end in violence need … is good mental health support in the
under their very eyes. Yvonne Niego, deputy minister communities where we don’t have to get flown
of the Department of Family Services with the out every time there’s a tragedy of some nature.
Government of Nunavut and a former RCMP officer, You can then have access for health support,
spoke about the difference between traditional Inuit including mental health support, in the
values and RCMP values. communities. We are the landowners of our
communities. It would be ideal for those who
The RCMP has six core values, Inuit have eight suffer not to have to fly out for counselling every
core principles, and comparatively, there’s a lot of time there’s a tragedy.FFF
similarity, but the difference is that … [Inuit ways
are] very much holistic and there’s a lot more
depth and feeling to it. Consensus – the social
Restoring Family, Kinship,
decision making, the working together for a and Culture
common cause, that is so much more pronounced
in our Inuit ways I find than with the RCMP values, To be sure, restoring health and well-being is deeply
which are based on general Canadian values.EEE connected to restoring family and kinship relation-
ships within community, and to exercising
The ability of Inuit parents to remove their daughters self-determination. Yvonne Niego spoke about the
from violent relationships is also hampered by the need for, and challenges of, reconciliation in the Inuit
change in Inuit society. Parents no longer have full context: “We can’t go back to the way we used to live
authority over their children like they used to, so it is as nomadic Inuit, strong, resilient as we once were.
very difficult for parents to remove their daughter We’re rebuilding that, reclaiming that, but I really
from a man she is living with, especially if he remains feel strongly that there’s a federal responsibility to
in the same community and could pose further reconcile. So, whatever that looks like, it has to reach
danger. In the many cases where the RCMP had been into the community.”GGG The testimony gathered
483
For Jennisha Wilson, this means ensuring that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people are in positions of leadership and are fairly compensated for their knowledge and expertise.
Carving out space for survivors to take on leadership roles. One of the common things
that I see in anti-human trafficking programming and sexual exploitation programming
is that survivors are only given the opportunity to learn how to advocate by using their
voice and telling their story. And I think that we’re doing a huge disservice to those
individuals and to community if that is all we’re doing in terms of carving space. There
needs to be leadership roles. There needs to be sustainable employment. There needs to
be better opportunities to participate in the socio-economic systems that are around them
than just as a survivor with a story.162
Diane Redsky echoed this sentiment when including trans and Two-Spirit Indigenous people in
ways that go beyond tokenizing.
And so it is really critical that we are having them [trans and Two-Spirited people] sit
at the table in a meaningful way, working in the safe house, like working within the
resource, of being compensated properly for their voice and … that they’re cared for in a
trauma-informed way. All of those things are really important and we have to value and
respect what they bring because they are the ones that are the experts.163
In reflecting on the services she received from Aunt Leah’s Place, a program that supports youth
in preparing to age out of the foster care system and after they age out, and from STRIVE Youth
in Care Transition Program in Vancouver, a program that provides support and teaches life skills
for youth between 17 and 24 in, from, or out of home care, Shae-Lynn Noskye emphasized why
it is important to be met by those who understand and who have lived your reality:
Because it’s really important for people with lived experience to be able to be there and
support you, and go, you know, “I was exactly where you are now, and it does get
better.” It takes a while. But the only thing holding you back is your own, I guess – your
own limitations.
Shae-Lynn plans to become one of these valuable advocates and supports making change when
she begins the Social Services Worker program in the spring and then go on to get her Bachelor’s
of Social Work. As she says, “I just want to continue with my youth advocacy.”164
602
The Issue of Funding
Indigenous-led and/or Indigenous-serving initiatives for addressing violence, poverty, homeless-
ness, and other social security issues require long-term, stable funding. The lack of funding for
Indigenous-led and Indigenous-specific services, especially those that focus on the needs of
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people experiencing violence, was identified repeatedly as an
ongoing exercise of colonial control that impedes the ability of Indigenous people to ensure their
security. The common practice of providing short-term funding for projects creates significant
challenges for organizations in terms of the pressures it puts on staff to be constantly pursuing
funding, uncertainty in the ability to continue to provide services, and issues with staff retention
and turnover. Witnesses from organizations working directly on violence- and safety-related issues
with Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people all face challenges to their program-
ming because of the potential for short-term funding provided by government to end. Josie
Nepinak described how they run a casino as a fundraising initiative in order to be able to pay a
nurse practitioner, who provides immediate health care for families that come into the shelter.165
In addition to the problems created through limited access to long-term funding, witnesses also
talked about how the overall limitations on funding forces organizations doing similar work to
compete with each other – a structure that, Jennisha Wilson points out, is in conflict with the
collaborative and relationship-building work Indigenous women’s organizations want to pursue.
So, the current structure of accessing funding for Indigenous folks is one that not only
creates competition between organizations, but it’s reinforced in terms of how we can
collaborate, right? And so in just echoing some of the wants is that we want to be able to
do collaborative work, but we don’t want to have to compete and undermine other
people’s work, because all work is important in terms of creating a solution towards
these issues.166
Similarly, as Allan Wade said, the requirements that organizations work from a particular
approach or repeatedly demonstrate the need for funding create a situation where “so much of
the time and energy gets taken up trying to justify your existence.”167 Jennisha Wilson talked
about how this process of “gatekeeping” funding can limit organizations working with Indige-
nous women who are engaged in sex work and/or who are survivors of trafficking by insisting
that programming adopt an abolitionist rather than harm-reduction approach – that is, that the
programming itself reflects a particular approach to service provision that is in conflict with the
belief of organizations that recognize the complexities of the issue at hand.168
In raising their concerns about funding that is short-term, competitive, and limited, and dependent
on certain government-defined criteria, witnesses insist that improving the resourcing of Indige-
nous-led and Indigenous-specific organizations in the anti-violence and related fields includes fund-
ing but is more than simply increasing funding. It also involves acknowledging and changing the
mechanisms through which current funding models themselves become another way of exercising
603
colonial violence and of denying the real dynamics of violence in the lives of Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. In speaking of the connection between current funding models
for Indigenous women’s organizations and colonial violence, Wade observed:
You [Indigenous women’s organizations] are insecure, it is unpredictable. And,
unpredictability is one of the hallmark strategies of violence. It’s kind of like, you know
what, if you do not do what we want you to do, we are not going to give you money. So
how are you supposed to make a long-term plan on that basis? How are you supposed to
be there to, you know, work with kids in care … and families?169
Jennisha Wilson made a similar observation.

I think that when it comes to funding, and it also – this is how I also think about when
different organizations are funded resources to do work in Indigenous communities,
it’s that folks need to stop gatekeeping that funding and determining when and how
Indigenous folks are involved, but rather, look at Indigenous communities as equal contri-
butors to knowledge, experts in their own right, and individuals who know what’s good for
their community, and … break down those barriers to accessing those funding.170
Restoring Connection through Culture

For witnesses who shared stories about healing and about finding ways to create safety in their
lives, the opportunities to learn about, connect with, and practise their culture were often key
moments and encounters that supported them in addressing other challenges related to violence,
poverty, homelessness, and related issues. The importance of services that recognize and reflect
the centrality of cultural connection in creating safety following domestic violence was also
evident in Josie Nepinak’s description of how some women wait two or three months to go into
the Awo Taan Healing Lodge, “because they favour the practice of Indigenous knowledge and
wisdom and ways of knowing, as opposed to perhaps a mainstream model.”171
The need for access to services that are built upon a reconnection with culture was also empha-
sized in research presented to the National Inquiry as being one of the fundamental requirements
in providing healing from trauma inflicted through various forms of violence. Moreover,
connection to culture is also recognized as a protective factor from experiencing or perpetrating
violence. In her research on intergenerational trauma, Bombay noted that “many people have
demonstrated extreme adversity, despite their experiences, and we often found that it was those
who shared stories of holding onto their traditions and their identity and their pride growing up
who were the ones who were more likely to not report these negative outcomes.”172
604
Becky Kilabuk and her throat-singing
partner Mary Itorcheak prepare to
throat-sing before those gathered in
Iqaluit, Nunavut, September 2018.
In supporting the development of anti-violence and related services that reflect and centre the
role of traditional culture, witnesses also emphasized the need for an understanding of cultural
specificities. Nakuset shared why this understanding is important in an example she gave of
when she accompanied an Inuk woman client to her visit with a social worker.
So we were talking about one particular Inuit client that they had written that she was
Cree. One of the social workers recognized the name and understood it to be Inuk. So we
sat in a meeting and he looked at me and he’s, like, “How come so-and-so didn’t explain
to me that she was Inuk? I’ve been sitting with her all this time and I’ve been talking to
her and mentioning that she’s Cree, and she never corrected me.” I was, like, “Well,
you’re holding her child. You think she’s going to correct you? You think she’s going to
tell you what your job is? You’re supposed to ask. Why aren’t you taking the time to ask
correctly?” It is not hard to ask these questions. But, for whatever reason, certain
agencies have difficulty stepping outside their comfort zone to do that.173
“I HAVE HOPE THAT SOMETHING GOOD WILL COME OUT OF THIS, THAT AS AN
INDIGENOUS WOMAN, I DON’T HAVE TO WALK ON THE STREET AND BE AFRAID
BECAUSE, TODAY, WHEN I GO SOMEWHERE, I’M AFRAID, AND IT’S A FEAR THAT WE
ALL CARRY EVERY DAY.… I HAVE SEVEN DAUGHTERS AND LOTS OF GRANDDAUGHTERS
THAT I WORRY ABOUT CONSTANTLY ALL DAY. I DON’T WANT THEM TO BECOME A
STATISTIC.”
Danielle E.
As Jennisha Wilson observed, rather than pushing people to feel like “you don’t belong,” reflecting
an understanding of culture and identity is essential to creating relationships that are trusting and
secure, and that can help to create positive change.174
605
the crafts … and the courses that help them along the way, bringing us out to other resources
where we can continue on this journey, this Red Road and common ground of leaning upon our
Creator.”117
Ceremonies and traditional teachings play a role in this. As Sonia B. remembered, while attend-
ing an upgrading class, she met a woman who came to do a fire ceremony. After participating in
the ceremony, the group talked about treatment centres, and the woman who provided ceremony
discussed that with her. She explained:
So she did what she could to get me in. She said it’s a six-month to a year waiting list,
and I was kind of sad about that because I was just tired of drinking. I wanted to end it
yesterday. That was February 13, 1991. On February 14, she came to my school and
asked me to come outside. They had a date for me March 10. I went to the treatment
centre and pretty much didn't look back.118
As Barb L. argued:
So for people that are living – that [have] lived experience of the hardship, we focus a
lot on taking care of what we see, so we focus on addictions. We focus on, you know,
education, employment, getting them housed. But the underlying barrier there is even
once you do that, you haven’t taken care of the spirit. Until our spirits are taken care of
and held and feel safe, secure and actually able to take our breath in and practise our
culture – if culture is what you choose, some don’t … you still need to take care of the
inner being, not just the superficial stuff.119
To “take care of the inner being,” Ann M. R. advocated for a renewed understanding of culture
and of cultural strength as a way to restore health, well-being, and safety.
With addictions, the government needs to put their money where their mouth is. First
Nations, our people, our community want to heal, they want to learn their culture. They
want to go on the land. That’s where they want to be. That’s where they want to heal.
They want the Elders, they want to heal, they want to live our culture.120
Like Ann, Lillian H. echoed the importance of “on the land” programs as a way of promoting
health and healing.
So just in terms of support, funding is really important, but I think one of the most
important things is the Indigenizing the space. For example … be creative in terms of …
Indigenizing the space from a Tla-o-qui-aht or a Nuu-chah-nulth approach, and I think
that relates to the land-based healing, it relates to the cultural relationships that as Tla-o-
qui-aht/Nuu-chah-nulth [we] have with the land, and all our regalia, all our songs come
from the land, the resources, so that’s a real healing – kind of land-based healing
approach.121
490
Many witnesses identified land-based healing as a
key part of their journey to wellness.
For other witnesses, learning and maintaining languages are deeply connected to health and well-
being. Carla M. said:
He’s teaching the language now, and our two youngest sons are working on learning the
language, and his daughter Carol is facilitating the language in the preschools now….
We talked before we came and one of the things that we’d recommend is continued
support for the language revival in our communities as a health issue as well. It’s in the
language that the teachings in our communities are encompassed, including the spiritual
teachings, values. And I think already it’s been statistically shown that communities that
lose their language, things like suicide rates go up significantly.122
“SO FOR PEOPLE THAT ARE LIVING – THAT [HAVE] LIVED EXPERIENCE OF THE HARDSHIP,
WE FOCUS A LOT ON TAKING CARE OF WHAT WE SEE, SO WE FOCUS ON ADDICTIONS.
WE FOCUS ON, YOU KNOW, EDUCATION, EMPLOYMENT, GETTING THEM HOUSED. BUT
THE UNDERLYING BARRIER THERE IS EVEN ONCE YOU DO THAT, YOU HAVEN’T TAKEN
CARE OF THE SPIRIT. UNTIL OUR SPIRITS ARE TAKEN CARE OF AND HELD AND FEEL
SAFE, SECURE AND ACTUALLY ABLE TO TAKE OUR BREATH IN AND PRACTISE OUR
CULTURE – IF CULTURE IS WHAT YOU CHOOSE, SOME DON’T … YOU STILL NEED TO
TAKE CARE OF THE INNER BEING, NOT JUST THE SUPERFICIAL STUFF.”
Barb L.
As these examples demonstrate, access to health care that reflects an understanding of the role
of culture, ceremony, land, and language can be transformative in promoting both individual
well-being and collective healing. In her research, Amy Bombay emphasizes how access to
culturally appropriate and relevant services that allow for Indigenous healing practices has been
identified as one of the most important factors in healing for residential school survivors.123
The following reflection offered by Patrick S. underlines how powerful the link is between
culture and health.
491
As we saw in chapters 2 and 3, the keys to accessing the tools to fight barriers to security are
already part of the work of countless Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, who
have had to take their fight for their rights into their own hands – often with very little support –
because of what they perceive as a war on Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
As Tamara S. explained:
It’s really heartbreaking to see that this is happening over and over. It’s not just our family.
After Jen, you hear of so many other stories of other – other women. It’s just so … it’s
becoming more and more of an evident problem that’s out there. This is not just a random
act. This is an actual epidemic. This is an actual genocide. Another form of genocide
against women.179
Similarly, Josie Nepinak explained, “When we look at this child and we look at the future of
Indigenous women, I think we have to very, very cognizant of the fact, Commissioners, that
there is a war on Indigenous women in this country.”180
International Human Rights Instruments and Human Security

Human rights tools and instruments can help to hold the government to account for what they
have, or have not, implemented, as well as to ensure that institutions, both Indigenous and non-
Indigenous, work to centre the security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Taylor Owen also suggests that identifying the threshold for what should be considered a human
security issue is important, which includes the idea of protecting the “vital core of all human lives
from critical and pervasive threats.”181 In this way, preventing human rights abuses is one feature
of ensuring human security, but is not a sufficient condition to guarantee human security for all.
These tools include international human rights instruments, as well as guiding principles like
those contained in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UN-
DRIP), which contains important and interrelated provisions on economic, social, and cultural
rights, and references the importance of these rights to upholding security. As scholars Celeste
McKay and Craig Benjamin have argued, “the economic, social and cultural rights of Indigenous
women are indivisible from their right to be free from violence and discrimination.”182
Specifically and as they relate to security, the following instruments provide a useful starting
point. While this list is not exhaustive, we provide examples of how human rights instruments
can help uphold security for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people:
From the standpoint of physical security, the International Covenant on Civil and Political
Rights (ICCPR) declares that no one shall be subject to cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment,
and that no one should undergo medical or scientific experimentation without their consent. This
is particularly poignant within the context of forced sterilization, which is briefly examined
608
earlier in this report in the historical analysis. Measures of protection are granted to children
under the ICCPR’s Article 24, which states that every child, regardless of race, colour, sex,
language, religion, national or social origin, property, or birth, should have access to the pro-
tection of the state from their family, society at large, and the state itself.
The International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) privileges
security in the protection of the family, as the “natural and fundamental group unit of society,”
and further expresses the need for special measures of protection and of help for children and
young people, without discrimination (Article 10). It cites economic and social exploitation and
key issues in defending rights to security. It also specifically references social security as the
right of everyone (Article 9).
Aside from its general protection of women against discrimination, the Convention on the Elimi-
nation of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) specifically cites the state’s
responsibility for modifying social and cultural patterns of conduct within society, with the goal
to eliminate racism and discrimination based on any idea of women’s inferiority, or on stereo-
types (Article 5). The convention specifically cites human trafficking in the form of exploitation
and prostitution and key areas of concern for which all governments must take responsibility to
eliminate (Article 6).
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) devotes considerable atten-
tion to the security of children, both physical and social, through a focus on child welfare in
Article 3. Article 19 calls on States Parties to make sure that they take all possible measures to
protect children from physical and mental violence, as well as from injury, abuse, neglect, ex-
ploitation, or any other abusive treatment at home or in care. The UNCRC’s Article 26 includes
the right of every child to benefit from the system of social security and assistance, adding that
any benefits the child receives must take into consideration the person who has responsibility for
care and maintenance of that child. For many young Indigenous women caring for children, the
need to better support these parents materially and culturally to ensure that they are able to care
for their children without being placed in dangerous situations is important.
The UNCRC also includes an adequate standard of living for physical, mental, spiritual, moral,
and social development. Children who are trafficked or who are sexually exploited do not receive
this standard of care, as guaranteed by the UNCRC – which also insists that States Parties take an
active role in making sure that parents and others responsible have the support they need in terms
of providing necessary nutrition, clothing, and housing.
The UNCRC specifically addresses the trafficking of children in Article 35, where states agree
that they will take all appropriate measures to prevent the abduction, sale, or traffic of children;
and Article 36, where states agree to protect children against any and all forms of exploitation
that might be harmful to their security.
609
KEY CONVENTIONS: RIGHT TO SECURITY
The National Inquiry considers as foundational to all of human and Indigenous rights violations the
conventions associated with genocide. In human security, these relate to all of Article II’s provisions.
For reference, the complete Article II of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of
Genocide, which provides a definition of genocide, includes “any of the following acts committed with
intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:
whole or in part;
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.”
CRC:
CEDAW: - States Pares
- states must take must ensure that
IESCR: all appropriate services
measures to ICERD: responsible for
- right to social
ICCPR: suppress all forms care conform
security - States Pares with health and
- every child has of trafficking in
- right to must review all safety standards
the right, without women and
adequate policies and - States Pares
discriminaon, to exploitaon of
standard of living, rescind or nullify should take all
measures of women
including any laws that measures to
protecon - states must take create or protect children
adequate food,
afforded to a measures in all perpetuate racial from violence
clothing and
minor on the part fields, including discriminaon
housing, and to - includes every
of family, society, social, polical and its related child's right to
the connuous
and state and economic, to impacts adequate
improvement of
living condions ensure full standard of living
development and - state should
advancement of provide material
women assistance for
parents

610
KEY DECLARATIONS: RIGHT TO SECURITY
VIENNA BEIJING:
PROGRAMME: - idenfies poverty
UNDRIP:
for women and
- Indigenous Peoples - the lack of
children as a key
DEVAW: have the right to life, development or
problem in human
- includes the right liberty and security infrastructure
rights
not to be subjected of person cannot be used to
- asserts that the
to torture or other jusfy an absence of
- affirms the right to eradicaon of
cruel, inhuman or internaonally
the secure poverty based on
degrading treatment recognized human
enjoyment of means sustained economic
rights
- promotes research, of subsistence and growth, social
data collecon and development, and - poverty and social development,
stascs to the right to engage exclusion represent environmental
understand, prevent freely in tradional a threat to the protecon and social
and redress violence and other economic enjoyment of human jusce requires the
against women acvies, as well as rights involvement and full
redress when those - idenfies poverty, parcipaon of
rights are hunger and other women in “people
jeopardized denials of economic, centred
social and cultural sustainable
rights as obstacles development”

611
Conclusion: Challenging “the way it is”
Speaking of the murder of her sister, Laney E., Danielle E. described a conversation with her
uncle in which her sister’s death as an Indigenous woman was described to Danielle as “just the
way it is”:
And I just learned at a very early age that, you know, Aboriginal women were
disposable, and I learned that at 18 when my sister Eleanor [E.] was murdered. And, I
kept asking my uncle, “Well, how come nobody’s looking after – like, why aren’t the
police doing anything about it? Like, what’s going on?” And I was told that’s just the way
it is. It was just accepted, a way of life that our sisters and family, especially women, at
the hands of violence. I couldn’t – it was hard for me to, you know, accept that.183
This chapter has analyzed testimony heard by the National Inquiry in terms of human security, as
defined both by international organizations and rights advocates as well as by the women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people we heard from ourselves. We have articulated how the concept of
human security, and the barriers to it, are manifest in four key pathways that work to maintain
colonial violence: intergenerational trauma that is left unresolved; economic and social marginal-
ization; a lack of political, institutional, and public will to address the problem; and a persistent
ignorance of the agency and expertise of Indigenous women themselves.
In doing so, this chapter has revealed how colonial values are reflected in the organizational
or operational level of service delivery in ways that create barriers for women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people seeking support from violence, homelessness, sex trafficking or the sex
trade, and other forms of social assistance, education, and training. Moreover, in failing to
recognize the realities of Indigenous women living with the impacts of intergenerational trauma,
these services further compromise the safety of women and girls.
The witnesses who appeared before the National Inquiry stressed the importance of a dramatic
reversal of policy and of attitudes toward those who find themselves targeted, daily, for violence –
a reversal that begins in transforming relationships, and addressing discrimination, racism,
and misogyny at the very root. In much of the testimony, family members and survivors talked
about how encountering racist and stereotyped beliefs about Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people was one of the most explicit barriers that Indigenous women faced in
seeking services – and that these attitudes directly related to the failure to find safety in their lives.
As Ina C. explained:
I remember when I lived in the bush with my grandmother, and my grandmother never
seen a white person until I was taken away to school. And she used to hide me under her
skirts. Calling my dad [for me not to] be taken away. And we – we used to live in the
bush in a tent, even in the wintertime. I remember that. And I was always so warm.
Never hungry. Just me and grandma.
612
And then my dad took us to Pickle Crow Mine, where he was a miner, and that’s where
things changed. And they learned about booze. They learned how to fight their women.
Things like that. It was never like that before. I don’t even remember ever getting hit by
my parents or even from my grandma. I have really good memories of that, and I – I just
long for that. Where we loved each other. I would never, ever think of hurting another
person. And yet we still get hurt by force and – and it goes into murder.184
Only by acting in accordance with the wisdom and expertise offered by survivors and the fami-
lies of those whose lives have been taken by violence will the fear that accompanies and shapes
the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people be addressed. Danielle E.
summarized this hope for a world in which the rights to security held by Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are respected and protected.
I have hope that something good will come out of this, that as an Indigenous woman, I
don’t have to walk on the street and be afraid because, today, when I go somewhere, I’m
afraid, and it’s a fear that we all carry every day and you get so used to it that it’s like it’s
part of you, and it shouldn’t have to be because not everybody in society today has to
walk around and be afraid the way Indigenous women are and girls. I have seven
This perpetual worry and fear, as the National Inquiry heard, points to a deep need to rein-
vigorate the meaning of security so that families can have trust in the systems that they say have
so often failed them. This means looking at what security means, in communities and in families,
and understanding that the most pressing need is the one to focus on improving relationships
with survivors, with families, and with communities, as well as to support this process by
providing adequate resources, training, and support for people working to improve the security
“AND I JUST LEARNED AT A VERY EARLY AGE THAT, YOU KNOW, ABORIGINAL WOMEN
WERE DISPOSABLE, AND I LEARNED THAT AT 18 WHEN MY SISTER ELEANOR [E.] WAS
MURDERED. AND, I KEPT ASKING MY UNCLE, ‘WELL, HOW COME NOBODY’S LOOKING
AFTER – LIKE WHY AREN’T THE POLICE DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT? LIKE, WHAT’S
GOING ON?’ AND I WAS TOLD THAT’S JUST THE WAY IT IS. IT WAS JUST ACCEPTED, A
WAY OF LIFE THAT OUR SISTERS AND FAMILY, ESPECIALLY WOMEN, AT THE HANDS OF
VIOLENCE. I COULDN’T – IT WAS HARD FOR ME TO, YOU KNOW, ACCEPT THAT.”
Danielle E.
613
Findings: Right to Security
• Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people continue to experience social and eco-
nomic marginalization and exclusion as a direct result of colonialism and of racist and sexist
government policies. This marginalization and exclusion is the objective of the colonial poli-
cies of the Canadian state. Colonial policies violate the social, economic, and political rights
of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and jeopardize their rights to human
security and, in turn, safety. These colonial policies are tools of genocide.
• The Canadian state has caused Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to be re-
moved from their homelands and territories and from their families and communities. They
experience disproportionately high rates of poverty and insurmountable barriers to obtaining
secure housing, food, education, employment, transportation, and other basic needs. Indige-
nous children and the elderly are especially vulnerable under these circumstances. Marginal-
ization and exclusion decrease safety and increase the risk of violence, and often force
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to remain in violent and unsafe situations
or to end up in violent and unsafe circumstances in an attempt to have their basic needs met.
• The social and economic marginalization, compounded by complex and intergenerational
trauma, also forces many Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to resist the
marginalization and to meet their basic survival needs by resorting to the sex industry, re-
maining in violent relationships, and joining gangs. This further marginalizes and endangers
them. Marginalization and trauma are pervasive reasons for the institutionalization of Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people within the criminal justice system and in the
child welfare system.
• The safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people cannot be realized without
upholding and implementing social, economic, and political rights, alongside cultural, health
and wellness, and justice rights. A reliable and consistent livable income for all Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is necessary to address the state of crisis related to
their well-being and to their socio-economic and safety needs.
• Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people experience extreme rates of over-
crowding and homelessness. The lack of safe housing, transition homes, and shelter impacts
the health, wellness, and safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The
housing crisis is a significant contributor to violence.
• Existing social and economic services for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA peo-
ple are often plagued by huge gaps in resources and infrastructure. Further, such services are
often placed in unsafe areas, and are not culturally appropriate, thereby perpetuating a lack of
safety and security.
• Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people continue to experience disproportion-
ately low rates of educational achievement and high rates of unemployment. Employment
opportunities and services, as well as resources to promote educational and employment
success, are urgently needed as a way to combat social and economic marginalization and
violence and to support community and individual safety.
614
Notes
1 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public 19 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, p. 64. Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON,
p.14.
2 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON, 20 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
p. 6. For a recent examination of the specific Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON,
experiences of Indigenous women survivors in p. 15.
Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, see Martin and
Walia, “Red Women Rising.” This report provides a
detailed look at the experiences of Indigenous women
in the DTES, the challenges they face, and the strengths 22 Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17,
they hold. Membertou, NS, p. 94.
3 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier 23 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14,
Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 21, 20.
pp. 6-7.
24 Josie Nepinak (Anishinaabe, Pine Cree First Nation),
4 Gregoratti, “Human Security.” Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 175.
5 Owen, “Challenges and Opportunities,” 17. See also 25 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14,
Human Security Unit, Office for the Coordination of Winnipeg, MB, p. 29.
Humanitarian Affairs, “Human Security.”
6 Gregoratti, “Human Security.” Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON,
p. 6.
7 Owen, “Challenges and Opportunities,” 18.
8 Gómez and Des Gasper, “Human Security,” 2.
Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON,
9 Deputy Secretary-General, “Human Security,” as p. 9.
quoted in Owen, “Challenges and Opportunities,” 18.
28 Bombay et al., “The Intergenerational Effects,” 51.
10 United Nations General Assembly, “Resolution.”
29 Grace T. (Eagle Clan, Tsimshian), Part 1, Public
11 Deputy Secretary-General, “Human Security is More Volume 118, Vancouver, BC, p. 11.
Than an Abstract Concept.”
12 Tang and Browne, “‘Race’ Matters” and Dr. Amy Vancouver, BC, pp. 2-3, 5.
Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First Nations), Mixed
31 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14,
Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 142.
Winnipeg, MB, pp. 53-54.
Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 175.
14 Marlene J., Part 1, Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC, Winnipeg, MB.
pp. 28-29.
15 Marlene J., Part 1, Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC, Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10,
p. 29. Italics added. Winnipeg, MB, p. 140.
16 Marlene J., Part 1, Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC, pp. 34 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First
34-35. Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Exhibit 18, Slide 15.
17 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier 35 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14,
Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON, Winnipeg, MB, p. 10.
pp. 11-12.
18 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10,
Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON, Winnipeg, MB, p. 159.
p. 12.
615
37 Josie Nepinak (Anishinaabe, Pine Cree First Nation), 60 Ibid., 10.
61 Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, “Inuit Statistical Profile 2018,”
38 Paul T. (Mikisew Cree Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 17.
20, Edmonton, AB, pp. 8-9.
62 Mavis Windsor (Heiltsuk Nation), Part 1, Public
39 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First Volume 90, Vancouver, BC, pp. 21-22.
63 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16,
St. John’s, NL, p. 158.
64 Canada, Statistics Canada, “The Housing Conditions,”
3.
65 Ibid., 3-4.
Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, 66 Ibid., 3
67 Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, “Inuit Statistical Profile 2018,”
42 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First 13.
68 Ibid.
69 Ibid., 4.
43 Dr. Pertice Moffitt, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, 75-76, 81. 70 Lance S. (Nakota Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 26,
Vancouver, BC, p. 63. 71 Minnie K. (Shuswap, Salman Arm), Part 1, Public
45 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14,
Winnipeg, MB, p. 30. 72 Mavis Windsor (Heiltsuk Nation), Part 1, Public
46 Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour (Tk’emlups te
Secwepemc/English), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public 73 Rebecca M. (Pictou Landing First Nation), Part 1,
Volume 4, Iqaluit, NU, p. 218. Public Volume 17, Membertou, NS, p. 153.
47 Canadian Poverty Institute, “Poverty in Canada.” 74 Peach and Ladner, “Missing Out and Missing,” 91.
48 Women’s Legal Education and Action Fund, “Women 75 Dr. Pertice Moffitt, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume
and Poverty,” 1. 16, St. John’s, NL, pp. 89-90.
49 Duhaime and Édouard, “Monetary Poverty,” 224. 76 Michele G. (Musqueam), Part 1, Public Volume 84,
50 Ibid., 225.
51 Arrigada, “Food Insecurity,” 1.
52 Ibid.
78 Rebecca M. (Pictou Landing First Nation), Part 1,
53 Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, “Inuit Statistical Profile 2018,” Public Volume 17, Membertou, NS, pp. 149-150.
16.
79 Rebecca M. (Pictou Landing First Nation), Part 1,
54 Canada, Statistics Canada, “Aboriginal People and the Public Volume 17, Membertou, NS, pp. 150-151.
Labour Market.”
80 Marge H. (Ka:'yu:'k't'h'/Heiltsuk Nation), Part 1, Public
55 Moyser, “Aboriginal People Living Off-Reserve,” 13. Volume 110, Vancouver, BC, pp. 8-9.
56 Ibid., 8. 81 Viola Thomas (Kamloops Tk'emlúps te Secwepemc),
Part 1, Public Volume 104, Vancouver, BC, pp. 18-19.
57 Press, “Over 80% of reserves.”
82 Jamie Lee Hamilton (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public
58 Ibid.
59 Canada, Statistics Canada, “Labour Market
Experiences,” 5.
616
83 Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17, 104 Jenny L. (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
Membertou, NS, p. 98. Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 152-153.
84 Marlene J., Part 1, Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC, 105 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16,
p. 42. St. John’s, NL, p. 38.
85 Marlene J., Part 1, Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC, 106 Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17,
p. 43. Membertou, NS, p. 91.
86 Mealia Sheutiapik (Inuit, Frobisher Bay), Mixed Parts 107 Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17,
2 & 3, Public Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, pp. 12-13. Membertou, NS, p. 105.
87 Daoud, et al., “The Contribution of Socio-Economic 108 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16,
Position.” St. John’s, NL, pp. 151-152.
88 Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public 109 Josie Nepinak (Anishinaabe, Pine Cree First Nation),
Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, pp. 15-16. Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 172.
89 Cheylene Moon (Scottish/Upper Nicola), Part 1, Public 110 Jenny L. (Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 96, Vancouver, BC, p. 27. Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, p. 148.
90 Canada, Statistics Canada, “Aboriginal Peoples 111 Diane Redsky (Shoal Lake 40 First Nation), Mixed
Highlight Table.” Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 18, St. John’s, NL, p. 87.
91 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First 112 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16,
Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 10, St. John’s, NL, p. 60.
113 Jamie Lee Hamilton (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public
92 National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health, Volume 104, Vancouver, BC, pp. 17-18.
“Education as a Social Determinant,” 4.
93 Ibid., 5. Volume 31, Saskatoon, SK, p. 86.
94 Assembly of First Nations, Chief Roddy S. (Frog Clan, 115 Erin Pavan (Anishinaabe), Part 1, Public Volume 96,
Gitsegukla First Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 7, Vancouver, BC, p. 10.
Smithers, BC, p. 62.
116 Fialka Jack (Mowachaht), Part 1, Public Volume 96,
95 Assembly of First Nations, Chiefs Assembly on Vancouver, BC, pp. 5-6.
Education, “A Portrait.”
117 Erin Pavan (Anishinaabe), Part 1, Public Volume 96,
96 Ibid. Vancouver, BC, pp. 29-30.
97 Dr. Pertice Moffitt, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 118 Erin Pavan (Anishinaabe), Part 1, Public Volume 96,
16, St. John’s, NL, pp. 99-100. Vancouver, BC, pp. 11-12.
98 Lisa B. J. (Cree, O'Chiese First Nation), Part 1, Public 119 Josie Nepinak (Anishinaabe, Pine Cree First Nation),
Volume 89, Vancouver, BC, pp. 43-44. Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 178.
99 Mealia Sheutiapik (Inuit, Frobisher Bay), Mixed Parts 120 Canada. 2017-2018: A Year in Review: Canada’s
2 & 3, Public Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, pp. 19-20. Strategy to Prevent and Address Gender-Based
Violence.
100 Connie L. (Onion Lake First Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 27, Saskatoon, SK, pp. 145-146. 121 Ibid.
101 Eva P. (Alexis Nakota Sioux Nation), Part 1, Public 122 Beattie and Hutchins, “Shelters for Abused Women,” 5.
123 Amnesty International, “Canada: Close the Funding
102 Leslie K., Part 1, Public Volume 27, Saskatoon, SK, pp. Gap.”
83-84.
124 Ibid.
103 Raylene K., Part 1, Public Volume 27, Saskatoon, SK,
125 Ibid.
p. 88.
617
126 Susan Aglukark (Inuit, Arviat), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, 146 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
Public Volume 12, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 203-204. Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON,
pp. 28-29.
Part 2, Public Volume 5, Calgary, AB, p. 202. 147 Nakuset (Cree), Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB,
pp. 99-100.
128 Sandra Montour (Turtle Clan, Mohawk), Part 2, Public
Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 213. 148 Michele G. (Musqueam), Part 1, Public Volume 84,
Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 114. 149 Chief Vivian T. (Wet’suwet’en), Part 1, Public Volume
4, Smithers, BC, p. 83.
130 Charlotte M. (Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug First
p. 101. Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON,
p. 12.
131 Chief Vivian T. (Wet’suwet’en), Part 1, Public Volume
4, Smithers, BC, p. 82. 151 Grace T. (Eagle Clan, Tsimshian), Part 1, Public
132 Halie B. (Namgis/Kwa’kwa’kawakw/Tlingit/Scottish),
Part 1, Public Volume 111(a), Vancouver, BC, p. 55. 152 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14,
Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 163. 153 Jocelyn K. (Cheslatta Carrier Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 5, Smithers, BC, pp. 142-143.
134 Nakuset (Cree), Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB,
p. 107. 154 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
p. 32.
Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON, p.
29. 155 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
pp. 33-34.
Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 223.
137 Josie Nepinak (Pine Creek First Nation), Part 2, Public
138 Nakuset (Cree), Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB.
158 Mealia Sheutiapak (Inuit, Frobisher Bay), Parts 2 & 3,
p. 101.
Public Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, p. 22.
pp. 142-143.
160 Diane Redsky (Shoal Lake 40 First Nation), Mixed
p. 115.
Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 18, St. John’s, NL, p. 206.
Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, pp. 192-196.
St. John’s, NL, pp. 55-56.
145 Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
164 Shae-Lynn Noskye (First Nations), Part 1, Public
Public Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, pp. 186-187.
618
165 Josie Nepinak (Anishinaabe, Pine Cree First Nation), 176 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16,
Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 169. St. John’s, NL, pp. 47–48.
166 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16, 177 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16,
St. John’s, NL, pp. 54-55. St. John’s, NL, p. 49.
167 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14, 178 Nakuset (Cree), Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB,
Winnipeg, MB, p. 143. p. 133.
168 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16, 179 Tamara S., Part 1, Public Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB,
St. John’s, NL, p. 50. p. 51.
169 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14, 180 Josie Nepinak (Anishinaabe, Pine Cree First Nation),
Winnipeg, MB, pp. 197-198. Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 177.
170 Jennisha Wilson, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 16, 181 Owen, “Challenges and Opportunities,” 20.
182 McKay and Benjamin, “A Vision for Fulfilling the
171 Josie Nepinak (Anishinaabe, Pine Cree First Nation), Indivisible Rights,” 156.
172 Dr. Amy Bombay (Ojibway, Rainy River First Volume 31, Saskatoon, SK, p. 96.
184 Ina C. (Serpent River First Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 38, Thunder Bay, ON, pp. 24-25.
p. 142.
175 Erin Pavan (Anishinaabe), Part 1, Public Volume 96,
619
CHAPTER 8
Confronting Oppression – Right to Justice

Introduction: “Safety and justice and peace are just words to us”
To participate in the National Inquiry’s Truth-Gathering Process, Bernice and Wilfred C. inter-
rupted their ongoing search for their missing daughter, Jennifer, who disappeared June 19, 2008,
on her 18th birthday.1 At the Community Hearing in Winnipeg, Bernice described what they
were doing just before sharing Jennifer’s story with the Commissioners, and the lengths they are
going to in their search.
We left a site to be here. We found a well in the middle of nowhere, a well close to
where we’re searching. And, I said, “Oh my gosh.” I said – my husband – he’s not strong
anymore, not the way he used to. Not in a disrespectful way because he’s strong. He’s –
he’s my strong tower.
And, why I’m saying that is, that well is 10 feet down. We opened the lid and there’s
muskrats there, there’s beaver carcasses and it stinks. It’s a well. It’s contaminated. My
husband jumped in it. We put a 10-foot ladder, went in there. And, he takes the shovel
and he’s digging these carcasses out of there that smells. And, I know it’s hard. He’s got
to lift it over his head. So, he’s cleaning it all, all that garbage in there, because we’re
thinking our daughter is in that – in that well. He dug two feet, and then he pushed a pole
in there, and it’s another two feet to go. And, he’s tired.2
For the past 10 years, Bernice and Wilfred have continued to hold out hope that they will find
the answers they are looking for as they personally carry out difficult and at times dangerous
searches for their daughter – always willing to dig another “two feet,” despite the physical and
emotional exhaustion they both feel. When they were turned away by the Portage la Prairie
RCMP detachment when Bernice first reported her daughter missing, she and her husband
621
Wilfred – like many of the families and friends of missing or murdered loved ones – were left on
their own to seek justice for the violence inflicted upon their daughters, mothers, sisters, aunties,
grandmothers, and families of the heart. Their story of coming together and relying on the
strength of relationship among Indigenous families and community members to carry out the
work of a criminal justice system that has historically ignored and continues to ignore the right to
justice of families like theirs is one of the overarching themes we explore in this chapter.
Families and supporters of Victoria P., a woman who suffered a stroke while in custody of the
Truro Police Force, offered another piece of the story told during the National Inquiry about the
relationship between Indigenous Peoples and the criminal justice system. This part of the story
considers how these ways of relating play out in the lives of Indigenous women, girls,and
2SLGBTQQIA people within provincial, territorial, and federal correctional institutions.
In the same way that the police ignored the rights of Jennifer’s family to justice for their missing
daughter, so, too, did they ignore those same rights held by Victoria as she lay in a jail cell in
significant physical distress, in need of help. In describing the events leading up to Victoria’s
death, family support person, advocate, and past president of the Nova Scotia Native Women’s
Association Cheryl M. emphasized a single encounter between the officers on duty and Victoria.
In this encounter, the senior officer on duty told the junior officer who expressed concern about
Victoria’s condition that “if you get a grunt, that’s good enough.”3
For Victoria’s family members and supporters who came to the community hearing in Member-
tou, Nova Scotia, to share her story – and for the many Indigenous survivors, families, friends,
and loved ones listening – this comment exemplifies an attitude pervasive in the stories shared
about the criminal justice system during the National Inquiry: within the criminal justice system,
the lives of Indigenous women do not matter. As Cheryl M. stated: “Nobody is listening. Nobody
seems to care. There’s no wrongdoing of the police in this country.”4
Victoria died a few days following the stroke she suffered while in police custody; as Cheryl
described, “[Victoria] went into the Truro police cell and she came out on life support and died.”
A subsequent report investigating the police treatment of Victoria found that the police did not
provide adequate monitoring of her condition.5 And Jennifer is still missing; her parents, Bernice
and Wilfred, still do not have any answers.6
This chapter, first, seeks to define “justice” according to the witnesses who appeared before the
National Inquiry and according to human rights standards. We then explore the testimonies
connected to accessing justice, as well as the interrelationship between justice and other rights,
through our four pathways that work to maintain colonial violence. We connect the right to
justice to international human rights standards and instruments, as well as to the need for new
relationships, based in a shared concept of what justice looks like and feels like for those who
are most targeted.
622
Defining “Justice”
Access to justice is a defining feature of the rule of law, and is an important part of understand-
ing how to support basic human rights, defined internationally and nationally by legal instru-
ments, as well as understood by the witnesses who testified before the National Inquiry.
According to the World Justice Project, an independent, multidisciplinary organization working
to advance the rule of law worldwide, four universal principles are important in understanding
what the “rule of law” involves: accountability, just laws, open government, and accessible and
impartial dispute resolution.
“Accountability” involves holding government and private actors responsible for their action – or
inaction. “Just laws” relates to the idea that laws are clear, publicly available, and applied evenly
to all people, as well as the idea that they serve to uphold basic and fundamental rights as related
to human security and other human rights. “Open government” is the idea that the way that laws
are created and applied, as well as enforced, is accessible, fair, and efficient. “Accessible and im-
partial dispute resolution” is engaged when people seek justice for themselves or for their loved
ones, with fair representation and adjudication (or decision-making power) that reflects the com-
munities served.7
The UN General Assembly’s Declaration of Basic Principles of Justice for Victims of Crime
and Abuse of Power, declared in 1985, called upon member states to take the necessary steps to
reduce victimization, implementing “social, health, including mental health, educational, eco-
nomic and specific crime prevention policies to reduce victimization and encourage assistance to
victims in distress”; to promote community crime prevention; to review legislation to make sure
that it upholds international human rights standards; and to “prohibit practices and procedures
conducive to abuse,” among others.8
More recently, the United Nation’s Declaration of the High-level Meeting on the Rule of Law,
2012, similarly emphasizes how important it is that all members of society have access to justice,
particularly those who are most targeted or vulnerable. Further, the declaration emphasizes the
need for governments to take “all necessary steps to provide fair, transparent, effective, non-
discriminatory and accountable services that promote access to justice for all.”9 In addition, it
specifies that the delivery of justice should be both impartial and non-discriminatory, within an
independent, impartial judicial system.10
The idea of access to justice is broader than the simple administration of the courts, or the
conduct of police, though. The United Nations Development Programme, which focuses on
development challenges in the areas of eradicating poverty, structural transformations, and build-
ing resilience, asserts that access to justice is vitally linked to the reduction of poverty and the
strengthening of democratic governance. In addition, access to justice “must be defined in terms
of ensuring that legal and judicial outcomes are just and equitable.”11 The program’s report adds
that “creating a sustainable environment with equal access to justice requires working with dif-
ferent types of institutions and with various actors, such as: the police, the courts, prosecutors,
623
social workers, prison officials, community leaders, paralegals, traditional councils and other
local arbitrators; and taking account of the linkages between them.”12
A human rights-based approach to justice therefore involves understanding that justice is a
broader concept than just administration. Applying human rights standards to justice-related
issues involves:
• focusing on the immediate, as well as underlying, causes of the problem;
• identifying “claim holders” as those most vulnerable, or, as the National Inquiry heard,
who are targeted;
• identifying “duty bearers,” those who are responsible for addressing issues or problems,
including government institutions, groups, community leadership, and others; and
• assessing and analyzing the ability of claim holders to access their rights, as well as
duty bearers to meet their own duties and obligations with relation to those rights – and
putting in place systems to allow each to do so.13
A HUMAN RIGHTS LENS FOR JUSTICE
Idenfying
immediate and
underlying causes of
problem
Assessing if and how

claim holders can
A Human Idenfying
access their rights, Rights “claim holders,”
and how duty bearers or those who
can meet Lens for are targeted
their obligaons Jusce
Idenfying duty
bearers, or those with
a responsiblity to
address the issue
624
In Canada, the history of the justice system within Indigenous communities and its effectiveness
and fairness in pursuing justice have been under discussion and debate. From Saskatchewan’s
“starlight tours,” involving the Saskatoon Police Department in the 1990s and 2000s, to the more
recent acquittal of the Saskatchewan farmer charged with the death of Colten Boushie,14 Indige-
nous Peoples have had little reason to be confident that the justice system is working for them.15
In many testimonies the National Inquiry heard, the same themes demonstrate that, across the
country, Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s right to justice is compromised.
This is why it is important to consider how “justice” is defined in Indigenous terms and, as guided
by the principle of respect, is essential to the well-being of Nations and communities. This
conception of justice addresses how people have worked to keep each other safe. Grandmother
Blu provided a powerful explanation of the way justice, as it is conceptualized within the
Canadian criminal justice system, is at odds with traditional, Indigenous notions of justice when
she recounted her experience as a young girl attending the trial of the man who murdered her
grandmother.
So that day that I heard those things in the courtroom and I finally seen … who and how
he really was, he got sentenced to 15 years, 10 years to be served in Penetanguishene
mental health centre, so he got to sit there and have fun, watch TV, not be behind bars
like he should have been. He got to be institutionalized in a place where he would be
given medication to make him feel good, and a man who knew how to read and write but
claimed that he didn’t and got away with it because of our criminal system. That’s not
our system. The system we have is not our system. Our system, he would have been
brought before the grandmothers, and he would have been sat down, and he would have
been explained to of how he impacted not only the immediate family but the extended
family, the community, and the whole Nation, right? And he would have had to
apologize in front of everyone, and he would have had to speak to me directly, and he
would have had to apologize, and he would have had to do something to show that he
had truly learned from what he did was wrong. I never got to tell him how I felt. I never
got to tell him the impact that he had on my life or the rest of my family.16
Justice-related human rights violations against Indigenous people are widely documented. Spe-
cific to the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
international organizations like Amnesty International and the United Nations have criticized
Canada for not addressing these human rights abuses, and for the way the justice system responds
to these abuses.17 In addition, offices like the Office of the Correctional Investigator and advocacy
organizations like the Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies have also highlighted the
significant human rights abuses against Indigenous women while they are incarcerated.18
The testimonies heard by the National Inquiry engage the police, courts, correctional facilities,
and other representatives of the criminal justice system as responsible or complicit in the viola-
tion of the rights to justice held by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who
experience violence.
625
Indigenous women are also vastly more likely to become involved in the criminal justice system
themselves than non-Indigenous women. For instance, while Indigenous women make up 4% of
the general population in Canada, they make up nearly 40% of all federally sentenced women.19
Moreover, there is every indication that the number of Indigenous women being sentenced to
federal correctional institutions is growing: in the last 10 years, the number of Indigenous
women in federal correctional institutions has grown by 60%, making them the fastest growing
population in federal prisons.20 In many of these cases, Indigenous women are criminalized for
protecting themselves or their children against violence; that is, they are criminalized for the
very thing the justice system is supposed to protect them against.21 As we learned, the extent
of violence in the lives of Indigenous women and girls cannot be separated from their
criminalization.22
In addition to violations to the right to justice related specifically to interpersonal violence,
family members, survivors, Knowledge Keepers, Expert Witnesses, and others also pointed out
the importance of considering questions of justice in relation to, and in respect to, acts of vio-
lence committed against traditional territories, land, culture, and ceremony. In her testimony, for
instance, Marilyn W. connected the lack of justice in her sister’s murder trial to the lack of justice
in her community’s fight to stop seismic testing on its ceremonial Sundance grounds. Marilyn
noted, “I know that I’m talking about things that may not seem relevant to my sister’s death, but
they are very much connected, these issues, very much connected.”23
Like all of the other rights discussed so far in this report, the conversation and teachings about
justice shared with the National Inquiry include but go far beyond the particular events related
to the handling of justice in the disappearance or death of an Indigenous woman, girl, or
2SLGBTQQIA person. These testimonies reveal that the failure of justice is not restricted only
to cases of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls; rather, the absence of justice, the
fight for justice, and the misuse of justice in interactions between the justice system and Indige-
nous people routinely compromises their rights and allows violence to continue unchecked.
A red dress beaded pin rests in the Miskwaabimaag

Basket, or red willow basket, in St. John’s, Newfoundland.
626
Like many of the witnesses who shared their story of a lost loved one, Cee-Jai J. talked about her
sister, Norma, who went missing from Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside on September 28, 1992,
and was found deceased a few days later. Twenty-five years later, to the day of her sister’s death,
Cee-Jai’s daughter Shayla J. died after a car accident on September 28, 2017, when police took
her home, rather than taking her to a hospital. As in the lives of so many of the other families and
support people who shared their truths, the violent act that took the life of their loved one was
only one of many incidents of violence in their lives. When Cee-Jai spoke about her sister’s
murder, she contextualized this act of violence as part of her own story of violent encounters and
relationships she had experienced and witnessed, beginning from when, as she puts it, “I was just
a baby in the crib.”2
Like many of the witnesses, Cee-Jai experienced repeated acts of physical, sexual, and psycho-
logical violence throughout her entire life. From witnessing her father stab her mother when she
was very young, to witnessing her mother being physically beaten and abused by men as a young
girl, to repeated sexual and physical abuse and neglect in various foster homes, to the sexual
assault and physical violence she experienced as a teenager and adult, violence permeates
Cee-Jai’s life story, and her relationships reflect a truth that is unfortunately not uncommon. She
shared, “I feel like my spirit knows violence,” summarizing what many Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people experience as the almost constant presence of violence that con-
tributes to an overall absence of basic human security.3
Defining “Human Security”

In many of the Indigenous world views presented within the context of the Truth-Gathering
Process, the right to security includes both a physical right and a social right. International
covenants and conventions also take a broad look at the concept of “security” as being both
physical and social.
This broad sense of human security draws from an approach that places well-being at its very
centre, and that recognizes complex economic and social interactions – encounters – that work
to shape security, or a lack of security, in a person’s life.4 It moves human security beyond the
agenda of the state alone, and instead considers other factors or “non-traditional” threats such as
poverty, disease, and the roots of issues such as the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous
“I FEEL LIKE MY SPIRIT KNOWS VIOLENCE.”
Cee-Jai J.
504
Audrey Siegl explained the roots of this relationship.
The RCMP was created to quash the North-West Indian rebellions. The police were
created to protect and serve the colonial state, its properties and its representatives, who
are representatives of the Queen. Not representatives of the land. The Queen has never,
in good faith, negotiated with we, the Indigenous Peoples of what is known as “Canada.”
The Queen’s representative has never come here. So, what Canada does here by its own
jurisdictional codes and systems of laws … is illegal. But they don’t want us to point that
out. For that truth to be public knowledge.25
Interpersonal Violence and Intergenerational Trauma: Reluctance to Report

The National Inquiry heard from many witnesses who discussed their reluctance to reach out to
the police for help. The underreporting of interpersonal violence, such as intimate partner and
sexual violence, is well documented among all victims of these crimes in Canada.26 In the case of
Bernice C.’s daughter, for example, the RCMP didn’t take a statement when her parents tried to
report her missing, and although police could have
questioned the man who was last seen with her
daughter, the delay in doing so and his murder mean
that those answers may never be found.27 To be sure,
many of the Indigenous survivors and families who
shared their truth expressed that within a justice sys-
tem that, as Kassandara Churcher described, “does
not acknowledge its own historical abuses and the
impact of the intergenerational trauma within our
Indigenous communities,”28 reporting violence is
more likely to create further danger than it is to
foster safety.
During the Truth-Gathering Process, families and
survivors talked frankly about their reasons for not
reporting violence to the police or not reaching out
to the criminal justice system – even in cases where
there had been severe acts of violence perpetrated
against them, such as the one described here by sur-
vivor Marlene J. Describing why she didn’t make a
report to police even after being beaten up, thrown
out of a car, and run over by a car, she explained: “I
didn’t report to the police because I know they’re not
A National Post article from 2000 reports on the use going to do nothing and they’re going ask me who is
of an Indigenous woman's image for target practice this guy, do you know who he was or where he is …
at a Saskatoon police range. Submitted by Muriel I don’t remember him, I was drunk, too. I know the
Stanley Venne of the Institute for the Advancement of
Aboriginal Women (IAAW) pursuant to Rule 33.
car he was driving. So I can’t remember his name.”29
628
Jennisha Wilson also described how prior negative experiences with police make Indigenous
women reluctant to report violence or trafficking: “There is a significant reluctance for Indige-
nous women, specifically Inuit, to engage with police because of prior experiences of being seen
as a criminal, being blamed, being seen as not a victim, causing it on themselves.”30
Michele G. recounted a similar reason for why she stopped reporting the physical abuse she suf-
fered at the hands of her partner to the police: “In the beginning I used to call the police but then
didn’t bother anymore. It didn’t seem to serve any purpose. Except once when he broke my nose
they made him leave. Usually they said I had to leave with my six kids, which was so frustrating.
Good Lord.”31
So, too, did A.B.:
My mum had a series of men. They all beat her up. And I called the cops every time, and
never once did they do anything. Back then a man’s home was his castle. And the men
would stand at the door, because they never did not answer it to the cops, and they would
just swear at the cops and tell the cops, “So what, what are you going to do about it?”
when I was a kid. And all the cops would do is tell my mum, “We’ll wait five minutes
and we’ll escort you out safely.” My mum had six kids, usually one or two babies, what
can you gather in five minutes to get out safely and be okay? So I grew up not believing
that bullshit about the cops will save your life, or the cops will help you.32
This long-standing indifference from the police, which many survivors remembered based on
the police response to the violence experienced by their parents or grandparents when they were
children, understandably continues to shape the perceptions Indigenous Peoples hold of the
criminal justice system, and police in general.
As Expert Witness and Canada Director of Human Rights Watch, an international non-govern-
mental organization that conducts research and advocacy on human rights, Farida Deif stated,
“There is still this, sort of, overarching prevalence of a fractured relationship. And, that has to do
with both history, it has to do with certainly settler colonialism, it has to do with racist assimila-
tion policies with the residential school system, but it also has to do with current policing
failures.”33
629
RCMP Commissioner Brenda Lucki testifies in
Regina, SK, apologizing to families and promising to
do better.
On a much larger scale, the historic denial and unwillingness to investigate the disappearance or
death of many Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have, for many years, sent
the message that the police are indifferent to such violence. Jamie L. H. described the police re-
sponse to early efforts to draw attention to the missing and murdered women: “And we were
wanting a reward [to be offered] for [information related to] the disappearances and the murders
of the women, and the police were opposed to it. They were saying things like, ‘Oh, the women
might have just moved away, nothing’s happened, there’s no evidence of anything going on.’”
As she observed:
I feel that the women were deemed as disposable. And it was very, very tragic; their lives
were tragic. You know, they were human beings; they were sisters, mothers, daughters,
loved ones, wives; partners, aunties, grandmas. They were human beings worthy of
dignity and respect, and that wasn’t accorded to them in life.34
Again, Jamie’s comments echo what has been previously documented regarding the manner in
which the police mobilize racist and sexist stereotypes of Indigenous women in order to justify
their inaction. Cree scholar and Expert Witness Robyn Bourgeois described how stereotypes
about Indigenous women as hypersexual and sex workers, as understood within the criminal
justice system, effectively erases the acts of violence committed against them.
630
If you can prove a link, whether perceived or actual, between an Indigenous woman …
or a girl who’s experienced a tremendous act of violence and you can link that in any
way to prostitution or hypersexuality, then perpetrators get either reduced sentences or
are completely exonerated. And, that’s a huge issue, because – you know, not just about
perpetrators. The state is using this as well.
I mean, this is what the excuse was with the missing women. Why didn’t police
investigate? Why did it take, you know, almost 20 years before they took this seriously?
It was because of this belief that these women were entrenched in the sex trade and for
that reason, you know, they weren’t likely victims. And so, it allows for general inaction
on violence against Indigenous women and girls, and that’s a huge concern for me.35
While police are eager to have women report violence, there still needs to be significant trust
and education built. Many of the barriers experienced by Indigenous Peoples are rooted in the
police’s and justice system’s response to Indigenous Peoples from a place of limited to no under-
standing of the complex historical relationships, as well as the realities of intergenerational
trauma among Indigenous Peoples. Police officers who attended the National Inquiry also shared
that, for instance, police receive limited training on these very issues that are so fundamental to
ensuring that a victim’s experience with the police is safe and takes place in a relationship that
demonstrates this knowledge.36
“MY MUM HAD A SERIES OF MEN. THEY ALL BEAT HER UP. AND I CALLED THE COPS
EVERY TIME, AND NEVER ONCE DID THEY DO ANYTHING. BACK THEN A MAN’S HOME
WAS HIS CASTLE. AND THE MEN WOULD STAND AT THE DOOR, BECAUSE THEY NEVER
DID NOT ANSWER IT TO THE COPS, AND THEY WOULD JUST SWEAR AT THE COPS AND
TELL THE COPS, “SO WHAT, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?” WHEN I WAS A
KID. AND ALL THE COPS WOULD DO IS TELL MY MUM, “WE’LL WAIT FIVE MINUTES AND
WE’LL ESCORT YOU OUT SAFELY.” MY MUM HAD SIX KIDS, USUALLY ONE OR TWO
BABIES, WHAT CAN YOU GATHER IN FIVE MINUTES TO GET OUT SAFELY AND BE OKAY?
SO I GREW UP NOT BELIEVING THAT BULLSHIT ABOUT THE COPS WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE,
OR THE COPS WILL HELP YOU.”
A. B. .

The social and economic marginalization of Indigenous Peoples creates a distinct disadvantage
in their access to justice and justice-related resources necessary to respond to violence. As we
look more closely at the truths families shared about their relationships with police, we can see
how Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who look to the criminal justice sys-
tem for protection, support, or justice face significant barriers and encounter institutional racism
and discrimination that make accessing those protections difficult.
631
Institutional Reprisals
In speaking about the reasons that made them reluctant to report violence or seek help, Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people shared their fears of institutional reprisals. For
some people, fears that contacting the police may lead to involvement with child protection
organizations mean that living with violence is a better choice. In describing her research with
Indigenous women in Saskatchewan and northern British Columbia, Farida Deif noted that, for
many Indigenous women, fear of contacting the police in relation to violence is often rightfully
rooted in a fear that in doing so, child protection organizations may become involved. Deif
shared the following story from her research.
The other thing that was quite striking was a woman who told us that … her mother was
a victim of domestic violence from her white boyfriend. And, when the daughter called
the police to respond to the domestic violence case, not only did they charge her mother
for responding to the violence that her intimate partner, you know, perpetrated against
her, but when the daughter protested and said, you know, “This man has been abusive to
my mother. I have videotapes of that. I’ve got evidence of all of the abuse that he
suffered – you know, that he’s inflicted on her.” The first question they asked the
daughter was, “Where are your children?”
And, the daughter said, “You know, the way that you try and threaten and intimidate an
Indigenous woman is by asking her where her children are,” because what the police
officer was doing then was trying to silence her by threatening and intimidating her.
“Are your children not in the right place? You know, are they not in – are they not in the
right care? Should we remove them from your custody or care?” Those were all the
messages that were implicitly being sent to her to silence her.37
Presumption of Criminality
In addition to fearing the involvement of child protection services should they report violence,
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people also talked about their very real concerns
that reaching out to the police may lead to their being arrested or charged because the police
already believe they are guilty. As Farida Deif explained in relation to the interviews that the
organization Human Rights Watch conducted with Indigenous women in Saskatchewan and
northern British Columbia concerning police treatment, “there is a presumption that the
[Indigenous women] are engaged in criminal behaviour. And, when that presumption exists,
many, many things result from that,” including “more excessive use of force.”38
632
To be sure, truths shared by witnesses before the National Inquiry speak to a larger issue of
police violence, including sexual violence, committed against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people – an issue that has been previously documented and explored in other
inquiries and commissions. As Farida Deif shared, the research she had conducted into the rela-
tionship between Indigenous women and the police in Saskatchewan revealed that Indigenous
women had experienced several forms of violence at the hands of police officers.
Indigenous women experienced, quite routinely, excessive use of force by police
officers, that inappropriate body and strip searches by male officers were quite common
as well, both during routine stops and in detention settings. We also found that women
experienced sexual harassment, and in some incidents, sexual assault by officers.39
As Lise J. shared: “My friend, she had made a complaint of sexual assault against the policeman.
A few days later, the prosecutor comes to see her and then says, ‘We went to see the policeman.
You are mistaken.’ Her complaint wasn’t accepted either.”40
According to Deif, police also frequently failed to adequately protect and support Indigenous
women who are survivors of violence. Mealia Sheutiapik’s description of the relationship be-
tween the police and Indigenous people living in poverty or in other precarious situations demon-
strates how the socio-economic marginalization of Indigenous people is equated with
criminalization by police.
Most of the time when I notice … the police looking down at people, mostly Aboriginal
and Inuit people, they like to look down and they will start questioning you without
having the right papers to start questioning you or they harass you. And I notice in the
last few years, even though I haven’t been on the street for how – I lost count how many
years now, maybe five, six years, the last time I talked to a guy like that. But when I was
encountered by the cop, like, they look down at you. Start saying, “You got to go home”
or “You can’t be here.” And then you have no choice to listen because they’re higher
than you or something or just because you’re – I start thinking, I don’t want to go to jail.
And that’s not right for the cops to do that.41
In speaking about her experience as a sex trade worker, Lanna Moon Perrin described how she
and other women involved in the sex trade are reluctant to report to the police for fear of being
ridiculed, enduring racist or sexist commentary and harassment, and of possible arrest.
I mean, it would be nice to be able to report a bad date to a police officer without getting
– being given the attitude, “Well, you know, a girl could run faster with their dress up
than a guy can with their pants down,” you know, I have heard from a police officer
before. You know, I mean, it’s – we talk about – like, in decriminalization, it’s the hope
that people can negotiate services and those services will be understood, right?42
633
Dual Arrests
The fears that women like Mealia expressed about being criminalized when they report violence
were echoed by those who shared stories of being arrested when they reported domestic
violence. In these instances, Indigenous women may fear reporting violence because they may
themselves be arrested or charged with abuse or violence. The high frequency of dual arrests
made by police in responding to domestic violence situations involving Indigenous women,
which has been identified in previous research carried out by Human Rights Watch, emerged as
well in the stories shared by witnesses during the Truth-Gathering Process. As Deif explained:
Women victims of violence and those at risk also reported police insensitivity to their
well-being, vulnerability, and cultural background. Some women said that police had
threatened to arrest them for drug possession, public intoxication, or breach of parole
conditions when they reported domestic violence.43
In their efforts to learn more about dual charging policies, Human Rights Watch found that none
of the police services they contacted could, in fact, identify a policy on dual charging in domestic
violence cases. As Deif explained:
In terms of best practices on police response to victims of violence, the police should
respond to the victim, should identify the primary aggressor of that violence and not
really focus at that time on the other factors that might be in play. But what we found
time and time again is that the victim of violence herself might also be charged for any
number of things that have nothing – that are nowhere near the level of severity of
domestic abuse.44
In listening to the truths witnesses shared about the consequences they faced as victims of vio-
lence when they reached out to the police, it is important to acknowledge the pervasiveness of
this problem as it is evidenced in federal correctional institutions, where 90% of federally sen-
tenced women have a history of physical abuse, and 68% have a history of sexual violence.45 As
Kassandara Churcher observed – and as in the many stories witnesses shared about their reluc-
tance they feel in reporting violence – the police and the criminal justice system exist in the lives
of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people not to provide safety and protection, but
rather in a way that “continues to traumatize, abuse, control them.”46
Again, as many of the survivors, victims’ advocates, and grassroots activists emphasized, these
fears are not unfounded. Within a context of ongoing police violence and discrimination against
Indigenous people, making the decision to not report violence to the police is often based on an
attempt to protect oneself and one’s family.
634
DEEPER DIVE
Criminalizing and Incarcerating

Indigenous Women
Introduction In a letter dated June 29, 2018, to Minister Goodale,
Correctional Investigator Dr. I. Zinger wrote as follows:
The purpose of this Deeper Dive is to highlight some
Based on snapshot data, as of June 20, 2018 the
of the systemic issues raised regarding incarceration
Office reports that there were 61 maximum
in testimonies we heard in all phases of our Truth-
security women in federal custody, 41 of whom
Gathering Process, as well as in eight informal visits
(or 67.2%) are Indigenous. Younger Indigenous
to federal women’s penal institutions made in the
women were found to be overrepresented in the
early months of 2019. We deeply regret that we did
Secure Units; indeed there is a strong correlation
not have sufficient time to dive even deeper into this
between young age and indigeneity, specifically
important subject area that represents, in many ways,
in the 18–25 cohort.
the impacts and legacies of colonization as lived by
In referring to his 2016–17 report, Zinger also wrote:
“Moreover, half of the women held in the Secure
This Deeper Dive explores how the overrepresenta-
Units at the time of my investigation were Indige-
tion of Indigenous women in Canadian prisons is
nous. These women were not benefitting from the
intimately tied to colonization, specifically through
range of services, programs and supports to which
violence, poverty, and disruption of family and
Indigenous women in federal custody are entitled
community life. We outline how the current
under the law.”
Canadian prison system creates and maintains the
violence that many Indigenous women, girls, and
Elders and Correctional Service Canada staff told us
2SLGBTQQIA people experience, as well as some of
that they have noticed that the demographics of
the steps and challenges within the realm of de-
incarcerated Indigenous women are also changing:
carceration. We also discuss possible ways forward for
Indigenous women tend to be younger on admission
incarcerated Indigenous women and the Canadian
and poorly educated, and have more connections
penal system.
with violence inside and outside of prison, as well as
mental health and addiction issues. Many women
Colonialism and described to us their “graduations” from foster care,
to youth detention, to provincial institutions, to fed-
Criminalization: eral institutions. These “graduations” show a disturb-
ing trend that requires further analysis, outside of this
Pathways to Prison National Inquiry.
Indigenous women and girls are disproportionately
When compared with non-Indigenous women in
overrepresented in Canadian provincial and federal
federal custody, Indigenous women are overrepre-
prisons; Indigenous women make up 4% of the
sented in incidents of self-injury, segregation, use-of-
Canadian population, yet account for roughly 40%
force incidents, and maximum security. Indigenous
of the federal prison population.A The distressing
women are assessed as a higher risk and are more
number of incarcerated Indigenous women is made
likely to break institutional rules. They are less
worse by the fact that their incarceration rates are the
frequently granted day or full parole and are more
fastest growing among any demographic in Canada.
likely to be returned to custody as a result of parole
Between March 2009 and March 2018, the number of
suspension or revocation.C
Indigenous women sentenced to federal institutions
grew by 60%.B
635
One of the reasons that Indigenous women are over- childhood trauma that is, by its nature, intergenera-
represented in the Canadian prison population is that tional, and are forced to confront a penal system in
they experience violence at a disproportionate rate. which physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual dep-
There is a clear connection between the violence that rivation is common.I
missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls
experience and their overincarceration. When Indige- The overcriminalization of Indigenous women is
nous women are incarcerated because of violent largely a result of colonialism, in and out of the penal
crime, it is most often a response to the violence they system. Poverty, food insecurity, mental health issues,
experience.D addiction, and violence, all parts of Canada’s past and
present colonial legacy, are systemic factors that lead
Colonialization and to the incarceration of Indigenous women. Violence
is a precursor for many Indigenous women who are
Imprisonment incarcerated. Ninety per cent of Indigenous women
who are incarcerated have a history of domestic
By its very nature, Canada’s correction and justice sys- physical abuse, and 68% have a history of domestic
tem is deeply rooted in colonialism and Western val- sexual abuse.J Further, 61% of Indigenous women
ues and attitudes about Indigenous women and who report domestic violence experience physical
culture. Indigenous women must rely on a justice sys- and sexual violence, compared with 32% of non-In-
tem that is in no way reflective or adaptive of their digenous women.K Similarly, 53% of Indigenous
cultural history and reality.E As Kassandra Churcher, women, compared with 29% of non-Indigenous
the executive director of the Canadian Association of women, report that they feared for their lives in do-
Elizabeth Fry Societies, said, the foundation of this mestic abuse situations.L While these statistics are
type of system “recreates the same patterns of state- striking, it is important to contextualize the violent
sanctioned control, assimilation, and trauma that In- crimes that Indigenous women are charged and con-
digenous people have endured for centuries.”F When victed for; most often, according to Churcher, the
Indigenous women appear in court, Churcher said, violent crimes that Indigenous women commit are
“They are seeking justice from a system that estab- “defensive or reactive to violence directed at them-
lished residential schools, the reserve system, and a selves, their children, or a third party.”M
system that continues to remove their children from
them.”G She noted, “A significant piece of the overrep- During our visit at the Edmonton Institution for
resentation issue is tied to this system, a justice sys- Women, some of the women we spoke with
tem that does not acknowledge its own historical described their reason for incarceration, and linked
abuses and the impact of the intergenerational the cause and root of their problems to violence.
trauma within our Indigenous communities.”H The One woman told the Commissioners, “I grew up in a
notion of prison as punishment and the overcriminal- very violent environment. My father tried to kill my
ization of Indigenous women both work against mother. Afterwards, my mother has always been into
building programs to keep women out of jail, rather violent relationships. There was always lots of alcohol
than sending them to jail. and drugs.” The link between histories of violence
was described in many cases as the reason that the
In an essay by Rupert Ross, Assistant Crown Attorney women themselves acted in violent ways preceding
in Kenora, Ontario, he argues that Indigenous in- prison and within prison, wherein violent behaviour
mates in correctional institutions are dealing with was normalized.
systems that directly contravene their own notions
of justice and of safety. He notes that, in many cases, In addition, many of those incarcerated drew on the
the complex post-traumatic stress that is itself a result experience of gang membership as a way that they
of colonizing processes includes family and commu- ended up in those institutions. However, as the
nity histories that reflect the impact of economic, Honourable Kim Beaudin, National Vice-Chief of the
social, political, and legal “subordination to, and iso- Congress of Aboriginal Peoples and outreach worker
lation from,” the non-Indigenous world. In addition, with STR8UP, a program designed to keep people out
he notes that many incarcerated Indigenous people, of gangs in Saskatoon, explained: “When people get
both women and men, have dealt with complex … involved in gangs in general, it is because of lack
636
of housing, poverty of course … lack of food, they ated Indigenous women, all of whom had been resi-
struggle to feed their kids. These are the kind[s] of dential school survivors. At Établissement Joliette,
things that have a spiralling effect, a negative effect most women acknowledged that their parents
on themselves.… It is a vicious circle.”N and/or grandparents had experienced severe trauma
from residential schools and that this had a direct
However, most crimes that Indigenous women impact on their lives. Similarly, during our interviews
commit are non-violent in nature. The majority of with incarcerated women across the country, we
crimes Indigenous women are charged with are found that there is a connection between incarcera-
property and drug offences. The leading causes for tion and missing and murdered Indigenous women
crime for Indigenous women are: theft under $5,000, and girls. When the National Inquiry spoke with
23%; theft over $5,000, 37%; fraud, 32%; trafficking incarcerated women at the Okimaw Ohci Healing
of stolen goods, 21%.O Again, these crimes must be Lodge, most of the residents had personal experi-
understood in the context of many Indigenous ences with missing and murdered women, among ei-
women’s realities. Thirty-seven per cent of First ther family members or close friends. At the Regional
Nations women living outside of their community Psychiatric Centre in Saskatoon, all of the patients
are living in poverty, 30% to 70% suffer from food had a connection to missing and murdered women.
insecurity, and 40% of Inuit women are living in hous-
ing that is overcrowded.P Unfortunately, the effects of intergenerational
trauma will continue into the future if Indigenous
A clear pattern emerges. The Canadian justice system women are overincarcerated. Sixty-four per cent of
criminalizes acts that are a direct result of survival for incarcerated Indigenous mothers are single mothers,
many Indigenous women.Q This repeats patterns of meaning they are the primary caregivers for their
colonialism because it places the blame and respon- children.V As Churcher noted, “The secondary effects
sibility on Indigenous women and their choices, and of overincarceration are multiple. The impact is far
ignores the systemic injustices that they experience, greater than the 39% being incarcerated.”W Indige-
which often lead them to commit crimes.R The Cana- nous children make up only 7% percent of all children
dian state is not held accountable for how its colonial in Canada, yet they account for 48% of children in the
policies contribute to the victimization and incarcer- foster care system.X The overincarceration of Indige-
ation of Indigenous women.S As such, as Churcher nous women results in Indigenous children’s being
said, “The corrections system, by its very nature, has placed in another institutionalized colonial system.Y
no investment in addressing the root causes of crim-
inalization, and so it is unable to effectively address
rehabilitation and reintegration as its principal
Experiences in Prison:
mandate.”T Maintaining Violence
Incarceration and Sexual Violence
Intergenerational Trauma As mentioned earlier, almost all incarcerated Indige-
nous women have a history of sexual abuse, yet they
The National Inquiry also found a connection be- are continually subjected to strip-searches. Strip-
tween intergenerational trauma, a consequence of searches involve the removal or rearrangement of
colonialism, and incarceration. Churcher said, “The clothing to permit visual inspection of a prisoner’s
unfortunate reality is that the long-term effects of genitals, breasts, or buttocks. However, as many as
colonialization and intergenerational trauma that our 30% of strip-searches are not done according to
country has perpetuated against Indigenous women policy.Z A woman is meant to have her top or bottom
continue to be the principal factors in their being on at all times during a strip-search, but the National
missing, murdered, and/or in prison.”U Overwhelm- Inquiry heard that, in most instances, incarcerated
ingly, incarcerated women are residential school sur- Indigenous women are completely naked during
vivors or have family members who are residential the strip-search.AA As Commissioners heard, strip-
school survivors. During a visit to Fraser Valley Insti- searches are extremely traumatizing for many
tution, the National Inquiry heard from nine incarcer- Indigenous women, and they are seen as a form of
637
state-sanctioned sexual assault. Kassandra Churcher appropriate mental health programs. Most of the
told the National Inquiry: mental health programming offered in prisons is for
the general population, but 50% of Indigenous
Those who are in charge of prison security have women who are incarcerated are in maximum secu-
seen that strip-searches yield very little, if any, rity prisons.DD Savannah Gentile, the director of
contrabands, and no weapons, but significantly Advocacy and Legal Issues for the Canadian Associa-
traumatize already traumatized women on a reg- tion of Elizabeth Fry Societies, testified for the
ular basis. Women prisoners, the vast majority of National Inquiry that during an advocacy visit to
whom have these histories of physical and sexual Fraser Valley Institution, 100% of the women in the
abuse, frequently experience strip-searches as a secure unit were Indigenous.EE She also testified that
form of sexual assault … with 90% of Indigenous women with mental issues are overrepresented in
women reporting being survivors of physical, these placements.FF Consequently, incarcerated In-
sexual, or domestic abuse, this federal govern- digenous women, who need the most help, have the
ment action effectively retraumatizes women on most restricted access to these programs.GG In addi-
a regular and consistent basis. tion to the minimal mental health resources in maxi-
mum security prisons, as Gentile said, “When there is
When women do not comply with strip-searches, a lockdown, which is often a monthly occurrence,
they “[lose] their ability to visit their own children and max security women are confined entirely to their
their families as a result. Some women intentionally cells and are completely denied access to programs,
avoid applying for jobs or work or volunteer oppor- school, mental health supports, and sometimes even
tunities in the community, which is their right, just showers. Often, the women have no idea when the
because they do not want to endure the trauma of lockdown will end.”HH
being strip-searched by the Correctional Service of
Canada.”BB The National Inquiry also had the privilege of hearing
first-hand from current and previously incarcerated
Strip-searches may cause added harm, as well, for Indigenous women about their experiences with
transwomen. As Fallon Andy, a 2SLGBTQQIA advo- mental health. Diane Sere, a previously incarcerated
cate, told the National Inquiry: woman and current employee of the Canadian
Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies, told the
If there is a transwoman who says she’s a National Inquiry, “I spent my first night on the floor of
transwoman and she doesn’t belong in the male a holding cell infested with ants. My worst nightmare
facility, then … the prison should change that in had began. I had lost my dignity, my individuality. For
their directives and regulations, and they should the next four to five weeks, I spent my time in protec-
be able to say … she’s not in the right prison, so tive custody, which is segregation. I was suffering
we’re going to move her over and we’re not anxiety, depression, I could not think clearly.”II We
going to increase her risk of sexualized violence heard similar stories from women in our on-site visits.
in male prisons or … severe mental health
afflictions while she’s in another prison … that Several shortcomings of mental health services were
wouldn’t be okay.CC raised by many women, Elders, and staff. Primarily,
there is a lack of culturally appropriate and sustained
The danger of misgendering, particularly within a mental health services. Two problem areas were re-
correctional context, is an important issue to consider peatedly identified: first, women who are in acute crisis
in understanding how all detainees can be kept safe. have to be transferred to a hospital. For many facilities,
there are few, if any, local options for hospitalization.
Emotional and Mental Health Issues This transfer can take several days, which creates fur-
ther distress for the woman. Second, those women
The majority of incarcerated Indigenous women suf- who need more than mental health services that are
fer from mental health issues, yet have little access to offered, but are not in an acute state, are not able to
638
access services that meet their mental health needs. home and are not centralized into one institution,
This can lead to security and classification issues. therefore making up a small percentage of those
Indigenous women incarcerated.MM Tate also told the
Spiritual Violence National Inquiry that “the other population that is of-
tentimes lost within the justice system is non-regis-
In addition to sexual and emotional violence, Indige- tered Aboriginal women who do not count when it
nous women suffer from a loss of cultural identity comes to looking at programming and resources
and spiritual well-being while they are incarcerated. for Indigenous services … those services are limited,
Patricia Tate, an employee of the Canadian Associa- at best, to those people who self-identify as First
tion of Elizabeth Fry Societies, testified at the National Nations, Métis, or Inuit.”NN At worst, many women are
Inquiry about the lack of cultural programs offered to deemed ineligible.
Indigenous women inmates that focus on diverse
Indigenous cultures, and about their important con- During the National Inquiry’s on-site visits with incar-
nection to identity and well-being: “Our biggest chal- cerated Indigenous women, the value of Indigenous
lenge, and actually our most important role in cultural programs was highlighted. At Fraser Valley
[prisons], is to ensure that we network with other Institution, a few women explained how, in some
services, other Elders, other teachers, other cultural ways, prison had actually helped them. One woman
ceremonies, so that we can bring those ceremonies told the National Inquiry that the only place she felt
to the women and allow them to grow in a positive safe was in prison. Several of the other women pres-
way.”JJ ent agreed with her. Another woman said that she
learned about the value of her body and that vio-
However, Tate highlighted that a huge challenge ex- lence is not acceptable, and that she found support
ists to provide culturally appropriate resources in pris- in prison and the ability to connect with her culture.
ons because the “ceremonies that are being offered Most of the women emphasized the significant role
are a one size fits all … women within an institution that Elders play within the prison system. For many
represent a vast variety of culture and traditions, and Indigenous women, Elders provide important sup-
unfortunately, those traditions are not always being port and connection to culture and healing. One
honoured and are rarely being honoured, quite hon- woman said, “I need to work through what I went
estly.”KK As the National Inquiry observed in its visits, through as a child and I need an Elder to support me
every facility we went to had a special and sacred through that. I need one-on-one connection and
space for sweat and ceremony, and, in some institu- ceremony.” Similarly, a woman at the Okimaw Ohci
tions, this space was available even for those in high- Healing Lodge stated, “The only thing that has helped
security placements. These areas were often meant me is Elders.”
to appeal to many different Indigenous identities, or
were focused on the practices employed by the Elder Public testimony and the National Inquiry’s on-site
or spiritual leader employed there. visits demonstrate the importance of the Elders’ role
in an institution; however, we also found that there
Commissioners also heard about Indigenous women are simply not enough Elders to address the overin-
who were transferred to institutions in different loca- carcerated Indigenous population. Most of the Elders
tions across the country, and often placed in an insti- we spoke with told us that they have an extremely
tution where the Elders were not familiar with their high number of cases and, as a result, struggle to
traditions. This reduces the meaningfulness of Elder meet the needs of many women. One common
involvement and cultural programming. In particular, theme we heard from the Elders was that Correc-
as Tate said, “although they also live within the insti- tional Service Canada (CSC) has not hired and re-
tutions and partake in ceremonies, the Inuit women tained a sufficient number of Elders. This means that
really struggle because there are virtually no cere- some prisoners have had to wait for programming
monies or Elders or teachings that are reflective of that involves Elders and, as a result, they have had to
their heritage, which is quite different from First wait to apply for parole. In addition, a number of Eld-
Nations heritage or Métis heritage.”LL Programs for ers noted high rates of burn-out and trauma through
Inuit women are also slow to be developed, since their own work, without sufficient time to participate
Inuit women are likely to be transported far from in their own mental health supports. In addition, and
639
due to the lack of Elders, the amount of Elder-guided of the Pathways Unit program introduced nearly 20
content in programs has been reduced. This, too, re- years ago, in 2000, as a pilot program intended to “es-
sults in many Indigenous women’s facing delays in tablish an environment for Aboriginal offenders who
parole applications or missing cultural teachings. choose to follow a more traditional path of healing
including counselling with Elders, participating in
Existing Programs and Aboriginal ceremonies and connecting with Aborig-
inal culture.”PP These units, housed within federal cor-
Initiatives rectional institutions, were at first for men; currently,
there are two available to women, both of which are
There were some programs, highlighted by CSC staff located in western Canada (Edmonton Institution for
and by those women with whom the Commissioners Women and Fraser Valley Community Correctional
spoke, that directly impacted the nature of their ex- Centre). Some institutions also have similar programs,
periences within the penal system. These programs though they don’t quality as an official Pathways Unit.
emerged in the wake of strong criticism of correc-
tional services in regards to Indigenous Peoples. In The Commissioners also heard about the Correc-
particular, Creating Choices, a report of the Task Force tional Service Canada’s Aboriginal Social History
on Federally Sentenced Women, released in 1990, (ASH) Tool, a tool that must be considered for all who
noted that “only if people are treated with respect, self-identity as First Nation, Inuit, or Métis. This tool
only when they are empowered, can they take re- represents a four-step process that considers the
sponsibility for their actions and make meaningful “broader historical factors that have contributed to
choices.” They recommended a long-term plan with the overrepresentation of Aboriginal people in the
the ultimate goal of prevention. criminal justice system as well as the specific and
unique circumstances of the individual.”QQ Specifi-
By reducing inequities which limit choice, by pre- cally, the ASH Tool notes many of the important path-
venting violence which breeds violence, our ways to violence this report references, as well as the
long-term goal will reduce the pain which con- many intergenerational and multigenerational forms
tributes to behaviour which harms others. By en- of traumas that incarcerated women discussed. Ulti-
couraging preventive strategies which create mately, the ASH Tool is used to identify and to con-
meaningful choices for federally sentenced sider culturally appropriate or restorative options that
women, we will help reduce crime and increase could contribute to mitigating risk, and may also
choices for all Canadians. In the process, our inform placement in a facility like a healing lodge.
society will become a safer and more secure
place.OO Maintaining the Status Quo:
Some of the programs developed in the aftermath of The Gladue Report
Creating Choices were a direct result of the task force’s
work, including healing lodges specifically, although The Gladue report is often seen as a milestone solu-
the program remains limited in scope. Most healing tion for the overincarceration of Indigenous women,
lodges service only male inmate populations, and are but it has become somewhat of a “mixed blessing.”
only minimum- or medium-security facilities. They This report stems from the Supreme Court of Canada
are programs within which Indigenous values, tradi- decision in R. v. Gladue, [1999] 1 SCR 688. The Gladue
tions, and teachings work within a different context decision sets out the principles for sentencing an
from the penal one, and which include significant Indigenous offender, pursuant to section 718.2(e) of
input from Elders and from local communities. the Criminal Code, that “all available sanctions, other
than imprisonment, that are reasonable in the
In other cases, some facilities we visited also had a circumstances and consistent with the harm done to
“pathway” or equivalent residence where some of the victims or the community should be considered for
women lived. These units allowed for specialized all offenders, with particular attention to the circum-
activity and services for the women in those units but stances of Aboriginal offenders” (our emphasis). The
were limited and dependent on medium- or mini- Gladue decision was aimed at addressing the over-
mum-security placements. Some of them were part representation of Indigenous people in prison by
640
providing judges with a new framework for sentenc- Further, Indigenous women may be hesitant to ask
ing. The Gladue decision recognized that Indigenous for a Gladue report in the first place. Kassandra
Peoples face systemic racism in and out of Canada’s Churcher told the National Inquiry that while she has
penal system.RR been working with the Canadian Association of
Elizabeth Fry Societies,
A Gladue report is a pre-sentencing or bail hearing
report that contains recommendations to the court We have heard from far too many women within
about what an appropriate sentence for an Indige- the federal system [of the] humiliation and
nous offender may be. Gladue reports often include shame of having to relive their histories often to
information about the person’s background and any Gladue reporters who are non-Indigenous who
trauma they may have experienced, such as residen- might not have extensive experience or aware-
tial schools, interaction with child welfare services, ness of Indigenous histories at times. We have
physical and sexual abuse, and/or mental health also heard from women who have voluntarily
issues.SS The purpose of a Gladue report is to provide omitted parts of their own histories due to feel-
judges with meaningful and accurate information ings of shame and humiliation, which is counter-
about an offender so that the judge can properly effective to the entire reason of having a Gladue
apply the principles of sentencing set out in section report…. Gladue reports are another cautionary
718.2(e) and elsewhere in the Criminal Code. The tale of trying to address systemic issues by hold-
Gladue report should include a thorough history of ing an individual responsible for their pathway
the offender and provide relevant information for a in the criminal justice system.WW
variety of non-custodial options. A Gladue report
about a woman or young offender should be used at We also heard that the factors that Gladue reports,
a bail hearing, sentencing, and parole hearing. whether at sentencing or produced within CSC, can
result in overly high security rankings, as the factors
However, oftentimes when Indigenous women want considered in speaking to the right “risk” are often the
to exercise their right to a Gladue report, they are very impacts of colonial violence that are identified
denied this right or face challenges. In our visit at in these reports.
Établissement Joliette, many of the incarcerated
women expressed concern that they do not receive Throughout the testimonies we heard and the con-
a Gladue report, even when they request one. Simi- versations we had with incarcerated women, there
larly, Diane Sere told the National Inquiry that: was one unavoidable observation: the Gladue deci-
sion was largely ineffective in reducing the number
When my trial was over and the judgment was of incarcerated Indigenous women.
guilty, the courts were advised that I wanted
to exercise my rights to a Gladue report for sen- The National Inquiry heard similar stories of Gladue
tencing. This was not received comfortably. I was reports during our informal visits. Many women told
later told that I did not look Indigenous, and that us about their requests for Gladue reports for sen-
before I could get a Gladue report, I needed to tencing that were denied by their lawyers and judges.
have to prove my Indigenous heritage.TT They also told us about the difficulties they had in
speaking to the report writer about their lives, espe-
Shortly after her trial, Sere received a phone call from cially without knowing how the information about
a probation officer who was going to be responsible their backgrounds would be used in sentencing.
for doing her pre-sentencing report. Sere told the
officer that she wanted a Gladue report, to which We heard similar doubts and criticisms about Aborig-
the officer responded, “We do not do Gladues in inal Social History reports. Aboriginal Social History
Ottawa.”UU After meeting with the officer, Sere felt reports should cover much of the same information
that the officer had no understanding of her Indige- as Gladue reports and are done on admission to the
nous culture, and, as a result, there were several institutions that we visited. Institutions use these
misunderstandings in her pre-sentencing report.VV reports for planning Indigenous women’s program-
ming and services. However, many women we spoke
641
with were reluctant to be completely transparent they can take me down … I’m afraid of going back to
about their past for the same reasons as with a the same community. The program won’t work. I
Gladue report: the majority of corrections officers want to stay sober and live in a good way.” Finding a
who prepare and use Aboriginal Social History re- job after being released is another main challenge
ports are non-Indigenous and may not understand facing incarcerated women. One resident described
many Indigenous women’s realities. We also heard her experience: “My self-esteem was so high when I
from many women that they felt that their histories left here. But getting a job was impossible. That was
were used against them for security classifications. the biggest downfall…. The jail stigma was worse
For example, if a woman came from a home of vio- than I thought.”
lence, that violent past would be used for a higher se-
curity classification. As we discussed earlier, higher Many women and Elders raised concerns about the
security classifications often result in limited access locations of services and halfway houses. Often,
to mental health services and other important cul- services and halfway houses are located in unsafe
tural programs. parts of towns and cities. These locations put women
right back into the circumstances that caused them
Parole and Release to offend and put their safety and successful reinte-
gration into peril. Overall, the National Inquiry heard
that there is a general sense of worry and fear related
Several women the National Inquiry spoke with em-
to being released from prison.
phasized how problematic the release from prison is
for them. Many women we interviewed noted that if
As Rupert Ross, retired assistant Crown Attorney for
they were “sent back” to their community, with the
the District of Kenora, Ontario, argues, part of this
same triggers and without adequate support, there
concern may be associated with understanding that
is little chance of their success in reintegrating into
whatever crime had been committed had also “sig-
the community. One woman at Fraser Valley Institu-
nificantly injured their relationship with their home,”
tion told the National Inquiry about the lack of sup-
neighbourhood, family, or social circle. This is be-
port upon being released from prison. In an
cause of the importance of relationships and the
interview, she stated that “they just threw me back to
need to reconsider the impact of crime and incarcer-
my community … where my family were addicts …
ation through a relational lens. As he proposes:
with no support when I went back.” In some cases, re-
lease from prison can be dangerous, as many women
It may be that justice involves not only deter-
said that they knew of several incarcerated women
rence and community protection, but also three
who died shortly after being released. They empha-
relational goals:
sized the need for an adequate and realistic release
plan. There is a specific concern with being released
• Having offenders come to understand, on
for Indigenous women who have drug addiction is-
an emotional level, the relational inflections
sues, as they may start using again without appropri-
which their crimes have created in others;
ate resources outside of prison. As one woman at
• Examining the relational disharmonies in
Fraser Valley Institution told the National Inquiry,
the offender’s life which spawned the crime,
“drugs and alcohol were all I knew when I got out.”
and working towards different ways of relat-
ing so as to reduce the likelihood of its
Similarly, during the National Inquiry’s visit at the Oki-
repetition; and
maw Ohci Healing Lodge, most women said that they
• Searching for ways to move both parties out
were fearful about their prison release. They worry
of the relational disfigurement that has
about not having adequate support, being exposed
bound them together from the moment of
to drugs and alcohol, and unhealthy relationships.
the crime.XX
One woman told the National Inquiry, “I’m changing
in here, but my family is still stuck in violence and
drugs … I’m scared to be around my family because
642
The Path Forward These facilities are also preferable because they can
keep women closer to their home communities,
families, and children.
In imagining a new path forward, we focus on the op-
portunities for decarceration under sections 81 and
Currently, there are two healing lodges for women.
84 of the Corrections and Conditional Release Act. We
Okimaw Ohci Healing Lodge is run by CSC and is
do so because community-based resources for In-
rated for a capacity of 60 women. Buffalo Sage Well-
digenous women can better address the underlying
ness House is operated privately under section 82 of
issues of incarceration – trauma, poverty, and other
the CCRA. It is rated for a capacity of 28 women.AAA
effects of colonization – by using the strengths of cul-
For the approximately 280 incarcerated Indigenous
tural practices for healing.
women, there are obviously very limited opportuni-
ties for decarceration.
A key theme identified in the academic literature and
from the testimony heard during the Truth-Gathering
In the Annual Report, Office of the Correctional Investi-
Process is that to stop the cycle of the criminalization
gator, 2017–2018, the Investigator wrote about the
and overincarceration of Indigenous women, Indige-
need for urban-based healing lodges established
nous people must be active participants in these
under section 81 of the CCRA, and additional capacity
solutions. The Commissioners heard from witnesses
for placement in private residences, under section 84
who articulated possibilities for, and steps toward,
of the CCRA. In doing so, there must be meaningful
decarceration of Indigenous women in Canadian
partnerships between CSC and Indigenous commu-
prisons. In her testimony, Kassandra Churcher stated
nities, based on trust, that facilitates “the self-
that
determination and healing of Indigenous inmates
and communities.”BBB In Recommendation 13, the
any meaningful and authentic recommenda-
Investigator recommended that CSC reallocate
tions must be from the communities that are
significant resources to negotiate new funding
affected. First Nations, Métis, and Inuit commu-
arrangements and agreements with partners to
nities must be engaged in the process of re-
transfer the care and supervision of Indigenous
envisioning a system of justice that reflects their
people from prison to the community.
practices, beliefs, and cultures. They must also be
given the funding to support community-led
In Correctional Service Canada’s “Response to the
solutions to prevention and reintegration asso-
45th Annual Report of the Correctional Investigator,
ciated with crime.YY
2017–2018,” the CSC Commissioner wrote in reply to
Recommendation 13:
Churcher specifically identified legislation that au-
thorizes community releases for prisoners: section 84
CSC continues to enhance partnerships to create
of the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (CCRA).
more opportunities for the participation of
Indigenous communities in the management of
The CCRA is set up to facilitate community re-
Indigenous offenders. This includes the engage-
lease. Sections 81 and 84 of the CCRA enable the
ment and collaboration between CSC and
transfer of resources to Indigenous communities
Indigenous communities on section 81 agree-
on- and off-reserve in a rural or urban setting to
ments under the Corrections and Conditional
host community members who would otherwise
Release Act (CCRA) for Healing Lodges.CCC
be in prison and to support the reintegration in
ways that benefit the individual and the entire
It is noteworthy that this response does not specifi-
community. The intent of these sections was to
cally state that the agreement is one that transfers
afford Indigenous communities greater control
capacity, resources, and support to Indigenous com-
over the matters that are affecting them. These
munities for the healing of offenders.
provisions are broad and allow for creative,
flexible, and individualized community-based
solutions.ZZ
643
During our on-site visits and in many testimonies, is that way of handling disagreements that helps
we heard that the process for establishing facilities mend relationships and provides healing solu-
under these sections is very difficult. Further, there tions. It deals with the underlying causes of the
is not complete transfer of authority and resulting disagreement (which often are perceived as
independence to the community organization. someone not having lived according to pre-
Recently, Correctional Service Canada has taken steps scribed spiritual ways). Sacred justice is going be-
to simplify and expedite the process, but many yond the techniques for handling conflict; it
Indigenous women, Elders, and service providers still involves going to the heart. It includes speaking
see this as a daunting task and its success remains to from the heart, from one’s feelings. It is giving ad-
be gauged. A central issue in all of these discussions vice, reminding people of their responsibilities to
and suggestions for change are understanding what one another. It is helping them reconnect with
justice has meant, and does mean, to Indigenous the higher spirits, or seeing the conflict in rela-
people. For instance, as Diane Leresche, a conflict tion to the higher purposes. It is helping people
analysis scholar specializing in the design, implemen- ease, move beyond, and transform the intense
tation, and evaluation of systems for preventing and hurtful emotions like anger into reorienting and
resolving conflicts notes, the concept of sacred reuniting with that which is more important than
justice means focusing on healing relationships, not the issues of conflict. Sacred justice is found
punitive actions. when the importance of restoring understand-
ing and balance to relationships has been ac-
Peacemaking is generally not as concerned with knowledged. It almost always includes apologies
distributive justice or “rough-and-wild justice” and forgiveness. It is people working together,
(revenge, punishment, control, determining who looking for mutual benefits for all in their widest
is right) as it is with “sacred justice.” Sacred justice circle.DDD
Findings
• Indigenous women and girls are being criminalized as a result of colonization and their resistance to colonial
violence, including systemic oppression and marginalization. Therefore, Canada is incarcerating Indigenous
women and girls because of their fight against colonization or due to the impacts of colonization on them.
• The federal government has failed to take meaningful action to implement numerous recommendations
addressing the gross overrepresentation of Indigenous women and girls in the criminal justice system. These
recommendatons are contained in reports of the Office of the Correctional Investigator; the Auditor General of
Canada’s “Preparing Indigenous Offenders for Release” (Fall 2016); the Calls to Action of the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2015); the Report of the Standing Committee on Public Safety and
National Security, “Indigenous People in the Federal Correctional System” (June 2018); the Report on the
Standing Committee on the Status of Women, “A Call to Action: Reconciliation with Indigenous Women in the
Federal Justice and Corrections Systems” (June 2018); and the “Commission of Inquiry into Certain Events at the
Prison for Women in Kingston” (the Arbour report).
• The federal government has not sufficiently invested in the implementation of Indigenous-specific provisions
of the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (SC 1992, c.20), sections 79 to 84.1.
• Mandatory minimum sentences are especially harsh for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as
Gladue principles for sentencing cannot be applied. This leads to higher incarceration rates. Further, sentences
fail to meet the rehabilitative needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
644
• There is a shortage of Elders working in correctional institutions in Canada. Elders are not empowered to effect
real change. Further, a pan-Indigenous approach has been adopted whereby Elders or spiritual people from
one Nation and their spiritual teachings are assumed to be adequate for all Indigenous inmates. Cultural and
spiritual services must meet the cultural and spiritual needs and rights of distinct Inuit, Métis, and First Nations.
Métis and Inuit women, as the minority populations within the Indigenous population in corrections, suffer
most from this denial of their cultural and spiritual rights.
• The failure to collect disaggregated data prevents a true understanding of the circumstances that lead to arrest
and detention from different groups, including Métis, Inuit, First Nations, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Further, it results
in Correctional Service Canada’s not having a clear understanding of the distinct and diverse Indigenous population
within their custody, and results in ineffective and discriminatory pan-Indigenous programs and services.
• The vision for women’s corrections in Canada as set out in Creating Choices: The Report of the Task Force on
Federally Sentenced Women has been abandoned.
• The incarceration of women resulting in the separation of the mother and child is a violation of the child’s rights
under the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC); Correctional Service Canada’s mother-child program is
underutilized as many Indigenous women do not meet participant criteria.
• The Correctional Service of Canada’s failure to recognize and treat mental health and psychiatric needs, and to
meet rehabilitative objectives under the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (CCRA), represents a violation,
at a minimum, of sections 7 and 15 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
• Segregation can create adverse psychological symptoms, including but not limited to insomnia, confusion,
hopelessness, despair, hallucinations, and even psychosis. The mental and physical distress that segregation
can cause amounts to cruel, inhumane, and degrading punishment that should be characterized as a violation
of human rights and is institutional violence against women.
• Strip-searches within the correctional systems in Canada are state-sanctioned sexual assault, and violate the
human rights and dignity of women and girls. Strip-searching violates Mandela Rules 52.1, which states that
intrusive searches, including strip- and body-cavity searches, should be undertaken only if absolutely necessary.
• The maximum security classification for incarcerated Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people represents
sex-based discrimination that places, punishes, or rewards them on the basis of a set of non-Indigenous
expected or compliant behaviours. This security classification further discriminates by limiting federally
sentenced Indigenous women from accessing services, supports, and programs required to facilitate their safe
and timely reintegration.
• Culturally appropriate and trauma-informed models of care are not consistently available and are not adequately
resourced.
• Indigenous women and girls have limited opportunities for meaningful vocational training and education
upgrading. This impedes their rehabilitation and reintegration into the community and is discriminatory.
645
A Correctional Investigator of Canada, Office of the Correctional Z Savannah Gentile, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Investigator Annual Report 2017-2018. Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 227.
B Ibid. AA Savannah Gentile, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
C Ibid. Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 227.
D Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, BB Savannah Gentile, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Quebec City, QC, p. 32. Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, pp. 114-115.
E Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, CC Fallon Andy (Anishinaabe, Couchiching First Nation), Part 3,
Quebec City, QC, pp. 38-39. Public Volume 8, Toronto, ON, pp. 139-140.
F Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, DD Savannah Gentile, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Quebec City, QC, pp. 34-35. Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 55.
G Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, EE Savannah Gentile, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Quebec City, QC, p. 39. Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 55.
H Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, FF Savannah Gentile, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Quebec City, QC, p. 39. Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 55.
I Ross, “Criminal Conduct and Colonization,” 16–17. GG Savannah Gentile, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 55.
J Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7,
Quebec City, QC, p. 37. HH Savannah Gentile, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
K Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7,
Quebec City, QC, p. 35. II Diane Sere (Algonquin, Nipissing Territory), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
L Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7,
Quebec City, QC, p. 35. JJ Patricia Tate (First Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
M Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7,
Quebec City, QC, p. 35. KK Patricia Tate (First Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
N The Honourable Kim Beaudin (Métis/Michel First Nation),
Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec City, QC, p. 99. LL Patricia Tate (First Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, pp. 22-23.
O Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7,
Quebec City, QC, p. 36. MM Public Safety Canada, “Marginalized.”
P Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, NN Patricia Tate (First Nations), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Quebec City, QC, p. 36-37. Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 24.
Q Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, OO Canada, Task Force on Federally Sentenced Women, Creating
Quebec City, QC, p. 33. Choices.
R Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, PP Wesley, M., with Public Safety Canada, “Marginalized.”
Quebec City, QC, pp. 33-34. QQ Correctional Service Canada, “Aboriginal Social History (ASH)
S Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, Tool” backgrounder, as provided to Commissioners during
Quebec City, QC, p. 33. CSC visits.
T Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, RR Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Understanding
Quebec City, QC, p. 34. Gladue.”
U Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, SS NWAC, “Understanding Gladue.”
Quebec City, QC, p. 35. TT Diane Sere (Algonquin, Nipissing Territory), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
V Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, Public Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 100.
Quebec City, QC, p. 38. UU Diane Sere (Algonquin, Nipissing Territory), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
W Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, Public Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 101.
Quebec City, QC, p. 38. VV Diane Sere (Algonquin, Nipissing Territory), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
X Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, Public Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 101.
Quebec City, QC, p. 37. WW Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7,
Y Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, pp. 40-41.
646
XX Ross, “Exploring Criminal Justice,” 9. BBB Ibid., 64.
YY Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 7, CCC Canada, Correctional Service Canada, “Response to the 45th
Quebec City, QC, p. 109. Annual Report of the Correctional Investigator 2017-2018.”
ZZ Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 and 3, Public Volume 7, DDD Leresche, “Native American Perspectives on Peacemaking.”
Quebec City, QC, pp. 110-111.
AAA Annual Report, Office of the Correctional Investigator
2017–2018, 63.
647
In its 2015 Update to the National Operational Overview,47 the RCMP claimed that the majority
of killings of Indigenous women and girls were committed by spouses and family members,
based on its review of statistical data collected on crimes within their jurisdiction. Yet, as other
research and critiques of the RCMP’s analysis have pointed out, Indigenous women’s and girls’
lives are also ended by strangers or acquaintances who seek to victimize them under various
circumstances. As Human Rights Watch pointed out in its 2013 report, it is the apathy of police
in the face of this violence that serves to maintain it:
Police apathy in cases involving violence against women and girls – or violence against
certain groups of women and girls – sends the message that such behavior is accepted
and will carry no consequences for perpetrators. It may, in effect, encourage the targeting
of certain groups for violence.48
Indigenous people were 2.2 times more likely to report having been victims of
violent crime in the past year than non-Indigenous people: 1.9 times more likely
for physical assault, 2.5 times more likely for robbery, and almost 3 times more
likely for sexual assault.
Stereotypes and Victim Blaming

In many of the testimonies the National Inquiry heard, families shared how stereotypes and victim
blaming served to slow down or to impede investigations into their loved ones’ disappearances or
deaths. The assumptions tied to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people by police as
“drunks,” “runaways out partying,” or “prostitutes unworthy of follow-up” characterized many
interactions, and contributed to an even greater loss of trust in the police and in related agencies.
648
Like many of the families who described the events that took place prior to the disappearance of
their missing or murdered loved one, Jennifer’s mother, Bernice C., knew something was wrong.
In June 2008, Bernice received an unusual phone call during which she could overhear her
daughter, who was supposed to be at home for her 18th birthday party at the time of the call, ask-
ing someone, “Where are we? Where are we?” Bernice said, “Suddenly, I felt a pain in the pit of
my stomach with fear, unspeakable fear. I’ve never, ever in my life experienced that pain and that
fear that I felt that day talking to her, and even after. I’ve never experienced that pain, that fear
that had gripped me.”49
Given Jennifer and Bernice’s usually close relationship – Jennifer had left a note for her mom
earlier that day that began with “My beautiful mother” and ended with “I love you so, so much.
X’s and O’s”50 – and the strangeness of this phone call, Bernice decided to contact the RCMP.
She described her initial encounter with an RCMP officer at the Portage la Prairie detachment.
So, at the time, I didn’t know what to do. I was distraught. I was panicking. I didn’t
know what to do. Where is Jen? My husband wasn’t home at that time. So, I went to the
police. I went to the RCMP. That was June 23rd. I went to the police…. That’s where I
went. I said, “I want to report my daughter missing.” … And, he said, “Oh, what’s her
name?” I said, “Jennifer. Jennifer [C.]” “Oh, how old is she?” Like that. That’s how he
spoke to me. “How – how old is she?” I said, “She just turned 18 Thursday, her
birthday.” “Oh, give her a week. She’s on a drunk.” I said, “You don’t even know her to
talk … about her like that. You don’t know her.” He said, “Oh, give her a week. Give her
a week.”51
Bernice described her reaction to this response from the RCMP: “I left. I didn’t know what to do.
I just left, no statement, no nothing. I was in shock. I didn’t know what to do.”52 In the crucial
hours immediately following her daughter’s disappearance, those who were supposed to ensure
that Jennifer’s right to safety and justice were protected turned her mother away.
As Bernice insisted, “Time is of the essence when somebody goes missing and reported some-
body missing. Time is crucial. There’s no time to say, ‘Oh, give her – give her time. She’s on a
drunk. She’ll be back.’ Who is he to make an opinion like that?”53 Bernice’s emphasis of the
importance of a timely response was echoed by many of the representatives of various police
forces who presented testimony during the National Inquiry and who affirmed that this is an
important time period.
Despite Bernice’s and her husband’s multiple attempts in the upcoming days, she still didn’t
receive any help from the RCMP.
So, I didn’t know what to do. Nobody was listening, because we went … back to the
detachment Monday, Tuesday, and I think it was Wednesday we went. No RCMP came
out to hear me or to take a statement. The woman behind the desk said, “I’ll give them
your message.” Nobody came out, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I didn’t know what to
do. I don’t know where – what do I call? What do I do? I don’t know.54
649
In fact, according to Bernice, it was nearly a month before the RCMP followed up on a tip
Bernice and her husband uncovered during their own desperate search for the daughter. To this
day, Bernice’s daughter Jennifer is still missing, and Bernice and her husband, Wilfred, continue
to search. For Bernice, the lack of answers about her daughter is made worse by the knowledge
that when she initially reached out for help, she was turned away.
“SO, AT THE TIME, I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I WAS DISTRAUGHT. I WAS
PANICKING. I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. WHERE IS JEN? MY HUSBAND WASN’T HOME
AT THAT TIME. SO, I WENT TO THE POLICE. I WENT TO THE RCMP. THAT WAS JUNE
23RD. I WENT TO THE POLICE.… THAT’S WHERE I WENT. I SAID, “I WANT TO REPORT
MY DAUGHTER MISSING.” … AND, HE SAID, “OH, WHAT’S HER NAME?” I SAID,
“JENNIFER. JENNIFER [C.]” “OH, HOW OLD IS SHE?” LIKE THAT. THAT’S HOW HE SPOKE
TO ME. “HOW – HOW OLD IS SHE?” I SAID, “SHE JUST TURNED 18 THURSDAY, HER
BIRTHDAY.” “OH, GIVE HER A WEEK. SHE’S ON A DRUNK.” I SAID, “YOU DON’T EVEN
KNOW HER TO TALK … ABOUT HER LIKE THAT. YOU DON’T KNOW HER.” HE SAID,
“OH, GIVE HER A WEEK. GIVE HER A WEEK.”
Bernice C.
She shared her story with the National Inquiry to make this point clear: “I want you to under-
stand, and I want the public and Canada and the world to know how we were failed, how
Jennifer was failed. The RCMP failed her. How? You say, ‘How?’ They didn’t take my statement.
They didn’t take me seriously.”55
Unfortunately, Bernice’s account of her initial encounter with the police is not unlike a number
of other similar stories shared by other families of missing and murdered women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. Dismissal, contempt, and outright discrimination, in which police evoke
racist stereotypes about Indigenous people as drunks, runaways, or prostitutes, and which
ignore the insights that families bring them that something is wrong, were similarly reported by
other families when they described their initial encounters with police. Similarly, assumptions
about Indigenous people being “out partying” was another common response from the police. As
Tanya Talaga explained of the case of a missing boy:
No one had heard from him, so she decided to call the Thunder Bay Police. And, when
she called the Thunder Bay Police, she was told for her not to worry. The person who
answered the phone told her, “He’s probably just out there partying like all the other
Native kids,” and then he hung up the phone.56
Pamela F.’s description of the events leading up to her daughter’s disappearance and murder
bears many similarities to the description provided by Bernice and by Tanya. Like Bernice and
her daughter, Jennifer, Pamela and her 16-year-old daughter, Hilary, shared a close relationship
and had plans to go shopping the next day. Also like Bernice, Pamela received a strange phone
call from her daughter on what turned out to be the night she went missing: “The last thing we
said to each other was ‘I love you.’” Like Bernice, Pamela also described immediately having
650
the sense that something was wrong: “I had a bad feeling and I couldn’t shake it.”57 Unfortu-
nately, when Pamela – like Bernice – contacted the police, she, too, was met with indifference
and inaction. She described her initial encounter with the police when reporting her daughter
missing.
So then we called the police and nothing. I thought if I told them I can’t find my
daughter that they would look for her. But they didn’t … every time I called and I asked
if anyone was looking for her, oh well, it’s this one you have to talk to, you gotta call
back tomorrow, they’re not here. And when I called back they tell me it’s another one.58
It is only after Pamela went to the media that the police eventually became involved in the inves-
tigation. In fact, one officer confided in her that going to the media was what she needed to do to
get action.
After I called the media, then they started looking. One officer had even told me, Pam –
and I got along with this officer really good. I got along with a couple of them really
well but this one told me, she’s like, Pam, that’s the best thing you could’ve done. She
said you forced them to look.59
In talking about his family’s initial encounter with the RCMP in Alberta, when they reported
20-year-old Amber missing, her brother Paul T. described being told that the family would have
to wait 24 hours before reporting.
Well, when my mom reported her missing there, they said, she had to wait 24 hours.
And, you know, and should I wait? We went online and checked it out and we found out
that there’s no law saying you got to wait 24 hours. So I don’t know why the RCMP
always tells people that because those 24 hours are critical. It’s always like, oh, yeah,
let’s go submit, but we wait 24 hours and on the 24th hour, oh, let’s get up, let’s go, let’s
start doing something. But, you know, had something … been done … that time when
she reported, maybe – maybe we wouldn’t be sitting here.60
Confusion over whether a person can be reported missing until 24 hours have passed was
expressed by a number of families. For Amber’s family, this arbitrary time frame is embedded
within other stereotyped and racist beliefs held by the officer who, much like the officer respond-
ing to Bernice’s reports, rationalized his lack of immediate action by arguing that 20-year-old
Amber was “out partying.”
651
The Commission for Public Complaints Against the RCMP (CPC) is the principle oversight body
for the RCMP. Its mandate includes investigating complaints, reviewing RCMP activity and
publicly reporting its findings and recommendations.
THE COMMISSION FOR PUBLIC COMPLAINTS AGAINST THE RCMP
In 2015, the Human Rights Committee issued

Receiving complaints regarding its Concluding Observations on Canada’s
conduct of RCMP members
sixth periodic report on its implementation
of the International Covenant on Civil and Politi-
Conducng reviews when cal Rights, noting concern “about reports of the
complainants are dissasfied with lack of effectiveness of such mechanisms” and
the RCMP's handling of complaints the “lack of statistical data on all complaints,
investigations, prosecutions, convictions and
Iniate complaints and sanctions imposed on police officers at all levels.”
invesgaons in the public interest Further, it called on Canada to “strengthen its
efforts to ensure that all allegations of ill-treat-
ment and excessive use of force by the police are
Review acvies specified in promptly and impartially investigated by strong
complaints or invesgaons independent oversight bodies with adequate re-
sources at all levels, and that those responsible
for such violations are prosecuted and punished
Report findings and make with appropriate penalties.”61
recommendaons
In some instances, families did share more positive initial encounters with police when reporting
a loved one missing or in danger. However, in cases where Indigenous families do have a posi-
tive encounter with the police, stories like the one Marilyn W. shared demonstrate the extent to
which they are dependent on the good luck of encountering a compassionate, knowledgeable,
and ethical officer rather than being able to depend on a standard of practice where being
respected and taken seriously are the norm.
After her sister had been missing for over a week, Marilyn decided to report her sister’s
disappearance to the police. She described her initial encounter with the police.
For a little bit, a little while I didn’t hear from her and I was getting very worried, and just
over a week – and my mom was already very, very frantic, and she was calling me – and so
after about a week, I – I went to the police station to try and file a missing person’s report,
and I was in distress at this time, just as I am now. I was crying, and I went there and asked
for help, and they treated me so horrible…. I was under the understanding that when a
person loses their loved one and they’re missing that they need to report them within 24
hours, and it was over a week, and they didn’t even care, and they didn’t want to take her
missing person’s report, but there was one – one police officer who walked by, who
happened to walk by, and … he heard the distress in my voice and he saw me, and he went
652
out of his way to come and see what was going on, and I don’t know who that man was,
but I’ll never forget him, and he took my report, and he told them, “Take her report and put
it on the evening news and we need to look for this woman,” and so we began our search.62
These types of inconsistencies are evident in other stories, as well. For instance, Tom C. said
that when he first reported his daughter Tamara missing, “the RCMP, they were very cooperative
with me,” although he acknowledged that, from what he has heard, that was not the norm.63
However, when the family reached out to the local police department for support in the search,
they did not receive the same treatment.
And we actually went to the police department in Vancouver because Tom had started
spending an awful lot of money on the postering. So I went into the police station there …
and I asked them, I said – I handed them a poster and I said, “Well, can you please help us
here? Can you, you know, put this poster out of Tamara? Can you print some for us?” And
the lady that was behind there, she looked at the picture and she said, “No, we can’t help
you.” “Well, she’s missing. The National Inquiry heard she’s down here. We need help.” I
said, “It’s costing my brother a fortune to do these posters.” And they didn’t offer us any
help at all in Vancouver.64
In sharing stories about their initial encounters with the police, family members also communi-
cated and demonstrated their resourcefulness and resistance against being dismissed. In some
cases, this refusal to accept the police’s lack of response pushed the police to respond, as in the
case of Pamela F.’s efforts to engage the community in a search for her daughter and to reach out
to the media, at which point the police did get involved. Nonetheless, while Pamela acknowl-
edged that a number of specific officers did, in fact, repair the relationship established at the
beginning, she also pointed out that Indigenous families should not have to resort to special
measures in order for the police to do what they are supposed to do: “They [the police] should’ve
reacted when I called the first time. I shouldn’t [have] to try to shame them or something to get
them to do what I needed them to do, what they’re supposed to do.”65
In her testimony, Dolores S. made a similar point.
I didn’t even know how to go about – about telling someone that this is just not right. This
is not right that my niece fell from a laundry chute, and nobody is taking it seriously, the
fact that I’ve had to uncover everything that I’ve uncovered, and that it should not have to
come to this. It should not have had to come to [this] for me to continually go to the media
to continually expose cracks and flaws within the system and traumatize my family.66
Indeed, for Indigenous families to have to use these additional tactics to get support further
marginalizes those for whom such measures are even more difficult, unsafe, or unfamiliar.
653
Marilyn W. drew attention to precisely this issue when she described her second encounter with
police when her uncle went missing.
I was prepared now, and I phoned the police and I said, “My uncle – my uncle Anthony …
was reported missing, please tell me what you’re doing about this,” and the lady said,
“Well, we’ve sent emails out.…” “I’m a part of the Native Women’s Association of
Canada, and I lodged a formal complaint against the police officer who mistreated me in
my sister’s case, and I want to know what you’re going to do to find my uncle,” and within
minutes they had me talking to the sergeant and they had people out there looking for him.
Well, what about all those people that don’t have that power, who don’t know what
to say?67
Delays in police response to reports of missing Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people have been identified in previous reports and inquiries.68 Not being able to depend on a
police officer’s willingness to take the concerns of Indigenous families seriously is an all-too-
common example that demonstrates the precariousness of whether the right to justice will be
respected or not. When questioned about instances in which families were denied a proper
response, RCMP and other police officers suggested that these sort of responses are, in fact, not
the norm and that, should they occur, the officer would be disciplined.69 Explanations such as
these, which explain police abuses or police failures to protect Indigenous women as the result of
actions of a single officer who fails to follow an already adequate procedure, rather than question
the policing structure itself, were ones that Farida Deif also said were common in research
conducted by Human Rights Watch. She noted:
Generally, in our work on policing abuses in many countries, the response by the police
is generally one of denial of the policing abuses taking place, claiming that there are just
a number of bad apples on the police force, not a systemic issue, not a structural issue.
They will often drown us in policing protocols and policies to show how, you know,
advanced they are and how much in line they are with international standards. But our
response is always that we’re not really concerned about the policies, we’re concerned
about the practice and the implementation of those policies. And you know, and what do
you do – even if, you know, even if we were to argue that it was a few bad apples, has
there been accountability for those bad apples? Has there been any kind of – how have
you used that as a teaching moment to change your training of the police services, to
change your recruitment practices? What has happened since then?70
While officers like Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard of Ontario’s Provincial Police (OPP)
and others encouraged families and survivors to report police abuses, this also puts the onus on
Indigenous people to hold police accountable, therefore ignoring the very real power dynamics at
play and an ongoing misunderstanding of barriers Indigenous people face when interacting with
some police officers.
654
Systemic Failures in Crime Detection and Prevention
The National Inquiry also heard testimony from police services, many of whom spoke to the
need to be properly resourced in order to perform their duties. First Nations police services,
in particular, cited insufficient equipment and resources as impeding their efforts to engage in
proper investigation, as well as in crime prevention, in Indigenous communities. Terry Arm-
strong, chief of the Nishnawbe-Aski Police Service (NAPS, the largest First Nations police
service in Canada), told the National Inquiry that a chronic lack of access to funding has left his
service unable to perform many of its duties.
Well, because of the chronic underfunding of NAPS, we haven’t had partners for all our
police – all our detachments, we haven’t had a radio communication system, which are
very unsafe for the communities. They don’t allow the officers to do their job at the same
capacity as you would elsewhere, and it puts people’s safety in jeopardy. And not having
a communication system where you can call to somebody for backup or assistance – in
our case a lot of times there is not backup anyway – but not even having a system where
you can call and say – as we say in policing, “Run somebody to see what their, you
know, what their records are” or any of these things, we don’t have that same capacity
unless we go back to the detachment and get to a landline to make a call.71
Daniel Bellegarde, Director of Canadian Association

of Police Governance, testifies at the Institutional
Hearing on Police Policies and Practices in Regina,
Saskatchewan.
Mike Metatawabin, chair of the Nishnawbe-Aski Police Service Board, also told the National
Inquiry that the Nishnawbe-Aski Police Service faces hurdles in its operations that other police
services do not. For example, many of its detachments are under-resourced and lack proper
services like heating. As a result, in 2013, the Nishnawbe-Aski Nation released a public safety
notice indicating that it was unable to provide adequate police services to its people due to a lack
of funding and legislated criteria. The notice was sent to the government of Ontario, but the
Nishnawbe-Aski Nation did not receive a response other than from the chief coroner.72
655
DEEPER DIVE
The Sex Industry, Sexual Exploitation,

and Human Trafficking
Woven into the truths shared by family members majority of those involved in the street-level sex
speaking about their missing or murdered loved work.B They are also more likely than other groups to
ones, and the truths told by survivors, Knowledge be targeted for, or to experience, sexual exploitation
Keepers, and Expert Witnesses, were stories about or trafficking for the purposes of sexual exploitation.C
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
and the sex industry, sexual exploitation, and human
trafficking. Among the witnesses who shared their
Understanding Diverse
truth with the Inquiry, many survivors described Perspectives
experiences of physical and sexual violence while en-
gaged in sex work. Witnesses also offered insights The National Inquiry heard a range of opinions re-
and ideas for how best to ensure safety, health, and garding the relationships among sex work, sexual ex-
justice for those whose lives connect with sex work, ploitation, and trafficking. Some women insisted that
or whose lives have been impacted by sexual sex work, by its very nature, is exploitative and needs
exploitation or sex trafficking. to be abolished. For example, Diane Redsky, member
of Shoal Lake 40 First Nation and front-line worker
Here, we focus our discussion specifically on the with the Ma Mawi Chi Itata Centre in Winnipeg,
issues, concerns, and teachings witnesses raised argued that sex work is inherently exploitative and
related to the relationship between sex work, sexual oppressive.
exploitation, and trafficking and violence against
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. You will never hear me say “sex trade,” because
trade implies you’re trading something of fair
Constructing an accurate picture of the number of value. When you understand sexual exploitation
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and sex trafficking as much as we do, you will
involved in the sex industry is difficult. Because in- know that there is nothing fair of value being
volvement in the sex industry continues to be stig- exchanged. The other is “sex work.” I will not say
matized, and acknowledging one’s involvement in “sex work” because it is not employment. It is not
the sex industry can increase the risk of criminaliza- a job, it is not a legitimate job. Again, as we un-
tion, discrimination, and violence, many people derstand sexual exploitation and sex trafficking,
choose not to report information about their involve- it is highly exploitative, and violent, and de-
ment. In addition, an unwillingness and lack of effort grades our women.D
on the part of many institutions that could help to
keep more accurate records about Indigenous However, the National Inquiry also heard testimony
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and the sex that there is nothing inherently wrong with sex work,
industry contribute to this lack of information. In part, and that the criminalization of sex work makes
this unwillingness and lack of effort are rooted in a women more vulnerable to violence. For example,
long-standing view that sees those individuals as dis- Lanna Moon Perrin, an Indigenous woman and self-
posable or unworthy of attention.A identified activist and sex worker, shared a very differ-
ent opinion.
Despite these gaps in data collection, organizations
working to advocate on behalf of sex worker rights, I hear a lot about prostitution being a colonial
and those working to address sexual exploitation and thing, and it’s a disease or it’s a thing that coloni-
trafficking, consistently report that Indigenous zation brought onto us. And, you know, perhaps
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people make up the in the ways that it was perceived to us, it could
656
be looked at like that, but I’d like to consider titutes, or especially girls providing a service to
pre-colonization for a minute and what our johns. Why? Because it minimizes their victimiza-
sexuality as Indigenous women and how that tion. It also implies that they had some choice in
might have looked, especially in leadership, you the matter when we know that minors cannot
know? And, you know, you can’t tell me that pre- consent. Minors can never provide consent and
colonization, Indigenous women didn’t use their there are criminal provisions in the Criminal Code
sexuality to advance themselves, their families, for under the age of 18. So, instead, they are
their communities, and their Nations. I have a victims of child abuse. A perpetrator paid to
hard time believing that.E sexually abuse a child.G
Robyn Bourgeois, a Cree woman and professor at Allan Wade also spoke about the problematic lan-
Brock University, emphasized that, despite differ- guage used when talking about the exploitation of
ences of opinion on these matters, Indigenous children and youth within the sex trade.
women have a common goal when it comes to end-
ing violence. So, what I want to point out is that our prevailing
public institutions are publicly shaming children
I think, you know, at the end of the day, I think by portraying violence against children as sex
despite whatever our position is, we’re all fight- with children. I couldn’t tell you how many
ing for the same thing. We’re all recognizing that people I have spoken with who referred to sexu-
what happens to Indigenous women in the sex alized assault or rape as their first sexual experi-
industry is problematic. And, we are recognizing ence. It’s very important that people understand
that, you know, not only are Indigenous women that rape is not a sexual experience. Children
and girls vulnerable to things like sexual cannot consent; therefore, child prostitution,
exploitation and sex trafficking, but that, you child pornography, child sex work, cannot exist
know, people who are wanting to be involved in ever, because of consent laws. So our consent
the sex industry are experiencing violence. law actually contradicts our Criminal Code
language.H
And, at the end of the day, we’re all fighting to
try to save the lives of Indigenous women and Nonetheless, as witnesses made clear when describ-
girls, and we’re just, kind of – we’re divided ing their participation in the sex industry as children
amongst the different positions and really under- or teenagers, street-level or survival sex work was one
standing if prostitution is the source of the vio- of very few options available to them, all of which
lence itself, and so that in and of itself is the were likely to involve some form of exploitation and
violence, or that the violence is created because erasure of agency.I Witnesses emphasized that any
of social perceptions, or regulation, or criminal- serious attempt to combat sexual exploitation and
ization surrounding the sex trade. But, at the end trafficking among Indigenous girls and youth must
of the day, I mean, I think no matter what, we all be met with an equally serious commitment to
want the same thing. We want an end to this ensuring that adequate financial, health, and social
violence and we want our girls and our women supports exist to make other options viable.
to be safe no matter what.F
Testimony that focused more specifically on children

The Statistical Realities of
and youth in the sex industry emphasized the impor- Human Trafficking in Canada
tance of distinguishing between sexual exploitation
and trafficking and adult sex work. Diane Redsky, for Within the context of the hearings, Assistant Commis-
instance, argued that it is especially important to ac- sioner Joanne Crampton of the RCMP explained that
knowledge the inherently violent and exploitative one of the biggest challenges that police face in ad-
nature of the sex industry when minors are involved. dressing human trafficking is a lack of reliable data
about these networks in Canada: “It’s difficult to
When sexual exploitation and trafficking in- speak about something that we know is an issue
volves a child under the age of 18, they should when we don’t have the data to support it.”J
never ever be called teen hookers or child pros-
657
“Human trafficking,” or trafficking in persons, is a humiliation and intimidation, or drugs and other
criminal offence under the Criminal Code and under “anchors,” to prevent victims from reporting. In some
the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act. Human cases, victims of trafficking may not identify as vic-
trafficking is considered a violation of individual tims. According to Crampton, “A lot of women who
human rights.K It involves “recruiting, transporting, are in an exploitative situation do not recognize that
transferring, receiving, holding, concealing or har- they’re in an exploitative situation. So that’s where
bouring a person, or exercising control, direction or the education needs to take place.”O
influence over the movements of a person, for the
purpose of exploiting them or facilitating their In addition, to be effective, the legislation depends on
exploitation,” and can take many forms like sexual the justice system to use it.P As Crampton admitted:
exploitation and forced labour.L
Currently, even though the legislation has been
While the realities of trafficking are hard to measure, in place since 2005, it’s very underutilized, and
Statistics Canada, through the Uniform Crime Report- not only police but also prosecutors are not al-
ing Survey, collects information on incidents of ways comfortable with the legislation. When you
human trafficking violations when they are reported don’t use legislation on a regular basis, it can be
to police forces in Canada. As researcher Dyna challenging. So, that is a definite gap and that we
Ibrahim points out, in 2016, “There was nearly one have a lack of knowledge in both law enforce-
(0.94) police-reported incident of human trafficking ment, and prosecutor, and judiciary.Q
for every 100,000 population—the highest rate
recorded since comparable data became available This also leads to a lack of enforcement of the law
in 2009.”M itself.
The victims of human trafficking are most often Crampton also explained how jurisdictional con-
young women. Between 2009 and 2015, 865 victims straints and difficulties with coordination can make
of human trafficking appeared in the statistics, and investigations into human trafficking challenging,
over 95% of these were women. The majority of those since they are “continually moving and now crossing
women (nearly three-quarters) were under the age into other police jurisdictions.”R The Human Traffick-
of 25; of these, 26% were under the age of 18.N ing Coordination Centre attempts to coordinate the
movement of the files, but, Crampton admits, the
Regionally, there were significant disparities in traf- system is challenging.
ficking statistics for data collected between 2009 and
2016 from those cases that were reported to police. At the same time, and as we heard from some sex
Nearly 66% of cases came from Ontario, while workers and sex workers’ advocates, the more recent
Québec had a rate of over 10%. Alberta, at 8.2%, also focus on the issue of trafficking has the tendency to
represented a significant number of cases. These sta- conflate adult sex work with sex trafficking and to po-
tistics include Criminal Code offences under the cat- sition all people who choose to engage in sex work
egory of human trafficking in the Uniform Crime as victims of sex trafficking. While not denying the se-
Reporting Survey, including: trafficking in persons riousness of the issue of sexual exploitation and traf-
(CCCs. 279.01); trafficking in persons under 18 (CCCs. ficking, those taking this position argue that failing
279.011); material benefit (CCCs. 279.02); material to recognize the lived experiences and perspectives
benefit from trafficking of persons under 18 years of of those who choose to practise sex work compro-
age (CCCs. 279.02[2]); withholding or destroying doc- mises their ability to engage in sex work in a safe and
uments (CCCs. 279.03); and withholding or destroy- rights-based way. Sarah Hunt described how a shift
ing documents to facilitate trafficking of persons in public discourse and policy to position all sex
under 18 years of age (CCCs. 279.03[2]). workers as victims of sex trafficking has “supressed
discussion about the rights of sex workers, resulted
Due to the stigma of trafficking, victims may not want in decreased funding for sex worker organizations,
to report for many different reasons, including being and shut out the voices of people who sell or trade
in physically, economically, and otherwise vulnerable sex who do not equate their experience with pure
positions, or being threatened by traffickers who use victimization.”S
658
Lanna Moon Perrin offered the following example of rated, 60% mother or stepmother was treated vi-
how the practice of conflating all sex work with traf- olently, 80% lived in households with substance
ficking can create more danger for women like her- abuse, 87% had a household member who expe-
self and others who choose to be engaged in sex rienced mental illness, and 40% had a parent
work and want to practise their trade safely. who was incarcerated.
So, this whole trafficking scare, you know, has re- So when we look at those numbers we recognize
ally made it hard for women, particularly Indige- that there’s some connection between those
nous women, in the sex industry to do our work kinds of experiences and the experiences that
safely, because now we have to hide from police, they may be facing in their lives when they come
we have to go places that are more isolated. To through our doors.U
advertise our services is even more tricky. You
know, we’re being pushed, and pushed, and Diane Redsky also spoke about the relationship be-
pushed further into isolation and further into tween early childhood violence resulting in trauma
dark places to hide our work. and sexual exploitation and trafficking.
And, when we’re being pushed into isolation, it It [sexual exploitation and sex trafficking] often
makes ample opportunity for those situations begins very young with some form of childhood
where we can become victims. We’re not victims. trauma. Whatever trauma that is, whether it’s
But, when we get pushed, and pushed, and sexual, whether it’s physical, emotional, any kind
pushed and hidden, that creates an opportunity of trauma, something happened to her when she
for us to be victimized. We’re not victims. We get was little that created a vulnerability that traffick-
victimized when we get pushed into the dark- ers can sniff out, and they’re really good at sniff-
ness.T ing [out] and identifying a vulnerable girl.V
A $13 Bus Ticket: Entry As Mealia Sheutiapik, a former sex worker in Ottawa,
explained, “I was a witness to a murder before. So,
into Human Trafficking after witnessing all that murder, there was no help
that time. There were no social workers that would
The faces that emerge from these statistics, however, come up. The RCMP were just there investigating, but
are important, in terms of understanding how those not asking questions. I didn’t know how to talk it out
who testified became involved in the first place. The because I was just a kid.”W
National Inquiry heard testimony about the factors
that cause people to become involved in the sex Speaking about her sister Tina, Diane L. explained
trade. Mary Fearon is the director of the Blue Door, a how Tina’s foster father normalized the exchange of
program that connects women working in the sex in- “sex” for money and safety by sexually abusing and
dustry or who would like to exit the sex industry with threatening Tina as a young girl.
services and other supports. Mary explained that
many of the girls and women in the sex industry who When she [Tina] had turned 11 or 12 her
use the Blue Door’s services have experiences of adopted father sent her adopted siblings away
childhood abuse, violence, and trauma, and that this and the mother was working, and she would
may impact their vulnerability to exploitation and work night shift, and he would send her sisters
trafficking. She spoke about a study the Blue Door and brothers away … and then he molested her,
conducted among their service users. he raped her. And then it started then, and so
this went on for awhile, and he would threaten
So, from the study that we did – well, first of all, her, and he would give her money and buy her
100% of the participants identified as having stuff. And she would – every time her mother
some adverse experiences in their early child- would go he would – she would lock the door,
hood years. So 73% identified emotional abuse, and he would put money – he would unlock the
40% physical abuse, 47[%] sexual abuse, 80% door, molest her, and then he would give her
neglect, 93[%] parents were divorced or sepa- money to keep her quiet, and he’d tell her if you
659
ever told anyone I would kill you, I’m gonna kill it. And, one of the things was this Italian man was
you and I’m gonna tell your sisters and brothers giving me … all of that attention that I wanted, I
that you ran away and we don’t know what hap- guess, or I was seeking at that time. And, he’s like,
pened to you, you vanished.X “Come here,” and he lured me to a place where
exploitation is very rampant in this city, and he
Stories such as Tina’s, which demonstrate a connec- got into his car and picked me up and, you know,
tion between a young Indigenous girl’s involvement I serviced this perpetrator for a number … of
in the child welfare system and sexual exploitation, hours, and only to not understand, again, what
sex trafficking, and survival/street-level sex work, sex was. I didn’t even know what a condom was,
were echoed by other witnesses. I didn’t know anything of anything in that matter,
you know, up until being, you know, sexually
In describing her experience, Grandmother Bernie abused as a child. And, one of the things was he
talked about how, at age 11 or 12, she and six other took me – there was a Coffee Time on Princess
girls were trafficked while in foster care. and … Notre Dame, which is just one block from
here, one block radius, and he gave me $5, and
At the age of 11 or 12 years old, six of us girls he’s like, “Go get us two coffees,” and I’m like, “Oh,
were sold into the sex industry work – we didn’t okay.” And, this is how naïve I was as an Indige-
know – at the Empress Hotel in Prince Rupert. As nous kid in care coming to the city. …
many of you know that I … don’t wear shorts
very often because of my legs. I’ve got cigarette So, those – those behaviours started being nor-
burns all through my legs right up to my back. malized instantly to me. So, one of the things at
Around – like, my buttock area is very – scarred that time, I was like, “Oh, well, he gave me $5,
really bad. This is what we … endured. We were maybe I should go do that again.” So I went back
just kids.Y to that same location where he lured me and got
into his vehicle, and this behaviour was normal-
In her testimony, Alaya M. described how, as a 12- ized. And, one of the first things at 12 years old
year-old in care, her social worker presented her with was my first hit of crack cocaine. No kid should
the option of staying in her community or going to be smoking crack cocaine at 12 years old. And,
Winnipeg: that would just escalate into a general spiral ef-
fect of addictions, exploitation. One of the things
Well, as an Indigenous kid in a northern reserve, – I needed to numb that pain, and one of the
what would you choose? I chose the city. And, things with exploitation when you’re victimized
within a 24-hour period, I was purchased a Grey- in exploitation, you really need to numb the
hound bus ticket. And, with that Greyhound bus pain.AA
ticket, one of the things was the DOCFS [Depart-
ment of Child and Family Services], that was What happened to these girls occurred in the context
probably the best $13 or $14 they ever spent to of grooming and intimidation. “Grooming” is a
get a kid out of their care not understanding that process whereby predators target and prepare chil-
– the effects and the trauma that would be be- dren and young people for sexual abuse and sexual
stowed upon that $13, $14 bus ticket.Z exploitation. Within the Truth-Gathering Process, the
National Inquiry heard from many witnesses about
Alaya went on to describe how arriving in Winnipeg how pimps stay outside group homes, youth deten-
alone as a 12-year-old Indigenous girl made her an tion centres, and bus depots to specifically recruit In-
easy target for sexual predators. digenous girls and 2SLGBTQQIA youth. In this
context, they are preyed upon because they are vul-
So, she [the social worker] put me on that Grey- nerable to persuasion and grooming, and can be per-
hound bus with no one receiving me on the ceived as easy targets – especially when they are
other end. So … I got off that bus, and there was coming from the situation of child welfare. As was ex-
an Italian man standing there and he – and one pressed, in many different ways, the perception of im-
of the things with Indigenous kids and Indige- punity on the part of pimps – the idea that no one
nous people, we lack that attention, so we seek will come looking for them – also creates conditions
for violence.
660
The National Inquiry heard several stories from north- She continued, “One [factor] is that we recognize that
ern or more remote communities, as well, where the 95% identify as living in poverty when they come into
absence of services and poor services chronicled our program, so poverty is clearly a big indicator; that
elsewhere in this report forced people to head south, 79% have had some kind of addiction, or currently
where they were subsequently trafficked. Traffickers are dealing with addictions, or recovered from
were cited as targeting group homes, medical travel addictions.”FF
homes, bus stations, and buses coming from remote
communities, as Alaya’s story also revealed. In this Many survivors who shared their experience of
way, the lack of infrastructure and services in north- poverty, homelessness, and violence talked about ex-
ern and remote communities feeds the sex industry changing sex in order to meet their basic needs for
and further exploitation. As the National Inquiry food, housing, clothing, transportation, or other basic
heard, those who exploit women, girls, and items – a practice often referred to as “survival
2SLGBTQQIA people are well aware of how to target sex work.”
these people; they go so far as to station themselves
outside of group homes or places where they know As Monique F. H. explained: “I slept, you know, with
these potential victims might be, in order to bring people for a place to live, for a place to stay, for food.
them into human trafficking rings. In addition, stud- But that is what survival does, that’s survival for you,
ies have pointed to key recruitment areas including right? You – you do what you need to do in order to
airports, and in particular the Montreal.BB Other key continue to live and to continue to survive.”GG
recruitment zones include schools, the boyfriend
method (where a trafficker approaches a woman as Doris G. talked about how she turned to sex work in
a suitor, rather than as a trafficker),CC other girls or order to pay for housing for herself and her child.
women, hitchhiking, and virtually any place that is
away from home where victims can be isolated.DD I needed help with [the] damage deposit, and no
one would help me. It was hard being a single
For many young Indigenous girls who are forced to, Native mother on welfare with an infant, so I
or choose to, leave abusive families or foster homes went and found my friend, and she introduced
or want to seek out a better life for themselves, early me to her friends, otherwise known as johns,
experiences of sexual exploitation and trafficking who would help me with cash. I could raise
continue into adulthood, during which engaging in money for housing or for me and my child, for
survival or street-level sex work becomes a way of food. I remember stopping before I started to
making ends meet. Mary Fearon explained how pray to Creator to keep me safe: I’ve got to make
poverty and addiction are factors that make it neces- it home to my son.HH
sary for Indigenous women to exchange or trade sex
to meet their basic needs. In her testimony, Lanna Moon Perrin offered a slightly
different perspective and explained that for some In-
One of the things that we see with a lot of our digenous, trans, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, sex work
participants, particularly our younger partici- offers an empowering and financially rewarding way
pants, is survival sex. And, that idea that if they to support oneself and one’s family.
need to get a place to stay, if they’re homeless,
then they will often trade sex as a means to get You know, I started with street-level sex work at
some other need met, whether it be housing or 16 so that I could buy things for myself, a winter
food. Food security is a big issue. So, yes, there jacket, winter boots, decent food to eat. In my
was – it was out of the need, that people are liv- life, when I was young, I did experience violence
ing in poverty in our province and across our on a lot of different levels, but I don’t want to, in
country was certainly a big driving factor.EE any way, frame it that it was my choice of getting
into sex work that led me to be victimized.II
661
She also said:
“You’re seen as the lowest
And you know, we’ve got to eliminate prostitu- of the low”: Confronting
tion, that’s what everybody says. Prostitution,
prostitution. You know, prostitution paid for my the Sex Industry and
son here to go on his grade 7 field trip, otherwise
I couldn’t send him. Prostitution paid for my Institutionalized Violence
daughter’s tap-dancing shoes. That’s what that
did for my family, you know?JJ Researchers, advocates, survivors, and the family
members of those missing or murdered have for
Doris G., too, spoke about how the money available many years drawn attention to a long and ongoing
through sex work offered her opportunities that history of discrimination, racism, sexism, and trans-
would not otherwise be possible if she were working phobia that shapes the encounters of the Canadian
in a minimum-wage job or on social assistance. justice system and, in particular, the police with
When I was younger, I didn’t want to get into involved in the sex industry.
prostitution. I hustled the pool tables. I took in
bottles. You know, I’d search the garbage can for According to Statistics Canada, between 1991 and
bottles. You know, I did things where I wouldn’t 2014, there were 294 homicides of sex workers. Of
have to go be a prostitute, so – but later on in life, these, 34% remained unsolved, and represented a far
by the time I was 20-something, I finally had to greater percentage than for homicides that didn’t
give in to it and say, you know, it’s the fastest way. involve a sex worker as a victim (20%).OO
Like, you know … I understand going to work
from 9:00 to 5:00, but what people make that In 2014, Bill C-36, the Protection of Communities and
month, I can make in, like, one day. You know, Exploited Persons Act (PCEPA), which came into force
you make a thousand dollars a day? I can make on December 6, 2014, responded to the Supreme
that in a day. That money was faster. You know, Court of Canada’s 2013 Attorney General of Canada v.
when it’s not ugly, the money was good.KK Bedford decision, which found three pre-PCEPA pros-
titution offences unconstitutional, including the
For Lanna Moon Perrin and other sex workers’ rights bawdy house offences as they apply to places kept
advocates, recognizing the variety of contexts and for the purposes of prostitution, living on the avails
reasons that might shape a woman’s involvement in of prostitution, and communicating in public places
sex work is an important part of acknowledging for the purposes of purchasing or selling sexual serv-
agency and ensuring safety.LL As Diane Redsky ob- ices. The PCEPA treats prostitution as exploitative of
served, “Every woman has their own story and expe- primarily women and girls. It looks to reduce prosti-
rience of what happened to her.”MM tution by penalizing those who purchase sex and
who benefit from the prostitution of others.PP This ap-
In an article exploring different ways of understand- proach, however, has not necessarily resulted in
ing Indigenous women’s involvement in the sex greater safety for those who work in the sex trade:
trade, scholar Shawna Ferris offers a starting point for “Between 2008/2009 and 2013/2014, under one third
navigating the complexities of these relationships (30%) of prostitution cases processed in criminal
when she asks, “How might we make room for courts resulted in a guilty verdict; this was much
women’s agency, even in the survival sex trade, and lower than the proportion [of guilty verdicts] for crim-
take into account the ways our colonial history and inal court cases in general (64%).”QQ
its ongoing legacy of racist misogyny limit the per-
sonal and professional choices of Indigenous women These statistics speak to some of the testimony we
in the survival sex trade?”NN heard. In her testimony as an Expert Witness, Robyn
Bourgeois talked about the link between racist and
sexist stereotypes about Indigenous women and the
662
indifference that so often characterizes the societal a prostitute, but I lived a double life.… And I re-
and institutional response to the violence inflicted member I was with an Edmonton Sun reporter,
upon Indigenous women – especially those working and I’m like, “If I were to get killed tomorrow,
within the sex industry. what do you think would be said about me?”
“Local Advocate of Missing and Murdered
The one piece that has always been there is the Women, Murdered.” I said, “Now, what if they
hypersexualization of Indigenous women and found out – what if they knew I was a hooker,
girls, and the perception that we are inherently and a prostitute? Would that change it?” He said,
sexually available. And, that – if we are inherently “Yeah, it would.”UU
available, sexually, then the violence that hap-
pens to our bodies doesn’t count.… It’s the in- Seeking justice within systems that actively work to
herent belief within the settler colonial system, position Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
which is the foundation of our current Canadian people as “the lowest of the low,” as many of the wit-
nation state, that Indigenous women and girls nesses explained, is often not only futile but also dan-
are inferior, they’re deviant, they’re dysfunc- gerous work.
tional, and they need to be eliminated from this
nation state, and that’s what makes it okay to As much previous research and many of the testi-
abuse and violate Indigenous women and girls.RR monies demonstrated, encounters between Indige-
nous women and girls involved in the sex industry
These assumptions have important implications for and the justice system often involve experiences of
police investigations, as Bourgeois noted. additional violence at the hands of those with a re-
sponsibility to uphold justice.
Why didn’t police investigate? Why did it take,
you know, almost 20 years before they took this Lanna Moon Perrin spoke frankly about the fear and
seriously? It was because of this belief that these mistrust that stop Indigenous women who experi-
women were entrenched in the sex industry and ence violence in the context of the sex industry from
for that reason, you know, they weren’t likely talking to the police.
victims. And so it allows for general inaction on
violence against Indigenous women and girls, If I were to negotiate something like one act for
and that’s a huge concern for me.SS money, you know, something for something, and
I didn’t get my money, you know? So, I would like
These beliefs also translate into the courts. to be able to go to the police and, you know, I
Bourgeois noted: would like to say, you know, “I was robbed.” You
know, “I was assaulted.” You know, these different
Again, and again, and again, and again and again things and be taken seriously.
our Canadian courts, they really – they rely heav-
ily on the hypersexualization of Indigenous Sex workers who were – who would say some-
women and girls to not only erase the violence, thing like that now would – I don’t even think – I
because they will erase it by saying, “Oh, you can’t even think of someone who would even go
know what? She consented to this,” or “She, you to the cops, honestly, if they were hurt like that.
know, was engaged in prostitution,” or, you Like, I sure the heck wouldn’t. And so, I guess to
know, “She, you know, was drunk and promiscu- be able to see police that might take us seriously,
ous,” or any of those things.TT that we’re allowed that protection too.VV
When they appear in public media sources, too, While all Indigenous women face risks in reaching
sex workers are further marginalized. As Danielle B. out to police as a result of experiencing violence –
expressed: risks that include being treated with a presumption
of criminality and being implicated, arrested, and
You know, in the newspaper, it’s like “Crack-Head charged for violence themselvesWW – Indigenous
Dead,” “Hooker Dead,” “Prostitute Dead,” but that women involved in sex work also face risks related to
was my life. Because I was a crackhead, and I was complex legislation that criminalizes certain aspects
663
of the sex industry and not others. Despite the inten- will only as a last resort charge them with a pros-
tion behind Bill C-36 – the legislation adopted with titution-related offence. But the reality is that
the intention of moving away from criminalizing sex with Bill C-36 … which the new law was created,
workers, and instead criminalizing those who pur- that the women and girls are supposed to be left
chase sex – sex workers’ advocates and Indigenous alone, and that they’re supposed to go after the
sex workers who shared their truths indicated that male customers. But it’s completely opposite.
not only does this legislation continue to put adult They still, of course, target the most vulnerable,
sex workers at risk for criminalization, but it also sig- the women and girls; and Aboriginal women and
nificantly increases danger and the likelihood of vio- girls in the sex trade.AAA
lence by pushing pimps and traffickers even further
underground, and providing johns an incentive to
not leave any evidence.XX In addition, and as Jamie L.
“She could be any place”:
H. explained, the limitations placed on the location Searching for Justice
of where sex workers can meet potential clients often
forces sex workers into more dangerous locations be- For the families, friends, and loved ones who shared
fore being able to assess the safety of a particular truths about women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
situation or client. who were involved in the sex industry at the time of
their disappearance or death, encounters with the
And then the police say that you’re not allowed police and justice system often also meant being
to be near a community centre, a park, a school, confronted with sexist, racist, and discriminatory
a playground; but of course in Vancouver pretty attitudes in their quest for justice.
well anywhere you go, you’re going to be near
one of these spots. But not only that, these areas In describing her experience with the justice system
provide safety. They’re well lit; the women and following the disappearance and murder of her sis-
men and girls in the sex trade, you know, go ter-in-law, this family member offered her perspec-
there, because, for safety reasons. Because the tive of how a systemic bias against Indigenous
area that they’re being pushed to is very dark, women sex workers compromises any realization
deserted and without much – danger lurks, it’s of justice.
where Pickton preyed. And they’ve always prom-
ised better lighting but that’s never come about. There was no justice for my sister-in-law. He [the
And it’s still pretty awful.YY perpetrator] didn’t even – he wasn’t even
charged. She was the fourth one to die in this
Efforts to improve the relationship between police man’s company. And they were all First Nation
and those involved in the sex industry by establishing women except one, and that’s how he was
coalitions and partnerships that include those with charged was the last one wasn’t from the street,
lived experience were discussed by some witnesses. she wasn’t a streetwalker. We prejudge why
For example, committees such as the Sexually these women end up where they do. There is
Exploited Youth Coalition in Winnipeg is one example many stories like Mary’s. She had a loving family.
of a coalition in which the police are involved as part- But because of her being raised away from her
ners alongside community-based and Indigenous- family in residential schools, she didn’t have the
led organizations that centre the voices of those with tools of the streets.BBB
lived experience.ZZ Again, however, these initiatives
tend to focus on the issues of sexual exploitation of While there are many Indigenous women, trans, and
children and youth and trafficking; few are focused 2SLGBTQQIA sex workers whose disappearance or
on strengthening relationships between the police death has been met with indifference by the justice
and street-level adult sex workers. Jamie commented: system, so, too, are there many of their family
members who, in looking for information about
Yes, you know, I think the police have become them, are met with the same indifference, racism,
very good at public relations. And have em- and sexism directed toward Indigenous women,
barked on a campaign that they present that girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people involved in the sex
they’re really helping sex workers, and that they industry.
664
For Indigenous women, as the testimonies showed, threats to human security and to their basic
human rights occur on a daily basis. For them, human security means the ability to live in the
world without being under a constant threat of violence or harm; the ability to say goodbye to
children going out with their friends, and not wonder if they will ever return; and, among other
issues, the ability to start a family, to raise children, without worrying about their being targeted
by racism and discrimination, or being apprehended unfairly. Witnesses discussed security in a
physical sense, as the right to life, liberty, and personal safety, including control over one’s own
physical and mental health. They also identified the need for protection and social assistance
through essential services in areas of health, housing, access to water, food, and education, and,
most notably, the overall reduction of poverty, as it impacts levels of violence. In this context,
safety and security are guaranteed through the pursuit and maintenance of relationships that are
respectful, equal, and safe. Security is more than a physical condition; it is also a deeply felt ex-
perience of belonging, purpose, trust, connection, and harmony with the broader human, natural,
and spiritual world.
Looking to what families and survivors told us about violence and the lack of safety in their daily
lives challenges attitudes and beliefs that often blame Indigenous women themselves for the lack
of safety in their lives, because it becomes clear that the source of that lack of safety is in the
colonial structures within which Indigenous women live, rather than in the women themselves.12
This way of thinking about security also makes clear that restoring security – as we will discuss
in the upcoming chapter – requires much more than band-aid solutions, and requires creating
substantive and systemic change in areas this report has identified and that are at the root of vio-
lence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. As we heard from the voices
of families and survivors, restoring security requires collective, Indigenous-led solutions that
start by addressing the root causes of violence that so pervasively deny this basic human right.
Pathway to Violence: Intergenerational Trauma and

Interpersonal Violence
As Cee-Jai’s story demonstrates, the security of Indigenous women and girls is threatened in
ways that include, but go far beyond, a single act of physical violence. Addressing the violence
that has caused the disappearance or death of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people must consider how these specific acts of violence are the outcome of the long-term,
multi-faceted denial of measures that foster and protect the security of Indigenous women
throughout their lives.
Drawing on her many years of experience working with Indigenous women and their families
whose lives have been impacted by violence, Expert Witness Josie Nepinak, executive director
of Awo Taan Healing Lodge Society, an Indigenous women’s emergency shelter in Alberta,
508
provided an important reminder that any discussion about interpersonal violence that removes or
compromises Indigenous women’s safety must be grounded in an understanding of other forms
of colonial violence.
Violence for Indigenous women is a result of colonization, and the whole experience
around colonization and the dispossession of our sacred ways, the dispossession of our
grandmothers and the dispossession of our – of our Elders. And it is manifested through
oppressive policies such as the Indian Act for First Nations women, and it is manifested
through the residential school by killing the Indian in the child and killing the spirit of
the child. And it is manifested in those abuses that we have suffered through, whether it’s
being placed in a dark room or being told that we’re savages or being told that we cannot
speak our language.13
As Josie Nepinak makes clear, meaningful conversation and change aimed at ending interper-
sonal violence and restoring security to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
must acknowledge the much broader historical context of colonial violence that actively targets
Indigenous women and normalizes violence of all forms committed against them. This begins
with recognizing the “dispossession of our sacred ways” as an initial act of violence that contin-
ues to play out in the lives of Indigenous communities, families, and relationships marked by
intergenerational trauma.
Like many of those who shared their truth, Marlene J., who shared the story of the disappearance
of her sister Doreen, described how violence has been an almost constant presence in her and her
sisters’ lives. Marlene began her story by recalling a moment from her childhood when she and
her sisters hid under the stairs to avoid violence.
I remember us being at home. There’s [my sister], and myself, Doreen and our mom. It
was quiet and all of a sudden we hear these loud banging. We had no idea what it was.
And our mom got scared and told us to hide. So us being so small we could hide in the
smallest areas where adults don’t get into. The loud noises scared me so bad that I could
remember that night how dark it was in the place ’cause we had those – what do you call
those lamps that … yeah, kerosene. They burn the plastic, or the bag…. I can still
remember how dark it was in the place. And I was hiding under the stairs. And then all
of a sudden the door swung open and I can hear screaming, yelling, banging, and then I
can hear the voices leaving our place going down the road.14
Marlene’s description of this act of violence and intimidation as the “first” traumatic event15 in
her life aptly sets up what she went on to describe as many more acts of violence committed
against her and her sisters by family members, family friends, foster parents, and, later on in her
life by boyfriends, acquaintances, and strangers. Her description of the threats of sexual violence
509
made by family friends demonstrate how she and her sisters – like so many Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people living with those who commit violence – would devise ways
of creating safety even while it was being taken away from them by those who are supposed to
protect them.
Well, our dad would be partying or away one o’clock, two o’clock in the morning.
We’d have men come down and they want to have sex. They tried with me and Doreen
wouldn’t allow it. She said, “I’m older, you can try with me.” She was too young, too,
and they said, “Is there anybody else here that I can do this with,” they asked. I don’t
even know who these guys were.… I don’t know. I know I was trying to fight them off.
Like I’m small, I tried to hit them, bite them, whatever I could to get them off, and they
just shoved me across the room. They’d give up because they can’t get anywhere, too
small.16
Like Marlene and her sisters, many of the witnesses who spoke about their own life or the lives
of their missing or murdered loved ones remarked on the repeated acts of physical, sexual, and
emotional violence that denied them any sense of safety from childhood onward. Survivors, such
as Cee-Jai, also described those encounters in which they first realized as young Indigenous girls
that violence was to be an expected part of their lives.
I was playing in the playground and I remember this little boy, same age as me, he
wanted me to sit on his lap and go down the slide. And I didn’t want to. I wanted to go
on the slide by myself. He ended up beating me up. I was in kindergarten. And I got a
big, black eye. And I remember crying and running home, running home to try to get the
– my parents – my mom, or somebody to protect me. And all they said was – all the
adults around me said that, “Look how cute. Her boyfriend beat her up.” And they all
laughed, and thought it was funny, or cute. And maybe that was the first time I really
believed that it was okay for someone to beat me up, and hurt me. So today, I know
that’s – was wrong. I would never have my nieces, I would never do that to my nieces
today. It was instilled in my – my mind, and in my memory, my belief system, that this
was okay to – to be hurt. Another way of not giving me my voice. And learning that …
the people that I think are going to protect me, are not going to do that.17
In addition to her learning that “it was okay for someone to beat me up and hurt me,” her parents’
reaction communicated another harsh truth about the way others respond to violence against In-
digenous girls: rather than responding in ways that repair relationship, their response normalizes
relationships that lack safety and, in doing so, does further harm. This lesson that “the people
that I think are going to protect me are not going to do that” was one that would be confirmed
over and over again throughout Cee-Jai’s life, not only by her parents but also by professionals,
such as child welfare workers and the police.
510
For example, Cee-Jai described how, when she was a little bit older, her mother’s boyfriend
deliberately targeted and manipulated Cee-Jai in order to sexually abuse and exploit her and her
four cousins.
When we went to Vancouver, my mom befriended a white, Frenchman. He took us in,
and he would buy us anything that we wanted. Cookies, ice cream, he fed us, and he
housed us. I was a little girl. I started to trust this person, thinking he’s going to protect
me, we’re safe. This man – I lost my voice, and bad things started to happen to us. I
remember being so scared, and making us watch those movies – it was adult movies.18
Again, however, when one of her cousins spoke out about the sexual abuse, nothing was done.
Cee-Jai remembered:
I think one of my cousins did tell on that Frenchman. But they didn’t come and talk to us
about what he did to us. No one came and told. We all knew it was happening, but we’re
silence. But my one cousin, she finally said something. But they never came to talk to
us. Being a little girl, I was shamed – ashamed of myself. I don’t know what ever
happened to that court case with that – no idea.19
Later on, when Cee-Jai’s first boyfriend repeatedly physically abused her, she was again left on
her own, despite being in the care of child and family services: “I don’t know if the foster homes,
or the group homes, or my social workers, I don’t remember them trying to help me.” Having
learned early on, through repeated violent encounters that violated her safety, that each encounter
would be met with indifference by those to whom she reached out for help, Cee-Jai understand-
ably came to the the conclusion as a young teenage girl that she held no right to safety, and that
her physically violent boyfriend “really loved me, and I just kept going back.”20
In speaking about the repeated acts of physical and sexual violence she experienced throughout
her life, witness Michele G. also emphasized the lack of any response to the violent encounters in
her life that would have indicated that her right to security mattered.
So let me summarize where we’re at up to this point. They ripped me out of my mother’s
arms to put me into a system to protect me. But where was the protection? I had been
sexually abused in every single home they put me in up to that point. I did what I thought
was right. I reported the sexual abuse to my parents. Nothing happened. I reported sexual
abuse to my social worker. Nothing happened. I had been examined by Ministry of Health
doctors to put me on birth control. I had been picked up by the police a few times. Yet no
one, no one asked if I had ever been sexually abused. The first one to ask was the Mountie
who showed up at my door in Musqueam when I was 30 years old.21
511
In her testimony, Monique F. H. talked about the confusion created by living in a situation in
which violence became equated with love.
When I was … [a] young person, I started to experience sexual abuse and that was really
hard for me to understand why that was happening. And living that life … that story was
– was very difficult because I always believed that, you know, your family is supposed
to take care of you. There’s no doubt in my mind my – my abuser loved our family, but it
was just very confusing for me.
So I guess from a young age I started to realize and – and understand that I linked it – a
very unhealthy link – [that] linkage was that sexual abuse, or sexual, anything sexual
meant love.22
As their stories illustrate, the normalization and denial of violence against Indigenous girls,
women, and 2SLGBTQQIA people hold serious repercussions. According to Allan Wade:
The single best predictor of the level of a victim’s distress is the quality of the social
responses they receive from others. That’s a better predictor than is the severity of the
violence…. The term “social response” refers to how do your family, friends, colleagues,
people who know you, how do they respond when they learn about violence?
“SO LET ME SUMMARIZE WHERE WE’RE AT UP TO THIS POINT. THEY RIPPED ME OUT OF
MY MOTHER’S ARMS TO PUT ME INTO A SYSTEM TO PROTECT ME. BUT WHERE WAS
THE PROTECTION? I HAD BEEN SEXUALLY ABUSED IN EVERY SINGLE HOME THEY PUT ME
IN UP TO THAT POINT. I DID WHAT I THOUGHT WAS RIGHT. I REPORTED THE SEXUAL
ABUSE TO MY PARENTS. NOTHING HAPPENED. I REPORTED SEXUAL ABUSE TO MY
SOCIAL WORKER. NOTHING HAPPENED. I HAD BEEN EXAMINED BY MINISTRY DOCTORS
TO PUT ME ON BIRTH CONTROL. I HAD BEEN PICKED UP BY THE POLICE A FEW TIMES.
YET NO ONE, NO ONE ASKED IF I HAD EVER BEEN SEXUALLY ABUSED. THE FIRST ONE
TO ASK WAS THE MOUNTIE WHO SHOWED UP AT MY DOOR IN MUSQUEAM WHEN
I WAS 30 YEARS OLD.”
Michele G.
As Wade said – and as is evident in the experiences shared by Cee-Jai, Michele, and many
others – “Unfortunately, a vast majority of victims when you ask when you reported violence did
your life get better or worse, most will tell you their life got worse.”23
The normalization of violence within this context includes other serious repercussions in terms
of Indigenous women’s ability to protect themselves when it is necessary to do so. In her testi-
mony, Josie Nepinak shared:
It [colonial violence] is manifested in all of those areas [residential schools, Sixties Scoop,
child welfare], and our vulnerabilities are then pushed into these unsafe environments and
– and in these domains where we are at further risk to the extent where we don’t even
realize anymore that we’re in a violent situation or that we are at risk of violence.24
512
A Hunt, “Representing Colonial Violence.” AA Alaya M. (Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation), Part 1, Public
B Amnesty International, No More Stolen Sisters; Farley Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 13–15.
and Lynne, “Prostitution of Indigenous Women”; Hunt, BB Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking,” 60.
“Representing Colonial Violence.” CC See NWAC, “Boyfriend or Not.”
C Assistant Commissioner Joanne Crampton, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, DD Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking,” 60-61. See also Native
Public Volume 15, St. John’s, NL, p. 40. Women’s Association of Canada, “Trafficking of Indigenous
D Diane Redsky (Shoal Lake 40 First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Women,” 6-9.
Public Volume 18, St. John’s, NL, pp. 74–75. EE Mary Fearon, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 17, St. John’s,
E Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public NL, p. 115.
Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, p. 80. FF Mary Fearon, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 17, St. John’s,
F Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public NL, p. 123.
Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, pp. 26-27. GG Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17, Membertou,
G Diane Redsky (Shoal Lake 40 First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, NS, p. 92.
Public Volume 18, St. John’s, NL, p. 77. HH Doris G. (Cree, Driftpile First Nation), Part 1, Statement
H Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14, Volume 79, Edmonton, AB, p. 9.
Winnipeg, MB, p. 75. II Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
I Ferris, “Working from the Violent Centre,” 17. Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, p. 77.
J Assistant Commissioner Joanne Crampton, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, JJ Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Public Volume 15, St. John’s, NL, p. 75. Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, p. 82.
K United Nations, “Human Rights and Human Trafficking”; KK Doris G. (Cree, Driftpile First Nation), Part 1, Statement
Ontario Women’s Justice Network, “The Law and Human Volume 79, Edmonton, AB, p. 30.
Trafficking in Canada.” LL Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
L Ibrahim, “Trafficking in Persons in Canada, 2016,” 3. Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, p. 187; See also Ferris, “Working
M Ibid. from the Violent Centre.”
N Ibid., 5. MM Diane Redsky (Shoal Lake 40 First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
O Assistant Commissioner Joanne Crampton, Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
Public Volume 15, St. John’s, NL, p. 76. NN Ferris, “Working from the Violent Centre.”
P Ibrahim, “Trafficking in Persons in Canada, 2016.” OO Rotenberg, “Prostitution Offenses in Canada.”
Q Assistant Commissioner Joanne Crampton, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, PP Ibid.
Public Volume 15, St. John’s, NL, p. 81. QQ Ibid.
R Assistant Commissioner Joanne Crampton, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, RR Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Public Volume 15, St. John’s, NL, p. 83. Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, pp. 35–38.
S Hunt, “Representing Colonial Violence,” 35. SS Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
T Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, p. 52.
Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, pp. 86–87. TT Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
U Mary Fearon, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 17, St. John’s, Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, p. 48.
NL, pp. 128–129. UU Danielle B. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 91, Edmonton,
V Diane Redsky (Shoal Lake 40 First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, AB, pp. 11–12.
Public Volume 18, St. John’s, NL, pp. 79–80. VV Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 &3, Public
W Mealia Sheutiapik (Inuit, Frobisher Bay), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, pp. 205–206.
Public Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, p. 10. WW Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 90-91.
X Diane L. (Wolf Clan, Little Salmon Carmacks First Nation), XX For a detailed analysis of the impact of Bill C-36, see Belak
Part 1, Public Volume 2, Whitehorse, YT, p. 87. and Bennett, “Evaluating Canada’s Sex Work Laws.”
Y Bernie W. (Haida/Nuu-chah-nulth/Coast Salish), Part 1, Public YY Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78,
Volume 115, Vancouver, BC, p. 12. Vancouver, BC, p. 8.
Z Alaya M. (Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation), Part 1, Public ZZ Chief Danny Smyth, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 18,
Volume 13, Winnipeg, MB, p. 13. St. John’s, NL, pp. 13–14.
670
AAA Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78, LLL Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78,
Vancouver, BC, p. 9. Vancouver, BC, pp. 7–8.
BBB Frances N. (Carcross First Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 1, MMM Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17, Membertou,
Whitehorse, YT, p. 23. NS, p. 93.
CCC See also, for example, Frances N. (Carcross First Nation), NNN Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Part 1, Public Volume 1, Whitehorse, YT, p. 23; Diane L. Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, p. 260.
(Wolf Clan, Little Salmon Carmacks First Nation), Part 1, OOO Diane Redsky (Shoal Lake 40 First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
Public Volume 2, Whitehorse, YT, pp. 88–89. Public Volume 18, St. John’s, NL, p. 87.
DDD Diane L. (Wolf Clan, Little Salmon Carmacks First Nation), PPP These suggestions were gathered during an informal meeting
Part 1, Public Volume 2, Whitehorse, YT, p. 89. held at a drop-in centre on November 22, 2018, with repre-
EEE Diane L. (Wolf Clan, Little Salmon Carmacks First Nation), sentatives of the National Inquiry and Indigenous sex workers
Part 1, Public Volume 2, Whitehorse, YT, p. 90. currently working in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver.
FFF Diane L. (Wolf Clan, Little Salmon Carmacks First Nation), QQQ Madison D. (First Nations), Part 1, Statement Volume 257,
Part 1, Public Volume 2, Whitehorse, YT, p. 100. Moncton, NB, p. 15.
GGG Diane L. (Wolf Clan, Little Salmon Carmacks First Nation), RRR Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78,
Part 1, Public Volume 2, Whitehorse, YT, pp. 100–101. Vancouver, BC, p. 32.
HHH Brake, “Mohawk lawyer says Gladue case before Supreme SSS Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Court important for Indigenous women’s fight for justice.” Volume 17, St. John’s, NL, p. 77.
III Big Canoe, “Cindy Gladue suffered her last indignity.” TTT Mary Fearon, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 17, St. John’s,
JJJ Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78, NL, p. 124.
Vancouver, BC. pp. 7–8, 11; Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, UUU Jackie Anderson (Métis), Part 2, Public Volume 3, Calgary, AB,
Public Volume 17, Membertou, NS, p. 93. p. 100.
KKK Cee Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut’en, Carrier Nation), VVV Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78,
Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON, p. 23. Vancouver, BC, pp. 39–40.
671
Other Investigative Issues
Throughout the search for a missing person and/or the aftermath when that person is found de-
ceased, families, friends, and loved ones also engage in relationship with various representatives
of the police force and criminal justice systems, including first-responding officers, investigators,
coroners, and other support people, such as victim services workers. In speaking of their experi-
ence during an ongoing investigation, family members again described strained relationships with
those supposedly involved in the investigation of the disappearance or death of their loved one.
For example, in his testimony, Paul T. spoke about how his missing sister, Amber, was erro-
neously removed from the RCMP’s missing person’s list while she was still missing, and then
about how his mother spent a month getting her back on.73 Dolores S. and Laura A. described
serious flaws in the investigation of the murder of their loved one, Nadine, including the destruc-
tion of evidence and a 60-hour delay in the police response to the crime scene.74 And Lily S.
described what it was like to learn that her mother’s missing person police file, along with the
only photos Lily had of her mother, Viola, was accidentally destroyed by an Ontario Provincial
Police detachment – something Lily found out only after persistently asking to see the file.75
In addition to these very specific problems for which families have little recourse, family mem-
bers shared countless stories of their attempt to contact the investigative officer, the coroner, or
the police to seek out information, and of never receiving a call back in return, being told infor-
mation was unavailable, or even, in some cases, being threatened if they were to continue to seek
information. In her testimony as an institutional witness, senior policy analyst with the Policy
Centre for Victim Issues Naomi Giff-MacKinnon talked about some of these barriers.
So some of the barriers that families have identified in terms of accessing information
about their loved one are – are – there are many intersecting challenges. One is
uncertainty about what information might be available, given some of the historical
events that families have experienced. Families have talked about the uncertainty about
where to gather the information, which agency would hold the information they’re
seeking. Families are also seeking information from multiple agencies and departments
and navigating the access to information or any – any information request procedures
across those agencies could be very difficult. At the same time, many families live in a
jurisdiction that is different from where their loved one went missing or was murdered,
and that can create another layer of – a barrier for access to information for families
as well.76
Oftentimes, action on the investigation again is dependent on family members’ securing the
assistance of a well-connected or vocal advocate who is able to spur the police into action or
access information. For the many families who may not be able to secure this type of support, or
for whom becoming a vocal or adversarial advocate may not be safe, access to information about
the investigation – and even where the investigation stands – is uncommon.
672
As the National Inquiry heard from both family members and representatives of the criminal
justice system, victim services programs can often play an instrumental role in building relation-
ships that support Indigenous families in navigating the criminal justice system and the inves-
tigative process. These programs are supposed to provide the support and guidance necessary,
and to act as a liaison between family members and the criminal justice system. It was clear that
when these services are available, and families are connected with skilled workers, these can be
effective means of easing the investigative process and ensuring a better relationship.
In her testimony, Carol W. spoke about her initial encounter with a victim services worker who
went on to become an ally and advocate for Carol over the course of the next five years as she
searched for her daughter, Karina.
I did not know or trust [the victim services worker], but she just kept showing up,
sometimes three times a week, to give me updates and just to see how I was doing.
Communication was slow as most of the time there was no interpreter, but – when we
would sit and talk or when I would receive an update from the police. Like I said, I did
not trust her, but she just kept showing up. Slowly I began to trust her and realized she
was there to help me.77
At the same time, the varying degrees of availability, training, access, and resources available to
victim services programs, as well as of the frequency with which proper referrals are made by
the RCMP or responding police force to victim services, mean that access to this type of support
is inconsistent.78
More recently, in response to this need for improved access to information for families of
missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls, funding was provided in 2016 to establish
Family Information and Liaison Units (FILUs) in each province and territory in Canada.
Naomi Giff-MacKinnon said about the importance of families’ having access to accurate infor-
mation about their missing and murdered loved one:
Victims and survivors across Canada have talked very openly and frequently about the
importance of having information about … the person who harmed them, as a victim or
survivor, as well as about – general information about how systems work, as well as how
decisions are made within that system. So for families, having accurate up-to-date
information about their loved one and … about all of the information that they’re
seeking about that experience can be a part of their healing journey moving forward.79
According to Giff-MacKinnon, the FILUs “were established in response to the many systemic
and institutional barriers that the families had described in seeking information about their miss-
ing or murdered loved one.”80 This mechanism aims to provide a more accessible and supportive
approach to providing information about the circumstances and investigations of missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Overall, though, the greatest
barrier that Giff-McKinnon reports families talking about is the level of mistrust that exists with
agencies who have the information they want.81
673
DEEPER DIVE
The Need to Reform Law Enforcement to

Increase Safety
In sharing their truths, families, friends, and other
supporters of missing and murdered Indigenous
Acknowledging Previous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people spoke at Harms
length about their encounters with the justice system
and, particularly, with the police. During its Expert, During the National Inquiry’s Institutional and Expert
Knowledge Keeper, and Institutional Hearings, the and Knowledge Keeper Hearings, a number of polic-
National Inquiry also heard extensive testimony pre- ing representatives offered apologies and acknowl-
sented by members of the Royal Canadian Mounted edgement of past wrongdoings in police treatment
Police (RCMP), various provincial and municipal po- and relationships with Indigenous Peoples. The com-
lice forces, and First Nations police forces. Policing missioner of the RCMP, Brenda Lucki, began her
representatives presented evidence related to a vari- testimony by issuing an apology on behalf of the
ety of topics, including Indigenous–police relation- RCMP for its failures in providing adequate policing
ships; policies and procedures for investigations of to Indigenous Peoples and, in these failures, con-
missing persons and other major crimes; recent ini- tributing to violence against Indigenous women and
tiatives to address concerns related to investigations girls.
involving missing and murdered Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people; and challenges and On behalf of myself and my organization, I am
barriers to policing, especially in northern and re- truly sorry for the loss of your loved ones and the
mote communities. pain this has caused you, your families, and your
communities. I’m sorry that, for too many of you,
In this Deeper Dive, we take a closer look at the testi- the RCMP was not the police service that it
mony presented by policing representatives to un- needed to be during this terrible time in your life.
derstand what police agencies indicate they are It is very clear to me that the RCMP could have
doing to address some of the concerns we have done better, and I promise to you we will do bet-
raised throughout this report. Specifically, examining ter. You are entitled to nothing less than our best
what police agencies shared with the National In- work in your communities. I believe it’s never too
quiry allows for an assessment of where the oppor- late to do the right thing, and I want this apology
tunities for improving relationships and outcomes to be just one more step in the RCMP’s commit-
may lie. It also allows for the identification of ongoing ment to reconciliation.A
challenges and issues rooted in a difference between
what law enforcement thinks it is doing and what In addition to Commissioner Lucki, Chief Superin-
witnesses have experienced, which can enable law tendent Mark Pritchard of the Ontario Provincial
enforcement to take the lead from those who hold Police,B Chief Danny Smyth of the Winnipeg Police
the most experience and expertise, and who are Service,C and Chief Joe Boland of the Royal New-
most affected by what law enforcement agencies do foundland ConstabularyD also acknowledged that, in
– and don’t do – within the context of the cases of the past, policing services have been inadequate in
missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and their response to the needs of Indigenous women,
2SLGBTQQIA people. girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and their families, and
that the questions and concerns of Indigenous
people and families of missing and murdered
are understandable and valid.
674
Accompanying these acknowledgements of past circulate in some units far from Val d’Or wearing
harm, various policing representatives expressed this, or carrying it, on their vests. For police offi-
their commitment to improving the relationship be- cers, wearing it doesn’t mean in any way … in
tween the police and Indigenous Peoples, and to any way … that we endorse these allegations.
improve their handling of missing and/or murdered It’s more of a show of support from the entire Val
Indigenous persons’ cases. RCMP Commissioner d’Or unit, who suffered the repercussions of the
Brenda Lucki spoke about the importance of making events of Val d’Or, because it was difficult for the
changes in collaboration with Indigenous Peoples. morale of the police officers.H
I was just struck by some of the comments this Acknowledgement of past harms and commitment
morning and about working together. Like one to change seemed to be a step in the right direction.
of the chiefs talked about working on your own As Daniel Bellegarde, director of the Canadian
family, but then also the community. And we Association of Police Governance, commented:
can’t honestly – if I knew that we could do it on
our own, I would. But I know we can’t do it on our In our self-administered policing services, we do
own and we’re only as good as how we work have a group of chiefs of police changing the
with the community and how well we work with culture of policing in our communities, people
the community. And I think – you know, if we like Chief of Police Zacharie from the Kahnawake
honestly think we’ve got it figured out, then Police Service or the Peacekeepers, Chief of
shame on us. And if this Inquiry has taught me Police Leonard Busch from the File Hill First
anything, it’s about making sure that we are Nations Police Service, Chief of Police Head in
prepared to make change and make positive Dakota Ojibway Tribal Council, Chief of Police
change for the communities, and for everybody, Melting Tallow from the Blood Tribe Police, and
Indigenous and non Indigenous.E so on. So, it’s changing. Is it changing enough?
Is it changing as quickly as we want to change
Commissioner Lucki also made a commitment to lis- it? I think we’re doing the best that we can from
tening to the needs of the families of missing and all areas, from urban policing, the RCMP and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA from self-administered policing services.I
people in her position as the head of the RCMP:
“These hearings have provided families with an op- Nonetheless, policing representatives from national,
portunity to tell their truths, and I am listening, and I federal, municipal, and First Nations police forces
will continue to listen throughout my tenure as the also acknowledged that enacting this commitment
commissioner.”F to change will require addressing many challenges
that persist related to policing in Indigenous com-
However, some policing representatives were less munities, and specifically related to the issue of miss-
willing to acknowledge actions or behaviours that ing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and
could be harmful to Indigenous people and families. 2SLGBTQQIA people.
For instance, when questioned about why the Sûreté
du Québec did not order its officers to stop wearing
a bracelet that many Indigenous Peoples and others
Existing Police Policies and
interpreted as offensive because of its implied sup-
port for eight officers who were suspended due to
Protocols
their treatment of Indigenous women,G Capitaine In presenting evidence to the National Inquiry,
Paul Charbonneau observed: policing representatives from various police forces,
including the RCMP, were clear that comprehensive
At the same time, I’d like to draw your attention policies and procedures were in place and were
to the fact that the community sees it that way, continually being updated to ensure a standard and
but for the officers, wearing is … it’s because the consistent process for police response to missing
band is not only worn in the region of Val d’Or. I persons’ reports and other major crimes, such as
would say it’s worn pretty much throughout the sudden death and sexual assault involving
province. I have personally seen police officers Indigenous Peoples. In addition, representatives of
675
cited statistics indicating that 80.5% of those who attended residential school for three or more
years perceived the emotional and verbal abuse they experienced there as having a negative
impact on them, as compared with the 58.8% of those who attended for under three years.34
The role the residential school system plays in contemporary acts of violence against Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and in other forms of violations to their safety and
security, cannot be underestimated. To emphasize this point, Allan Wade described residential
schools as “prison camps that we euphemistically and … wrongly call residential schools. They
weren’t residences, they weren’t schools.”35
For Amy Bombay, a significant part of the harm done through the residential school system is
that it fostered aggression and abuse between students and it modelled and normalized abuse,
while at the same time removing the cultural practices that would offer another way of relating.
Bombay observed:
the effects of trauma and altered social norms also contributed to ongoing cycles that
were catalyzed in residential schools.36
Speaking of her own experience, Josie Nepinak explained how forced residential and day school
attendance was the starting point for many stories of family violence and stories that demonstrate
the repeated denial of security to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, because it
was there where the “dynamics” that lead to violence were first played out and those factors that
foster safety and security were undermined.
And I’d like to say, I’ve often been asked, well, how long have you been involved in
family violence? And I say, since I was five years old. And I say that because previous to
that, I’d only known the tradition, the culture, and the language, and a … safe and secure
environment with my family. So upon entrance into the residential school, then you
begin to feel the – the dynamics and the destruction of one’s spirit when it comes to the
residential schools.37
Paul T. participated in the Truth-Gathering Process to share the story of his sister Amber, who
was found deceased in 2012 after being missing for two years. As part of providing context for
the violence that marked Amber’s life, Paul talked about the impact residential school had on his
family while he and Amber were growing up.
My mom was in the residential school. My dad was, but I think he was only there for a
couple days, I think. And then he got kicked out. But my mom – my mom was in there
for a few years. And – and that’s the sad part because I never got the mom that I –
usually I don’t cry for anything. But yeah … like, you only have one mom. And in my
516
case, for my mom, you know, she raised us the only way she knew how and, you know,
it’s like … for me anyways, I think, you know, if we didn’t get all we can get from my
mom because the residential screwed her up so much, you know.
And also, there’s a lot of other people, and it affects even – to this day it still affects me.
And my – and my other brothers because it’s like, you know, my mom knows what –
what she went through. Doesn’t really talk to us about it. But it … took away the, I
won’t say the best years, but it took a lot – a lot of good time away from – from me and
my siblings.… But for my family, it just screwed up my whole – my – especially my
mom’s side. And it’s almost like you – you want to talk about it, but you – some people
aren’t ready to talk about it. And it’s hard because of what the residential school, there’s
so much stuff that went on, and then it happened even with their own families, and it’s –
it impacted everybody.38
Paul’s experiences and Bombay’s research connect women’s experiences of violence within their
communities with an existing culture of “silence regarding residential school experiences and
silence regarding some of the consequences of residential school, including things like violence
and abuse that are happening in communities.”39 Her research emphasizes how those who had at
least one parent who attended residential school reported more traumatic experiences throughout
their lifetime.40 In her studies focusing on the legacies of student-to-student abuse in the context
of residential school, Bombay’s work also identifies the ways in which disclosing violence in
many communities left people feeling as if they had nowhere to go: some were afraid to report
the abuse or talk about their experiences and reopen the trauma, while others were afraid to name
the person because they were afraid of retaliation.41 As a direct consequence of the residential
school and day school experience, some students turned into abusers, returned to their communi-
ties, and in turn abused others: “abuse begat abuse.”42
Similarly, based on her research focusing on Indigenous women’s health in the Northwest
Territories, Expert Witness Pertice Moffitt spoke about how the denial of resources to address the
ongoing effects and impacts of trauma associated with residential school attendance, combined
“I WENT BACK THE NEXT DAY AND TOLD [T.] WHAT HAPPENED AND AFTER HE SAW
MY INJURIES HE DROPPED ME OFF AT [THE POLICE STATION] AND I FILED CHARGES.
THIS BROUGHT HELL TO MY LIFE. MY GRANDMOTHER [G.] INSISTED I NOT LAY
CHARGES BECAUSE IT WOULD CAUSE PROBLEMS FOR THE [G.] CLAN. MY SOCIAL
WORKER AVOIDED ME FOR AS LONG AS SHE COULD AND THEN EVENTUALLY I WAS
GIVEN A LAWYER. I WAS TERRIFIED OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND WAS CONSTANTLY
BEING THREATENED AND I SPENT MUCH OF THOSE WEEKS AND MONTHS
TERRIFIED…. HOWEVER, BEFORE THE TRIAL THE WIFE OF THE MAN WHO HAD
ASSAULTED ME CAME AND SAT AT MY KITCHEN TABLE PREGNANT AND ASKED
ME TO DROP THE CHARGES AND SO I DID.”
MICHELE G.
517
Cases pertaining specifically to missing persons also police with tools that they can use, mostly related to
fall under the RCMP’s National Missing Persons Policy, technology…. So, you will be able to apply for an
which, as Deputy Commissioner Butterworth-Carr order to – for instance, like Facebook, or Bell or Telus
explained, “clearly defines what a missing person is, to provide information on their cell phone activity or
how we are to … do the analysis around missing per- social media activity. There could be orders of appre-
sons, that we need to communicate with families, hension. So, it’s really just a number of new tools in
that there’s a specific intake and assessment tool the toolbox so to speak.” According to Pritchard, this
that we complete so we can capture as much type of legislation would be helpful across all provin-
information as possible in the first instance.”U cial and territorial jurisdictions.Z
The National Missing Persons Policy is one part of a In his testimony, Weighill highlighted the role of
broader National Missing Persons Strategy that was Victim Services Missing Person Liaisons and Aborigi-
developed in collaboration with families.V nal Victim Services officers who work specifically with
cases related to missing persons and provide “out-
Other than from the RCMP, the National Inquiry also reach to victims of Indigenous people for any crime,
heard from representatives such as Chief Superin- not just missing persons.”AA
tendent Mark Pritchard of the Ontario Provincial Po-
lice (OPP) and Retired Chief of the Saskatoon Police Policies and Protocols Governing
Service (SPS) Clive Weighill (who is also a past presi-
dent of the Canadian Association of Chiefs of Police) Communication with Families
about recent changes to various policies and proce-
Policing representatives speaking about the police
dures relevant to missing persons’ cases, particularly
response to cases of missing and murdered Indige-
missing Indigenous persons. As Chief Superintendent
nous women and girls acknowledged past criticism
Pritchard explained, all missing persons’ investiga-
about their communication with families, and the
tions in the OPP’s jurisdiction are governed by the
need for better communication and information
Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains Policy and
sharing. As Deputy Commissioner Butterworth-Carr
Missing Persons Manual. The Missing Persons policy
explained:
is one of 18 so-called critical policies with which offi-
cers are expected to be familiar. The Missing Persons
Certainly we’ve heard continuously the impor-
Manual “help[s] guide officers when they’re respond-
tance of communicating with families and, you
ing to and conducting a missing persons investiga-
know, wanting to ensure that we’re providing
tion. It serves as a reminder to them of the nuances
timely updates. And, you know, really it’s about
and intricacies of investigation that’s quite complex,
understanding the frequency which our families
that they may not do on a day-to-day basis.”W As Chief
want to hear, because sometimes it can be frus-
Superintendent Pritchard explained, policies such as
trating when we don’t have a lot of new informa-
these are important for a number of reasons.
tion as it pertains to the investigation.BB
It’s to provide clear expectations to officers of
To that end, policing representatives identified a
what’s expected of them when they’re conduct-
number of policies and protocols that have been
ing investigations. It’s to bring consistency from
established with the express purpose of setting out
one end of the province to another, so we’re all
standard procedures for family communication.
working off the same page. And, also, to provide
One of these is a form called the RCMP Complainant/
accountability to ensure these investigations are
Family Communication Schedule, which is to be com-
done properly.X
pleted with the RCMP representatives and family
members to ensure a mutually agreed-upon commu-
In his testimony, Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard
nication schedule.CC Another tool identified specifi-
also spoke about how new measures included in the
cally for providing information to families is the
Missing Persons Act, 2018 will address some of the
Family Guide to the National Missing Persons DNA
previous challenges in accessing information in some
Program, which provides families with information
missing persons’ cases.Y He explained that once in
related to DNA collection and the purposes of
force, the Missing Persons Act, 2018 will “provide
doing so.DD
678
Chief Superintendent Pritchard talked about how, While policing representatives believe that measures
since the publication of the National Inquiry’s Interim such as these may assist in improving communica-
Report and its identification of the challenges families tion between the police and the families of missing
face in communication with police, the Ontario or murdered loved ones, they also emphasized that
Provincial Police has undertaken steps to improve its there remain many things to consider. RCMP Deputy
communication plan with families. These improve- Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr identified
ments are to be informed by a consultation process some of the ongoing challenges in relation to com-
with family members of missing or murdered Indige- munication with families, including: challenges that
nous women to identify better practices and to even- may arise in identifying a consistent family contact
tually develop and implement a plan that, as Chief when family members may be spread out across the
Superintendent Pritchard explained, country or have changing relationships; challenges
that may arise in cases where a family member may
serves as a – like a contract between the police be the perpetrator or suspect; and challenges related
and the families on how they’re going to com- to the need to protect the integrity of the investiga-
municate, when they’re going to communicate, tion, and how this may place limits on the nature and
by what means, who they’re going to communi- scope of information that can be shared with family
cate to, who they’re not going to communicate members.HH
to, addressing the, you know, intricacies of frac-
tured families, and they sit down with the family
and they draw this plan up together working
Police Perspectives on Other
with them. They give them a copy of it, they tell
them, when the need arises, if they need it to be
Issues Identified in Testimony
changed, it can be changed, that although it’s an During their presentation of evidence, policing rep-
agreement, it’s a fluid agreement.EE resentatives spoke about a number of concerns often
raised by the families of missing and murdered
Another strategy the OPP highlighted to enhance Indigenous women and girls that have created con-
communication is the Provincial Liaison Team, made fusion and harm, including many that are cited in
up of 26 full-time members and 60 part-time mem- other parts of this Final Report.
bers. In Chief Superintendent Pritchard’s words, the
purpose of the Provincial Liaison Team is to “respond 1. Waiting period before reporting a
to critical incidents involving Indigenous people or missing person
in Indigenous communities and act as the OPP’s com- During the Truth-Gathering Process, family members
municators to the community, to chief and council, often spoke about being told or understanding that
or other services within the communities.”FF it was necessary to wait a certain period of time
(often 24 hours) before making a missing persons’ re-
In the case of a major crime investigation by the Saska- port. In some cases, witnesses shared testimony in
toon Police Service, Weighill pointed to a Family Toolkit which police officers had directly informed them of
that is used in conjunction with Victim Services to en- this requirement.
hance communication with the family. This toolkit
The RCMP and various provincial and municipal po-
walk[s] the family through, you know, a missing lice who spoke at the National Inquiry were clear that
person’s checklist, a communication log when there is no required waiting period to report a miss-
they’re going to work with the police, what they ing person. In fact, as Deputy Commissioner Brenda
can expect from the police, what the police are Butterworth-Carr emphasized, the sooner families do
going to expect from the family, what they can this, the better.
expect from social media, self-care for them-
selves, and Internet links and information that If anything, we need the information as expedi-
they might need as the family as they’re working ently as possible, because the moment it comes
through it. GG into, you know, the RCMP knowledge and
jurisdiction, then we can do an immediate
679
with the unique limitations and challenges of the geography of the North, is another way in
which violence experienced by Indigenous women is denied and normalized. In describing what
she called “a culture of violence and silence,” Moffitt noted that, because of the lack of adequate
supports available for them to leave violent relationships or situations safely, women strategi-
cally use silence in response to violence as a means of self-protection.
I do believe for Indigenous women, it’s a protective, self-preservation thing that women
are not talking about what’s going on. It’s a reason why there’s a lot of unreported
violence.… There is community retribution in our small communities where families
will blame each other and they’ll experience backlash if they report on the perpetrator
from their family. So retribution includes things like harassment, isolation, restricted
access to housing when there is very limited housing, or limited employment
opportunities within the community. So, it’s not – it’s understandable why victims use a
lot of self-preservation in circumstances like these in a community. Women remain silent
in an abusive relationship. They may be working from that position. They might realize
the lack of services that are available in their community, which increases their risk to
successfully leave.43
In describing the response from her family and community after she reported a violent attack
she experienced by her husband’s friend, Michele G. demonstrated this pressure to remain silent.
I went back the next day and told [T.] what happened and after he saw my injuries he
dropped me off at [the police station] and I filed charges. This brought hell to my life.
My grandmother [G.] insisted I not lay charges because it would cause problems for the
[G.] clan. My social worker avoided me for as long as she could and then eventually I
was given a lawyer. I was terrified of the individual and was constantly being threatened
and I spent much of those weeks and months terrified…. However, before the trial the
wife of the man who had assaulted me came and sat at my kitchen table pregnant and
asked me to drop the charges and so I did.44
While silence is one manifestation of the trauma resulting from residential and day schools, the
Sixties Scoop, and other colonial policies, the continued lack of government accountability for
providing the necessary resources and supports that would make it possible for women to break
that silence in a safe and meaningful way instead maintains the cycle of violence and patholo-
gizes women themselves for not leaving abusive relationships. As long as we continue to live in
and uphold a context that “refuses to tell the truth about violence,”45 as Allan Wade described, the
security of Indigenous girls, women, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is under threat and their lives are
seen as inconsequential.
518
As will be explored in the next section, the violence that marks the lives of the survivors who
shared their stories, and the violence that led to the disappearance or death of those who were not
able to share their stories and its connection to intergenerational trauma, need to be discussed in
relation to the various ways that the social security of Indigenous women and girls continues to
be violated within a colonial state. As witnesses made clear, the social, economic, and political
marginalization of Indigenous Peoples within Canadian society is an equally important part of
the story of understanding the violence that leads to the disappearance or death of Indigenous
women and girls.

As Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour explained in his presentation to the National Inquiry, prior to
colonization, the Secwepemc Nation had practices that ensured economic security for all
community members:
I think that prior to contact, that say if a family in our nation didn’t have enough to make
it through the winter that a family that had excess would bring to that family. And how
we would take care of that would be to host a feast. That family would then have to host
a feast to honour the family for helping them out in the winter.46
This concept is directly challenged by the barriers that threaten security in all of its forms today.
In sharing their stories about the ways that relationships and specific encounters within those
relationships created the conditions that allowed violence to take place, families, survivors, and
supporters looked beyond individual relationships between their missing and murdered loved one
and the perpetrator of violence. As part of the stories of violence that family members and sur-
vivors shared, many also talked about the significant economic hardship faced in their own lives
or in the lives of their loved one. For these family members and survivors, social and economic
marginalization, generally speaking, contributes to, or is directly connected to, the violence they
or their loved one experienced. As we examine the stories shared by and about missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, we learn more about the ways
poverty and the barriers to getting out of poverty function as an underlying condition that sup-
ports and enables the violence directed toward them. In addition, we learn about how the barriers
to economic security impact social and political security. Specifically, we learn how poverty
forces Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to exist in situations that increase the
likelihood for violence. Moreover, we learn how society’s indifference to and contempt of those
who experience social and economic hardship further marginalizes Indigenous women in ways
that not only increase the level of risk or danger, but also increase the impossibility of accessing
the economic resources that would decrease that risk.
519
Poverty
First Nations, Métis, and Inuit experience higher levels of economic poverty than non-
Indigenous Peoples in Canada. According to the Canadian Poverty Institute, one in four Indige-
nous people are living in poverty.47 This number is even higher for children, where 4 in 10, or
40%, of children off-reserve and 6 in 10, or 60%, of children living on-reserve are affected by
poverty.
As compared with non-Indigenous Canadians and Indigenous men, Indigenous women are more
likely to experience poverty. Approximately 44% of Indigenous women living on-reserve and
47% living off-reserve live in poverty. In addition, Indigenous women make less money than
Indigenous men and non-Indigenous women. The average annual income for Aboriginal women
is $13,300, compared with $18,200 for Aboriginal men and $19,350 for non-Aboriginal
women.48
As researchers Gérard Duhaime and Roberson Édouard observe, in Inuit Nunangat, poverty is
due in part to the relatively sudden change in way of life, beginning in the 1950s with the
introduction of a new kind of economy. They explain:
The shift from nomadism to a sedentary way of life in the late 1950s not only
transformed the Inuit mode of land use; it also caused an upheaval in their social
organization, making the market their main vehicle of access to goods and services,
money their primary means of exchange, and government the main hub of most
industries.49
The wage payment system has directly impacted traditional activities that used to form the
basis of Inuit life, including for the provision of shelter, food, clothing, and transportation. As
Duhaime and Édouard point out, “Though they remain very much alive, hunting, fishing, trap-
ping, crafts, and the traditional institutions of sharing have undergone major changes in role and
status. The pursuit of such activities has become more and more dependent on the market econ-
omy,” and has “thoroughly transformed the configuration of social arrangements and relation-
ships.”50 Residents of Inuit Nunangat have become more dependent on expensive imported
goods and services, with significant consequences for poverty.
520
Economic Insecurity and
Government Neglect in Inuit
Nunangat
In Inuit Nunangat, the problem of economic insecurity is exacerbated by the failure of government to
promote diversified economic development and honour its commitments under Inuit land claims.
Economic development in Inuit Nunangat is usually cant share of the quota for offshore areas adjacent to
associated with mining and oil or gas extraction. Nunavut continues to be held by companies based
These extractive industries are often assumed to be outside of the Arctic. A lack of infrastructure also
the major driver of economic development for most limits expansion. The expansion of inshore fisheries
northern territories. However, non-renewable re- requires significant investments in community infra-
source extraction is one of several sectors in the structure, such as small-craft harbours and fish-pro-
northern economy.I The economic benefits to Inuit cessing plants. Because Nunavut lacks large-craft
communities are generally not as large as promised, harbours, it is unable to benefit from the processing
as most jobs, revenues, and contracting opportunities of offshore catch.V
continue to accrue to other jurisdictions.II Moreover,
extractive development can pose additional threats The failure to honour some provisions of modern
to Inuit women’s security, as the high number of tran- Treaties is another instance of government’s failing
sient workers at mining camps can create working to promote economic security for Inuit women, girls,
and living environments where sexual harassment and 2SLGBTQQIA people. For example, the govern-
and abuse of Inuit women take place.III It is therefore ment has not fulfilled the objectives of Article 23 of
important that government promote diversified the Nunavut Agreement, which was intended to
economic development to ensure women’s and achieve a representative civil service for Nunavut. Be-
2SLGBTQQIA people’s economic security in their cause 85% of Nunavut’s population is Inuit, 85% of
homeland. government employees in Nunavut should be Inuit,
according to the logic of Article 23. In 2006, Nunavut
Unfortunately, government is failing to promote Tunngavik Incorporated (NTI) commenced legal
diversified development in Inuit Nunangat. For exam- action against the Government of Canada, alleging
ple, the northern fisheries are an important compo- numerous breaches of the Nunavut Agreement, in-
nent of community economies in Nunavut that cluding that government failed to take adequate
provide seasonal employment and supplementary in- measures to promote a representative workforce.VI
come for many residents of Nunavut, including Inuit The case slowly moved toward a trial,VII but an out-of-
women. Fisheries also provide significant revenues to court settlement was reached in 2015 that provided
Inuit organizations and community hunters’ and trap- new funding for Inuit education and training initia-
pers’ organizations through ownership of fishing tives.VIII However, despite this settlement, the dam-
companies.IV There is currently significant potential ages to Nunavut’s economy due to government
for expansion of Nunavut’s fisheries, which would inaction will be long-lasting. As of September 2018,
positively contribute to the economic security of Inuit only 51% of Government of Nunavut employees
women. However, numerous hurdles remain in place were Inuit.IX
due to government inaction. For example, a signifi-
521
have constraints to mobilize their staff, charter Recruitment of Indigenous Police
a plane and hoping that the weather is
favourable.BBB Policing representatives, such as RCMP Commis-
sioner Lucki, RCMP Deputy Commissioner Brenda
As NAPS Detective Constable Alana Morrison Butterworth-Car, and RCMP Sergeant Dee Stewart,
explained, these delays can impact the quality of the expressed a commitment to increasing the percent-
investigations of major crimes such as sexual assaults age of Indigenous people serving as part of policing
and other crimes relevant to understanding the cases in Canada. Despite this commitment, as these
of missing and murdered Indigenous women and witnesses testified, there exist multiple barriers for
girls. Indigenous people interested in entering policing.
When a First Nation woman reports a sexual In order to address these challenges, policing repre-
assault in a northern community, she unfortu- sentatives identified a number of Indigenous-specific
nately is faced with the decision and choice to recruitment and training initiatives that have been
seek medical help outside of the community. developed and instituted by the RCMP, as well as by
There is a nursing station, but most nursing sta- various provincial and municipal police forces and
tions will send a victim of sexual assault to Sioux within First Nations police services programs. For ex-
Lookout, which is an hour plane ride south of ample, the National Inquiry heard that within the
their community. RCMP, various recruitment initiatives, such as the
Aboriginal pre-cadet training program and Aborigi-
So they’re given the option to seek medical help nal mentorship,DDD are used to introduce potential
and leave their home community and leave their candidates to policing work. These programs, as
family. They’re allowed to take one escort with Commissioner Lucki explained, help potential candi-
them to attend Sioux Lookout, or they’re given – dates to “see themselves” as part of the RCMP: “When
they receive specific care to have the sexual as- people are able to see themselves and then have that
sault evidence kit done, and then they are allot- mentor where they can know if there are barriers,
ted one week of counselling, and once that they can talk to that mentor about it.”EEE In her role,
counselling is done, they are sent back to their Sergeant Dee Stewart explained how, instead of re-
communities and they just – there’s very little fol- quiring interested candidates to travel from their
low-up support for them when they return.CCC home communities to information sessions or to
complete various elements of the application
Human Resources Challenges process, she would travel to them.
Police detachments in remote and northern commu- So, when I became the Aboriginal recruiter, I took
nities face some distinct staffing challenges, but that away, and I travelled to them…. I think the
policing representatives from across the country also main Aboriginal recruiter – or the main recruiters
talked about other general staff-related challenges thought I was crazy when I was driving eight
that create barriers to providing policing services to hours to administer an exam to one person. But,
Indigenous Peoples and communities. These include: to me, they needed to know they were valued,
1) recruiting and retaining Indigenous people to and that if you want to write the exam, then I’m
work in policing, and 2) teaching cultural compe- going to come to you.
tency and providing training for that to current
police forces. So, I did that. I travelled all through BC. We’ve got
a beautiful province and our communities are
amazing, but it was always a shocker when I was
administering the exam in the band office, but it
was something that – it just – it took away a
barrier for them.FFF
684
The problem of a representative workforce runs that two-thirds of Nunavut’s population could not
deeper than the proportion of Inuit employees within afford market housing without assistance from their
the workforce, and also includes significant pay gaps. employer or the government.XII
Inuit employees, and especially Inuit women, earn
significantly less money than the Government of Both the government of Canada and government of
Nunavut (GN) average wage. For example, in 2015, Nunavut provide subsidized housing to their full-time
the average GN employee earned roughly $90,000, employees. The public sector, the largest employer in
the average male Inuit employee earned roughly Iqaluit, leased 39% of the Iqaluit rental market in
$82,000, and the average female Inuit employee 2017. Private companies leased 24% of the rental
earned roughly $79,000.X market to provide employees with housing. Private
tenants pay the landlord directly in only 10% of rental
In addition, with the private housing and rental mar- situations, and public housing provided by the
kets being overpriced and public housing being Nunavut Housing Corporation (NHC) accounts for
highly inaccessible, housing through employment is 23% of tenancies.XIII As the NHC reports, “the stock of
key. For example, according to Garrett Hinchey, re- public housing units needs to increase by 193 units
porting for CBC News in 2017, average rents in Iqaluit or 37% in Iqaluit to meet housing needs.”XIV Living up
were among the highest in Canada, with a two-bed- to Article 23 of the Nunavut Agreement by both gov-
room house costing, on average, $2,597 per month.XI ernments within the Nunavut Settlement Area would
The Canadian Mortgage and Housing Corporation’s help address the housing crisis.
Northern Housing Report for 2018 also contended
I Nunavut Economic Forum, “Nunavut Economic Development Strategy.”

II Bernauer, “The Limits to Extraction.”
III Czyzewski, Tester, Aaruaq, and Blangy, The Impact of Resource Extraction.
IV Nunavut Economic Forum, “Nunavut Economic Development Strategy.”
V Nunavut, Department of the Environment, “Nunavut Fisheries Strategy, 2016–2020.”
VI Nunavut Tunngavik Incorporated, “Amended Statement of Claim,” NUCJ File No. 08-06-713 CVC.
VII In 2012, the Nunavut Court of Justice gave a summary judgment on one of NTI’s allegations: that the Government of Canada breached the
Nunavut Agreement by failing to establish a general monitoring plan for the territory. The court ruled in favour of NTI. See Nunavut Tunngavik
Incorporated v. Canada (Attorney General), 2012, NUCJ 11.
VIII Nunavut Tunngavik Incorporated, Government of Nunavut, and Government of Canada, “Moving Forward in Nunavut.”
IX Nunavut, Department of Finance, “Towards a Representative Public Service.”
X Nunavut, Public Service Annual Report: 2014–2015.
XI Hinchey, “Iqaluit is one of the most expensive cities.”
XII Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation, “Northern Housing Report 2018,” 12–13.
XIII Ibid., 13.
XIV Canada, Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation, “Northern Housing Report,” 13.
522
Many people in Inuit Nunangat also experience food insecurity at a higher level than elsewhere
in Canada. “Food insecurity” refers to a situation when the food purchased doesn’t last long
enough, or when there isn’t enough money to buy more food or healthy food. It can also apply in
situations when members of the household cut the size of their meals or skip meals due to lack of
the ability to purchase more. According to Statistics Canada, “in 2012, more than one-half (52%)
of Inuit in Inuit Nunangat aged 25 and over lived a in household that experienced food insecurity
in the previous 12 months.”51 Further, “in 2012, nearly one-third (32%) of Inuit adults in Inuit
Nunangat ate less than they should have eaten because they could not afford to buy food. Fur-
thermore, 27% of Inuit adults reported that they had been hungry because they could not afford
enough food.”52 Inuit adults had a higher chance of being food insecure, especially women,
families with children, those living in a crowded dwelling, and those with weaker family ties.
According to Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami’s (ITK) statistical profile of the region, “In Nunatsiavut,
44% of households are food insecure, similar to the 46% for households in the Inuvialuit Settle-
ment Region. The rate of food insecurity is highest in Nunavut where 70% of households are
food insecure. Conversely, 8% of all households in Canada are food insecure.”53
A group of residents raise awareness about high food prices. Facebook, Feeding my Family Public Group,
June 21, 2012, Pangnirtung, NU. No copyright infringement intended.
Poverty and food insecurity are rooted in both access to education and access to employment –
or lack thereof. As the government’s own statistics make clear, Indigenous people in Canada
have historically had lower rates of labour-force participation and employment, as well as lower
incomes, than non-Indigenous people.
523
First Nations Policing to the lack of funding and the severe resource limita-
tions NAPS faces have been ignored for many years.
Services: The Case of the For instance, in 2013, when the then-NAPS chair and
the grand chief of NAN issued a Public Safety Notice,
Nishnawbe-Aski Police which was sent to political leaders in Ontario’s provin-
cial government, the federal government, and the
Service chief coroner at the time, stating that because of
these resource and infrastructure limitations the
During its Truth-Gathering Process, the National In- people of NAN were not safe, NAPS received no
quiry had the opportunity to hear evidence about responses other than one from the chief coroner.TTT
the Nishnawbe-Aski Police Service (NAPS) – the
largest First Nations police service in Canada. First Chief Terry Armstrong provided several examples of
created in 1994, NAPS provides policing services to the way chronic underfunding impacts the safety of
the Nishnawbe Aski Nation (NAN) in northern community members and NAPS officers.UUU He went
Ontario. The Nishnawbe Aski Nation has an estimated on to discuss the impact of underfunding on NAPS
population of 45,000 people, and NAPS polices this officers.
territory with 147 officers across 34 communities, 23
of which are remote fly-in communities. As a First NAPS officers face numerous practical barriers in
Nations police force, NAPS is independent of other their delivery of policing services: understaffing
policing agencies, and is governed by an independ- means that NAPS officers rarely work with a part-
ent board and administered by a chief of police who ner and routinely lack the standard backup avail-
reports to this board.RRR able to non-First Nations police officers. Given
the remoteness of NAN communities, officers
Like other police services in remote communities, frequently wait hours or days for backup or spe-
NAPS faces significant challenges related to the cialized unit support. Twenty-four per cent of
geography, staff, and lack of resources. Nonetheless, NAPS officers are currently on stress or disability
as NAPS Chief Terry Armstrong and NAPS Chair Mike leave.VVV
Metatawabin described in their testimony, the
unique structure of First Nations and Indigenous In an effort to draw attention to the dire conditions
policing creates additional barriers and risks that and lack of resources available for NAPS, in 2014, NAN
make it especially difficult for NAPS officers to protect Grand Chief Yesno and Deputy Grand Chief Fiddler,
the safety of Indigenous people living in NAN com- along with the then-chair of the NAPS board, made
munities. To understand these distinct challenges, the difficult decision to give notice to the province of
and the difficult process NAPS has undertaken to ad- Ontario that NAPS was going to have to end its serv-
dress some of these challenges, Chief Armstrong and ice unless there were formal talks initiated to develop
Chair Metatawabin spoke at length about how fund- a legislative base to its services and one that would
ing is provided to NAPS, and how systemic and leg- address the significant resource limitations. Chief
islative change is necessary to ensure the provision Terry Armstrong described the rationale behind this
of adequate resources. decision.
Funding for NAPS is based on a tripartite agreement The police service was unable to keep the com-
among Nishnawbe Aski Nation, Canada, and Ontario munity safe and we swore to do that as police
under the First Nations Policing Policy. As Mike officers. And when I was asked to become the
Metatawabin explained, the nature of these funding chief, I also came there to keep this community
agreements means that, unlike the RCMP or provin- safe and keep the people within the community
cial and municipal police services, NAPS is program- safe, and we just could not do it. We just cannot
based – an arrangement that has until very recently do it with the resources as they were – as the pro-
meant there is no legislative framework that ensures gram, and without any avenues to get proper
safety backed by the rule of law for Indigenous peo- resources, human resources, and upper staff and
ple in this region.SSS Past attempts to draw attention
687
all those things…. It was a very difficult decision, the same and keep the communities safe,
but we just were no longer in a position, and had because it’s – it’s been pretty tough … it’s been
not been for a while, to keep the communities at an honour, but it’s … when you put on a badge
a level of a safety that the rest of Ontarians get, and say you’re going to protect people and
and probably Canadians.WWW you don’t have the tools to do it and you see the
devastation day in and day out and you know
This action sparked what turned out to be a lengthy that there’s remedies, it’s – it’s tough.AAAA
period of negotiations between NAPS and the
Ontario provincial government to properly legislate Chair Mike Metatawabin shared his hopes regarding
and resource First Nations policing services in the this process and the implementation of Bill 175 and
province. Ultimately, these negotiations, as Chair for Indigenous policing in general.
Metatawabin and Chief Armstrong described, have
resulted in the development of new legislation, Bill I am hopeful that this process, once it passes,
175, the Safer Ontario Act, which came into force in once it becomes implemented, I am hopeful that
January 2019. This legislation is important because it it will spread across the nation, across the coun-
specifically outlines that the need to ensure the try for our brothers and sisters across the country
safety and security of all persons and property in … to be accorded the same privilege, to be pro-
Ontario extends to include First Nations reserves; “the vided with the … same resources. I am also
need to be responsive to the unique histories and hopeful that our young men and women will
cultures of First Nation, Inuit, and Metis communi- step up and provide that safety. Indigenous peo-
ties”; and “the need to ensure that all parts of Ontario, ple providing safety to their own Indigenous
including First Nation reserves, receive equitable people nationwide. That is my hope, that is what
levels of policing.”XXX As Chief Terry Armstrong ex- – what I hope to see in the coming years. This is
plains, NAPS’s efforts in establishing this legislation what’s been lacking, the justice system has been
was not for NAPS only but as a starting point for leg- – has fallen very short for our people, for our
islation for Indigenous policing that other Indigenous communities. But in the spirit of reconciliation as
police services could follow.YYY well, we, too, must step up, our communities, our
leadership.BBBB
In addition to describing the negotiations related to
this legislative framework, Chief Armstrong and Similarly, and citing many of the same concerns as
Chair Metatawabin also described how, in response Metatawabin and Armstrong did, Jean-Pierre Larose
to political pressure from Nishnawbe Aski Nation’s acknowledged the challenges of working under the
leadership to change the negotiation process usually contribution agreement framework, mentioning that
undertaken to renew funding for the tripartite agree- the agreement governing the provision of services in
ment, NAPS will be receiving an increase of 79 new Nunavik had expired in April and that, within the con-
officers over the next five years, as well as funding for text of the renewal of the agreement, his force would
a communication system and two new detachment be asking for an increase in personnel and equip-
buildings.ZZZ ment, as well as in overall resources to be able to
police, including a call centre based in Kuujjuaq with
Reflecting on this lengthy and ongoing process to Inuktitut-speaking operators to better communicate
ensure equitable police services for those living in with those seeking help. At present, calls are sent
NAN, Chief Terry Armstrong shared the following. directly to police radios. Larose also mentioned that
the force, which had 54 officers 15 years ago, only has
So, although we’ve been able to limp through it, 58 or 59 today; this means that, despite significant in-
that’s – that hasn’t been fair and, you know, just creases in population, resources under the tripartite
to – just as a police service we really weren’t ask- agreements have not been sufficiently allocated to
ing for anything more than anybody else was enable the police to do their work.CCCC
asking for, we just – we just wanted to be treated
688
Conclusion It’s not about discipline and punishment as is the
European style, it’s more about restoration of
harmony, the natural connections, the family, the
In sharing their truths with the National Inquiry, polic-
Elders were the ones that controlled social be-
ing representatives acknowledged the historical and
haviour. Now, that system has been broken, that
ongoing harms that continue to impact Indigenous
system is being packed together again, and that
families and communities as a result of their interac-
system has got to be revitalized in our various in-
tions with police. The need to make changes to how
stitutions and our various Nations.
non-Indigenous and Indigenous police work to pro-
tect the safety of Indigenous Peoples was also ac-
So, Indigenous concepts of justice that we have,
knowledged. By creating and updating policies and
it’s more than a set of rules and institutions; it’s
protocols – particularly those related to major crimes
an aspect of natural order in which everyone and
– police demonstrated how standardized processes
everything stands in relation to one another.DDDD
and expectations related to investigations of cases of
missing and murdered Indigenous people and inter-
Exactly how these changes – many of which have
actions with their families currently exist – at least on
been newly instituted in response to the Truth and
paper. Policing representatives also acknowledged,
Reconciliation Commission’s Calls to Action and the
however, that challenges to providing equitable
National Inquiry – reflect such ideas and translate
policing to all Indigenous people continue to exist
into concrete change in the lives of Indigenous
and must be addressed. In his testimony, Daniel
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people remains to
Bellegarde, director of the Canadian Association of
be seen.
Police Governance, pointed to the underlying reality
that the Canadian justice system and its version of
policing are at odds with Indigenous ideas about
justice.
It’s based on a responsibility to one another col-

lectively, and to the land, that collective rights
are not exactly within the umbrella of the indi-
vidual rights upon which the Canadian justice
system is formed. So, it’s not a rights-based
justice system, it’s a responsibility-based justice
system, which has a real different approach if you
would think about that for a moment.
689
In Inuit Nunangat, and although most Inuit (79%) reported a permanent job in 2016, 21% of Inuit
who were employed worked part-time, and women were more likely to work part-time than
men.59 While most respondents said that more jobs were needed, 11% of Inuit women said child
care assistance would help them most.60 According to ITK’s 2018 Statistical Profile, data from
2015 shows the median income for those aged 15 years and over was $23,485, compared with
$92,011 for non-Indigenous people in the region, and an income gap of almost $70,000. As the
report points out, “The cost of living in Inuit Nunangat is high with many Inuit struggling to buy
healthy food, hunting and fishing supplies, clothing and other necessities. In addition, many Inuit
families are large and low incomes must be spread thin in an effort to meet the basic needs of
family members.”61
As the National Inquiry heard, lack of financial means has serious consequences and places First
Nations, Métis, and Inuit women at a greater risk of food and housing insecurity as well as a
greater risk of mental and physical health issues. As Mavis Windsor commented, poverty and the
insecurity that it brings are at the root of many of the challenges facing Indigenous women and
girls today: “Many of our people, including our women and our children live in poverty, suffer
from social inequality and breakdown of families, addiction, premature mortality rates, and low
levels of literacy and education, and high levels of mental illness and physical diseases.”62
In describing the economic challenges southern Inuit women face, Jennisha Wilson, manager of
programs with Tungasuvvingat Inuit in Ottawa, explained what it means to live in poverty.
I think one of the realities for Inuit that are vulnerable is that they live under the poverty
line or just at the poverty line, which means that on an everyday basis, you’re sacrificing
a certain aspect of your well-being, whether it be access to food to sustain yourself in
order to cover rent, or you’re couch surfing because you can’t afford rent. You’re always
sacrificing something, and it’s, I think, to a certain extent, you’re violating your own
human rights because of poverty, structural poverty and violence, right? So, I think that’s
one of the major forerunners for why individuals become vulnerable, become groomed
and [conned] … by traffickers to say, “I can provide you somewhere to sleep,” and that
covers one of the vulnerabilities, right?63
“MANY OF OUR PEOPLE, INCLUDING OUR WOMEN AND OUR CHILDREN LIVE IN
POVERTY. SUFFER FROM SOCIAL INEQUALITY, AND BREAKDOWN OF FAMILIES,
ADDICTION, PREMATURE MORTALITY RATES, AND LOW LEVELS OF LITERACY AND
EDUCATION, AND HIGH LEVELS OF MENTAL ILLNESS AND PHYSICAL DISEASES.”
Mavis Windsor
As witnesses shared their experiences about the ways poverty creates challenges in finding
safety, they also demonstrate how a failure to address the significant lack of social and economic
security experienced by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is directly linked to
the violence that may take their life.
525
A Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, X Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume 9,
Regina, SK, p. 34. Regina, SK, p. 216.
B Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume Y The Missing Persons Act, 2018 has received Royal Assent but
9, Regina, SK, pp. 210–211. had not been proclaimed or come into force at the time of
C Chief Danny Smyth, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 18, Chief Superintendent Pritchard’s testimony. See
Regina, SK, p. 11. https://www.ontario.ca/laws/statute/18m03.
D Chief Joe Boland, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 15, St. Z Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public
John’s, NL, pp. 195–196. Volume 10, Regina, SK, pp. 283-284.
E Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, AA Retired Chief Clive Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina,
Regina, SK, p. 91. SK, pp. 42–43.
F Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, BB Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk
Regina, SK, pp. 33–34. Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK,
p. 127.
G MacKinnon, “SQ officers ignore.”
CC Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk
H Translation ours. Capitaine Paul Charbonneau, Part 2, Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK,
Public Volume 9, Regina, SK. p. 149. pp. 105–106.
I Daniel Bellegarde (Little Black Bear’s Band of the Assini- DD Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk
boine-Cree), Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, SK, pp. 96–97. Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK, p.
J Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, 113.
Regina, SK, p. 40. EE Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume 9,
K Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, SK, p. 256.
Regina, SK, pp. 41–42. FF Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume 9,
L Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, SK, p. 239.
Regina, SK, p. 42. GG Retired Chief Clive Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina,
M Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, SK, pp. 40–42.
Regina, SK, pp. 50–51. HH Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk
N Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK,
Regina, SK, p. 55. pp. 127–129.
O Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, II Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk
Regina, SK, p. 55. Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK,
P Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, p. 98.
Regina, SK, pp. 49–50. JJ Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume 9,
Q Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, SK, p. 219.
Regina, SK, pp. 49–50. KK Retired Chief Clive Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina,
R Retired Chief Clive Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, pp. 38–39.
SK, pp. 50–51. LL Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk
S Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK, p.
Regina, SK, pp. 53–54. 114.
T Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, MM Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume 9,
Regina, SK, p. 54. Regina, SK, pp. 217 and 230–232.
U Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk NN Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk
Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK, Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK,
p. 101. pp. 115–116.
V Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk OO Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk
Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK, Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK,
pp. 99–100. pp. 116–117.
W Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume PP Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume 9,
9, Regina, SK, p. 215. Regina, SK, p. 222; Chief Joe Boland, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Volume 15, St. John’s, NL, p. 198.
691
QQ Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr (Tr'ondëk MMM Retired Chief Clive Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina,
Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK, SK, p. 62.
p. 327. NNN Retired Chief Clive Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina,
RR Translation ours. Chief Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Public SK, pp. 59–60.
Volume 6, Regina, SK, pp. 154–155. OOO Detective Constable Alana Morrison (First Nations), Part 2,
SS Translation ours. Chief Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Public Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, p. 135.
Volume 6, Regina, SK, pp. 159–160. PPP Detective Constable Alana Morrison (First Nations), Part 2,
TT Translation ours. Chief Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Public Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, pp. 138–139.
Volume 6, Regina, SK, pp. 157–158. QQQ Detective Constable Alana Morrison (First Nations), Part 2,
UU Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, p. 145.
Quebec, QC, p. 61. RRR Mike Metatawabin (Fort Albany First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 &
VV Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5, 3, Public Volume 5, Quebec, QC, pp. 41–42.
Quebec, QC, pp. 62–63. SSS Mike Metatawabin (Fort Albany First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 &
WW Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, 3, Public Volume 5, Quebec, QC, pp. 45–46.
SK, p. 47. TTT Mike Metatawabin (Fort Albany First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 &
XX Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, 3, Public Volume 5, Quebec, QC, pp. 53–54.
SK, p. 48. UUU Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5,
YY Translation ours. Chief Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Public Quebec, QC, pp. 55–56.
Volume 6, Regina, SK, p. 149. VVV Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5,
ZZ Translation ours. Chief Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Public Quebec, QC, p. 60.
Volume 6, Regina, SK, p. 150. WWW Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5,
AAA Jacqueline Hansen, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 6, Quebec, QC, p. 76.
Quebec, QC, p. 45. XXX Mike Metatawabin (Fort Albany First Nation), Mixed Parts 2
BBB Translation ours. Chief Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Public & 3, Public Volume 5, Quebec, QC, pp. 94–95; Legislative
Volume 6, Regina, SK, pp. 165–166. Assembly of Ontario, Bill 175, Safer Ontario Act.
CCC Detective Constable Alana Morrison (First Nations), Part 2, YYY Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5,
Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, p. 129. Quebec, QC, p. 108.
DDD Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, ZZZ Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5,
SK, pp. 66–67. Quebec, QC, pp. 91–92.
EEE Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, AAAA Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5,
SK, pp. 66–67. Quebec, QC, p. 109.
FFF Sergeant Dee Stewart, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, BBBB Mike Metatawabin (Fort Albany First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 &
pp. 159–161. 3, Public Volume 5, Quebec, QC, pp. 112–113.
GGG Retired Chief Clive Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, CCCC Chief Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, SK,
SK, pp. 54–55. pp. 156-157.
HHH Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, DDDD Daniel Bellegarde (Little Black Bear’s Band of the Assiniboine-
SK, pp. 70–72. Cree), Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, SK, pp. 100–101. See
III Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina, also the Council of Canadian Academies' Expert Panel on
SK, p. 84. Policing in Indigenous Communities, "Toward Peace, Har-
mony, and Well-Being: Policing in Indigenous Communities,"
JJJ Sergeant Dee Stewart, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, p. available at https://scienceadvice.ca/reports/policing-in-
181. indigenous-communities/.
KKK Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina,
SK, p. 87.
LLL Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5,
Quebec, QC, p. 139.
692
DEEPER DIVE
Understanding Intersectional Métis Experiences
In the testimonies from families and from survivors, we can access blood memory, which helps us live a
the National Inquiry heard about how much good and thriving life and is key to who we are as
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people people.”B
have in common: how the violence directed toward
them permeates and invades almost every aspect of As Smylie shared, remembering and understanding
their lives, and how understanding the violence the protocols are key to confronting violence that
requires looking at how systems operate to oppress occurs in Métis families and communities, and
them. At the same time, we also heard of many building relationships with the non-Métis world.C
experiences that speak to the need to apply a
distinctions-based approach in some aspects of
analysis to better understand the unique barriers
The Forgotten People
facing those who encounter violence as a particular
The history of Métis women within the context of a
group.
distinct social, political, and economic order is briefly
discussed in Chapter 4, largely as it relates to policing
This Deeper Dive captures some of these distinctions
and to administrative structures that sought to cast
as shared through the stories of Métis families and
the Métis aside and to separate them from their
witnesses. Within many Métis communities, the
First Nations kin. While the distinctive nature of
principle of wahkohtowin, which translates directly to
Métis experiences is bound with their existence as a
English as “kinship” or “being related to each other,” is
separate and distinctive Nation, it is also worth
an important touchstone for understanding self and
highlighting how an important measure of group
one’s place in the world. Within the distinctive
consciousness is bound in the Métis as the “forgotten
context of Métis nationhood, as well as history, the
people,” ignored by various orders of governments in
principles of wahkohtowin remind us about our
particular between 1885 and 1982, when consti-
responsibilities and obligations to maintain good
tutional recognition was achieved.
relationship with all of creation. As scholar Matthew
Wildcat, Nehiyaw (Plains Cree) from the community
To some extent, the lack of recognition of the Métis
of Maskwacis Alberta and a member of Ermineskin
lies in the important administrative structures that
Cree Nation, explains:
erased them from the pages of history, or reduced
them to the concept of “mixedness.” As Métis scholar
First, [wahkohtowin] references the act of being
and Associate Professor in the Faculty of Native
related – to your human and other than human
Studies at the University of Alberta Adam Gaudry
relatives. Second, it is a worldview based on the
explains, the Métis weren’t always known as the
idea that all of existence is animate and full of
“Métis”:
spirit.… Third, there are proper ways to conduct
and uphold your relationships with your relatives
Contemporary usage of Métis is also different
and other aspects of existence.A
from its historical meaning. At Red River in the
19th century there were two prominent com-
As we heard during the course of the National Inquiry
munities of mixed-descent people. In addition
from many Métis families, maintaining these good
to a sizeable French-speaking and nominally
relationships is challenging within the context of a
Catholic Métis population, there was a large
Nation that has, for so long, been ignored. But, as
group of English-speaking “Half-breeds” who were
Janet Smylie, Métis family doctor and Public Health
mainly Anglican agriculturists.
Chair at St. Michael’s Hospital and at the University of
Toronto, testified, “preserving wahkohtowin or our
He adds that, while these interrelated groups were
ancestral ties … has built in ways to making sure that
distinct populations with strong connections, “the
526
not provide the full range of services and supports to which Indigenous victims should have
access. It does not offer legal counsel to victims of crime, but merely facilitates their access to
information. As Phelps explained, “It’s also important for a victim to understand that we are not
lawyers for a victim. We are impartial to the system, and it’s our responsibility to put all informa-
tion before the court, whether or not it’s beneficial to our particular case.”83
“THEY DIDN’T GET MUCH HELP FROM … VICTIM SERVICES THAT I KNEW OF. WE, AS
A FAMILY, AND NOT EVEN MY SISTERS … WERE NOT INFORMED OF THE VALUE OF
PROVIDING A VICTIM IMPACT STATEMENT. NOR WERE WE EVEN MADE AWARE THAT IT
WAS AN OPTION. AND THAT’S WHEN A VICTIM LIAISON ADVOCATE WOULD’VE COME
IN HANDY. HAD WE KNOWN ABOUT THE VICTIM IMPACT STATEMENT AHEAD OF TIME, I
PERSONALLY WOULD HAVE PROVIDED ONE. EVEN IF I COULDN’T BE PRESENT. I WOULD
HAVE HAD ONE OF MY SISTERS READ IT FOR ME. IT WAS VERY CHALLENGING TO GET
INFO ABOUT ANY KIND OF COURT DATES, AND REACHING FAMILY WAS HARDER. I WAS
GOING TO TRY AND BE PRESENT TO ONE OF THE COURT DATES, AND I TRIED ASKING
FOR THE ACTUAL DATE. AND IT KEPT GETTING CHANGED ON ME. SO I LOST MY
NERVE.”
Charlotte M.
Moreover, the Crown Witness Coordinator Program does not engage with victims of crime
immediately after an incident. As Phelps pointed out, “We only become familiar with a file once
a charge has been laid, which could be days, weeks, or months, and in the case of some serious
crimes, it could be years after the actual offence occurred.”84
And, while the program does refer victims of crime to support services, it does not provide
support services itself.
Throughout that initial contact, the Crown Witness Coordinator assesses a number of
factors with respect to a victim and the victim’s needs. But we do not provide any form
of a counselling or significant support service for victims who have needs beyond the
information, and beyond what we’re able to provide during a trial process. So our
practice is to make referrals to other agencies within the community. Those agencies
may be First Nation based, they may be territorial based. For example, in the Yukon
Territory, there’s a very well-resourced victim services program. They may be referred to
non-government organizations as well, and mental health services, counselling services,
that type of things.85
In her testimony, National Inquiry Grandmother Blu discussed what it was like for her, as a
16-year-old girl without any support, to attend and participate in the trial of the man later found
guilty of murdering her caregiver and grandmother.
694
First Nations reserves, for a total of approximately 1867. This means that the federal government does
85,000 acres (34,400 hectares) in western Canada.DD have important obligations to the Métis, as
To access their benefits, Métis veterans tried to claim “Indians.”HH In the aftermath of that decision, and
their lands from the program, but they were sent while many Métis governments are working on new
back to the federal government and to the frameworks and agreements with the different levels
Department of Indian and Northern Affairs. The of government, the ongoing negotiations, and the
Department of Indian Affairs claimed it was not long road to reach substantive and concrete
responsible for the Métis, and many were ultimately agreements, mean that many people are simply left
never able to access any veterans’ benefits.EE In 2002, waiting.
Métis veterans who had served in the Second World
War and in Korea launched a class action lawsuit over In addition, the lack of clear data available on issues
the lack of compensation when they returned home, affecting the Métis on a national scale is an important
and their exclusion from the compensation deal barrier to upholding the rights of Métis women, girls,
offered to Treaty First Nations.FF and 2SLGBTQQIA people to safety. As Emma
LaRocque, Métis scholar, has argued:
This example, while not specific to women, indicates
the degree to which the Métis, after 1885 and prior Since it is considerably more difficult to get
to constitutional recognition in 1982, were ignored precise statistics on Métis people, it is virtually
by different orders of government. The economic and impossible to say with any exactness the extent
political marginalization detailed in Chapter 4 further of sexual violence in Métis families or com-
highlights the degree to which the Métis were munities. However, as more victims are beginning
“forgotten” and, in this way, further marginalized. to report, there is every indication that violence,
including sexual violence, is just as problematic,
The Challenges of just as extensive as on reserves.
Understanding Violence Speaking of a gathering held over 25 years ago,

LaRocque adds, “The stories shared by the 150 or so
in the Absence of Data conference participants indicated that Métis women
… have been suffering enormously – and silently –
As many of the testimonies heard by the National from violence, including rape and child abuse.”II
Inquiry make clear, this problem still persists in some
areas today. As researchers Allard-Chartrand et al. The idea that Métis women have been suffering
maintain with respect to education: enormously and silently is linked to the findings of
many previous reports on the issue of violence
The provinces generally maintain that the federal against Indigenous women and girls that cite the
government has full jurisdiction for all Aboriginal need for better disaggregated data that takes into
peoples while maintaining education as a account distinctions between groups. For instance,
provincial authority. This has left the Métis nation the 2017 Human Rights Watch submission to the
in a policy vacuum between the federal and Government of Canada “Police Abuse of Indigenous
provincial governments and resulting in Métis Women in Saskatchewan and Failures to Protect
concerns not been addressed effectively by either Indigenous Women from Violence” recommended
level of government.GG the collection and public availability of accurate and
comprehensive race- and gender-disaggregated
This vacuum, in turn, means that many Métis are left data that includes an ethnicity variable on violence
struggling to access essential services that may help against Indigenous women, as well as on use of force,
to meet their needs and, ultimately, create safety. In police stops, and searches, with the guidance of
2016, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled in Daniels Indigenous women leaders and in cooperation with
v Canada (Indian Affairs and Northern Development) Indigenous community organizations and the
that Métis and non-Status Indians are "Indians" for National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified
the purpose of section 91(24) of the Constitution Act, Remains (NCMPUR).JJ Human Rights Watch’s Those
529
Who Take Us Away: Abusive Policing and Failures in person or the community must: self-identify as Métis;
Protection of Indigenous Women and Girls in Northern have family ties to a historic Métis community where
British Columbia, Canada, made a similar recom- harvesting occurs; prove that the practice of
mendation. harvesting occurred before European control; prove
that the practice was integral to claimant’s distinct
One of the challenges of compiling accurate data culture and demonstrate continuity of that right
with regards to Métis realities refers to what the today; and be recognized as Métis by a contemporary
government of Canada terms “ethnic mobility” as a Métis community having ties to a historical one.
key factor in the growth of the Métis population,
especially since 2006, when the census began to In response to the new map – which did not include
allow self-identification as Métis. As defined by the Sault Ste. Marie, (characterized as a Métis rights-
government, “ethnic mobility” refers to an increasing bearing community as the Supreme Court laid out),
number of people who are newly reporting an Margaret Froh, president of the Métis Nation of
Indigenous identity on the census, over time, and Ontario, explained, “It’s certainly a narrowing of …
represents a “major contributor to the high growth what’s been recognized as the historic Métis Nation
rate of the Aboriginal population in general and the homeland.” She added, “We’ll talk with our citizens
Métis population in particular.”LL In 2002, the Métis and make sure people understand the decisions that
National Council (MNC), which is represented by have been made and we’ll continue to move
elected, province-wide governance structures from forward.”NN The map sparked discussion and, in some
Ontario and west, including the Métis Nation of cases, outrage, in many communities, who argued
Ontario, the Manitoba Metis Federation Inc., the that the map was restrictive and unrepresentative.
Métis Nation – Saskatchewan, the Métis Nation of
Alberta, and the Métis Nation British Columbia, For those who haven’t always identified as Métis, or
adopted the following definition of Métis: for those who come from areas whose connections
to Indigenous cultures are clear, despite their lack of
“‘Métis’ means a person who self-identifies as official recognition from the national, provincial, and
Métis, is distinct from other Aboriginal peoples, is territorial organizations, these kinds of conversations
of historic Métis Nation Ancestry and who is are challenging, and may only reinforce some of the
accepted by the Métis Nation.” lateral violence that many people face as a result of
their desire to belong to a community. In addition,
In late 2018, at the MNC’s Annual General Assembly, many Métis report discrimination from both non-
representatives also noted the rising number of Indigenous and Indigenous Peoples. As scholar Cathy
people claiming to be eastern Métis. The MNC’s Richardson’s research participant, Julie, shared,
President Clément Chartier argued that these groups “Prejudice is such an evil thing, and as Metis we often
were guilty of appropriating Métis culture and get it from both sides of the blanket. A feeling of
symbols, adding that if the only criterion for Métis never quite belonging anywhere haunts me.”OO As
was mixed ancestry, nearly everyone would be Métis. another participant, Susan, shared in the same study,
As he explained, “They’re stealing our identity. They’re “Well, I feel like I’m going to be looked at as a White
using our Métis Nation flag and they’re calling person unless I self-identity, at which point I assume
themselves Métis Nations.”MM Interestingly, at the I’m going to be looked at as a ‘Wannabe’ Indian.”PP
same assembly, a new map of the Métis homeland
was presented, which excluded the only community Michele G. is a Métis woman who shared similar
(Sault Ste. Marie) recognized as a rights-bearing Métis experiences with the National Inquiry. Originally from
community in the Powley Supreme Court decision of The Pas, Manitoba, she now lives in Dartmouth, Nova
2003. In the 2003 decision, the Supreme Court had Scotia. Her Métis father died young of cancer.
provided a “test” for Métis communities and According to Michele, her mother wasn’t identifying
individuals for claiming Aboriginal rights under as Indigenous at the time, though she went to
section 35 of the Constitution Act, with respect to residential school and this affected her deeply.
hunting and harvesting, the charges under which the Michele’s mother died when Michele was 15. At this
case was launched. According to the 2003 decision, point, Michele remembers that her mother’s side
to be considered Métis under the Powley test, the wouldn’t take her and her siblings in: “My mom’s side,
530
sentenced at all, and that is often – that decision is often made on this kind of belief
about the victim herself, an Indigenous woman or a girl. And, you know, they always are
coming up with different ways to show, you know, why an Indigenous woman or a girl is
not a worthy victim who is worthwhile and deserving of justice within the Canadian
legal system.90
Understandably, for the families who know the truth about their daughter, sister, mother, or loved
one, such characterizations are devastating attacks to their loved ones’ memory, and constitute a
gross violation of justice.
What became evident by the end of our hearings is that, in the testimonies the National Inquiry
heard, the process of making victim impact statements illustrates the fact that the victim and the
victim’s family don’t always feel well-represented by the Crown. Families may have no legal
representation at trial and are marginalized, representing a significant failure of the system.
In addition to the emotional toll that attending the court proceedings related to the disappearance
or death of their loved ones carries, families often also carry a significant financial burden. In his
testimony, Fred F. talked candidly about the financial toll of attending his daughter’s murder
trial, and the lengths he went to in order to ensure his wife and other children did not have to
bear the brunt of these concerns.
At Espace Ashukan in Montreal in 2019, creators of a commemorative quilt to honour

missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls stand with their work.
697
Where did I get the gas money to drive to town every day, 30 miles to go to court? And I
have a little shop in town where my house was in town, in the back of my house there’s
a small shop, it’s just like a room for my trade and we’d drive to town, we’d go into the
courtroom, do our thing. Then we’d have the hour and a half lunch and I was so broke I
was buying cans of tuna and leaving it at the shop so at lunchtime I’d take her [his wife]
to get her whatever she wanted and then I’d go and eat my can of tuna to have my lunch
to go back to the, to court.
And I don’t think I’ve eaten a can of tuna since because I probably ate 30 or 40 cans of it
during the pre-trial and trial. But it wiped me out. I ended up having to sell my home in
town because I was so behind on my taxes with the government and bills. So those,
those weeks of being in a courtroom where we had, we had a lot of emotional support
but what I need to see changed in Canada is we’re family members of the victim.91
In presenting his recommendations to the National Inquiry, Fred returned to the importance of
relationship and creating supports and services for families that reflect an understanding of the
need for “nurturing” in both an emotional and financial sense during this process.
When they’re spending endless hours and days in a courtroom they [the families] need to
be nurtured. They need to be fed and they need a place to rest during this trial, during the
trial or during the voir dire. Because I don’t even remember who took care of my kids
back then, it was so – I think my parents did, I’m pretty sure they did.
But it was such a traumatic moment where we were just going day to day and sometimes
minute by minute of what we’re going to do next…. I never imagined how deep it could
be, of pain and weakness and stress and there’s no words for it. And so when someone
else goes through something like what we went through and they have to spend a lot of
time in a courtroom, they, they should be uplifted and supported so they can spend their
time in a courtroom and have a place to rest after in case they have to drive to the city
where the court – you know, there’s a lot of places where family members would have to
drive to a courtroom which is, you know, in another city. That caused a lot of stress for
us. That really does need to change.92
There are, in some jurisdictions, supports that are available, particularly in the area of victim
services. Leanne Gardiner, director of the Community Justice and Policing Division for the
Department of Justice, Government of the Northwest Territories (GNWT), told the National
Inquiry that the government of the Northwest Territories provides funding to different municipal,
Indigenous, and community organizations that offer victim services programming. According to
Gardiner, victim services offices offer a wide range of supports.
698
They can walk into any victim services office and ask for assistance. The program …
works independently of the court, the Crown, or police, so a victim does not have to be
involved in any of those processes, the criminal justice system, to access those supports.
And providers assist with … a wide variety … of either referrals or support, so that can
be immediate emotional support. It can be a referral to other services. They’re not
technically a counselling service that they’re providing, but they are absolutely, quite
often, most immediate emotional support for victims.93
Gardiner also explained that the GNWT provides funding for many other programs that provide
support for victims of crime.
Betty Ann Pottruff, Q.C., senior advisor at the Government of Saskatchewan, told the National
Inquiry that shifting leadership at different levels of government have made it difficult to imple-
ment some of the broad changes necessary to address the crisis of violence against Indigenous
women.
The other challenge that I’ll just raise … is that in my experience one of the limitations …
on the momentum to change is the fact that we are dealing with different levels of
government, so we’re always in the process of … changing leadership or changing
directions, whether it’s elections at the First Nations level, elections at the provincial
level, elections at the federal level, and so there’s this consistent churn in terms of policy
direction and commitment, and so it’s very hard to keep momentum going when you want
to make big, big changes and really shift society. That’s one … of the strengths of
democracy, but it’s also one of the weaknesses, so I’ve often said that in a four-year
mandate you will often only get 18 months of really productive work because there’s so
much churn going on at both ends.94
Overall, the witnesses who testified before the National Inquiry identified a lack of will and
commitment within the courts, largely based in ongoing discrimination and racism directed
toward Indigenous people, and women in particular. Marilyn W. understood her experience of
a miscarriage of justice that took place during the murder trial of the man accused of killing her
sister as just another example of the broader underlying racism Indigenous Peoples face within
this system.
I sat in that courtroom, and I saw how the prosecutor was trying to argue my sister’s
case, and I saw how that judge kept defending the person who killed her, and I knew –
I knew the judge already – before the outcome, I knew that the judge already – already
was going to side with the man who killed by sister. I knew it … and so I listened to the
man who confessed to killing her. I listened to the recording in the courtroom. I saw him
break down. I saw him cry and say, yes, that he killed her and he took her life, and then,
the judge … threw out his confession, and then he let him go free.
699
How does that happen? How does somebody who confessed to taking a human life, how
do they get away with that?95
Similarly, Delores S. described this attitude when speaking about her interaction with the justice
systems following the death of a loved one, Nadine, in 2015.
The systems involved all respond that Nadine was at fault, and communicated it via
body language, word usage, and demeanour in speaking to the family. Their insensitivity
to the family … exemplifies deeply ingrained attitudes and prejudices they hold.96
Given the judge’s ruling that, at the end of trial, the man accused of murdering her sister was
released on a technicality, it is easy to see how Marilyn and other Indigenous families fighting
for justice may be left to ask, as she does: “Where’s my justice?”97
National Inquiry staff and Commissioners sing the Strong Woman Song in Calgary, Alberta.
700
The distinctions in geographies and in community
connection and identity are evidenced in the many
Experiences with Justice
different experiences that Métis witnesses shared Systems
with respect to the violation of economic, political,
and social rights. As Virginia C. explained: The distinctions in lived experiences in different
settings and communities, as well as within very
Mom was one of … the Métis that were – they different life contexts, were also conveyed with many
kept getting moved from location to location, of the stories the National Inquiry heard from Métis
so … there was no permanent land base for the witnesses with respect to law enforcement and with
Métis, and I know both villages that I lived in as a the justice system.
child, Molanosa, in the geographical centre of
Saskatchewan, no longer exists. The people who Fallon F. told the story of her family’s loss. Sherry and
lived in that community [were moved from] that Maurice lived with their daughter, Fallon, and two
community to across the lake, Weyakwin, because sons on a farm in St. Eustache, Manitoba. Both
I don’t know if there was mineral resources in that parents worked in Winnipeg but were very involved
area or what.YY in their community. Sherry and Maurice were
murdered in 1993, on the same day that the
To Virginia, the history of disenfranchisement and of perpetrator – her mother’s stalker – was released
marginalization of her mother through various stages from custody for breaking a restraining order, when
of her life was connected to her experience as a Métis Fallon was just 9.
person.
On the night of the murders, Fallon was awoken by a
Harold R. is Métis and originally from Edmonton. His noise to find her mother struggling with the
aunt Julie was beaten to death when he was 15, and perpetrator, while her little brother, five years old,
he remembers the day that his family found out she stood crying nearby. Fallon tried to call for help on
was dead. The family received a phone call one the regular seven-digit assistance line, since 911
evening and his mother answered the phone, falling service was not available in the area, but was chased
to the floor when she was told that her sister, Julie, from the phone by the killer. Eventually, and after
had been beaten to death by her partner. Seeing the having her three children trapped, the perpetrator
immediate impact of that loss on his family members threatened to kill one of them if Fallon’s mother didn’t
has stuck with him to this day. As he put it, “in one agree to go upstairs with him.BBB
phone call that part of my mother was just stripped
away.”ZZ Eventually, Fallon was able to try to call for help
several more times, but not before the perpetrator
He also spoke of the silence that followed her loss. killed both of her parents, then turned the gun on
“We were robbed of her laughter, we were robbed of himself.CCC The children called for help from 12 a.m.
her, you know, great zeal for life. My mom was robbed on, but the police officer fell asleep and didn’t
of a friend and a sister. So that stuck with me and the respond until 3 a.m. Fallon and her younger brother
rest of our family and we saw … the impact of that sat in the house, with their parents’ bodies, until help
call.” Harold remembered that the family couldn’t finally arrived at 8:30 a.m.DDD
afford a casket and he had to put all of the money he
made that winter as a 15-year-old toward that. They Métis mother Cathy C. came to the Inquiry with her
couldn’t afford a gravestone for another 15 to 20 husband David and granddaughter Ashley to share
years. He described having to grow up quickly to deal about her daughter, who went missing from 2014
with these things.AAA to 2017, and is now missing again. Their biggest
frustration with the authorities are the rules around
The experience of poverty shaped the aftermath of not releasing information about missing people
his aunt’s death, and also affected his mother, except in certain circumstances, since some people
impacting her well-being and health for the disappear of their own accord. However, a
remainder of her life. complicating factor is that their daughter was
533
diagnosed with schizophrenia, and has experienced
severe drug-induced psychosis in the past.
Conclusion: Reframing the
Diverse Experiences of Métis
The one time they heard from their daughter, in
2017, was when she was incarcerated in Los Angeles. Women to Restore Safety
There, when she was given medication for her
schizophrenia, she began to remember her family’s There is a great diversity, both among Métis women’s,
phone numbers and called her parents. She stayed in girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA peoples’ experiences, as well
contact with them while she was in jail and receiving as between the experiences of Métis women and
medical support, until she was released in September other Indigenous women in Canada. In concert with
2017. She became homeless, and by October they this, there is a lack of data to support thorough
lost contact with her again. analysis concerning the ways in which Métis women’s,
girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s experiences and rates
She is still missing, and both Canadian and American of violence may differ from those of other Indigenous
authorities continue to say they are unable to release people. While these experiences may reflect, in many
any information to her family, including if she is alive ways, those of other Indigenous people in Canada, the
or dead. They feel that the prevailing attitude from need to understand how a lack of services, and
the authorities is that no one really cares. an abdication of governmental responsibility, may
have contributed to these issues remains of vital
In another situation, Karin S.’s mother drowned in the importance in fully understanding how best to
Yukon River. However, Karin never felt that the combat violence in this distinctive context.
question of how her mother ended up in the river
was properly investigated – there were too many Overwhelmingly, Métis witnesses testifying about
unanswered questions. their family loss pointed to the characteristics they
missed the most of their loved ones. For instance,
The authorities also improperly identified Karin’s Karin S. testified that her cousins remembered her
mother as non-Indigenous. Karin would like to see mother as someone who made people feel special
this formally fixed on her mother’s death certificate. and loved. Her mother also made special efforts to
As she says, “She wasn’t Caucasian – not that that’s care for older people in her life, bringing them meals,
an insult, but my mom was very proud of her First making sure they got out to events and always being
Nations heritage, Tsleil-Waututh and Manitoba ready with a sympathetic ear.
Métis.”EEE
Virginia C.’s mother, Madeline, was described by
The experience of many Métis with law enforcement family as someone who had survived “so much
varies greatly. In some cases, experiences with law violence and poverty”; she “had an ability to endure
enforcement and the justice system are linked to and make the best of her circumstances.” She “left
geography, to community, and to perceived identity a great legacy of love.” She was “very kind, merciful,
of the victim or perpetrator. While the evidence gentle, generous, hospitable, industrious, and
tendered before the National Inquiry does not resourceful.” Also, she was “a meticulous housekeeper,
provide a basis for broad generalization, the diversity provid[ed] food and clean clothing and she was an
of experiences, as well as the common perception of entrepreneur selling lovely beadwork over many
being forgotten or cast aside, points to the need to years. But above all, she was the best of mothers.”FFF
support greater awareness on the part of the justice
system about the need to track and record these But witnesses also pointed to the strength and power
crimes and the identities of victims and of of their communities and relationships in providing
perpetrators, and the need for greater relationship the way forward after these losses. For example,
building in whatever context Métis people interact despite moving to Ontario to live with her aunt in the
with these agencies. aftermath of her parents’ deaths, Fallon pointed out
that she continues to have a bond with friends and
534
family in the community because of the “upbringing if we imagine ourselves richly…. So, this gift that we
that I had attached to my community and to have, we are who we imagine ourselves to be.”HHH A
everyone.”GGG These bonds of social cohesion are strength-based approach includes understanding
important among Métis people, particularly in the and celebrating culture, optimizing family and
diversity of experiences – social, economic, political, community well-being, celebrating and encouraging
and others – that characterize the lives of the loved good relationships, and recognizing that answers lie
ones we heard about. within Métis communities, if people only bother to
ask. As she pointed out, “If relationships [are] the
Métis witnesses before the National Inquiry offered fabric and glue that [hold] us together, then this
distinctive solutions to confronting violence based in investment is a critical thing.”III
strength-based solutions. As Janet Smylie said, “What
Findings
• Métis people were ignored by various orders of government for many years, particularly between 1885 and
1982. Related to this, there has been a lack of government responsibility for issues affecting Métis people, often
framed in terms of jurisdictional issues, that persists today. This includes a lack of programs and services that
meet the needs of Métis people in an equitable manner consistent with substantive human rights standards.
• The provision of services under the First Nations and Inuit Health Branch (FNIHB) is discriminatory and violates
the rights of those excluded, including Métis and non-Status First Nations Peoples.
• There is an under-representation and sense of erasure, or invisibility, of Métis communities under broader
umbrella terms such as “Indigenous” or “Aboriginal.”
• There is a lack of clear data available on issues affecting Métis people on a national scale, such as disaggregated
data concerning violence and sexual violence experienced by Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as
well as data related to the particular barriers that Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people face in accessing
their rights to safety.
535
A Wildcat, “Wahkohtowin in Action,” 14. JJ Farida Deif, Part 2, Public Volume 9, Exhibit 26, Toronto, ON,
B Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public p. 85.
Volume 3, Iqaluit, NU, p. 18. KK Farida Deif, Part 2, Public Volume 9, Exhibit 31, Toronto, ON, pp.
C Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public 115-116.
Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 148. LL O'Donnell and Wallace, “First Nations, Métis and Inuit Women,”
D Gaudry, “Métis.” https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/89-503-
x/2010001/article/11442-eng.htm.
E Library and Archives Canada, “Métis Scrip Records,”
https://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/metis-scrip/005005-4000- MM Hobson, “They’re stealing our identity.”
e.html. NN Ibid.
F Barkwell, “Metis Adhesion to Treaty Three.” OO Richardson, “Metis Identity Creation,” 60.
G Ibid. PP Ibid., 61.
H Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public QQ Michele G. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 467, Dartmouth, NS,
Volume 2, Iqaluit, MU, p. 109. p. 3.
I Gaudry, “Métis.” RR Michele G. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 467, Dartmouth, NS,
J Sammons, "Leaving Ste. Madeleine,” 152. p. 5.
K Herriot, Towards a Prairie Atonement, 49. SS Sharon P. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 223, Prince George,
BC, p. 28.
L Ibid.
TT S.A. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 29, Vancouver, BC,
M Ibid., 45.
pp. 1-2.
N Ibid., 49.
UU Canada, Statistics Canada, “Aboriginal Peoples Highlight
O Ibid., 46. Tables, 2016 Census.”
P Ibid. VV Cited in Hawkes, Aboriginal Peoples and Government
Q Ibid. Responsibility, 260.
R Sammons, "Leaving Ste. Madeleine," 152. WW Aboriginal Peoples Television Network, “Alberta Métis
S Herriot, Atonement, 22. settlements.”
T Zeilig and Zeilig, Ste. Madeleine, 4. XX Cornet, “Fresh hopes for land claim.”
U Herriot, Atonement, 88. See also Sammons, "Leaving Ste. YY Virginia C. (Métis), Part 1 Statement Volume 117, Saskatoon, SK, p.
Madeleine,” 152. 29.
V Sammons, "Leaving Ste. Madeleine," 157. ZZ Harold R. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 81, Edmonton, AB, pp.
4-5.
W Lena Fleury, “Oral History interview with Lena Fleury of
Binscarth, Manitoba,” 22 June 1993. Accession No. 1997-44, AAA Harold R. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 81, Edmonton, AB, p.
Location Code C2420. Metis Women of Manitoba Inc. oral 5-6.
history project records, Archive of Manitoba. See also Sammons, BBB Fallon F. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, p. 37, 43-
"Leaving Ste. Madeleine,"157. 45, 50.
X Herriot, Atonement, 77. CCC Fallon F. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 46-
Y Sammons, "Leaving Ste. Madeleine," 155. 47.
Z Zeilig and Zeilig, Ste. Madeleine, 168–69. DDD Fallon F. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, p. 47.
AA Gaudry, “Métis.” EEE Karin S., Part 1, Statement Volume 4, Whitehorse, YT, p. 3.
BB Shore, “The Métis,” 1. FFF Virginia C. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 117, Saskatoon, SK, p.
27.
CC Cited in Gaudry, “Métis.”
GGG Fallon F. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, p. 37.
DD Carter, “An Infamous Proposal.”
HHH Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
EE Duhamel and McCrae, “Holding Their End Up.” Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, p. 116.
FF Common, “Métis veterans launch class action lawsuit.” III Dr. Janet Smylie (Cree/Métis), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
GG Allard-Chartrand et al., “Métis Children and Families,” 40. Volume 2, Iqaluit, NU, pp. 122-123.
HH Daniels v. Canada (Indian Affairs and Northern Development) 2016
SCC 12.
II LaRocque, “Violence in Aboriginal Communities,” 73.
536
doing that. They searched for her and still the police weren’t searching.”105 Again, it was only
after the community search was well underway, and Pamela went to the media, that the police
actually stepped in to help. While Pamela did go on to commend certain officers for their help in
the search, the praise she receives from one officer for going to the media in order to hold the
police accountable speaks to a disturbing precedent and status quo of inaction when it comes to
taking reports of missing Indigenous girls seriously.
For Bernice and Wilfred, a lack of support from the police and their own community meant that
they were left to initiate a search for their daughter completely alone – one that they continue
today. They have to go to even more extreme measures to get the attention of the police: at one
point, they took human bones they uncovered during their search to the detachment office.106
So we found these remains of these bones and we took them – well, we went to the
RCMP detachment. I said, “Come over here. We found something. We found these
bones, what seems to be a body.” That cop didn’t even believe us then. He didn’t even
want to come. So, I went back, went back to that area, and I took a piece of the knee
because it had a bit of cartilage inside of it, right? So, maybe there’s DNA in there or
whatever. So, I took it, I put it in a bag and I brought it to them. And then only after I
physically shown them that, then they – then they moved, you know, it was – it’s kind
of messed up.107
Their heartbreaking, 10-year search for their daughter, Jennifer, continues today. As we noted at
the beginning of this chapter, they interrupted their search only to attend the National Inquiry in
hopes of raising awareness about her.
For the many Indigenous women whose whereabouts may not be known to family members at
the time of their disappearance – women who may have been removed and disconnected from
their families through residential schools or child welfare, for instance – it is often those closest
to them who initiate a search for their missing sisters. Previous investigations into the police re-
sponse to missing Indigenous women living on the street or involved in the sex trade at the time
of their disappearance have indicated the lack of care shown to these women in terms of the
police attempt to search for them.108
“WE DID AN EXTENSIVE SEARCH RIGHT INTO SNOW. WE WERE FORCED TO STOP
SEARCHING ONLY BECAUSE OF THE WEATHER, BECAUSE OF THE SNOW. WE SEARCHED
FOR, WHAT WAS IT, TWO – OVER TWO MONTHS – EVERY DAY. AND WE HAD A HUGE
TEAM AT FIRST BUT PEOPLE HAVE LIVES AND JOBS AND OTHER RESPONSIBILITIES AND
AT THE END THE SEARCH TEAM GOT SMALLER AND SMALLER. BUT WE KEPT GOING.”
Tom C.
In these family or community-based searches, family members described taking on the responsi-
bility of creating, printing, and distributing missing persons posters, travelling to places their
loved one may have visited, following up on tips, and completing extensive ground and water
705
searches through fields, forests, and lakes, down alleyways and dirt roads, under bridges, and
even in garbage dumps.109 As Bernice remarked, “It’s the worst thing a parent or anybody can go
through … to try to find your child in a garbage dump where it stinks, because there’s rawhides
and everything. It’s a garbage dump.”110
Marilyn W. described her efforts.
We began our search, and we started hanging posters, and we started looking everywhere,
and we started trying to get help, and my family came together, and there was a police
officer – there was a police officer who was assigned to the case, and he was just – he
didn’t care, and we argued, and I was frantic and I was drowning in despair, and I don’t
even know if he was even trying to look, and I – I was looking and looking, and then
months later after calling and calling and trying to find her and putting myself at risk in
going out there and looking for her myself and hanging posters and travelling, and finally
… he went on vacation, and he didn’t even tell me. He didn’t tell me where things were.
There was – we had no communication.111
When families and community members are forced to initiate and organize searches for their
missing loved ones, they usually do so at their own cost – an economic hardship put upon fami-
lies who are often already struggling to pay the bills. In his testimony, Tom C. spoke about how
the economic realities of people’s lives meant that community members could help in the search
for his daughter only for so long:
We did an extensive search right into snow. We were forced to stop searching only because
of the weather, because of the snow. We searched for, what was it, two – over two months –
every day. And we had a huge team at first but people have lives and jobs and other
responsibilities and at the end the search team got smaller and smaller. But we kept going.112
In his testimony, Fred F. described the economic toll his involvement in the search for his
daughter, Hilary, took on him and his family.
I’m a self-employed locksmith. I’ve been self-employed now for 30 years. It’s just a
proprietorship, it’s just me so I’m the sole provider, I guess, for the family is the way I
look at myself. I know I’m really not, Pam is, too, but I take that, that duty on myself very
seriously and during the search, I probably put a month into it, I ran out of money. I was
broke. People was giving me gas money to fill up my truck and we were going to a
certain house to feed us and we, we’d wake up around 10 o’clock in the morning to 11
o’clock and we’d start searching until six o’clock the next morning. We wouldn’t stop.113
Among the recommendations made by families to the Commissioners was the need for financial
support available to families so they can participate in the search for the missing loved one with-
out the additional worry of making sure they have enough money to pay their bills.114
706
While this recommendation may certainly ease the immediate burden faced by families as they
search for a missing loved one, their stories also make clear the need for systemic change that
ensures that the families and communities have immediate access to search-and-rescue services
equivalent to the services available to non-Indigenous people across all regions.
Self-Determined Services and Supports
Across Canada, victims of crime and their families’ rights to protection and information is set out
in legislation passed in 2015. Called the Canadian Victims Bill of Rights, this legislation outlines
principles or rights that must be protected when Canadians and their families become victims of
crime. Beyond this legislation, however, and in the context of their testimony, many family
members and loved ones identified solutions that already exist, or that need to be adapted to the
needs of Indigenous communities, as a way to promote healing and better relationships between
Indigenous Peoples and law enforcement. The experiences of these families point to the prob-
lems and gaps in relationship between Indigenous victims and families of victims of violence and
the criminal justice system, that the programs, services, funds, and legislation that the National
Inquiry heard about from Knowledge Keepers and Expert Witnesses during its Institutional and
Expert Hearings are meant to repair.
CANADIAN VICTIMS BILL OF RIGHTS
Enacted on July 23rd,

• INFORMATION • PROTECTION 2015, the Canadian
Victims Bill of Rights
affirms four principal
rights for victims:
Includes the right Considers security
to ask about the and privacy of Information, Protection,
jusce system, vicms, and need Participation and
vicms services, or for protecon from Restitution. These are
progress on the inmidaon or set out through various
case. retaliaon.
stages of the criminal
justice system, including
Includes the right investigation, trial,
Restuon orders to present a vicm sentencing, and federal
must be considered impact statement corrections and
and pursued and to offer views
conditional release.
through civil on maers that
ligaon. affect vicms'
rights.
• RESTITUTION • PARTICIPATION
707
Canadian Victim Bill off Rights Act
CRIMINAL JUSTICE CONTIN
NUUM
Investigatio
on Federral Corrections and
Tria
al Sen
ntencing Con
nditional Release
Right to information abo out the Right to informatio on about the Right to inform mation on reviews Right to innformation about the
VICTIM
status and outcome of the location and time of the

t proceedings while NCR / UST** offender is subject to date, destin
nation and conditions
M RIGHTS
investigation of the alleged offence

fence, outcome
and outcome. he
earings and about the
Review Board hearings attached too an offender’s release
location of proceedings, annd available location and timing of sentencing under the Corrections and Conditional
services. hearings and their outcome. Release Actt (CCRA) and about
Right to protection by having their
available programs and services,
security and privacy considered; to
including Restorative Justice programs.
Right to protection by ha aving their have reasonable and necessary Right to protection by having their
security and privacy considered during measures taken to protect them security considered at sentencing.
the investigation. from retaliation and intimidation;
to request that their identity be Right to protection by having their
Right to participation by conveying
protected; and to request security considered and to have
Right to participation byy conveying their views when decisions are made
testimonial aids. reasonable and necessary measures
their views when decisionss are made that affect their rights under the Actt,,
taken to protect them from retaliation
by authorities that affect their rights and to have those views considered as
and intimidation.
e those
under the Actt,, and to have Right to participation by conveying well as to present victim impact
views considered. their views when decisions are made statements.
by authorities that affect their rights Right to participation by conveying
under the Act, and to have those their views when decisions are made
Remedy: Victims who feell that their Right to Restitution by having the
views considered. that affect their rights under the Act,
rights have been breached by a Courts consider a restitution order in
for example, at a parole hearing, and
federal department, agenccy or body all cases and have it entered as an
to have those views considered.
gh its
can file a complaint throug Remedy: Victims who feel that their enforceable judgment in Civil Court.
complaints process. rights have been breached by a
federal department, agency or body Remedy: Victims who feel that their
Remedy: Victims who feel that their
can file a complaint through its rights have been breached by a
rights have been breached by a
Note:* NCR: Not Criminally Responsiible; complaints process. federal department, agency or body
UST: Unfit to Stand Trial
federal department, agency or body
can file a complaint through its can file a complaint through its
complaints process. complaints process.
For additional copies of this publication, © Her Majesty the Queen in Right of Canada, 2015
please email NtnlOfficeVictim [email protected] Cat. No: PS18-22/2015E-PDF
ISBN: 978-1-100-25407-4
or call 1-866-525-0554.
In their testimony, Chief Danny Smyth and Diane Redsky from Winnipeg offered a “model that
emphasizes Indigenous-led community services that are supported by the police in a collabora-
tive way.”115 This model is based on a recognition of the expertise of Indigenous women and
Indigenous-led women’s organizations in creating safe communities and fostering a new model
of justice rooted in a commitment to building relationships that address the structural barriers
that continue to create risk for Indigenous women and allow violence to continue. Chief Danny
Smyth shared the following observation:
I speak often of community engagement and our partnership with groups like the
Winnipeg Outreach Network, and the Sexually Exploited Youth Coalition. These groups
are led by strong women; leaders like Leslie Spillett, Diane Redsky, and elected officials
like MLA Nahanni Fontaine and MLA Bernadette Smith. And there are so many more
women who work tirelessly in our community.
This is the kind of community engagement that I see as important. Partnering with
groups like this is the true essence of crime prevention through social development.
These Indigenous-led efforts will help break through social barriers that, left
unaddressed, can lead to harm. I’m committed to partnering with Indigenous-led service
providers like Ma Mawi, Ndinawe, and Ka Ni Kanichihk. And, when possible, to use my
voice to validate their efforts and lend additional credibility to support their programs.116
708
They’re also less likely to have a job. They’re going to make less money. A lot of them
are relying on income assistance right off the bat, 40% will go right onto income
assistance.
The income assistance rate just finally got raised in BC, but for Vancouver it is not even
near enough money to live off of. You can’t even pay rent with it, never mind buy food.
So they’re going into extreme poverty right off the bat, with no high school diploma, not
enough supportive people in their lives. Obviously, by definition, anyone who’s been
through care is going to have trauma. So they’ve got trauma; they’re more likely to have
issues with their mental health, with substance use, more likely to be involved with the
criminal justice system, become young parents. They’re more likely to die young. Of
the 1,000 youth who age out of care in BC every year, three to four will be dead before
they turn 25.
So I think you can really see the connection, right, between the missing and murdered
young women and the care system.118
557
In Care, In Danger:
Understanding the Risks to Safety in the
Context of Child Welfare
While the National Inquiry heard many testimonies related to the abuses of child welfare as related to
culture, it also heard about the ways in which disconnection from culture and from family could work to
target children for violence. Of these experiences, many testimonies were in-camera, in order to protect
witnesses’ privacy. These testimonies often featured particularly egregious accounts of violence and abuse
within a system that, by mandate, is intended to protect, across different provinces and territories.
While many of these accounts are in-camera, others

exist, which are already public, that help to reveal
Social and Economic
how the four pathways identified by the National Marginalization
Inquiry work together to maintain colonial violence.
Angel’s story, as documented by the Manitoba Angel and her family were never given the
Advocate for Children and Youth, is just one. opportunity to succeed. Angel’s family lived in
poverty, often in local crisis centres in between CFS
Historical, Multigenerational, apprehensions and placements.IV Despite the intense
trauma that Angel and her family experienced, there
and Intergenerational Trauma were no appropriate support systems in place in their
community. Angel and her mother would have to
Angel suffered from various forms of trauma travel out of their communities to access addiction
throughout her life; she was exposed to traumatic programs, mental health support, or sexual assault
childhood events that were never appropriately centres.V This further isolated Angel and her mother
identified or addressed.I Her first encounter with from each other and their communities.
Child and Family Services (CFS) in Manitoba began in
1999 when she was 17 months old. By the time she
was 17 years old, CFS had apprehended Angel 14
Maintaining the Status Quo
timesII and placed her in 46 different homes.III The and Institutional Lack of Will
constant instability in Angel’s life is itself a form of
trauma. Further, Angel was sexually assaulted first at The institutions set in place to protect and help Angel
21 months old and again at seven years old, and was utterly failed her. CFS did not meet or follow the
subsequently sexually exploited during her time in provincial standards in Angel’s case: namely,
foster care. Her mother’s addiction, which affected assessments, case planning, service provision, and
her ability to care for her children and consequently evaluation.VI Each time Angel was apprehended or
led to CFS involvement in Angel’s life, is also a sign of placed with CFS, she was eventually returned to her
intergenerational trauma. mother’s care, but the required supports to assist her
558
mother were never in place.VII CFS was aware that Ignoring the Expertise and
Angel’s mother suffered from addiction, yet placed
Angel back in her care, continuing the cycle of Agency of Indigenous
Angel’s apprehension and placements with CFS.VIII
Similarly, once she was in her teenage years and in Women, Girls, and
foster care, whenever Angel was allowed to visit her
mother, CFS made no plans for her safety,IX despite 2SLGBTQQIA People
knowing that she had been sexually abused by three
members in her communityX and that she spiralled CFS ignored the expertise and denied the agency of
further into her substance abuse and self-harming Angel and her mother in numerous instances. In
after each visit home. 2006, Angel’s mother told CFS that she did not want
to send Angel to a therapist who was outside of the
CFS also ignored signs of sexual abuse, substance community; she did not trust that confidentiality
abuse, and mental health issues throughout their would be maintained and that a therapist outside the
many interactions with Angel. On two occasions in community would not be sensitive to the specific
2013, CFS was made aware by Angel’s school and her needs of Angel.XVIII Angel’s mother was not opposed
foster family that she was being sexually exploited for to Angel’s receiving mental health support, but there
drugs and alcohol; however, CFS never followed up was limited support for that in their community.XIX
on these concerns.XI Similarly, CFS was aware of Still, CFS determined that Angel would meet with
Angel’s substance abuse. As young as 10 years old, the outside therapist biweekly for six months.XX CFS
Angel began sniffing glue and gasoline as a coping failed to listen to the expertise of Angel’s mother and
mechanism for her trauma.XII In her teenage years, provide culturally appropriate mental health
Angel was hospitalized and fined multiple times for solutions for Angel.
underage substance use and public intoxication. CFS
recommended that Angel be placed in a drug In 2007, after another CFS apprehension, Angel was
treatment program, yet they never followed up on returned to the care of her mother, despite the fact
their recommendations, and Angel continued to that Angel expressed concern to CFS about her
abuse substances.XIII mother’s ability to care for her and her siblings.XXI
Angel told CFS that her mother often left her and her
Further, CFS was keenly aware of Angel’s mental siblings unattended, yet CFS declared Angel’s claim
health issues. Angel expressed thoughts of suicide as unfounded without looking into it. CFS failed to listen
young as eight years old.XIV Throughout her life, Angel to Angel and continued the cycle of instability in her
was hospitalized for serious mental health issues. In life by placing her back with her mother. However,
2007, a mental health worker recorded that Angel’s in her teenage years, while living in foster care and
mental health was suffering and recommended to after being made a permanent ward of CFS, Angel
CFS that Angel be monitored and encouraged to explicitly expressed her desire to connect with her
return to counselling; CFS never followed up on these mother. She stated that much of the sadness she felt,
recommendations.XV Despite all of this, Angel’s 2014 and, subsequently, her desire to use substances and
case plan blamed Angel for her life circumstances her self-harm, was because she was not with her
and demonstrated no understanding of the trauma mother.XXII Despite this, CFS made no efforts to
that Angel was experiencing.XVI Angel was described connect Angel with her mother.
as “out of control” and that her behaviour was a result
of her mother’s drinking while pregnant.XVII
559
Setting a New Course Tina’s experiences of family fracturing, domestic
violence, exploitation, addiction, loss, grief,
resilience, determination, hope, and searching
In March of 2019, the Manitoba Advocate for Children
for belonging, must not be viewed in a vacuum.
and Youth released its report into the death of Tina
Tina’s life, in many ways, echoed experiences
Fontaine entitled A Place Where it Feels Like Home. It is
lived by others, including her parents and the
the story of teenager Tina Fontaine, who was
many members of her extended family, some
murdered in August of 2014. As the report notes,
whom she knew, others whom she did not. This
Tina’s story echoes that of many others, and its
context is important because only when we
themes identify some of the important ways in which
come to a universal acceptance and under-
child and family services fail to keep families and
standing of the realities of historical and current
children safe. They are evidence of a wider reality, and
discrimination, injustices, systemic racism, and
need for a broader change. As the report notes,
that not all people are allowed access to
opportunities on equal measure, will we ever
have a hope to correct historical, long-standing,
and ongoing injustice.XXIII
I Manitoba Advocate for Children and Youth, Angel’s Story, 56.

II Ibid.
III Ibid., 82.
IV Ibid., 40.
V Ibid., 21.
VI Ibid., 19.
VII Ibid., 8.
VIII Ibid., 20.
IX Ibid., 22, 40, 43, 45.
X Ibid., 41.
XI Ibid., 45, 42.
XII Ibid., 26.
XIII Ibid., 31, 32.
XIV Ibid., 24.
XV Ibid.
XVI Ibid., 49.
XVII Ibid.
XVIII Ibid., 21.
XIX Ibid., 23.
XX Ibid., 22.
XXI Ibid., 24.
XXII Ibid., 47.
XXIII Manitoba Advocate for Children and Youth, A Place Where it Feels Like Home, 14.
560
DEEPER DIVE
Enhancing Interjurisdictional Cooperation

to Promote Safety
As our Interim Report revealed, there are over 1,200 current National Inquiry (given its national scope,
recommendations logged with various reports and federal authority, and support from the provinces) is
commissions linked to combatting violence against to address and make recommendations for the future
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The need for concerning greater interjurisdictional cooperation in
greater interjurisdictional cooperation is a crucial efforts to address violence against Indigenous
recommendation in existing reports concerning women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
violence against Indigenous women and girls. In
these reports, important areas highlighted for The need for greater interjurisdictional cooperation
cooperation include national awareness campaigns; is necessary to close gaps in services that lead to
national action plans; better public transportation greater targeting of, and violence toward, Indigenous
services; reform of legal instruments; improved social women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The difficulties
services and programming; and reforms of the in accessing these services, as the National Inquiry
criminal justice system, including criminal law heard, are important factors that, according to many
provisions concerning sex work and trafficking, witnesses, served to place them or their loved ones
policing, and the administration of prisons and in danger. Many of the concerns the National Inquiry
penitentiaries. heard about included the idea that many Indigenous
Peoples and their territories do not fit neatly within
Of the recommendations aimed at only one jurisdictions. These realities represent important
jurisdiction, the majority were directed at provincial challenges; for instance, the Algonquin of Quebec
and territorial governments, followed by those and of Ontario share the same traditional territories
directed at the federal government. The fewest and ancestors, but are divided by the provincial
recommendations were directed at Indigenous border and do not enjoy mobility and freedom within
governments. At the same time, it is important to their territories. In other cases, Inuit in Nunavut must
note that even recommendations that involved only travel to Manitoba, Ontario, and Alberta to access
one jurisdiction could still include the need for services; it is within those centres that women, girls,
greater communication, cooperation, and colla- and 2SLGBTQQIA people are often targeted for
boration among different agencies and regions violence.
within that single jurisdiction.
In this Deeper Dive, the National Inquiry takes a

Defining Interjurisdictional
systems-level approach to understand how the lack Neglect
of cooperation and coordination in complex
jurisdictional landscapes maintains violence against “Interjurisdictional neglect” refers to situations in
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. which groups or individuals might “fall through
The prominence of recommendations concerning the cracks,” due to a lack of interjurisdictional
the need for greater interjurisdictional action is cooperation. As is documented in part in the Deeper
important to note for two reasons in particular. First, Dive focusing on the Métis, cases of interjurisdictional
confusion or disputes between federal and provincial neglect have important consequences for safety. In
governments over their respective jurisdictions vis- many cases and as the testimonies reveal, the lack of
à-vis Indigenous Peoples has contributed to the coordinated services due to the failure of govern-
inadequate provision of funding and services to mental jurisdictions to work with each other to solve
Indigenous communities. Second, one of the unique, problems and to enhance safety can mean the
and perhaps most important, opportunities for the difference between life and death.
561
KEY DECLARATIONS: RIGHT TO JUSTICE
The following international human rights instruments hold States accountable in the area of justice.
BEIJING:
UNDRIP: - asserts that equality
VIENNA
- affirms that “all between women and
DEVAW: PROGRAMME:
doctrines, policies and men is a maer of
- women who are pracces based on or - governments should human rights and a
subjected to violence advocang superiority promote an increased condion for social
have the right to of peoples or awareness of human jusce
access the individuals on the basis rights and mutual - acknowledges that
mechanisms of of naonal origin or tolerance, including women may be
jusce and to just racial, religious, ethnic for police, military vulnerable to violence
and effecve and law enforcement perpetrated by people
or cultural differences
remedies for in posions of
are racist, scienfically - states must provide
authority, including
the harm they false, legally invalid, effecve remedies to law enforcement
suffered morally condemnable redress human rights
- advocates for more
- states should also and socially unjust” grievances or violaons
training of all officials
inform women of - disnct polical, - a properly funded in humanitarian and
their rights in seeking legal, economic, social and funconing jusce human rights law and
redress through such and cultural system is essenal for the punishment of
mechanisms instuons may for democracy and perpetrators of violent
include those development acts against women,
including police, prison
preoccupied with
officials and security
jusce forces

714
indicate which files are ongoing. As she pointed out,
“We don’t know what’s being investigated right now,
Coordinating Responses
because there’s not mandated reporting by police in Upholding Human and
agencies to the Human Trafficking Coordination
Centre.” She explained, “If we had better reporting, Indigenous Rights
better coordination in that manner, we would have a
better picture and then be more able to track files as As the National Inquiry heard throughout the Truth-
they move from jurisdiction to jurisdiction as well. So Gathering Process, and as the brief look at the issue
that would be a great help if all agencies were of human trafficking demonstrates, the lack of
reporting.”U interjurisdictional cooperation, practically speaking,
results in the denial of basic human and Indigenous
This deficit, linked to issues in cross-jurisdictional rights as related to culture, health, security, and
cooperation within policing services, is an important justice, and as explored in detail in chapters 5
problem that is also associated with the lack of through 8. These problems are not new, and have
disaggregated data, in seeking to understand how been documented at length in previous reports.
different groups experience the realities of human
trafficking differently. As Sethi explains: Education and Employment
There is no national-level data that tracks the Eleven existing reportsX spanning from 1996 to 2015
transient Aboriginal population and their address the education gap between Indigenous
trafficking in the sex trade. A lack of focus and non-Indigenous people. Reports identify
on and/or clear understanding of domestic the education and employment gap as a major
trafficking, the underground nature of the crime, contributing factor to Indigenous women’s economic
and the mobility of the trafficked persons across marginalization, which in turn makes them more
various cities often make it difficult to assess the dependent on others, including potentially abusive
actual numbers.V partners or other unhealthy relationships, and thus
more vulnerable to violence and less able to leave
Outside of policing, as well, the implications are violent circumstances.
serious. As NWAC points out;
The largest number of recommendations that
This has created significant difficulties for address this directly or indirectly require greater inter-
Indigenous organizations, advocates, and jurisdictional cooperation concerning the provision
community members in conducting research of education and skills training. This included the
that is cognizant of the varying experiences 2016 Thunder Bay Youth Coroner’s Inquest, which
among and between First Nations, Inuit, and contained many recommendations concerning
Metis women impacted by human trafficking, the safety of Indigenous youth who are forced to
and developing policies and strategies that are leave their home communities to pursue an
responsive to those experiences.W education – another specific area in which
interjurisdictional coordination and cooperation of
Attempting to find solutions for a crime for which the services is urgently required – and this appears to be
scope and dimensions remain largely unknown is an in progress in certain provinces.
important cross- and interjurisdictional challenge for
law enforcement and justice systems, as well as for One mechanism that appears to be used to varying
those services that the families of those missing and degrees across the country concerns formal
murdered require as a result of their being trafficked agreements among Indigenous, federal, and
and that fall within the confines of one or multiple provincial governments, which outline responsi-
streams of government. bilities and mechanisms for cooperation and
coordination of education services for Indigenous
students. For example, British Columbia has entered
into Aboriginal Education Enhancement Agreements
concerning improvements to Indigenous children’s
566
As the testimony demonstrates in these examples of positive relationship, the police involved in
organizing and supporting searches for missing women in relationship with family and Indige-
nous communities occupy a powerful position that can shape the path of healing or further harm
– at times, regardless of the outcome of the search.
This chapter has documented important barriers to justice, including those rooted in inter-
generational trauma; in social, economic, and political marginalization; in lack of political
and institutional will; and in a failure to acknowledge the agency and expertise of Indigenous
women, girls, 2SLGBTQQIA people, and their families. Within both an Indigenous and human
rights framework, these encounters highlight crucial disconnections between Indigenous Peoples
and justice systems, where the basic right to justice is compromised. We have also looked to
different solutions, both human rights-based and Indigenous-led, to argue that finding justice
for those victims and preventing violence for the future rest in a fundamental reorientation of
relationships among Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, society, and the
institutions designed to protect.
716
Findings: Right to Justice
• The Canadian justice system is premised on settler-colonial society’s values, beliefs, laws,
and policies. It is a justice system that fails to include Indigenous concepts of justice. The
Canadian justice system has been imposed on Indigenous Peoples and has oppressed and re-
placed the Indigenous justice systems that served Indigenous communities effectively since
time immemorial.
• The government of Canada used the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) and its prede-
cessor, the Northwest Mounted Police, to implement and enforce laws and policies designed
to control, assimilate, or eliminate Indigenous Peoples. On behalf of the Government of
Canada, the RCMP: ensured the forced relocations of Indigenous communities; removed
children from their families and communities to place them in residential schools; enforced
laws that prohibited traditional spirituality and ceremonies; enforced the Indian Act gover-
nance structures, including the pass system, at the behest of Indian agents; facilitated the
apprehension of children during the Sixties Scoop; and enforced other discriminatory and
oppressive legislation and policies.
• This historic role of the RCMP has not changed significantly. The RCMP must still enforce
present-day discriminatory and oppressive legislation and policies in areas such as child wel-
fare and land and resource disputes.
• The historic and present-day role of the RCMP, the continued racism and sexism by many
RCMP officers directed at Indigenous Peoples, the high rates of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and lack of resolve have caused many
Indigenous Peoples and communities to lose trust and confidence in the Canadian justice
system, the RCMP, and police services in general.
• The language used in the Canadian justice system, especially the language used in the Crimi-
nal Code and in criminal justice proceedings, minimizes the nature and severity of violent
offences and serves to minimize the responsibility of the offender and the impact of the
crime.
• The Canadian criminal justice system fails to provide justice for Indigenous people, espe-
cially missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The sys-
tem’s failure to effectively hold accountable those who commit violence against Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people means that violence against Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is met with impunity.
• The failure of the Canadian justice system to protect Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people is well established and documented by the Royal Commission on
Aboriginal Peoples and the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba. The lack of effective
response by the federal government, in particular, to remedy this failure prevents the funda-
mental paradigm shift that is imperative to end the genocide.
717
Victims Services Programs
• In many provinces and territories, victim services programs do not have sustainable, long-
term funding. As a result, victim services programs in Canada are inconsistently delivered
across jurisdictions.
• Victim services programs are often designed to facilitate prosecution and conviction instead
of meeting the justice, safety, security, and health and wellness needs of victims of violence.
This means that the onus is on the victim to seek out help to meet their needs. This places the
victim in the position of navigating a complicated system at a time of trauma, often to find
that the services they need do not exist.
• In addition, victim services programs do not necessarily take into account the cultural and
social realities and needs of Métis, Inuit, and First Nations women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people, and often lack cultural safety and language accessibility. They are limited in terms of
time and scope of services and eligibility. Governments have a positive obligation to deliver
victim services as a human right and to resource these services appropriately.
Legal Aid and Legal Instruments
• Legal aid systems and services are inadequate, inaccessible, and inconsistent. As a result,
access to courts, dispute resolution mechanisms, and legal remedies is inadequate and
inconsistent. The inaccessibility of the justice system continues to be a barrier for many
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people seeking to assert their rights. Any
meaningful recourse that the Canadian justice system can offer Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people is inaccessible for many people, due to geographical isolation,
cost, language and other barriers, and lack of legal services.
• Legal instruments designed to provide protection, such as protection orders, are underutilized
and ineffective because of inadequate community resources and enforcement mechanisms.
Therefore, they do not adequately protect Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people.
Sentencing
• There is a commonly held belief that Indigenous offenders receive more lenient sentences
because of the application of the Gladue principles at sentencing; there is also a commonly
held belief that all offenders receive a more lenient sentence when the victim is an Indige-
nous woman, girl, or 2SLGBTQQIA person.
• There is a lack of research about the effectiveness of Gladue principles and section 718.2(e)
of the Criminal Code on the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
and Indigenous communities. In any event, sentencing, as it is currently carried out, is not re-
sulting in creating safer communities or reducing the rates of violence against Indigenous
718
• The objectives of section 718.2(e) of the Criminal Code and Gladue principles are not being
met with respect to the incarceration of Indigenous women, as those rates are increasing.
• The application of Gladue principles and the production of Gladue reports are not consistent
between jurisdictions. There are no established standards for what must be included and con-
sidered in such reports.
• Those in the justice system have not considered Gladue reports as a right, and Gladue reports
have not been accessible to women facing sentencing or properly applied by courts and cor-
rections.
• Gladue reports have limited value when the infrastructure and resources for alternatives to
incarceration, such as community-based rehabilitation and healing-focused services, are not
available in the community to support sentencing options.
• The use of Gladue reports and sentencing principles are not adequately explained to families
and survivors. The manner with which prosecutorial discretion is exercised in cases
involving Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people has left many families and
Indigenous people to question the quality of prosecution and to believe racism and sexism
have played a role in that. Families are led to believe that prosecution services, lawyers, and
judges do not put the same value on their lives and the lives of their murdered loved ones as
is placed on the lives of non-Indigenous people.
• Many cases of the murder of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people by their
intimate partners occurred in the context of a pattern of ongoing and escalating violence and
abuse. The principles of sentencing as set out in the Criminal Code generally are not properly
explained to victims and families. Further Criminal Code sentencing principles are not al-
ways consistent with Indigenous Peoples’ principles and values. These factors contribute to
Indigenous Peoples’ distrust of the justice system.
• There is a lack of transparency regarding plea negotiations and the exercise of prosecutorial
discretion generally, which further contributes to Indigenous Peoples’ distrust of the justice
system and a sense that Indigenous victims of crime are devalued.
719
Notes
1 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public 23 Marilyn W. (Cree). Part 1, Public Volume 30,
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, p. 14. Saskatoon, SK, p. 20.
2 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, 24 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Public Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 47-48. Volume 7, Quebec, QC, pp. 38-39.
3 Cheryl M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18, 25 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
Membertou, NS, p. 13. September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 43-44.
4 Cheryl M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18, 26 Conroy and Cotter, “Self-reported Sexual Assault,” p.
Membertou, NS, p. 19. 16.
5 Cheryl M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18, 27 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1,
Membertou, NS, p. 7; Mont, “Victoria Rose Paul: Public Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 48-49.
Investigation Report.”
28 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
6 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public Public Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 39.
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 38-39.
29 Marlene J., Part 1, Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC, p. 44.
7 World Justice Project, “What is the Rule of Law?”
8 United Nations General Assembly, “Declaration of St. John’s, NL, p. 131.
Basic Principles of Justice.”
9 United Nations General Assembly, “Declaration of the Vancouver, BC, p. 67.
High-Level Meeting,” para. 14 and 15 as quoted in
32 A.B. (Squamish Nation), Part 1, Statement
United Nations Development Programme, “Access to
Justice.”
33 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 88.
10 Ibid., para. 13.
34 Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public
11 United Nations Development Programme, “Access
to Justice,” 6.
35 Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
12 Ibid., 3-4.
13 Ibid., 5.
36 Chief Terry Armstrong, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
14 Campbell, “New light on Saskatoon’s ‘Starlight Volume 5, Quebec City, QC, p.139; Retired Chief Clive
Tours’”; Brave NoiseCat, “I Am Colten Boushie.” Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, p. 62.
15 See Shantz, “Another deadly year.” 37 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON,
pp. 93-94.
16 Blu W. (Cree/Mi'kmaq/Métis), Part 1, Public
Volume 117, Vancouver, BC, pp. 33-34. 38 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON,
pp. 90-91.
17 Amnesty International Canada, Stolen Sisters.
18 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume
7, Quebec City, QC. 40 Translation ours. Lise J. (Innu), Part 1, Public
Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 109.
19 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Volume 7, Quebec City, QC., p. 33. 41 Mealia Sheutiapik (Inuit, Frobisher Bay), Mixed Parts 2
& 3, Public Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, p. 25.
20 Correctional Investigator of Canada, Office of the
Correctional Investigator Annual Report 2017-2018. 42 Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 &3,
Volume 7, Quebec, QC, pp. 35-36. 43 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, pp. 83, 92-93.
22 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public 44 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 93.
720
Recognizing the Importance Indigenous governments also appear to have
stepped in to address service gaps. For example, the
of Self-Determination and Mi’kmaq Confederacy of Prince Edward Island
provides an Indigenous Justice Program, education
Agency assistance, employment services, and family-based
programming (including work on child welfare
Significantly, Indigenous communities and agencies issues). However, again, there appears to be little
work hard to fill gaps in government assistance progress in developing explicit and mandatory
and address unique needs of Indigenous populations mechanisms to ensure these Indigenous govern-
in culturally grounded ways. The report “Urban ments and agencies are being supported and
Aboriginal Service Delivery” in Saskatchewan found: coordinated with those of Canadian governments.
In the context of an increasingly urbanized and Ultimately, when it comes to funding for services for
mobile population of Aboriginal people in Indigenous Peoples, much more coordination is
Canada, an “invisible infrastructure” of urban urgently required. This is especially true in cases
Aboriginal service delivery organizations has involving overlapping federal and provincial
emerged to meet identified needs in such jurisdiction in which each jurisdiction declares it is a
sectors as social services, language and culture, “provider of last resort,” responsible for funding a
economic development, employment, edu- particular service only if the other jurisdiction is not
cation, and health. Yet Aboriginal people also potentially responsible.MMM As many Indigenous
face gaps and lags in service delivery because of people (especially those belonging to First Nations
a range of systemic and other factors related and Inuit communities) may have multiple service
to the history of colonization and ongoing providers, including federal and provincial agencies,
marginalization. their lack of access to services may be the result of
service providers’ unwillingness to pay for services
It noted the failure of municipalities and provinces to rather than any actual lack of those services
create space for urban Indigenous people, therefore themselves. Further, agencies’ budgets and service
forcing them to be “accommodated” in non- priorities are rarely developed in consultation with
Indigenous centres, which lack the policies and Indigenous Peoples or governments, and, as such,
programs to meet their social and cultural needs.LLL tend to be ill-equipped to address Indigenous
populations’ needsNNN – including protocols or other
mechanisms to address interjurisdictional funding
disputes.
Findings
• The existing areas of jurisdiction, as defined by sections 91 and 92 of the Constitution Act, create
interjurisdictional disputes that result in inequalities and inequities in the provision of essential services to
First Nations, Inuit, and Métis people and communities. These interjurisdictional disputes violate human and
Indigenous rights, and contribute directly to systemic violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
• Jurisdictional neglect, coupled with a failure to recognize, protect, and support Indigenous-inherent
jurisdictions, results in the denial of essential services, violations of human and Indigenous rights, and systemic
• The laws, policies, and practices of the Canadian state fail to adequately recognize, respect, and make space
for the inherent right of Indigenous self-governance and self-determination.
572
A Canada, Department of Justice Canada, “Principles Respecting CC “Memorandum of Understanding on Education
the Government of Canada’s Relationship.” Partnership,” https://cyfn.ca/wp-
B See, for example, Heritage Newfoundland and Labrador, content/uploads/2013/09/MOU-official-copy.pdf.
https://www.heritage.nf.ca/articles/politics/aboriginal-self-gov- DD Yukon First Nation, Joint Education Action Plan 2014–2024.
ernment.php. See also Hogg and Turpel, “Implementing Aborigi- EE Assembly of First Nations, “Submission of the Assembly
nal Self-Government.” of First Nations,” 14.
C Dunn, “Harper without Jeers.” FF Ontario First Nations, “Special Education Review Report.”
D Tomiak, “Indigenous Self-Determination, Neoliberalization,” 120. GG Canadian Press, “Six cities chosen as test sites.”
E Ibid., 252. HH Standing Senate Committee on Aboriginal Peoples,
F Uribe, “A Study on the Relationship,” 13. “On-Reserve Housing and Infrastructure.”
G Constitution Act, 1867, ss 91–92. II Curtis, “Repairing, rebuilding of First Nations housing.”
H See Office of the Auditor General of Canada, “Report 5: Socio- JJ Canada, Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs
economic Gaps”; Office of the Auditor General of Canada, “Re- Canada, “On-reserve Housing Reform.”
port 6: Employment Training for Indigenous KK Borden Colley, “New housing to help”; CBC News,
People.” “PEI taking different approach.”
I Meyer, “Feds ignoring data.” LL First Nations Housing Memorandum of Understanding,
J Petten, “Framework for cooperation.” http://www.housing.gov.bc.ca/pub/housingpdf/Tripartite_FN-
K United Nations, “Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Traf- Housing_MOU.pdf.
ficking.” MM Yukon, “Alternative Emergency Shelter Slated.”
L Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Trafficking of NN Including the reports of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peo-
Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada,” 3. ple and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada.
M Grant, “Missing and murdered: The trafficked.” OO First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada,
N Canada, Statistics Canada, “Trafficking in Persons in Canada, “Jordan’s Principle,” 1.
2016.” PP First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada, “Cana-
O Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls,” 209. dian Human Rights Tribunal Decisions,” 2.
P See Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Boyfriend or Not.” QQ Galloway, “Ottawa still failing to provide.”
Q Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls,” 210. RR Kirkup, “Trudeau announces new funding.”
See also Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Trafficking of SS O’Neil, “Auditor General criticizes B.C.”; Barrera, “Spouse of sen-
Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada,” 6–9. ior official.”
R Inspector Tina Chalk, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 15, TT Alberta Mental Health Board, “Aboriginal Mental Health.”
St. John’s, NL, p. 95. UU Mi’kmaq, Nova Scotia, Canada Tripartite Forum, “Exploring
S Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls,” 209. Health Priorities”; Nova Scotia, “Preventing Poverty, Promoting
T Ibid. Prosperity.”
U Assistant Commissioner Joanne Crampton, Mixed Parts VV United Nations, “Human Rights to Water and Sanitation.”
2 & 3, Public Volume 15, St. John’s, NL, pp. 78–79. WW Human Rights Watch, “Make It Safe.”
V Sethi, “Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls,” 208. XX Ibid.
W Native Women’s Association of Canada, “Trafficking of YY Ibid.
Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada,” 4. ZZ Including the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights,
X Including the RCAP, Invisible Women, and TRC reports. Indigenous Women and Their Human Rights in the Americas, Re-
Y British Columbia, “Aboriginal Education Enhancement port of the Special Committee on Violence Against
Agreements”; Kitchenham et al., “Aboriginal Education Indigenous Women, Invisible Women – A Call to Action, and
Enhancement Agreements.” Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women,
Report of the Inquiry… 2015.
Z McKenna, “Addressing Aboriginal education gap.”
AAA Aboriginal Peoples Television Network, “AANDC Cuts to First Na-
AA Pauls, “New Indigenous school board.” tion Organizations”; Barrera, “Aboriginal organizations hit.”
BB Manitoba Education, https://digitalcollection.gov.mb.ca/ BBB Smith, “Lifting First Nations funding cap.”
awweb/pdfopener?smd=1&did=25297&md=1.
CCC McSheffrey, “Here’s what Budget 2017 means.”
573
DDD Barrera, “Budget boosts funding.” KKK Québec, Commission d’enquête du Québec (Viens); CBC News
EEE Spurr and Smith, “Budget commits nearly 8.4 billion.” Montreal, “Québec’s Indigenous inquiry to explore”; Peritz,
“Quebec launches public inquiry.”
FFF Canada, “Inuit Nunangat Declaration on Inuit-Crown
Partnership.” LLL Findlay et al., “The Urban Aboriginal Service Delivery
Landscape.”
GGG Spurr and Smith, “Budget commits nearly 8.4 billion.”
MMM Dion, “Falling through the Cracks,” 12.
HHH See Gaspard, “A way forward.”
NNN Ibid.
III Ontario, The Journey Together.
JJJ Newfoundland and Labrador, The Way Forward.
574
For many who live in poverty or on the streets, the lack of shelter, food, or other supports is seen
as a direct result of a lack of political will or institutional response. Many of those who testified
in relation to their loved ones discussed how that person sought, but was denied, help, or how the
general lack of will or support for life-saving organizations and institutions has an important im-
pact on achieving security. Here, we focus on stories families shared about the relationships they
formed and the encounters they had with institutions, organizations, agencies, or other systems in
their pursuit of safety.
In many cases, the security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people was directly
compromised by deficits in the following areas: accessibility; funding; cultural training and cul-
turally relevant services, particularly related to trauma; policies and procedures in legislation;
and lack of moral and political will to change. Ultimately, institutional response – or lack thereof
– and lack of political will for changes to relevant legislation and policies related to anti-violence
have a direct bearing on the rights to safety and security of Indigenous women and girls. These
inadequate responses become another weapon through which what Josie Nepinak described as
“the war on Indigenous women” continues to be fought.119 In many cases, the institutions that
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people turn to at some of the most vulnerable times in their
lives often act in ways that affirm the belief that the safety of Indigenous women is not important.
Barriers to Accessibility
The testimony presented at the National Inquiry confirmed what is already well known by In-
digenous advocates, families, and survivors: services that exist to promote and ensure security
for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who have experienced violence or who
experience economic, social, or political marginalization are significantly lacking. In particular,
there are barriers to accessing anti-violence support and other related services, including housing
and shelters, education and training, and employment supports for Indigenous Peoples and in
In its current budget, the Canadian government increased its funding to services with a mandate to
provide assistance to women facing violence.120 Additional funding is earmarked for services
specifically for Indigenous women and girls.121 As a result of this limited budget, anti-violence
supports and services, such as shelters, transition shelters, outreach workers, and sexual assault
crisis centres, are significantly limited, especially when it comes to Indigenous-specific anti-vio-
lence services. For example, according to the most recent Statistics Canada Transition House Sur-
vey, there were 627 shelters for abused women operating across Canada on a snapshot on April
16, 2014. On that day, 338 women and 201 accompanying children were turned away from shel-
ters. In 56% of these cases, the reason for being turned away was a lack of space, though other
reasons included drug and addiction issues, and mental health issues.122 First Nations, Métis, and
575
Reclaiming Power and Place: The Final Report of the National Inquiry into
Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, Volume 1b
Cette publication est également disponible en français :
Réclamer notre pouvoir et notre place : le rapport final de l’enquête sur les
femmes et les filles autochtones disparues et assassinées, volume 1b
CP32-163/2-2-2019E
ISBN: 978-0-660-30489-2
COVER IMAGE:
Special thanks to the artists whose work appears on the cover of this report:
Dee-Jay Monika Rumbolt (Snowbird), for Motherly Love

The Saa-Ust Centre, for the star blanket community art piece
Christi Belcourt, for This Painting is a Mirror
Table of Contents
Introduction to Section 3: Healing Families, Communities, and Nations 1

Chapter 9: Wellness and Healing 5
Introduction: Safety, Healing, and Strength 5
Healing Self and Family: Beginning the Journey 6
Families of the Heart 14
Ceremonial and Traditional Knowledge 19
“It’s just a work in progress”: Finding Other Outlets for Healing 27
Healing for Future Generations: Engaging Youth in Wellness 32
“We can’t have only the women heal”: Healing Men and Boys 37
A Lifetime of Healing 38
The Importance of Access to Healing 40
Finding Strength 41
The National Inquiry’s Aftercare Program, and Lessons Learned 47
Conclusion: Respect and Connection 49
Chapter 10: “I am here for justice, and I am here for change”:

Commemoration and Calling Forth 53
Introduction: Beyond Commemoration 53
Commemoration and Calling Forth from the Perspectives of Families 55
The Legacy Archive 58
The Complicated Nature of Archives 60
Artistic Expressions from the Legacy Archive 63
Student and Youth Engagement Guide 75
Reclaim(ing) Power and Place: A Pilot Project 75
Conclusion: Art Actions for the Future 80
Chapter 11: Valuing Lived and Front-Line Experiences 83
Introduction: Four Guided Dialogues and the Distinctions-Based Approach 83
Promoting Empowering Research and Representation 85
Core Principles and Values for Safety 91
Exploring Safety through Four Key Themes 106
Culture as a Critical Source for Safety 107
Health and Wellness 131
Human Security Issues 141
Justice 153
Conclusion: Making Connections 165
Calls for Justice 167

Principles for Change 169
Overarching Findings 174
Calls for Justice for All Governments 176
Calls for Justice: Industries, Institutions, Services, and Partnerships 187
Calls for Justice for All Canadians 199
Calls for Justice: Distinctions-Based Calls 201
Inuit-Specific Calls for Justice 201
Métis-Specific Calls for Justice 210
2SLGBTQQIA-Specific Calls for Justice 214
An Acknowledgement of All Those Who Shared Their Truth 219
Annex 1: Summary of Forensic Document Review Project 233
Bibliography 277
List of Exhibits: Knowledge Keeper, Expert and Institutional Hearings 323
ii
INTRODUCTION TO SECTION 3
Healing Families, Communities,

and Nations
In Section 3 of the Final Report, we come full circle, returning to many of
the ideas, teachings and concepts offered by so many witnesses insisting
on the need for self-determined, distinctive, and needs-based solutions that
work to combat violence by addressing healing. Throughout the Truth-
Gathering Process, the concept of “cultural safety” has emerged as a
foundational principle of wellness. The National Inquiry maintains that
engaging in culturally safe healing helps each person strengthen their con-
nections with themselves, their families and their communities or Nations.
In addition, in their testimonies, family members and survivors from
Métis, First Nations, Inuit and 2SLGBTQQIA communities identified
many programs and policies that have been healing for them and that have
helped, in many cases, to break the cycle of violence. We have highlighted
many of them in short segments throughout this section of the Final Report.
These practices and insights offer concrete examples of the types of sup-
ports that have been helpful and transformative for them in the past, and
which may be healing for others in the future. They also speak to overall
principles of best practice that can and should be used by other programs
and institutions to guide their work with Indigenous Peoples.
Solving the crisis and promoting healing in the lives of Indigenous people
isn’t easy, but these interventions can transform lives. However, it requires
an important commitment to long-term positive outcomes. While so many
witnesses cited the importance of healing in their lives, they also pointed out that many Indige-
nous people don’t have access to healing services, or can’t access services for the time they need
to heal. True healing at all levels requires long-term and engaged support.
This section of the Final Report is also about understanding the kind of actions that move society
beyond commemoration and toward social justice. The National Inquiry characterizes these
kinds of actions, which aim to support commemoration for the purposes of social change, as
calling forth. Within the Truth-Gathering Process, witnesses from distinctive Indigenous commu-
nities offered examples of commemoration and calling forth in their own lives. For many, a
central component of commemoration was making sure that their loved ones were not forgotten,
so that their losses could serve as reminders to all of society about the importance of keeping
women and girls safe, and about the fact that, as the National Inquiry has asserted many times,
“our women and girls are sacred.” Beyond creating change for future generations, many wit-
nesses also testified to the idea that their loved ones’ experiences provided strength – were called
forth – as a way to contribute to reclaiming power and place in the present. The lessons their
loved ones taught them in life are still with them in death, giving families direction and strength
moving forward.
Ultimately, the most important part of healing and wellness, commemoration, and calling forth,
is acting on the solutions provided to ending violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. The final chapter of this report, which precedes its recommendations,
highlights a series of four Guided Dialogue sessions aimed at identifying needs-based
recommendations for distinctive Indigenous groups.
Facilitated in partnership with Simon Fraser University’s Morris J. Wosk Centre for Dialogue,
the Guided Dialogues brought together front-line service providers and community organizers
to explore distinctive perspectives and best practices. We engaged in these dialogues to deepen
our knowledge of systemic gaps and weaknesses, identify best practices and suggest specific
recommendations for change through the lenses of culture, health, security and justice. They
service providers, organizers and people with lived experience, Elders, academics and outreach
support to share perspectives related to their own backgrounds within specific Inuit, Métis,
2SLGBTQQIA and Quebec contexts.
Overwhelmingly, participants identified racism as being at the heart of the colonial structure,
representing a core cause for the violence faced by Indigenous communities. At the same time,
participants highlighted intersecting experiences of discrimination based on gender and sexual
orientation, discrimination against marginalized populations such as sex workers, people en-
gaged in substance use, people who are homeless, or based on their intersectional identities as
Indigenous groups with many distinctive experiences and perspectives.
Further, she pointed out:
I may have struggled, I may have fallen to the darkest places in – you couldn’t imagine.
But at the beginning of my testimony, at the beginning, I told you my name, “Shining
Eagle Woman.” Today – today, I’m a strong person. I’m so strong that I have to stand up,
use my voice. I go to trauma counsellors. I try to help myself. I put safe people around
me. Believe me. Pray for me. Don’t forget me.155
Michele G. spoke about how, after years of placements in foster care with non-Indigenous
families, being able to stay with Indigenous families offered the type of relationship she needed.
Many loving families took me in. Even those with small homes made a place for me.
These included Mary [C.], Grace [M.], Margaret and Dave [L.], and June [S.]. Muggy,
who was Margaret [L.] let me clean out her attic space to make a room for myself there.
These loving families extended all they had to me purely out of love and compassion….
Their attitude was loving and comfortable and their attitude seemed to be that having me
there just meant one more can of beans in the soup or one more cup of rice in the cooker.
I felt welcomed in their homes.
These families didn’t have special training to deal with high-risk youths, they had
culture, they had love and compassion. I felt surrounded with a great deal of love during
some really tumultuous years. That’s why I believe our Nations can do better. Our
culture, our teachings, being surrounded by large extended families full of love is what
our kids thrive on, and we should be in charge of our own children’s care.156
As Michele demonstrates, recognizing expertise not as “special training” but as “culture,”

“love, and compassion” – that is, in honouring the expertise and agency of Indigenous families –
is fundamental to repairing the hurts done by violence and restoring security.
During the Community Hearing in Vancouver, Halie B. offered her perspective on restoring
security in the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
I can tell you there are not enough resources whatsoever, especially for Indigenous
women. There are programs, but there is not healing. There is no real healing lodge.
There is really no place for them to go. In the Downtown Eastside, where you have this
concentration of poverty, and you have addictions, and you have some of the worst
abuses happening down there, you know, to send them around the corner to get help –
they need support. They need someone to actually physically – I’m not kidding,
physically, take them one block sometimes, or they are lost within that block. Somebody
will approach them. Somebody will take them off their path. They need our Elders, and
our aunties, and our women, and our people to be there for them.157
599
Like so many of the other teachings offered throughout the Inquiry, both Michele and Halie
centre the role of relationship as a tool that both takes away safety when relationships are absent,
and can be used to restore safety when those relationships are present.
Survivor Mealia Sheutiapak demonstrated how she draws on her own experience as an Inuk
woman and survivor to address issues of food insecurity for other Inuit living in Ottawa in ways
that she knows reflect the values and needs of her people.
I like what I do today. I feed the community in the Inuit community, not only the Inuit,
anybody is welcome to the church. I feed people on Sundays, and I have this lunch
program on Wednesdays, and there are a lot of people that come to my lunch program.
And, I get overwhelmed about it, too, sometimes and think about how I used to be, but I
didn’t think this is where I would be today, where I’m at.
I’m just giving back to the community as much as I can, and try not to think about what I
used to do, because I just want to keep moving forward. And, I’m not going to stop, like,
giving back to the community, because I feel good when I do that instead of, like, how I
used to abuse myself and feeling bad about myself after. Waking up guilty, feeling that
awful feeling in your gut. But, today, I am a lot different person now. I just try to be
better like everybody else.158
Identifying Expertise
Approaches to honouring agency and expertise must be met with the resources to do so. In shar-
ing their vision for relationships, services, and encounters that will restore security in the lives of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, witnesses drew on their lived experience
and experiential knowledge to identify a shared set of underlying values, requirements, and
needs that respect rather than violate the right to safety and security. If these had been available,
they may have prevented the harm, disappearance, or death of their loved ones. For witnesses,
the implementation of these recommendations is a first step needed to stop more violence. Here,
we summarize some of these key teachings on the steps needed to respect and restore the right
to security.
Improving the security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people depends on cen-
tring the knowledge and experience of those whose lives have been shaped by colonial violence
and its various forms of economic, social, and political marginalization. In describing her role in
developing a drop-in centre and clothing store for Indigenous sex workers in Vancouver, which
led to the development of Grandma’s House, Jamie L. H. emphasized that Indigenous women
know their communities and the gaps, challenges, and barriers to support that they face,
There was no supports for trans, Two-Spirited people in the Downtown Eastside working
in the sex trade. And so, I started up, out of First United Church, where my mother was a
member, and started a food bank and a hot meal program. And … then further along, I
600
For Jennisha Wilson, this means ensuring that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people are in positions of leadership and are fairly compensated for their knowledge and expertise.
Carving out space for survivors to take on leadership roles. One of the common things
that I see in anti-human trafficking programming and sexual exploitation programming
is that survivors are only given the opportunity to learn how to advocate by using their
voice and telling their story. And I think that we’re doing a huge disservice to those
individuals and to community if that is all we’re doing in terms of carving space. There
needs to be leadership roles. There needs to be sustainable employment. There needs to
be better opportunities to participate in the socio-economic systems that are around them
than just as a survivor with a story.162
Diane Redsky echoed this sentiment when including trans and Two-Spirit Indigenous people in
ways that go beyond tokenizing.
And so it is really critical that we are having them [trans and Two-Spirited people] sit
at the table in a meaningful way, working in the safe house, like working within the
resource, of being compensated properly for their voice and … that they’re cared for in a
trauma-informed way. All of those things are really important and we have to value and
respect what they bring because they are the ones that are the experts.163
In reflecting on the services she received from Aunt Leah’s Place, a program that supports youth
in preparing to age out of the foster care system and after they age out, and from STRIVE Youth
in Care Transition Program in Vancouver, a program that provides support and teaches life skills
for youth between 17 and 24 in, from, or out of home care, Shae-Lynn Noskye emphasized why
it is important to be met by those who understand and who have lived your reality:
Because it’s really important for people with lived experience to be able to be there and
support you, and go, you know, “I was exactly where you are now, and it does get
better.” It takes a while. But the only thing holding you back is your own, I guess – your
own limitations.
Shae-Lynn plans to become one of these valuable advocates and supports making change when
she begins the Social Services Worker program in the spring and then go on to get her Bachelor’s
of Social Work. As she says, “I just want to continue with my youth advocacy.”164
602
In Regina, Saskatchewan,
members of the National
Family Advisory Circle
(NFAC) speak to the public
audience. NFAC members
have worked to support each
other through the sometimes
difficult process of hearing
the truths that, for them as
family members and sur-
vivors, are very close to their
own hearts.
Many of the testimonies we heard from survivors and family members in relation to healing
directly engaged the need to begin to heal from the trauma of colonization, of exploitation, of
violence, and of hurt. There were also key moments where that healing began. For some, this
journey began based on a personal decision to move forward. Monique F. H. described how she
was living at a women’s shelter, injecting and drinking every day, and found herself on and off
the street. Having been sexually abused as a child and engaged in violent relationships through-
out her life, Monique made the decision, at her stepfather’s urging, to rejoin her family in
Halifax. As she explained, the moment that she made the decision to do so was transformational.
So I phoned one of the pawnshop guys that I knew, because with my life I knew a lot of
people, and I asked him, I said, “Come and buy everything … that I have, and get me a
ticket to Halifax.” And he did. He took all my stuff and he gave me a ticket. I know that I
did not have anything worth any kind of money, but I think he seen something – the
potential of me living a different life and he gave me the break that I needed.2
That encounter, and the person’s decision to buy her possessions to provide her with a ticket out
of Saskatchewan, made a difference. Monique eventually became an HIV advocate for women
and a social worker. She currently works for CAAN, the Canadian Aboriginal AIDS Network.
“THAT KIND OF LOVE IN THAT KIND OF ENVIRONMENT, YOU’D BE SURPRISED WHAT YOU
COULD DO. I HAD CHANGED MY WHOLE ENVIRONMENT. I HAD CHANGED ALL OF MY
FRIENDS. I CHOSE TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT ENERGY, AND WHAT PEOPLE I LET IN
MY CIRCLE, AND AROUND MY HOUSE, AND MY FAMILY, AND MY CHILDREN. BECAUSE OF
WHAT I WENT THROUGH, I PROTECTED THOSE CHILDREN…. THAT MADE ME HAPPY.”
Stephanie H.
Many witnesses also expressed how other encounters, or people in their lives, were instrumental
to healing and to transforming their experiences. In Monique’s case, she described both her step-
father and her eventual husband as important men in her life who helped her to change. As she
described, her stepfather and her mother had travelled from Halifax to Saskatoon to visit her in
the women’s shelter before Monique had decided to return home: “My stepfather told me … that
he wasn’t going to leave without me because he knew that I was in a bad place. He knew I wasn’t
taking care of myself. He knew that I was using drugs. I was – by then full-blown injecting.
Drinking every day. Putting myself at high risk for everything.” Eventually, as she explained,
“and as time went on, for that month, I realized that I needed to get away from there.”3
Monique also explained how the move – getting out of there – facilitated her meeting her current
husband. She met him because they worked together, and he helped her through a very difficult
time when she didn’t have her children. He continues to support her through her rough times and
when she is triggered, such as when she gave a talk about her own life in Halifax and couldn’t
get out of bed for days. She said, “He helped me see the strength inside of me that I didn’t know
I had.”4 She is very grateful for her husband, with whom she has four children.
As these powerful examples show, the help of others in the healing journey is an important
feature of many testimonies heard by the National Inquiry.
For Monique, as well as for others, part of the key to healing was changing the circumstances in
which she lived. Stephanie H., who described a pact she made with her husband to get sober
together, also talked about the importance of changing the environment in her life, and how that
led her to being able to raise her children.
That kind of love in that kind of environment, you’d be surprised what you could do.
I had changed my whole environment. I had changed all of my friends. I chose to be
responsible for what energy, and what people I let in my circle, and around my house,
and my family, and my children. Because of what I went through, I protected those
children…. That made me happy.5
Healing through family was a prominent theme in the testimonies. For many, even appearing
before the National Inquiry was a feat of courage they credited to their families. As Adrienne B.
asserted, “I just have to say first off, that the strength I have to do this comes from my family.”6
Courtney B. affirmed, “I’m really grateful that my family is able to come together…. We’re
going to speak the truth, we’re going to share our story, and we’re going to stand with each
other each step of the way.”7
Lu’ma Native Housing Society
Lu’ma Native Housing Society provides affordable and secure housing for Indigenous families and
individuals with low and moderate incomes in Vancouver and across British Columbia. The society owns and
operates just under 500 units of housing. It also helps Indigenous people who are moving into cities from
their home communities.
Though Lu’ma Native Housing Society’s main focus is Many family members and survivors identified that
on providing housing, it has expanded its services to young people, especially those transitioning out of
address a variety of needs in different Indigenous care or moving into the city for the first time, need
communities.I more support to make sure they are not targeted by
those who would exploit them.
In her testimony, Barb L. described some of these
services. As Barb described, the society has taken this chal-
lenge on by providing mentorship and housing for
I belong to a fabulous organization now, and youth aging out of foster care to prevent them from
they have opened a medical clinic. So they being exploited or becoming homeless. This program
started with housing, it’s Lu’ma Native Housing. aims to prepare youth for adulthood by empowering
We started with housing, and then now we have them and connecting them with their communities
all these subsections of … the gaps that are as well as their culture. It provides flexible and youth-
being created around Vancouver. So my program driven programs to address their needs in real time
is, you know, helping the youth that are aging in a holistic and Indigenous-led way.
out of care, and we have a medical centre as well.
That medical centre practises both Western med-
icine and our traditional medicine. So we have
healing rooms, we have Elders, and anybody in
the city has access to that. So that makes me
proud. That’s a great place to be and take care of
yourself in all areas, so it’s good.II
I “Lu’ma Native Housing Society.”

II Barb L. (Heiltsuk/Nisga’a First Nations), Part 1, Statement Volume 360, Richmond, BC, p. 15.
Atira Women’s Resource Centre
The Atira Women’s Resource Centre is a not-for-profit organization established to provide resources for
women and children affected by violence in the greater Vancouver metropolitan area. I
Atira is focused on advocacy designed to end all custody of their son. This was an extremely difficult
forms of gendered violence. As such, Atira is struc- time, but, Maura said, “I’m lucky though that I had
tured around four key themes: inclusive feminism, support that never let me give up when there were
being women-centred, harm reduction, and innova- so many days that I said I couldn’t do it anymore. Atira
tion. Atira’s work is informed by the interconnectivity would send staff on their own time to personally
of women’s experiences of oppressive institutions, support and advocate for me in court.”II She added
including sexism and colonialism. later, “Atira’s a phenomenal organization, BWSS
[Battered Women’s Support Services] is a phenome-
Some important programs include the establishment nal organization, thank God. Thank God these things
of both long-term and transitional housing and shel- exist because … the change is coming, but there’s a
ter programs in Surrey, Burnaby, and Vancouver, as lot that has to change.”III
well as homelessness-prevention programs, which in-
clude rent supplements, in Vancouver and Surrey. Atira also runs the Family Project, an initiative to pro-
Atira also engages in outreach to First Nations, Métis, vide support for children who have witnessed abuse,
and Inuit Elders and women affected by violence, in addition to parenting support. Through individual
primarily in the Surrey and White Rock communities. and group counselling, the Family Project seeks to
Additionally, Atira provides legal advocacy in Vancou- provide support for children and youth and help
ver’s Downtown Eastside. This program was set up to them understand their emotions and the dynamics
help low-income women with free legal assistance in of violence against women.
a safe and confidential women-only space.
Organizations like these do critical work in support-
Maura G. is a survivor of many forms of violence who ing Indigenous families. However, chronic under-
received essential support from Atira when she funding and overdemand are pushing Indigenous
needed it most. After she left her abusive husband, organizations across Canada to their limits.
she spent four years in family court, fighting to get
I “Atira Women’s Resource Society.”

II Maura G. (Tulita Band), Part 1, Statement Volume 359, Richmond, BC, p. 20.
III Maura G. (Tulita Band), Part 1, Statement Volume 359, Richmond, BC, p. 31.
10
Anti-exploitation Training with
the Manitoba Hotel Association
The Manitoba Hotel Association (MHA) is a not-for-profit corporation established in 1927 and mandated to
promote the interests of the hotel industry in Manitoba, as well as to provide a system to deal collaboratively
with issues that affect members. Importantly, the MHA has endeavoured to engage in a campaign to help
stop child sexual exploitation under the guidance of Manitoba’s Tracia’s Trust. I
Established in 2002 by the Manitoba government’s on how to spot some of the warning signs of sexual
Healthy Child Committee of Cabinet, Tracia’s Trust is exploitation, and how to report suspicious behaviour
the framework for Manitoba’s Sexual Exploitation to the relevant authorities. Recognizing that hotels
Strategy. This strategy is coordinated through the are a space often used in sexual exploitation, the
Department of Families in partnership with other MHA campaign is aimed at providing front-line work-
government departments and agencies, as well as ers with information they can use to spot unsafe
with private partnerships. The framework is struc- situations and to respond appropriately.III
tured around key initiatives in the areas of preven-
tion, intervention, legislation, coordination, research, Former human trafficking survivor Alaya M. shared
and evaluation. At the heart of this framework has about the Manitoba Hotel Association’s training in
been a collaborative approach to addressing sexual identifying exploitation and human trafficking as one
exploitation.II of many aspects that must go into a counter-exploita-
tion strategy. Most importantly, she shared, is inviting
Since 2010, the Manitoba government has partnered survivors to sit with executives at boardroom tables
with the MHA to promote a campaign to help hotel to ensure that key policy decisions on exploitation
staff in preventing child sexual exploitation. The aren’t made without the voices of survivors them-
province has worked with the MHA to train hotel staff selves.
I “Manitoba Hotel Association.”

II Manitoba, “Tracia’s Trust.”
III Manitoba, “Manitoba Government to Work with Hotels to Combat Child Sexual Exploitation”; Canadian Intergovernmental Conference
Secretariat, “FPT Justice Framework.”
11
The Mount Waddington Mental
Health and Substance Use Centre
Formerly called Port Hardy Mental Health and Substance Use Services, the Mount Waddington Mental Health
and Substance Use Centre is based in the northernmost part of Vancouver Island. This centre provides a
wide range of services, including counselling, detox provision, street outreach teams, and supported living
for adults aged 19 and over who identify needs regarding substance use, mental health, and trauma.
The Mount Waddington/Port Hardy centre currently And then … it was a slow process. But he pointed
has about 20 full-time staff providing services to me in different directions within Port Hardy to
approximately 500 persons per year. Their offices are help me in those times, made sure I got to my ap-
located in Port Hardy and Port McNeill in the tradi- pointments, made sure I had enough food in my
tional territories of the Kwakwaka’wakw and Namgis fridge, checked up on how I was, you know. And
Nations. Approximately 30% of the persons identify things – I had a good support system in the very,
as being of Indigenous ancestry.I very beginning that was very valuable, you
know. And I started to find myself and be able
Mona S. (Wuikinuxv) is a residential school survivor to accept the help. And that was a big thing was
who shared with the National Inquiry about her own accepting the help.II
experiences and about the death of her daughter,
Michelle. Mona shared her experience of being at the Mona has been sober for eight years. Today, Shane
Mount Waddington Mental Health and Substance Thomas is proud to have Mona as a colleague at the
Use Centre. Mount Waddington Mental Health and Substance
Use Centre, where she works as a community health
When I was in the hospital detoxing, I think for representative at Wuikinuxv First Nation.III
the second time, one of the workers, Shane
Thomas, he came to me and he was just very
genuine. I thought he was just – you know, I kind
of, like, dismissed anybody that was trying to
help me. They’re just all bureaucratic, you know.
And I said, “Well, if you’re listening,” I says, “I really
like fruit.” And the next day he walks in with a big
bag of fruit. And that was, like, okay.
I Shane Thomas, Practice Lead, Mental Health and Substance Use, Mount Waddington Region, Island Health, personal telephone
communication to Lisa Koperqualuk, March 1, 2019.
II Mona S. (Wuikinuxv Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 98, Vancouver, BC, p. 36.
III Shane Thomas, Practice Lead, Mental Health and Substance Use, Mount Waddington Region, Island Health, personal telephone
communication to Lisa Koperqualuk, March 1, 2019.
12
The Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata
Centre & H.O.M.E.
Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre (Ma Mawi) is an organization that offers a variety of services to Indigenous
people in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Its programming includes services for Indigenous youth, Indigenous children
in care, and the wider urban Indigenous community. “Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata” means “We all work together to
help one another” in Anishinaabemowin.
Ma Mawi delivers several programs for young Indige- tial, a survivor group, and within that survivor
nous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people who have group, we always make sure that there are trans-
been or continue to be sexually exploited. It operates gender, Two-Spirited women that are involved in
a safe house in Winnipeg for Indigenous women who the decision making and planning what the re-
are interested in leaving the sex trade. Ma Mawi also source is going to look like and what needs to be
operates the H.O.M.E. (Hands of Mother Earth) rural in there. And that is a critical and vital step in any
healing lodge. H.O.M.E. was established to provide a kind of program development, any kind of re-
safe space for healing services for sexually exploited source development that is going to be done,
Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people be- particularly when it comes to trauma-inform[ed]
tween the ages of 13 to 17.I services.II
Diane Redsky, front-line worker and executive Many of the staff working at Ma Mawi’s programs
director of Ma Mawi, explained that its programming have lived experience of sexual exploitation. Chris-
for survivors of sexual exploitation is driven by the tine Dumaine, a woman who stayed at a safe house
survivors themselves. operated by Ma Mawi as a teenager, explained the
importance of having mentors with lived experience
And so, all of the work that we’ve ever done at to mentor her.
the Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre, particularly with
the safe house and with our rural healing lodge, When I look back to what had the most impact
is the women themselves will tell us what it is in my healing, I have to say that having mentors
that needs to be within programming. So when with lived experience was the most helpful. I
we developed every one of our resources, it has lived in other homes where the staff had no clue
been done in consultation with the people who what I was experiencing and had no idea how to
will benefit from that service. help lessen my risk. They would use terms such
as “you shouldn’t be prostituting yourself,”
And so when we developed both the safe house which made me feel a lot of shame and pushed
and Hands of Mother Earth, we had an experien- me away to isolation even further.III
I “Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre.”

II Diane Redsky (Shoal Lake 40 First Nation), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 18, St. John’s, NL, p. 206.
III Christine Dumaine (Lake St. Martin First Nation), Part 2, Public Volume 3, Calgary, AB, p. 149.
13
KEY DECLARATIONS: RIGHT TO SECURITY
VIENNA BEIJING:
PROGRAMME: - idenfies poverty
UNDRIP:
for women and
- Indigenous Peoples - the lack of
children as a key
DEVAW: have the right to life, development or
problem in human
- includes the right liberty and security infrastructure
rights
not to be subjected of person cannot be used to
- asserts that the
to torture or other jusfy an absence of
- affirms the right to eradicaon of
cruel, inhuman or internaonally
the secure poverty based on
degrading treatment recognized human
enjoyment of means sustained economic
rights
- promotes research, of subsistence and growth, social
data collecon and development, and - poverty and social development,
stascs to the right to engage exclusion represent environmental
understand, prevent freely in tradional a threat to the protecon and social
and redress violence and other economic enjoyment of human jusce requires the
against women acvies, as well as rights involvement and full
redress when those - idenfies poverty, parcipaon of
rights are hunger and other women in “people
jeopardized denials of economic, centred
social and cultural sustainable
rights as obstacles development”

611
Participating in the National Inquiry, for some witnesses, was an important way to identify and to
strengthen the community around the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLBGTQQIA people. As Anni P. expressed:
Coming here has been so healing for me, so healing. Being around all these beautiful
Indigenous people has filled me up, has given me even more strength … when I think
about how we can heal, like I just see how we love and support each other here … and I
think, man, if we could ever just come together and start supporting each other, start
lifting each other up like we do here.… If we could bring this home to our reserves, we
would be even more unstoppable than we are now.12
Anni’s comments speak to the important strength to be found in community, and in identity, as a
means to begin the healing journey.
“THE LITTLE SYMBOL THAT I HAVE FOR MY HEALING IS BUTTERFLIES. ME AND MY FRIEND
HAVE A LOVE OF BUTTERFLIES BECAUSE WE BOTH HAVE LOST DAUGHTERS AND IT’S A
SIGN FOR US THAT, YOU KNOW, THEY’RE OKAY. THEY'RE UP IN HEAVEN AND THEY’RE
SOARING FREELY, FLUTTERING THEIR – THEIR WINGS AND THEY’RE IN THE BEST PLACE,
YOU KNOW, THAT THEY COULD EVER BE. AND WE SHARE – ME AND MY – MY FRIEND
SHARE THE LOVE OF BUTTERFLIES BECAUSE OF OUR DAUGHTERS AND WE BOTH LIKE THE
COLOUR PURPLE AND THAT HELPS US TOGETHER IN – IN OUR GRIEF. AND WE CAN SHARE
EVEN WITHOUT TALKING, SO IT’S – IT’S GOOD TO HAVE THOSE FRIENDS.”
Harriet L.
15
Grandma’s House
Grandma’s House was a safe house for sex workers founded by sex-trade activist and the first openly
transgender politician in Canada, Jamie L. H., who shared about Grandma’s House in her testimony
to the National Inquiry.
Grandma’s House was created as a refuge for sex They said that we shouldn’t be in that location, it
workers in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside following wasn’t properly zoned. Of course, if you know
the disappearance and murders of women in the area landlords, the Downtown Eastside, they are not
in the late 1990s by serial killer Robert Pickton. For going to upgrade the buildings. And so, the City
Jamie L. H., the goal was to was trying to force us to relocate, right into the
heart of what I call the Downtown Eastside
provide support to women, transwomen, Two- Killing Fields, where Pickton roamed. And it was
Spirited people involved in life on the street in in a back alley, it was near the Waldorf Hotel; very
the Downtown Eastside …. [We] provided peer deserted industrial area.III
counselling, we provided a library, we had vita-
mins and minerals, we tried to have, you know, Later on, they received threatening phone calls when
snacks available. We had computer classes, we they finally moved to a new location. The police did
put out a newsletter called “On the Stroll,” and nothing to help them, and instead released the safe
some of the women would write for that. And house’s address and phone number, making the safe
you know, they’d write about maybe makeup house vulnerable to predators and protestors alike.
and just, you know, things that were useful…. It Grandma’s House was eventually shut down after
provided support.I Jamie was charged with running a bawdy house.
However, she argued that the charges were uncon-
Grandma’s House was funded by angel donors Jacqui stitutional, and they were eventually dropped.
Cohen of the Army & Navy discount chain and Cynnie
Woodward of Woodward’s Family stores, as well as by Stories like these show that even though 2SLGBTQQIA
the provincial and city governments.II However, people are consistently targeted for violence, they can
Grandma’s House soon came under fire from the encounter significant barriers to safety from the very
Vancouver police. Jamie explained: institutions meant to protect them.
I Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78, Vancouver, BC, pp. 26-27.
II Harris, “The Unrepentant Whore.”
III Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public Volume 78, Vancouver, BC, p. 27.
16
And then my dad took us to Pickle Crow Mine, where he was a miner, and that’s where
things changed. And they learned about booze. They learned how to fight their women.
Things like that. It was never like that before. I don’t even remember ever getting hit by
my parents or even from my grandma. I have really good memories of that, and I – I just
long for that. Where we loved each other. I would never, ever think of hurting another
person. And yet we still get hurt by force and – and it goes into murder.184
Only by acting in accordance with the wisdom and expertise offered by survivors and the fami-
lies of those whose lives have been taken by violence will the fear that accompanies and shapes
the lives of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people be addressed. Danielle E.
summarized this hope for a world in which the rights to security held by Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are respected and protected.
I have hope that something good will come out of this, that as an Indigenous woman, I
don’t have to walk on the street and be afraid because, today, when I go somewhere, I’m
afraid, and it’s a fear that we all carry every day and you get so used to it that it’s like it’s
part of you, and it shouldn’t have to be because not everybody in society today has to
walk around and be afraid the way Indigenous women are and girls. I have seven
This perpetual worry and fear, as the National Inquiry heard, points to a deep need to rein-
vigorate the meaning of security so that families can have trust in the systems that they say have
so often failed them. This means looking at what security means, in communities and in families,
and understanding that the most pressing need is the one to focus on improving relationships
with survivors, with families, and with communities, as well as to support this process by
providing adequate resources, training, and support for people working to improve the security
“AND I JUST LEARNED AT A VERY EARLY AGE THAT, YOU KNOW, ABORIGINAL WOMEN
WERE DISPOSABLE, AND I LEARNED THAT AT 18 WHEN MY SISTER ELEANOR [E.] WAS
MURDERED. AND, I KEPT ASKING MY UNCLE, ‘WELL, HOW COME NOBODY’S LOOKING
AFTER – LIKE WHY AREN’T THE POLICE DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT? LIKE, WHAT’S
GOING ON?’ AND I WAS TOLD THAT’S JUST THE WAY IT IS. IT WAS JUST ACCEPTED, A
WAY OF LIFE THAT OUR SISTERS AND FAMILY, ESPECIALLY WOMEN, AT THE HANDS OF
VIOLENCE. I COULDN’T – IT WAS HARD FOR ME TO, YOU KNOW, ACCEPT THAT.”
Danielle E.
613
Dilico Anishinabek
Family Care
Dilico Anishinabek Family Care provides a variety of services to support the well-being of Anishinabek
Peoples. It was created in 1986 as a way to transfer some control over child welfare services to Anishinabek
bands in the Thunder Bay area of northern Ontario. Dilico’s main office is in the Fort William First Nation near
Thunder Bay, with district offices in Whitesand First Nation, Pic Mobert First Nation, Longlac, and Nipigon.
There are 13 First Nations communities within Dilico’s service area.
Over time, Dilico Anishinabek Family Care has I’m grateful today to say that I’ll be four months
expanded to deliver a wider range of programming, sober by the grace of my Creator…. I went to the
including health, mental health, and addictions serv- Anishinaabe people, Dilico treatment centre.
ices. Dilico offers a voluntary residential addictions Where I found my spirituality again and strength
treatment program. It also delivers several post-treat- was through the Elders, the teachings, being able
ment support services, including group therapy and to go in and grieve the way that I should have
housing support. been able to grieve as a child. But I was 52 years
old when I finally got to grieve with an Elder.I
Darlene G. is an intergenerational residential school
survivor from Annapolis Valley First Nation in Nova Many of Dilico’s services incorporate Anishinaabe
Scotia, whose mother died when she was 12. She told culture, values, and traditional practices. To do so, it
the Inquiry that Dilico played an important part in her uses Elders, traditional healers, ceremonies, sweat
first overcoming her addictions. She explained that lodges, feasts, a traditional parenting program, and a
Dilico’s emphasis on culture was part of what made drum singing and teachings program.II
it so effective.
I Darlene G. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18, Membertou, NS, p. 57.

II “Dilico Anishinabek Family Care.”
18
Ceremonial and Traditional Knowledge
Finding healing and, ultimately, happiness though personal healing was a deeply personal experi-
ence for many witnesses; the ability to start this journey depended, in many cases, on the kinds
of support available. In many examples, people looked first to ceremony and to traditional
knowledge to find the pathway to healing. Within this, traditional teachings and working with
Elders were particularly important, as well as attending and participating in ceremonies.
Summarizing important themes he heard through the testimonies, in an address to the
Commissioners, Treaty 6 Grand Chief Wilton Littlechild stated:
[There’s] the sacred teaching of love. Love. And then throughout the hearings, we heard
stories about first they said, I hate myself, I hate that I’m brown-skinned or I’m Indian,
I’m ashamed of myself; but then things turned. They changed, and in my view, in my
opinion, the truth and reconciliation journey also changed on those days; when a woman
came in front of us and said, you know, I can get up in the morning now, and I look
myself in the mirror, and I say to myself, I love you, I couldn’t do that before. We heard
about the loss of parental skills because of residential school with many and that
discovery of the courage to say that again. People said, you know, for the first time I can
now turn to my spouse or my partner and say to them, I love you. For the first time now,
I can say to my children – couldn’t do this before – I love you.… These are teachings
that we must go back to, old people said.13
In Quebec City, Elder Roland Sioui adresses the audience.
The importance of these resources and teachings was

evident throughout Métis, First Nations, and Inuit
testimonies.
Part of the reason for reliance on teachings and Elders is the
idea of cultural safety and connection to identity as a neces-
sary component of healing. Kirby B. explained how cere-
monies have been an indispensable part of finding healing and safety: “A ceremonial lodge, which
is a Sundance lodge, this is part of where my healing came about. I had to follow through on
myself. I had to find my way. This is part of regrowing and reconnecting to my identity.”14
19
126 Susan Aglukark (Inuit, Arviat), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, 146 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
Public Volume 12, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 203-204. Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON,
pp. 28-29.
Part 2, Public Volume 5, Calgary, AB, p. 202. 147 Nakuset (Cree), Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB,
pp. 99-100.
Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 213. 148 Michele G. (Musqueam), Part 1, Public Volume 84,
Volume 10, Winnipeg, MB, p. 114. 149 Chief Vivian T. (Wet’suwet’en), Part 1, Public Volume
4, Smithers, BC, p. 83.
130 Charlotte M. (Kitchenuhmaykoosib Inninuwug First
p. 101. Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON,
p. 12.
131 Chief Vivian T. (Wet’suwet’en), Part 1, Public Volume
4, Smithers, BC, p. 82. 151 Grace T. (Eagle Clan, Tsimshian), Part 1, Public
Part 1, Public Volume 111(a), Vancouver, BC, p. 55. 152 Dr. Allan Wade, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 14,
Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 163. 153 Jocelyn K. (Cheslatta Carrier Nation), Part 1, Public
p. 107. 154 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
p. 32.
Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 39, Thunder Bay, ON, p.
29. 155 Cee-Jai J. (Beaver Clan, Nak’azdli Whut'en, Carrier
pp. 33-34.
137 Josie Nepinak (Pine Creek First Nation), Part 2, Public
138 Nakuset (Cree), Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB.
158 Mealia Sheutiapak (Inuit, Frobisher Bay), Parts 2 & 3,
p. 101.
pp. 142-143.
p. 115.
Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, pp. 192-196.
St. John’s, NL, pp. 55-56.
145 Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
164 Shae-Lynn Noskye (First Nations), Part 1, Public
618
Métis, First Nations and Inuit witnesses cited the need to view cultural care as an important part
of the healing continuum. As Leona Star reflected during the Community Initiatives Panel on
Indigenous Determinants of Well-being:
Oftentimes, when we think of wellness or interventions within the health care system and
trying to bring that forward, we often think of, “Oh, we need more investment into the
hospitals. We need more investment into certain programming.” However, it really fails to
really recognize those things in our communities that have always carried us through.18
Monique F. H. explained that, although ceremonies can be tools for healing, they have also
been used in some ways to exclude. Working with women who are HIV positive, Monique is
employed by the Canadian Aboriginal AIDS Network (CAAN), and points out how her
organization made a point of bringing transwomen into the women’s circle. As she explained,
I don’t hear people all the time acknowledging them. At CAAN what we did was we
invited the transwomen into our circle, into our women’s circle because we wanted them
to feel like they belonged because they do belong with us. And that was a really
powerful ceremony when we invited them into our circle.19
The importance of being able to engage in ceremony and in cultural practices was cited from
Métis, First Nations, Inuit and 2SLGBTQQIA perspectives as an important way to heal. Ensuring
access to these supports for all Indigenous people who need them, as well as for families of miss-
ing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in particular, is of vital
importance for the journey forward.
“OFTENTIMES, WHEN WE THINK OF WELLNESS OR INTERVENTIONS WITHIN THE HEALTH

CARE SYSTEM AND TRYING TO BRING THAT FORWARD, WE OFTEN THINK OF, “OH, WE
NEED MORE INVESTMENT INTO THE HOSPITALS. WE NEED MORE INVESTMENT INTO
CERTAIN PROGRAMMING.” HOWEVER, IT REALLY FAILS TO REALLY RECOGNIZE THOSE
THINGS IN OUR COMMUNITIES THAT HAVE ALWAYS CARRIED US THROUGH.”
Leona Star
21
CHAPTER 8
Confronting Oppression – Right to Justice

Introduction: “Safety and justice and peace are just words to us”
To participate in the National Inquiry’s Truth-Gathering Process, Bernice and Wilfred C. inter-
rupted their ongoing search for their missing daughter, Jennifer, who disappeared June 19, 2008,
on her 18th birthday.1 At the Community Hearing in Winnipeg, Bernice described what they
were doing just before sharing Jennifer’s story with the Commissioners, and the lengths they are
going to in their search.
We left a site to be here. We found a well in the middle of nowhere, a well close to
where we’re searching. And, I said, “Oh my gosh.” I said – my husband – he’s not strong
anymore, not the way he used to. Not in a disrespectful way because he’s strong. He’s –
he’s my strong tower.
And, why I’m saying that is, that well is 10 feet down. We opened the lid and there’s
muskrats there, there’s beaver carcasses and it stinks. It’s a well. It’s contaminated. My
husband jumped in it. We put a 10-foot ladder, went in there. And, he takes the shovel
and he’s digging these carcasses out of there that smells. And, I know it’s hard. He’s got
to lift it over his head. So, he’s cleaning it all, all that garbage in there, because we’re
thinking our daughter is in that – in that well. He dug two feet, and then he pushed a pole
in there, and it’s another two feet to go. And, he’s tired.2
For the past 10 years, Bernice and Wilfred have continued to hold out hope that they will find
the answers they are looking for as they personally carry out difficult and at times dangerous
searches for their daughter – always willing to dig another “two feet,” despite the physical and
emotional exhaustion they both feel. When they were turned away by the Portage la Prairie
RCMP detachment when Bernice first reported her daughter missing, she and her husband
621
The Arctic Rose Foundation
The Arctic Rose FoundationI was created by Inuk recording artist and Knowledge Keeper Susan Aglukark to
address many challenges faced by Northerners, especially children and youth, including poverty, addiction,
trauma, and abuse. Susan shared about the work of the foundation in a panel at the Institutional &
Expert/Knowledge Keeper Hearing in Winnipeg, MB.
Susan started this foundation as a result of her own This research is approached as an art form that is
lived experience as the survivor of child abuse. She both therapeutic as well as a tool for learning about
began working on anti-violence campaigns and proj- Indigenous traditional ways of life in the North. The
ects in the North in the late 1990s and early 2000s as foundation also offers after-school programs where
her singer/songwriter career was taking off, and children and youth can channel their creativity into
repeatedly tried to do this work in partnership with beading, drawing, and painting, as well as other
the Nunavut government. However, after being artistic activities.
turned down several times, she finally created the
Arctic Rose Foundation on her own. One of the most exciting aspects of the foundation’s
work, according to Susan, is that it has taught her
The Arctic Rose Foundation promotes healing in that:
Arctic communities through the arts by way of art
therapy, music therapy, and literacy development. It The government does not have all the answers….
delivers a variety of programming in spaces that are At some point, we are going to have to engage
culturally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically safe. as a people and find other ways and resources to
contribute to solutions in control. And so, it has
One such program is the Creative Cultural Reflections become an exciting project for us, the founda-
program, which was piloted in 2018. Susan Aglukark tion work, because it is work, writing, explo-
describes it as a “program that provides youth with a ration, research, facilitating for Inuit by Inuit.
much needed creative outlet and helps them to get Organically as victims to help victims…. We are
in touch with their region’s cultural and historical identifying the culture crisis, [and] developing
communities, families and stories through research.”II programs to address the culture crisis from our
lived experience.III
I “The Arctic Rose Foundation.”

II Greer, “Aglukark brings therapy.”
III Susan Aglukark (Inuit, Arviat), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 12, Winnipeg, MB, p. 226.
23
Eyaa-Keen Healing Centre
Winnipeg’s Eyaa-Keen Healing Centre seeks to provide Indigenous people with an environment in which to
heal that centres historic traumas and their impacts on Indigenous communities. “Eyaa-keen” is an Ojibway
term that translates to “being self or being natural,” which is an important concept at the heart of the
programs offered through the healing centre. I
Annie B. is an Inuk survivor of residential school and Eyaa-Keen is focused on specific healing related to
sexual violence who shared in the National Inquiry’s residential school survivors (and those affected by
Truth-Gathering Process. She is also a business- residential schools); victims of crime, including fami-
woman living in Winnipeg, and sells traditional Inuit lies of missing and murdered Indigenous women and
clothing she makes by hand. Despite the fact that girls; as well as all others in need of mental health
Eyaa-Keen is not an Inuit organization, Annie received support through traditional healing.
help from them for eight years to help her cope with
the abuses in her life.II Eyaa-Keen engages traditional Indigenous ap-
proaches to therapy to strengthen the spiritual
Eyaa-Keen provides a focus on what is known as His- aspect of the healing process. Programs include a cul-
toric Trauma Transmission (HTT), which describes the tural support program, a resolution support worker
cumulative emotional and psychological impacts of program for residential school survivors, as well as
settler colonialism across generations. Indigenous Behaviour Trauma Specialist programs.
Individuals may work with an Elder, a resolution
The effects of European colonization have been health support worker, or a behavioural health spe-
expressed through five key areas of impact: physical, cialist, or a combination of all three.
economic, cultural, social, and psychological.
Eyaa-Keen attempts to centre the experience of the One of Eyaa-Keen’s programs, called My Good Life, is
stress of these historic traumas and the way in which designed specifically for the families of missing and
they have been normalized in cultural expressions murdered Indigenous women and girls. The goals of
and expectations of multiple generations, and My Good Life are to address grief and loss, offer cul-
how these impact the health and well-being of turally appropriate means to honour loved ones, and
Indigenous Peoples and communities. provide families with support through small group
gatherings. In doing so, My Good Life works to help
family members and survivors move forward.
I “Eyaa-Keen Healing Centre Inc.”

II Annie B. (Inuit, Pangnirtung), Part 1, Public Volume 16, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 15-18.
24
Tsow-Tun Le Lum Society
Tsow-Tun Le Lum, or “Helping House,” is a registered non-profit healing centre in Lantzville on Vancouver
Island, located on land leased from Nanoose Bay First Nation. Tsow-Tun is one of 10 residential treatment
centres in British Columbia that is funded by the National Native Alcohol and Drug Abuse Program.
Tsow-Tun provides programming designed to help eventually able to take control of her life. In particular,
people with their addictions and substance abuse, she pointed to how much the Tsow-Tun Le Lum
while supporting survivors of historical and intergen- Society helped her.
erational trauma and residential schools. Tsow-Tun is
also an approved Community Residential Facility It’s the best trauma treatment. It was awesome.
for the Correctional Service Canada. The society’s Yes … I knew something was wrong with me. I
stated mission is to “strengthen the ability of First knew that my life wasn’t right, I knew that there
Nations people to live healthy, happy lives and to was things that should be different, but I didn’t
have pride in their native identity.” I know how to fix any of it because I never seen it
any other way, so how could I fix something
Currently, the society offers programs for substance that I never saw? … So, when I went to trauma
abuse (Thuy Na Mut), trauma (Kwunatsustul), grief treatment, they showed me myself. They showed
and loss (Honouring Grief ), and codependency me, me. And, from that point on, my life was
(Paddle Your Own Canoe). Tsow-Tun also provides different.II
emotional support for survivors of residential schools
and their families. Each program is designed for R.P. currently shares her story with community
Indigenous Peoples, and focuses on reclaiming a groups to let others in similar situations know that
sense of Indigenous pride. they are not alone. She noted that sometimes the
groups ask her how she survived that amount of
R.P., of the Tl’azt’en First Nation, described the many trauma and she answers “I don’t know.” She does
forms of abuse and assault she suffered to the Na- know that she is who she is today because of every-
tional Inquiry, including how residential school and thing she’s been through, which includes the healing
addictions affected her family, and how she was she has claimed for herself.
I “Tsow-Tun Le Lum Society.”

II R.P. (Tl’azt’en First Nation), Part 1, Statement Volume 380, Vancouver, BC, pp. 86-87.
25
The Tukisigiarvik Society and
Ilisaqsivik Society
Several Inuit communities have advocated for and established resource and support centres for families over
the years. Two projects in particular have been successful in Inuit Nunangat.
The Tukisigiarvik Society was established two camping out there…. I remember, a long time
decades ago as the result of a community consulta- ago now, when we first started, one Elder, she
tion on homelessness and marginalization. Around got in a canoe, she said, “This is the first time I’ve
the same time, in 1997, the Ilisaqsivik Society was been on a canoe since my husband died.” And
created as a community-based organization to her husband had been dead for some 20 years.I
promote community wellness in Kangiqtugaapik/
Clyde River, Nunavut. Since then, both of these Many Inuit who left their families to continue their
societies have been running social and cultural studies down south had also lost cultural skills and
programs for all Inuit, young and old, helping families knowledge. In response, the Tukisigiarvik Society set
with their health and well-being. up teaching programs to bring back kamik (skin boot)
making to Inuit women who had not had that oppor-
Elisapi Aningmiuq, an Inuk woman from Iqaluit, tunity during their youth.
shared at the National Inquiry’s Hearing on Colonial
Violence how the Tukisigiarvik Society plays a very In Kangiqtugaapik/Clyde River, the Ilisaqsivik Society
important role in helping families connect with their purchased a building and established the Commu-
cultural roots. Among other things, the Tukisigiarvik nity Family Resource Centre. Their programs are fo-
Society’s programs work with people who are home- cused on education, health and nutrition, cultural
less, single parents, or widows who may no longer activities, and counselling, along with the participa-
have husbands who would traditionally bring them tion and leadership of Inuit Elders. An example is their
out on the land. The society helps them experience mental health and counselling program, which
maqainniq, going out on the land, to help bring provides counselling based on a combination of
about a sense of well-being, self-esteem, resilience, Western and Inuit knowledge and practices, includ-
and dignity. As Elisapi said: ing land-based counselling and healing workshops.
The society also provides training to Inuit to become
I feel that it is very important to teach children counsellors and support workers in child welfare,
the positive surroundings that we have in our health centres, schools, addictions programs, mental
homeland. So, I would hire local hunter guides to health, and more.II
take us out, and we would pitch tents and be
I Elder Elisapi Davidee Aningmiuq (Inuit, Lake Harbour/Iqaluit), Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 1, Iqaluit, NU, pp. 13–14.
II “Ilisaqsivik.”
26
In Quebec City, Quebec, Elder Rebecca Veevee lights the qulliq as
a way to open the hearings. Many who lit the qulliq and tended it
for the duration of the hearings also shared how important it is to
Inuit values and beliefs, and how the care of the qulliq relates to
other elements of their lives.
“It’s just a work in progress”: Finding Other Outlets for Healing

Beyond ceremony and traditional knowledge, witnesses cited many other outlets as pathways to
healing that also engaged elements of community building.
In Maliotenam, Quebec, Andrée V. explained how a ceremony and march were held in the com-
munity in the memory of her loved one: “They put her picture in the community hall.… They
put flowers in there and then … lanterns. But often I meet one of her friends again. Some of her
friends became my friends. They also created a Facebook page in her memory too. Then there
are still people who will write on her Facebook.”20
Other forms of healing also engaged connection based in community and relationship. For
instance, as Natalie G. shared, in relation to the death of her mother:
I have a project going on at my mom’s house, which I bought her home, and it’s about
healing because there was a lot of people that said… “I never had closure.” They were
used to popping in and having tea, luski [traditional Mi’kmaw bread]…. Her little wood
stove goes. There’s a pot of tea.… There’s – you know, I have red dresses to signify the
missing and murdered women and children.21
In addition, and as Natalie’s project involves, witnesses cited the importance of giving back as an
element of healing. As Matthew W. shared, in response to the question of what keeps him going:
“We give back. We go do community things, like get bannock and give to the community, help
prepare food for homeless people, and ceremony.… Giving back, I would say, is most impor-
tant.”22 For Alisha R., whose mother, Laura, was murdered, giving back is a way to honour her
mother and heal herself. As she shared candidly:
27
Being bad is easy and, like, being an ass is easy, and being mean to people and, like, all
that stuff; that’s easy. It’s a lot harder to, like, go out of your way for somebody and, like,
just genuinely mean it. You don’t have to gain anything. And, like, I don’t know. I try to
do the stuff and I think about, like, what she would want. Or, I ask her for guidance and,
like, little things like that.23
In Calgary, Alberta, the

Union of British Columbia
Indian Chiefs shows this
banner during its closing
submissions.
For some witnesses, engaging with others and helping others as a part of healing takes place in
groups of women, working together. Rachel W. suffered abuse at home and was sexually ex-
ploited as a youth. She struggled with addictions and within violent relationships, and is now
working on her recovery in her own life and through helping others. As she explained, “I give
thanks every day and gratitude for being where I am.… So, each day I encounter, silently I am
thankful, and it’s just a work in progress. It’s constant. Constant.”24
“I GIVE THANKS EVERY DAY AND GRATITUDE FOR BEING WHERE I AM.… SO, EACH
DAY I ENCOUNTER, SILENTLY I AM THANKFUL, AND IT'S JUST A WORK IN PROGRESS.
IT’S CONSTANT. CONSTANT.”
Rachel W.
Kim C.-M. explained she is part of an organization called AnânauKatiget Tumingit, which means
“all our mothers’ footprints.” AnânauKatiget Tumingit works with women “developing their
leadership skills, tackling, you know, some of the really difficult, hard issues that they have to
deal with in the communities.… [We do this work] in honour of our mothers and our grandmoth-
ers and those strong leader women from our communities who came before us and taught us so
much.”25 It is focused on violence prevention and run by a volunteer board.
28
When the unthinkable happens and First Nations, Métis, and Inuit families become concerned that
their loved one may be missing or in danger of violence, they are faced with a difficult dilemma:
to seek help in finding that loved one requires reaching out to institutions – the police and criminal
justice system – that have historically ignored and continue to ignore their concerns. More than
that, they are forced to reach out to institutions that are directly at the heart of significant pain, di-
vision, cultural destruction, and trauma experienced in their family and perhaps by the loved one
they seek help in finding. In some cases, they are forced to reach out to the very people who have
perpetrated acts of physical and sexual violence against them or their loved ones.
Mistrust and Stereotyping
If families do reach out to the police or another representative of the criminal justice system, they
are often confronted with an individual, policy, procedure, or way of relating that shows little to
no awareness or understanding of the histories and complexities in the relationship between
Indigenous people and the police. Instead, within this institution, the family and their lost loved
one are viewed through a lens of pervasive racist and sexist stereotypes – stereotypes that ulti-
mately blame Indigenous Peoples, and especially Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people – for the violence and difficulties they face, and/or see them as guilty of committing
violence or other crimes themselves.
Kassandra Churcher, the national executive director of the Canadian Association of Elizabeth
Fry Societies, described this dilemma in the following way.
Indigenous women must rely on a justice system that is in no way reflective or adaptive
to their cultural history and reality. Canada’s long history of colonialism and abuse … is
the core of this issue, of course. When a First Nations, Métis, or Inuit woman appears in
court, they go before the same justice system that established the reserve system, the
residential school system, and continues the removal of children from their families, and
they ask that court for justice.24
The systems developed within a justice context have played and continue to play a fundamental
role in creating and maintaining conditions that foster a deep mistrust of the criminal justice
system. For instance, the historical abuses by police against Indigenous Peoples in enforcing
colonial policies, as documented in Chapter 4, coupled with the ongoing reality of explicit acts of
violence against Indigenous Peoples, must be recognized as the context within which Indigenous
families and survivors talk about their experiences within the justice system.
627
Jennisha Wilson also described how prior negative experiences with police make Indigenous
women reluctant to report violence or trafficking: “There is a significant reluctance for Indige-
nous women, specifically Inuit, to engage with police because of prior experiences of being seen
as a criminal, being blamed, being seen as not a victim, causing it on themselves.”30
Michele G. recounted a similar reason for why she stopped reporting the physical abuse she suf-
fered at the hands of her partner to the police: “In the beginning I used to call the police but then
didn’t bother anymore. It didn’t seem to serve any purpose. Except once when he broke my nose
they made him leave. Usually they said I had to leave with my six kids, which was so frustrating.
Good Lord.”31
So, too, did A.B.:
My mum had a series of men. They all beat her up. And I called the cops every time, and
never once did they do anything. Back then a man’s home was his castle. And the men
would stand at the door, because they never did not answer it to the cops, and they would
just swear at the cops and tell the cops, “So what, what are you going to do about it?”
when I was a kid. And all the cops would do is tell my mum, “We’ll wait five minutes
and we’ll escort you out safely.” My mum had six kids, usually one or two babies, what
can you gather in five minutes to get out safely and be okay? So I grew up not believing
that bullshit about the cops will save your life, or the cops will help you.32
This long-standing indifference from the police, which many survivors remembered based on
the police response to the violence experienced by their parents or grandparents when they were
children, understandably continues to shape the perceptions Indigenous Peoples hold of the
criminal justice system, and police in general.
As Expert Witness and Canada Director of Human Rights Watch, an international non-govern-
mental organization that conducts research and advocacy on human rights, Farida Deif stated,
“There is still this, sort of, overarching prevalence of a fractured relationship. And, that has to do
with both history, it has to do with certainly settler colonialism, it has to do with racist assimila-
tion policies with the residential school system, but it also has to do with current policing
failures.”33
629
So we put those symbols that you had on your the dancers and we performed in our language
pictographs on the ballet shoes. And the first so we represented four generations – the young
year, you know, Claudia Gray did the beautiful girl, the teenager, the mother, and the grand-
artwork on the ballet shoes and actually I think mother. And so, so that’s how it started and …
they made posters of it. And I blessed the feet of we just did our third year.II
I UNB Newsroom, “Red Shawl Campaign.”

II Elder Imelda Perley (Wolastoqew), Part 1, Public Volume 44(a), Moncton, NB, pp. 155–156.
31
Healing for Future Generations: Engaging Youth in Wellness
For many people, the importance of healing lies not only in the current generation, but in the
future ones, through work with youth. The importance of healing youth also featured promi-
nently in testimony concerning the need to heal in Métis, First Nations, Inuit, and 2SLGBTQQIA
communities, further explored in our analysis of the Guided Dialogues in Chapter 11. As
Lorraine S. shared,
What I see happening is our kids are doing their own suicides now, or now they’re
killing each other because they don’t have a connection, they don’t have a bonding with
somebody. They don’t have a bonding with the grandparents anymore, with the parents –
it’s all disrupted.26
Some witnesses discussed their work with youth as a way to engage youth in wellness. Travis
Hebert, who is Cree/Métis and who is part of the hip hop duo Mob Bounce, discussed his work
with youth like those from ’Na Aksa Gyilak’yoo School, who appeared before the National
Inquiry to share “The Highway,” the song they wrote in November 2016 as part of a creative
writing and artistic expression project at their school in Kitsumkalum. As he explained about
his work in connecting youth to the healing power of culture and identity:
A lot of it relates to being able to connect with inner space and sacred space. And when
we go through experiences in our lives, whether they’re trauma or memories that are
difficult, you know, even good ones, there’s this inner space that’s tampered with that
creates walls and blockages.
For youth, Travis explained, the impact of this kind of disconnection is clear:
And when we go into communities, you know, you can see through the body language,
you know, where the eyes are – you know, some youth tend to go into this space and
look down. It’s because they’re protecting themselves. There’s a very vulnerable space
within.27
“AFTER I PUT ALL MY FEELINGS DOWN ON PAPER AND WE FINISHED THE SONG,
WE ALL ENDED UP BREAKING DOWN AND CRYING BECAUSE WE’RE PUTTING OUR
VOICES OUT THERE, WE’RE STANDING UP FOR WHAT WE ARE TRYING TO SHOW.”
Youth from ‘Na Aksa Gyilak’yoo School
Youth themselves who were part of the panel talked about how engaging in the project helped
them to begin their own healing journey: “After I put all my feelings down on paper and we fin-
ished the song, we all ended up breaking down and crying because we’re putting our voices out
there, we’re standing up for what we are trying to show.”28
32
Leona Simon, who spoke as part of the Youth Panel held in Moncton, explained how connecting
with cultural crafts is helping her: “Recently I started doing the medallions with the sealskin and
that’s pretty cool in itself as well.… But I haven’t been beading long, maybe three or four years,
and it’s helped me focus a lot on keeping calm and there’s a lot of love that’s put in it and I hope
it heals just as much as it looks beautiful.”29
There were many important programs, initiatives, and outlets for grief shared within the context of
the National Inquiry; in common, they included a foundation in a culturally safe, distinctions-based
approach that allowed families to heal at their own pace. Together, they emphasize the importance
of self-determined methods of healing appropriate for the community or family they engage.
In St. John’s, NL, Gerri Pangman of Peguis First Nation and her daughter Corley McPherson were present to offer their talents
to those who attended hearings and who needed an outlet, through beading. A self-described wife and mother of four wonderful
children, Gerri explained: “I began beading when I was 14, self-taught through a book. I eventually stopped beading for many
years up until the tragedy of my sister Jennifer’s passing in 2013. I remember that first time picking up a needle and thread again
with the many beautiful beads in front of me, it brought me some peace as I was mourning my sister’s death. I realized how much
healing there is through beading, and how soothing it is. It is truly my passion to share this healing therapy that beading brings
with other MMIWG family members as it was so healing for me, so for just that brief moment we can just feel a sense of normal
and laugh and share together as we get to know each other, to help ground each other and know we are all in this together.”
33
To be sure, truths shared by witnesses before the National Inquiry speak to a larger issue of
police violence, including sexual violence, committed against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people – an issue that has been previously documented and explored in other
inquiries and commissions. As Farida Deif shared, the research she had conducted into the rela-
tionship between Indigenous women and the police in Saskatchewan revealed that Indigenous
women had experienced several forms of violence at the hands of police officers.
Indigenous women experienced, quite routinely, excessive use of force by police
officers, that inappropriate body and strip searches by male officers were quite common
as well, both during routine stops and in detention settings. We also found that women
experienced sexual harassment, and in some incidents, sexual assault by officers.39
As Lise J. shared: “My friend, she had made a complaint of sexual assault against the policeman.
A few days later, the prosecutor comes to see her and then says, ‘We went to see the policeman.
You are mistaken.’ Her complaint wasn’t accepted either.”40
According to Deif, police also frequently failed to adequately protect and support Indigenous
women who are survivors of violence. Mealia Sheutiapik’s description of the relationship be-
tween the police and Indigenous people living in poverty or in other precarious situations demon-
strates how the socio-economic marginalization of Indigenous people is equated with
criminalization by police.
Most of the time when I notice … the police looking down at people, mostly Aboriginal
and Inuit people, they like to look down and they will start questioning you without
having the right papers to start questioning you or they harass you. And I notice in the
last few years, even though I haven’t been on the street for how – I lost count how many
years now, maybe five, six years, the last time I talked to a guy like that. But when I was
encountered by the cop, like, they look down at you. Start saying, “You got to go home”
or “You can’t be here.” And then you have no choice to listen because they’re higher
than you or something or just because you’re – I start thinking, I don’t want to go to jail.
And that’s not right for the cops to do that.41
In speaking about her experience as a sex trade worker, Lanna Moon Perrin described how she
and other women involved in the sex trade are reluctant to report to the police for fear of being
ridiculed, enduring racist or sexist commentary and harassment, and of possible arrest.
I mean, it would be nice to be able to report a bad date to a police officer without getting
– being given the attitude, “Well, you know, a girl could run faster with their dress up
than a guy can with their pants down,” you know, I have heard from a police officer
before. You know, I mean, it’s – we talk about – like, in decriminalization, it’s the hope
that people can negotiate services and those services will be understood, right?42
633
DEEPER DIVE
Criminalizing and Incarcerating

Indigenous Women
Introduction In a letter dated June 29, 2018, to Minister Goodale,
Correctional Investigator Dr. I. Zinger wrote as follows:
The purpose of this Deeper Dive is to highlight some
Based on snapshot data, as of June 20, 2018 the
of the systemic issues raised regarding incarceration
Office reports that there were 61 maximum
in testimonies we heard in all phases of our Truth-
security women in federal custody, 41 of whom
Gathering Process, as well as in eight informal visits
(or 67.2%) are Indigenous. Younger Indigenous
to federal women’s penal institutions made in the
women were found to be overrepresented in the
early months of 2019. We deeply regret that we did
Secure Units; indeed there is a strong correlation
not have sufficient time to dive even deeper into this
between young age and indigeneity, specifically
important subject area that represents, in many ways,
in the 18–25 cohort.
the impacts and legacies of colonization as lived by
In referring to his 2016–17 report, Zinger also wrote:
“Moreover, half of the women held in the Secure
This Deeper Dive explores how the overrepresenta-
Units at the time of my investigation were Indige-
tion of Indigenous women in Canadian prisons is
nous. These women were not benefitting from the
intimately tied to colonization, specifically through
range of services, programs and supports to which
violence, poverty, and disruption of family and
Indigenous women in federal custody are entitled
community life. We outline how the current
under the law.”
Canadian prison system creates and maintains the
violence that many Indigenous women, girls, and
Elders and Correctional Service Canada staff told us
2SLGBTQQIA people experience, as well as some of
that they have noticed that the demographics of
the steps and challenges within the realm of de-
incarcerated Indigenous women are also changing:
carceration. We also discuss possible ways forward for
Indigenous women tend to be younger on admission
incarcerated Indigenous women and the Canadian
and poorly educated, and have more connections
penal system.
with violence inside and outside of prison, as well as
mental health and addiction issues. Many women
Colonialism and described to us their “graduations” from foster care,
to youth detention, to provincial institutions, to fed-
Criminalization: eral institutions. These “graduations” show a disturb-
ing trend that requires further analysis, outside of this
Pathways to Prison National Inquiry.
Indigenous women and girls are disproportionately
When compared with non-Indigenous women in
overrepresented in Canadian provincial and federal
federal custody, Indigenous women are overrepre-
prisons; Indigenous women make up 4% of the
sented in incidents of self-injury, segregation, use-of-
Canadian population, yet account for roughly 40%
force incidents, and maximum security. Indigenous
of the federal prison population.A The distressing
women are assessed as a higher risk and are more
number of incarcerated Indigenous women is made
likely to break institutional rules. They are less
worse by the fact that their incarceration rates are the
frequently granted day or full parole and are more
fastest growing among any demographic in Canada.
likely to be returned to custody as a result of parole
Between March 2009 and March 2018, the number of
suspension or revocation.C
Indigenous women sentenced to federal institutions
grew by 60%.B
635
of housing, poverty of course … lack of food, they ated Indigenous women, all of whom had been resi-
struggle to feed their kids. These are the kind[s] of dential school survivors. At Établissement Joliette,
things that have a spiralling effect, a negative effect most women acknowledged that their parents
on themselves.… It is a vicious circle.”N and/or grandparents had experienced severe trauma
from residential schools and that this had a direct
However, most crimes that Indigenous women impact on their lives. Similarly, during our interviews
commit are non-violent in nature. The majority of with incarcerated women across the country, we
crimes Indigenous women are charged with are found that there is a connection between incarcera-
property and drug offences. The leading causes for tion and missing and murdered Indigenous women
crime for Indigenous women are: theft under $5,000, and girls. When the National Inquiry spoke with
23%; theft over $5,000, 37%; fraud, 32%; trafficking incarcerated women at the Okimaw Ohci Healing
of stolen goods, 21%.O Again, these crimes must be Lodge, most of the residents had personal experi-
understood in the context of many Indigenous ences with missing and murdered women, among ei-
women’s realities. Thirty-seven per cent of First ther family members or close friends. At the Regional
Nations women living outside of their community Psychiatric Centre in Saskatoon, all of the patients
are living in poverty, 30% to 70% suffer from food had a connection to missing and murdered women.
insecurity, and 40% of Inuit women are living in hous-
ing that is overcrowded.P Unfortunately, the effects of intergenerational
trauma will continue into the future if Indigenous
A clear pattern emerges. The Canadian justice system women are overincarcerated. Sixty-four per cent of
criminalizes acts that are a direct result of survival for incarcerated Indigenous mothers are single mothers,
many Indigenous women.Q This repeats patterns of meaning they are the primary caregivers for their
colonialism because it places the blame and respon- children.V As Churcher noted, “The secondary effects
sibility on Indigenous women and their choices, and of overincarceration are multiple. The impact is far
ignores the systemic injustices that they experience, greater than the 39% being incarcerated.”W Indige-
which often lead them to commit crimes.R The Cana- nous children make up only 7% percent of all children
dian state is not held accountable for how its colonial in Canada, yet they account for 48% of children in the
policies contribute to the victimization and incarcer- foster care system.X The overincarceration of Indige-
ation of Indigenous women.S As such, as Churcher nous women results in Indigenous children’s being
said, “The corrections system, by its very nature, has placed in another institutionalized colonial system.Y
no investment in addressing the root causes of crim-
inalization, and so it is unable to effectively address
rehabilitation and reintegration as its principal
Experiences in Prison:
mandate.”T Maintaining Violence
Incarceration and Sexual Violence
Intergenerational Trauma As mentioned earlier, almost all incarcerated Indige-
nous women have a history of sexual abuse, yet they
The National Inquiry also found a connection be- are continually subjected to strip-searches. Strip-
tween intergenerational trauma, a consequence of searches involve the removal or rearrangement of
colonialism, and incarceration. Churcher said, “The clothing to permit visual inspection of a prisoner’s
unfortunate reality is that the long-term effects of genitals, breasts, or buttocks. However, as many as
colonialization and intergenerational trauma that our 30% of strip-searches are not done according to
country has perpetuated against Indigenous women policy.Z A woman is meant to have her top or bottom
continue to be the principal factors in their being on at all times during a strip-search, but the National
missing, murdered, and/or in prison.”U Overwhelm- Inquiry heard that, in most instances, incarcerated
ingly, incarcerated women are residential school sur- Indigenous women are completely naked during
vivors or have family members who are residential the strip-search.AA As Commissioners heard, strip-
school survivors. During a visit to Fraser Valley Insti- searches are extremely traumatizing for many
tution, the National Inquiry heard from nine incarcer- Indigenous women, and they are seen as a form of
637
access services that meet their mental health needs. home and are not centralized into one institution,
This can lead to security and classification issues. therefore making up a small percentage of those
Indigenous women incarcerated.MM Tate also told the
Spiritual Violence National Inquiry that “the other population that is of-
tentimes lost within the justice system is non-regis-
In addition to sexual and emotional violence, Indige- tered Aboriginal women who do not count when it
nous women suffer from a loss of cultural identity comes to looking at programming and resources
and spiritual well-being while they are incarcerated. for Indigenous services … those services are limited,
Patricia Tate, an employee of the Canadian Associa- at best, to those people who self-identify as First
tion of Elizabeth Fry Societies, testified at the National Nations, Métis, or Inuit.”NN At worst, many women are
Inquiry about the lack of cultural programs offered to deemed ineligible.
Indigenous women inmates that focus on diverse
Indigenous cultures, and about their important con- During the National Inquiry’s on-site visits with incar-
nection to identity and well-being: “Our biggest chal- cerated Indigenous women, the value of Indigenous
lenge, and actually our most important role in cultural programs was highlighted. At Fraser Valley
[prisons], is to ensure that we network with other Institution, a few women explained how, in some
services, other Elders, other teachers, other cultural ways, prison had actually helped them. One woman
ceremonies, so that we can bring those ceremonies told the National Inquiry that the only place she felt
to the women and allow them to grow in a positive safe was in prison. Several of the other women pres-
way.”JJ ent agreed with her. Another woman said that she
learned about the value of her body and that vio-
However, Tate highlighted that a huge challenge ex- lence is not acceptable, and that she found support
ists to provide culturally appropriate resources in pris- in prison and the ability to connect with her culture.
ons because the “ceremonies that are being offered Most of the women emphasized the significant role
are a one size fits all … women within an institution that Elders play within the prison system. For many
represent a vast variety of culture and traditions, and Indigenous women, Elders provide important sup-
unfortunately, those traditions are not always being port and connection to culture and healing. One
honoured and are rarely being honoured, quite hon- woman said, “I need to work through what I went
estly.”KK As the National Inquiry observed in its visits, through as a child and I need an Elder to support me
every facility we went to had a special and sacred through that. I need one-on-one connection and
space for sweat and ceremony, and, in some institu- ceremony.” Similarly, a woman at the Okimaw Ohci
tions, this space was available even for those in high- Healing Lodge stated, “The only thing that has helped
security placements. These areas were often meant me is Elders.”
to appeal to many different Indigenous identities, or
were focused on the practices employed by the Elder Public testimony and the National Inquiry’s on-site
or spiritual leader employed there. visits demonstrate the importance of the Elders’ role
in an institution; however, we also found that there
Commissioners also heard about Indigenous women are simply not enough Elders to address the overin-
who were transferred to institutions in different loca- carcerated Indigenous population. Most of the Elders
tions across the country, and often placed in an insti- we spoke with told us that they have an extremely
tution where the Elders were not familiar with their high number of cases and, as a result, struggle to
traditions. This reduces the meaningfulness of Elder meet the needs of many women. One common
involvement and cultural programming. In particular, theme we heard from the Elders was that Correc-
as Tate said, “although they also live within the insti- tional Service Canada (CSC) has not hired and re-
tutions and partake in ceremonies, the Inuit women tained a sufficient number of Elders. This means that
really struggle because there are virtually no cere- some prisoners have had to wait for programming
monies or Elders or teachings that are reflective of that involves Elders and, as a result, they have had to
their heritage, which is quite different from First wait to apply for parole. In addition, a number of Eld-
Nations heritage or Métis heritage.”LL Programs for ers noted high rates of burn-out and trauma through
Inuit women are also slow to be developed, since their own work, without sufficient time to participate
Inuit women are likely to be transported far from in their own mental health supports. In addition, and
639
due to the lack of Elders, the amount of Elder-guided of the Pathways Unit program introduced nearly 20
content in programs has been reduced. This, too, re- years ago, in 2000, as a pilot program intended to “es-
sults in many Indigenous women’s facing delays in tablish an environment for Aboriginal offenders who
parole applications or missing cultural teachings. choose to follow a more traditional path of healing
including counselling with Elders, participating in
Existing Programs and Aboriginal ceremonies and connecting with Aborig-
inal culture.”PP These units, housed within federal cor-
Initiatives rectional institutions, were at first for men; currently,
there are two available to women, both of which are
There were some programs, highlighted by CSC staff located in western Canada (Edmonton Institution for
and by those women with whom the Commissioners Women and Fraser Valley Community Correctional
spoke, that directly impacted the nature of their ex- Centre). Some institutions also have similar programs,
periences within the penal system. These programs though they don’t quality as an official Pathways Unit.
emerged in the wake of strong criticism of correc-
tional services in regards to Indigenous Peoples. In The Commissioners also heard about the Correc-
particular, Creating Choices, a report of the Task Force tional Service Canada’s Aboriginal Social History
on Federally Sentenced Women, released in 1990, (ASH) Tool, a tool that must be considered for all who
noted that “only if people are treated with respect, self-identity as First Nation, Inuit, or Métis. This tool
only when they are empowered, can they take re- represents a four-step process that considers the
sponsibility for their actions and make meaningful “broader historical factors that have contributed to
choices.” They recommended a long-term plan with the overrepresentation of Aboriginal people in the
the ultimate goal of prevention. criminal justice system as well as the specific and
unique circumstances of the individual.”QQ Specifi-
By reducing inequities which limit choice, by pre- cally, the ASH Tool notes many of the important path-
venting violence which breeds violence, our ways to violence this report references, as well as the
long-term goal will reduce the pain which con- many intergenerational and multigenerational forms
tributes to behaviour which harms others. By en- of traumas that incarcerated women discussed. Ulti-
couraging preventive strategies which create mately, the ASH Tool is used to identify and to con-
meaningful choices for federally sentenced sider culturally appropriate or restorative options that
women, we will help reduce crime and increase could contribute to mitigating risk, and may also
choices for all Canadians. In the process, our inform placement in a facility like a healing lodge.
society will become a safer and more secure
place.OO Maintaining the Status Quo:
Some of the programs developed in the aftermath of The Gladue Report
Creating Choices were a direct result of the task force’s
work, including healing lodges specifically, although The Gladue report is often seen as a milestone solu-
the program remains limited in scope. Most healing tion for the overincarceration of Indigenous women,
lodges service only male inmate populations, and are but it has become somewhat of a “mixed blessing.”
only minimum- or medium-security facilities. They This report stems from the Supreme Court of Canada
are programs within which Indigenous values, tradi- decision in R. v. Gladue, [1999] 1 SCR 688. The Gladue
tions, and teachings work within a different context decision sets out the principles for sentencing an
from the penal one, and which include significant Indigenous offender, pursuant to section 718.2(e) of
input from Elders and from local communities. the Criminal Code, that “all available sanctions, other
than imprisonment, that are reasonable in the
In other cases, some facilities we visited also had a circumstances and consistent with the harm done to
“pathway” or equivalent residence where some of the victims or the community should be considered for
women lived. These units allowed for specialized all offenders, with particular attention to the circum-
activity and services for the women in those units but stances of Aboriginal offenders” (our emphasis). The
were limited and dependent on medium- or mini- Gladue decision was aimed at addressing the over-
mum-security placements. Some of them were part representation of Indigenous people in prison by
640
Virginia C., whose mother’s body was not recovered until three and a half years after her murder,
explained how testifying before the National Inquiry is the first step, but that her healing can
never be complete: “For me, it was just the beginning of my true healing, my true healing time,
but I wonder, does one ever dream in this lifetime? I feel I will only be made whole when I am
reunited with Mom in the time of eternity. That’s when I’ll be made complete.”37
Similarly, as Robert P. Sr., testifying about the murder of his daughter Virginia over 20 years ago,
explained, “They say healing will come about and will heal each and every one of you. I don’t
believe that. I’ve waited 24 years for healing. It heals, all right, but then when that subject comes
up, it’s like – just like opening that wound all over again, you know.”38
“I THINK THE BEST THING ANYONE COULD EVER DO IN A SITUATION LIKE MINE IS
TO CONTINUE TO TALK ABOUT IT. AND CONTINUE TO BRING AWARENESS TO IT
BECAUSE IT SOMETIMES IT FEELS LIKE IT’S JUST BEING SHOVED UNDERNEATH A RUG
OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT. AND IT NEEDS TO BE TALKED ABOUT. AND IT HELPS
WITH THE HEALING TO TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS AND THE ANGER, THE
SADNESS, AND THE GRIEF. IT NEEDS TO BE SOMETHING TO BE WORKED ON.”
Amena E. H.
For most witnesses who spoke on this subject, the issue of finding closure as an essential part of
healing was key. In situations, for instance, where a loved one was never found, or the remains
never recovered, that essential step can be missing. In other situations, the issue … of not being
able to put the person to rest properly was exacerbated by social or financial hardship that made
reuniting a person’s remains with their homeland difficult. As Nikki K. explained, in relation to
her cousin Jessica:
We had her funeral in Winnipeg. My foster parents put the funeral on and hundreds of
people showed up because we were well-known throat singers in Winnipeg, and when it
was time to bring her body back home to Chester, CFS [Child and Family Services], the
justice system, Nunavut, no one wanted to pay for her body to come back home and that
really hurt. Why? Why a young girl, 17 years old that’s from Nunavut, her roots are here
and no one wanted her back home. My foster parents were on the verge of selling their
house just to bring her body back home.39
The National Inquiry heard from many families who stressed the need for proper burial and care
for a loved one’s remains, and the financial hardships associated with doing so for many families.
For Inuit, this was especially true, where loved ones died far away from their home communities.
39
During our on-site visits and in many testimonies, is that way of handling disagreements that helps
we heard that the process for establishing facilities mend relationships and provides healing solu-
under these sections is very difficult. Further, there tions. It deals with the underlying causes of the
is not complete transfer of authority and resulting disagreement (which often are perceived as
independence to the community organization. someone not having lived according to pre-
Recently, Correctional Service Canada has taken steps scribed spiritual ways). Sacred justice is going be-
to simplify and expedite the process, but many yond the techniques for handling conflict; it
Indigenous women, Elders, and service providers still involves going to the heart. It includes speaking
see this as a daunting task and its success remains to from the heart, from one’s feelings. It is giving ad-
be gauged. A central issue in all of these discussions vice, reminding people of their responsibilities to
and suggestions for change are understanding what one another. It is helping them reconnect with
justice has meant, and does mean, to Indigenous the higher spirits, or seeing the conflict in rela-
people. For instance, as Diane Leresche, a conflict tion to the higher purposes. It is helping people
analysis scholar specializing in the design, implemen- ease, move beyond, and transform the intense
tation, and evaluation of systems for preventing and hurtful emotions like anger into reorienting and
resolving conflicts notes, the concept of sacred reuniting with that which is more important than
justice means focusing on healing relationships, not the issues of conflict. Sacred justice is found
punitive actions. when the importance of restoring understand-
ing and balance to relationships has been ac-
Peacemaking is generally not as concerned with knowledged. It almost always includes apologies
distributive justice or “rough-and-wild justice” and forgiveness. It is people working together,
(revenge, punishment, control, determining who looking for mutual benefits for all in their widest
is right) as it is with “sacred justice.” Sacred justice circle.DDD
Findings
• Indigenous women and girls are being criminalized as a result of colonization and their resistance to colonial
violence, including systemic oppression and marginalization. Therefore, Canada is incarcerating Indigenous
women and girls because of their fight against colonization or due to the impacts of colonization on them.
• The federal government has failed to take meaningful action to implement numerous recommendations
addressing the gross overrepresentation of Indigenous women and girls in the criminal justice system. These
recommendatons are contained in reports of the Office of the Correctional Investigator; the Auditor General of
Canada’s “Preparing Indigenous Offenders for Release” (Fall 2016); the Calls to Action of the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2015); the Report of the Standing Committee on Public Safety and
National Security, “Indigenous People in the Federal Correctional System” (June 2018); the Report on the
Standing Committee on the Status of Women, “A Call to Action: Reconciliation with Indigenous Women in the
Federal Justice and Corrections Systems” (June 2018); and the “Commission of Inquiry into Certain Events at the
Prison for Women in Kingston” (the Arbour report).
• The federal government has not sufficiently invested in the implementation of Indigenous-specific provisions
of the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (SC 1992, c.20), sections 79 to 84.1.
• Mandatory minimum sentences are especially harsh for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as
Gladue principles for sentencing cannot be applied. This leads to higher incarceration rates. Further, sentences
fail to meet the rehabilitative needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
644
• There is a shortage of Elders working in correctional institutions in Canada. Elders are not empowered to effect
real change. Further, a pan-Indigenous approach has been adopted whereby Elders or spiritual people from
one Nation and their spiritual teachings are assumed to be adequate for all Indigenous inmates. Cultural and
spiritual services must meet the cultural and spiritual needs and rights of distinct Inuit, Métis, and First Nations.
Métis and Inuit women, as the minority populations within the Indigenous population in corrections, suffer
most from this denial of their cultural and spiritual rights.
• The failure to collect disaggregated data prevents a true understanding of the circumstances that lead to arrest
and detention from different groups, including Métis, Inuit, First Nations, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Further, it results
in Correctional Service Canada’s not having a clear understanding of the distinct and diverse Indigenous population
within their custody, and results in ineffective and discriminatory pan-Indigenous programs and services.
• The vision for women’s corrections in Canada as set out in Creating Choices: The Report of the Task Force on
Federally Sentenced Women has been abandoned.
• The incarceration of women resulting in the separation of the mother and child is a violation of the child’s rights
under the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC); Correctional Service Canada’s mother-child program is
underutilized as many Indigenous women do not meet participant criteria.
• The Correctional Service of Canada’s failure to recognize and treat mental health and psychiatric needs, and to
meet rehabilitative objectives under the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (CCRA), represents a violation,
at a minimum, of sections 7 and 15 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
• Segregation can create adverse psychological symptoms, including but not limited to insomnia, confusion,
hopelessness, despair, hallucinations, and even psychosis. The mental and physical distress that segregation
can cause amounts to cruel, inhumane, and degrading punishment that should be characterized as a violation
of human rights and is institutional violence against women.
• Strip-searches within the correctional systems in Canada are state-sanctioned sexual assault, and violate the
human rights and dignity of women and girls. Strip-searching violates Mandela Rules 52.1, which states that
intrusive searches, including strip- and body-cavity searches, should be undertaken only if absolutely necessary.
• The maximum security classification for incarcerated Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people represents
sex-based discrimination that places, punishes, or rewards them on the basis of a set of non-Indigenous
expected or compliant behaviours. This security classification further discriminates by limiting federally
sentenced Indigenous women from accessing services, supports, and programs required to facilitate their safe
and timely reintegration.
• Culturally appropriate and trauma-informed models of care are not consistently available and are not adequately
resourced.
• Indigenous women and girls have limited opportunities for meaningful vocational training and education
upgrading. This impedes their rehabilitation and reintegration into the community and is discriminatory.
645
According to Elder Lillian
Pitawanakwat, Ojibwe/Pota-
wotami, “The strawberry teaches
forgiveness and peace. The
strawberry is shaped like a heart,
and strawberries are known to
our people as heart berries.”
The strawberry is, in part, a representation of our vision. Many Indigenous Nations consider the
strawberry to be women’s medicine. It is heart shaped and is connected to a vast system of
leaves, runners, and roots; so, too, is the heart connected to all the organs and parts of the human
body. The heart is the centre of the human. The heart berry helps us understand connection
between the mind, body, spirit, and emotions.45
In the words of Haudenosaunee Elder Jan Longboat, the strawberry represents Konnorónhkhwa,
commonly translated as “I love you” or a caring and compassion toward another relation. Jan
explains that when you say this to someone, it represents your dedication to loving them to the
end. It was important to weave the strawberry teachings into every phase of the continuum of
care process to “show you care,” as Jan explains, because the strawberry reminds us of the com-
mitment to provide support through all stages of the journey. We tried to be mindful of this
when supporting family members and survivors of violence who shared their truth within the
Truth-Gathering Process.
Our understanding of community engagement is a communication process for working collabo-
ratively with families and survivors, as well as other key stakeholders, to address issues related
to their participation in the Truth-Gathering Process. This approach was developed through
collaboration with family members and survivors from different Indigenous communities and
perspectives, who helped us to understand how to best develop, implement, and maintain a pro-
gram to support wellness for those who came forward to share their truths. We are grateful for
their voice and guidance in the development of the following four foundational aspects rooting
our best practices, which allowed us to establish a circle of support for family members,
survivors, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who journeyed with the National Inquiry.
42
In its 2015 Update to the National Operational Overview,47 the RCMP claimed that the majority
of killings of Indigenous women and girls were committed by spouses and family members,
based on its review of statistical data collected on crimes within their jurisdiction. Yet, as other
research and critiques of the RCMP’s analysis have pointed out, Indigenous women’s and girls’
lives are also ended by strangers or acquaintances who seek to victimize them under various
circumstances. As Human Rights Watch pointed out in its 2013 report, it is the apathy of police
in the face of this violence that serves to maintain it:
Police apathy in cases involving violence against women and girls – or violence against
certain groups of women and girls – sends the message that such behavior is accepted
and will carry no consequences for perpetrators. It may, in effect, encourage the targeting
of certain groups for violence.48
Indigenous people were 2.2 times more likely to report having been victims of
violent crime in the past year than non-Indigenous people: 1.9 times more likely
for physical assault, 2.5 times more likely for robbery, and almost 3 times more
likely for sexual assault.
Stereotypes and Victim Blaming

In many of the testimonies the National Inquiry heard, families shared how stereotypes and victim
blaming served to slow down or to impede investigations into their loved ones’ disappearances or
deaths. The assumptions tied to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people by police as
“drunks,” “runaways out partying,” or “prostitutes unworthy of follow-up” characterized many
interactions, and contributed to an even greater loss of trust in the police and in related agencies.
648
Researchers and clinicians have identified key principles of trauma-informed practice.
These include:
1. Trauma awareness: All services taking a trauma-informed approach begin with building
awareness among staff of how common trauma is; how its impact can be central to one’s
development; the wide range of adaptations people make to cope and survive; and the rela-
tionship of trauma with substance use, physical health, and mental health concerns. This
knowledge is the foundation of an organizational culture of trauma-informed care.
2. Emphasis on safety and trustworthiness: Physical and emotional safety for people deal-
ing with trauma is key because trauma survivors often feel unsafe, are likely to have expe-
rienced boundary violations and abuse of power, and may be experiencing, or have
experienced, unsafe relationships.
3. Opportunity for choice, collaboration, and connection: Trauma-informed services
create safe environments that foster a client’s sense of efficacy, self-determination, dignity,
and personal control. Providers of care aim to communicate openly, equalize power im-
balances in relationships, allow the expression of feelings without fear of judgment, pro-
vide choices as to treatment preferences, and work collaboratively. In addition, having the
opportunity to establish safe connections – with treatment providers, peers, and the wider
community – is reparative for those with early and/or ongoing experiences of trauma.
4. Empowerment and strength building: Care services help participants to identify their
strengths and to further develop their resiliency and coping skills. Emphasis is placed on
teaching and modelling skills for recognizing triggers, calming, centring, and staying
present. Parallel attention to staff competencies and learning these skills and values
characterizes trauma-informed services.49
The National Inquiry outlined its understanding of trauma-informed care in its Interim Report.
In this approach, we committed to shaping the National Inquiry process as much as possible
around the needs of those affected by trauma, instead of the other way around. We incorporated
knowledge of trauma into our policies, procedures and practices whenever possible. Our trauma-
informed approach also included creating culturally safe spaces for survivors and family members
to share their stories, and placing equal value on Western and Indigenous healing approaches.
Developing a continuum of care grounded in a trauma-informed approach was critical, from reg-
istration to initial contact and conversation to family members and survivors sharing their truth to
working with the health team on after-care supports. This continuum was guided by foundational
principles which aimed to produce a positive empowering experience for those who engaged in
the National Inquiry Truth-Gathering Process.
44
Foundational principles included:
• centring family and survivors;
• being respectful of gender and cultural identity;
• drawing on strengths and resilience;
• creating culturally safe spaces;
• honouring the right of choice;
• treating everyone with compassion;
• using a proactive and flexible approach to identifying needs and challenges;
• supporting the individual’s rights, including privacy; and
• ensuring a collaborative approach with external parties where feasible.
These guiding principles aligned with our commitment to not cause further harm. At the same
time, we acknowledge that we were unable to ensure a trauma-informed approach was taken at
all times and deeply regret any situations where people may have been triggered and did not feel
well cared for.
Participation of Family
When establishing supportive protocols and practices for the National Inquiry, it was of utmost
importance to promote a sense of safety. Family members and survivors of violence repeatedly
shared that feeling safe and connected to their family is necessary for healing and maintaining
wellness throughout this process, meaning that family members of those who were sharing their
truth were able to participate in a supportive role. It was important for us to honour their voices,
and, early on in the process, we adopted the definition of “families of the heart,” an inclusive term
that extends beyond the nuclear or even extended family to include individuals chosen as family
members. These chosen families, or families of the heart, may not be biologically related, but
have made the decision to stay closely involved and support each other out of mutual love and
respect.
Those participating in the National Inquiry were encouraged to identify their family support
circle throughout the journey and were empowered to engage them if they chose to do so. Many
did choose to have their families attend in person as a support when they shared their truth, and
were provided resources to assist the families in attending in this capacity.
Inclusion of families, including families of the heart, made an important difference for those
testifying. As Courtney B. shared, “I’m really grateful that my family is able to come together.
The ones that have come, you know, on our healing journey and embarked on, you know, this
spiritual path to be here for one another, to support one another, to see that we’re here.”50
45
Inclusion of Peer Support
Fostering connections with those who have experienced similar circumstances is essential and
plays a role in enhancing comfort and cultivating a sense of belonging, especially for individuals
who may not feel a strong connection to biological family or community. We understood the im-
portance of this early on, and, in preparation for the first hearing in Whitehorse, we included lay
counsellors and actively engaged regional Resolution Health Support workers,51 faith-based sup-
ports, and family members of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls and survivors
of violence in our circle of support teams for the hearing. This practice was replicated for all
events as we witnessed a strong lay support movement across the country, with the family mem-
bers of those missing and murdered, as well as survivors of violence, holding each other up and
sharing the responsibility to care for one another. As Marilou S. shared, “When I was helping
those people, they were helping me.… So I was really grateful for that.”52
In Calgary, Alberta, NFAC

members Charlotte Wolfrey,
Cynthia Cardinal, Sarah
Noyakallak, and Bonnie Fowler
speak to those in attendance,
accompanied by interpreter
Minnie Amidlak.
Culturally Safe and Specialized Services

When individuals share their experiences of trauma, strong emotions emerge. Some may
experience panic attacks and other responses to increased levels of stress. Offering access to
specialized practitioners is critical when supporting individuals who have experienced trauma.
Throughout the process, we engaged local respected Elders and traditional people to guide us in
ceremony and play an active role in ensuring the Truth-Gathering Process was grounded in a
calming way, incorporating local protocols, ceremony, and medicines. As Reepa Evic-Carleton
noted about her healing and as a part of the National Inquiry’s Inuit Perspectives Panel,
I started talking to an Elder. What really helped me was I really had to share what was
going on with me, so I started sharing with an Elder and she listened and listened, never
judged. And, I cried a lot. I didn’t even know what was happening to me because I’ve
never lived this kind of a life before.53
46
Although many family members and survivors chose support from Elders, it was important for
us to also include specialized services on-site. We included psychologists, psychiatric nurses, and
counsellors in our circle of support throughout the Truth-Gathering Process. Our best intentions
were to include Indigenous practitioners where requested, though access to some of these services
was limited by availability. When we included non-Indigenous practitioners, we chose individuals
who had an understanding of the historical context of Indigenous Peoples in Canada and an
understanding of intergenerational trauma.
“I STARTED TALKING TO AN ELDER. WHAT REALLY HELPED ME WAS I REALLY HAD TO

SHARE WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH ME, SO I STARTED SHARING WITH AN ELDER AND SHE
LISTENED AND LISTENED, NEVER JUDGED. AND, I CRIED A LOT. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW
WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME BECAUSE I’VE NEVER LIVED THIS KIND OF A LIFE BEFORE.”
Reepa Evic-Carleton
The National Inquiry’s Aftercare Program, and Lessons Learned

The National Inquiry was mandated by the Terms of Reference to conduct matters in a trauma-
informed way and to make culturally appropriate support available to registered families who
shared their truth in order to ensure continued healing. As a result, we developed a short-term
aftercare framework to guide the provision of these services. Family members and survivors of
violence who shared their truth played an active role in creating an aftercare plan inclusive of
their personal wellness needs. Providing support after an individual shared their truth was critical
in assisting them along their healing journey.
Our short-term aftercare program was intended to address immediate needs, where support
would be provided for up to three months. This would enable time for referral to organizations
for longer-term support where available. Financial resources were made available up to $3,500 to
support the implementation of the individual aftercare plan. It was important for us to advocate
for individuals to have full choice and control of their aftercare, as we heard throughout the
Truth-Gathering Process that many family members and survivors were not seeking support from
grassroots organizations and government services. In many cases, witnesses cited no culturally
appropriate or preferred services in their community, a lack of trust in the service providers, a
lack of financial resources to engage in memorials for lost loved ones, and geographical barriers
to accessibility.
With these concerns in mind, the National Inquiry established an aftercare program that tried to
address these concerns. It was the first of its kind in terms of its establishment of individualized
and needs-specific contribution agreements between the government and the family member or
survivor. This meant that each individual who shared their truth could develop an individualized
aftercare plan, outlining their needs. Financial resources would go directly to them to implement
47
this plan. This approach meant that organizations would no longer receive the funding to create
aftercare support but rather, in keeping with being trauma-informed and supporting the individ-
ual’s right to make choices around their healing, family members and survivors could create a
healing plan which resonated with their immediate wellness needs.
Ultimately, the financial support for aftercare services could be used to fund the following:
• referrals to existing support services and programs which may have financial implica-
tions such as treatment centres, counselling, and on-the-land healing programs;
• costs to attend ceremonial events, including: travel and accommodation, meals,
child care, honorarium for Elders if the ceremony they’re conducting is not part of an
organization’s event, supplies (e.g. medicines, cloth);
• traditional healing and counselling from an established Healer/Elder/Cultural Liaison;
• Western counselling from a qualified professional;
• memorial and commemoration events/ceremonies;
• travel costs, including transportation and hotel accommodation;
• workshops related to healing and wellness, such as suicide intervention, grief and loss,
working through trauma;
• activities that support and enrich physical wellness; and
• other reasonable items considered upon special request.
The majority of aftercare activities requested for short-term healing were cultural and commemo-
ration activities. Access to ceremony and traditional healing practices was a recurring request we
heard throughout the aftercare process. Visits with Elders, harvesting medicines, making regalia,
feasts, beading, healing circles, land-based healing programs, hunting and gathering of tradi-
tional foods, and attending Pow Wow, Sundance and sweat ceremonies, and other spiritual
practices were commonly requested.
It is important to note that many family members didn’t differentiate between commemoration,
healing and wellness; in fact, we heard repeatedly throughout the Truth-Gathering Process that
the act of commemoration and remembrance of a lost loved one is most often expressed in a
ceremonial way and contributes to the grieving process needed for healing. As Virginia C.
explained, for example, after a farmer found her mother’s remains outside of Prince Albert,
“That gave us some closure. At least then we could bury my mother next to her mother on
Sturgeon Lake Reserve. My mother’s remains were buried, we had a traditional funeral which
was very, very releasing of our emotions and our sorrow.”54
48
Elder Sarah Ponniuk lights the qulliq in Happy Valley-Goose
Bay and in St. John’s, Newfoundland.
Conclusion: Respect and Connection

For Monique F. H., whose work helping others is informed by her own experiences, drawing
from the stories and experiences of other women gives her the motivation to continue to work to
heal others: “Hearing the stories of the women that I work with…. They lift, you know, they give
you so much strength. I try to give that back to them all the time.”55 Providing strength and lift-
ing others up, and doing so in a spirit of respect and of connection – these are principles that wit-
nesses articulated over and over again. Understanding that healing requires a holistic approach
and must be delivered in a culturally safe and specific way, without an expiry date, is key to
ensuring that whatever solutions are generated as a result of this process can be successful. The
provision of self-determined services led by those who know best what they, their families, and
their communities might need is an important and basic truth upon which all others must be
based.
“HEARING THE STORIES OF THE WOMEN THAT I WORK WITH…. THEY LIFT, YOU
KNOW, THEY GIVE YOU SO MUCH STRENGTH. I TRY TO GIVE THAT BACK TO
THEM ALL THE TIME.”
Monique F. H.
49
Notes
1 Elaine D. (Cree, Mistawasis First Nation), Part 1, 21 Natalie G. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18,
Public Volume 21, Edmonton, AB, p. 24. Membertou, NS, p. 80.
2 Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17, 22 Matthew W. (Brokenhead Ojibway Nation), Part 1,
Membertou, NS, pp. 96-97. Public Volume 9, Winnipeg, MB, p. 132.
3 Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17, 23 Alisha R. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 453,
Membertou, NS, p. 98. Edmonton, AB, p. 23.
4 Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17, 24 Rachel W. (Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 9, Winnipeg,
Membertou, NS, p. 100. MB, p. 116.
5 Stephanie H. (First Nations, Fort McKay), Part 1, 25 Kim C.-M. (Inuit, Labrador), Part 1, Public Volume 49,
Public Volume 20, Edmonton, AB, p. 129. Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL, pp. 3, 4.
6 Adrienne B. (Cree) Part 1, Public Volume 23, 26 Lorraine S. (Thunderchild First Nation and Mosquito
Edmonton, AB, p. 47. First Nation), Part 1, Statement Volume 112, Saskatoon,
SK, p. 36.
7 Courtney B. (Peguis First Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 11, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 13-14. 27 Travis Hebert (Cree/Métis), Part 1, Public Volume 6,
Smithers, BC, pp. 106-107.
8 Amena E. H. (Inuit), Part 1, Public Volume 55, Happy
Valley-Goose Bay, NL, pp. 24-25. 28 Student from ’Na Aksa Gyilak’yoo School, Part 1,
Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC, p. 86.
9 Alisha R. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 453,
Edmonton, AB, p. 65. 29 Leona Simon, (Elsipogtog First Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 45(b), Moncton, NB, pp. 23-24.
10 Harriet L. (Inuit, Nain), Part I, Public Volume 57,
Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL, p. 15. 30 Bernard A. (Inuit, Happy Valley-Goose Bay), Part 1,
Statement Volume 437, Kuujjuaq, QC, p. 10.
11 Micah A. (Inuit, Talurjuaq), Part 1, Public Volume
46(b), Rankin Inlet, NU, p. 10. 31 Matthew W. (Brokenhead Ojibway Nation), Part 1,
Public Volume 9, Winnipeg, MB, p. 131.
BC, p. 26. 32 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, p. 70.
13 Treaty 6 Grand Chief Wilton Littlechild (Cree), Part 1,
Public Volume 24, Edmonton, AB, pp. 4-5. 33 Harriet L. (Inuit, Nain), Part I, Public Volume 57,
Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL, p. 10.
14 Kirby B. (Cree Nation of Nemaska), Part 1, Public
Volume 60, Montreal, QC, p. 62. 34 Amena E. H. (Inuit), Part 1, Public Volume 55, Happy
Valley-Goose Bay, NL, p. 18.
15 Delilah S. (Inuit), Part 1, Public Volume 17,
Membertou, NS, p. 69. 35 Sarah B. (Inuit, Iqaluit), Part 1, Public Volume 65,
Montreal, QC, p. 33.
16 Shae-Lynn Noskye, (First Nations), Part 1, Public
Volume 96, Vancouver, BC, pp. 53-54. 36 Sarah B. (Inuit, Iqaluit), Part 1, Public Volume 65,
Montreal, QC, p. 33.
17 Marilou S. (Bear Clan, Anishinaabe), Part 1, Statement
Volume 563, London, ON, p. 115. 37 Virginia C. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 117,
18 Leona Star (Nehiyawak), Part 1, Public Volume 10,
Winnipeg, MB, p. 69. 38 Robert P. Sr. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 19,
19 Monique F. H. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 17,
Membertou, NS, p. 115. 39 Nikki K. (Inuit), Part 1, Public Volume 46(a), Rankin
Inlet, NU, p. 44.
20 Translation ours. Andrée V. (Pessamit), Part 1, Public
Volume 32, Maliotenam/Uashat mak Mani-Utenam, 40 Marilou S. (Bear Clan, Anishinaabe), Part 1, Statement
QC, p. 79. Volume 563, London, ON, p. 19.
50
DEEPER DIVE
The Sex Industry, Sexual Exploitation,

and Human Trafficking
Woven into the truths shared by family members majority of those involved in the street-level sex
speaking about their missing or murdered loved work.B They are also more likely than other groups to
ones, and the truths told by survivors, Knowledge be targeted for, or to experience, sexual exploitation
Keepers, and Expert Witnesses, were stories about or trafficking for the purposes of sexual exploitation.C
and the sex industry, sexual exploitation, and human
trafficking. Among the witnesses who shared their
Understanding Diverse
truth with the Inquiry, many survivors described Perspectives
experiences of physical and sexual violence while en-
gaged in sex work. Witnesses also offered insights The National Inquiry heard a range of opinions re-
and ideas for how best to ensure safety, health, and garding the relationships among sex work, sexual ex-
justice for those whose lives connect with sex work, ploitation, and trafficking. Some women insisted that
or whose lives have been impacted by sexual sex work, by its very nature, is exploitative and needs
exploitation or sex trafficking. to be abolished. For example, Diane Redsky, member
of Shoal Lake 40 First Nation and front-line worker
Here, we focus our discussion specifically on the with the Ma Mawi Chi Itata Centre in Winnipeg,
issues, concerns, and teachings witnesses raised argued that sex work is inherently exploitative and
related to the relationship between sex work, sexual oppressive.
exploitation, and trafficking and violence against
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. You will never hear me say “sex trade,” because
trade implies you’re trading something of fair
Constructing an accurate picture of the number of value. When you understand sexual exploitation
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and sex trafficking as much as we do, you will
involved in the sex industry is difficult. Because in- know that there is nothing fair of value being
volvement in the sex industry continues to be stig- exchanged. The other is “sex work.” I will not say
matized, and acknowledging one’s involvement in “sex work” because it is not employment. It is not
the sex industry can increase the risk of criminaliza- a job, it is not a legitimate job. Again, as we un-
tion, discrimination, and violence, many people derstand sexual exploitation and sex trafficking,
choose not to report information about their involve- it is highly exploitative, and violent, and de-
ment. In addition, an unwillingness and lack of effort grades our women.D
on the part of many institutions that could help to
keep more accurate records about Indigenous However, the National Inquiry also heard testimony
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and the sex that there is nothing inherently wrong with sex work,
industry contribute to this lack of information. In part, and that the criminalization of sex work makes
this unwillingness and lack of effort are rooted in a women more vulnerable to violence. For example,
long-standing view that sees those individuals as dis- Lanna Moon Perrin, an Indigenous woman and self-
posable or unworthy of attention.A identified activist and sex worker, shared a very differ-
ent opinion.
Despite these gaps in data collection, organizations
working to advocate on behalf of sex worker rights, I hear a lot about prostitution being a colonial
and those working to address sexual exploitation and thing, and it’s a disease or it’s a thing that coloni-
trafficking, consistently report that Indigenous zation brought onto us. And, you know, perhaps
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people make up the in the ways that it was perceived to us, it could
656
be looked at like that, but I’d like to consider titutes, or especially girls providing a service to
pre-colonization for a minute and what our johns. Why? Because it minimizes their victimiza-
sexuality as Indigenous women and how that tion. It also implies that they had some choice in
might have looked, especially in leadership, you the matter when we know that minors cannot
know? And, you know, you can’t tell me that pre- consent. Minors can never provide consent and
colonization, Indigenous women didn’t use their there are criminal provisions in the Criminal Code
sexuality to advance themselves, their families, for under the age of 18. So, instead, they are
their communities, and their Nations. I have a victims of child abuse. A perpetrator paid to
hard time believing that.E sexually abuse a child.G
Robyn Bourgeois, a Cree woman and professor at Allan Wade also spoke about the problematic lan-
Brock University, emphasized that, despite differ- guage used when talking about the exploitation of
ences of opinion on these matters, Indigenous children and youth within the sex trade.
women have a common goal when it comes to end-
ing violence. So, what I want to point out is that our prevailing
public institutions are publicly shaming children
I think, you know, at the end of the day, I think by portraying violence against children as sex
despite whatever our position is, we’re all fight- with children. I couldn’t tell you how many
ing for the same thing. We’re all recognizing that people I have spoken with who referred to sexu-
what happens to Indigenous women in the sex alized assault or rape as their first sexual experi-
industry is problematic. And, we are recognizing ence. It’s very important that people understand
that, you know, not only are Indigenous women that rape is not a sexual experience. Children
and girls vulnerable to things like sexual cannot consent; therefore, child prostitution,
exploitation and sex trafficking, but that, you child pornography, child sex work, cannot exist
know, people who are wanting to be involved in ever, because of consent laws. So our consent
the sex industry are experiencing violence. law actually contradicts our Criminal Code
language.H
And, at the end of the day, we’re all fighting to
try to save the lives of Indigenous women and Nonetheless, as witnesses made clear when describ-
girls, and we’re just, kind of – we’re divided ing their participation in the sex industry as children
amongst the different positions and really under- or teenagers, street-level or survival sex work was one
standing if prostitution is the source of the vio- of very few options available to them, all of which
lence itself, and so that in and of itself is the were likely to involve some form of exploitation and
violence, or that the violence is created because erasure of agency.I Witnesses emphasized that any
of social perceptions, or regulation, or criminal- serious attempt to combat sexual exploitation and
ization surrounding the sex trade. But, at the end trafficking among Indigenous girls and youth must
of the day, I mean, I think no matter what, we all be met with an equally serious commitment to
want the same thing. We want an end to this ensuring that adequate financial, health, and social
violence and we want our girls and our women supports exist to make other options viable.
to be safe no matter what.F
Testimony that focused more specifically on children

The Statistical Realities of
and youth in the sex industry emphasized the impor- Human Trafficking in Canada
tance of distinguishing between sexual exploitation
and trafficking and adult sex work. Diane Redsky, for Within the context of the hearings, Assistant Commis-
instance, argued that it is especially important to ac- sioner Joanne Crampton of the RCMP explained that
knowledge the inherently violent and exploitative one of the biggest challenges that police face in ad-
nature of the sex industry when minors are involved. dressing human trafficking is a lack of reliable data
about these networks in Canada: “It’s difficult to
When sexual exploitation and trafficking in- speak about something that we know is an issue
volves a child under the age of 18, they should when we don’t have the data to support it.”J
never ever be called teen hookers or child pros-
657
“Human trafficking,” or trafficking in persons, is a humiliation and intimidation, or drugs and other
criminal offence under the Criminal Code and under “anchors,” to prevent victims from reporting. In some
the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act. Human cases, victims of trafficking may not identify as vic-
trafficking is considered a violation of individual tims. According to Crampton, “A lot of women who
human rights.K It involves “recruiting, transporting, are in an exploitative situation do not recognize that
transferring, receiving, holding, concealing or har- they’re in an exploitative situation. So that’s where
bouring a person, or exercising control, direction or the education needs to take place.”O
influence over the movements of a person, for the
purpose of exploiting them or facilitating their In addition, to be effective, the legislation depends on
exploitation,” and can take many forms like sexual the justice system to use it.P As Crampton admitted:
exploitation and forced labour.L
Currently, even though the legislation has been
While the realities of trafficking are hard to measure, in place since 2005, it’s very underutilized, and
Statistics Canada, through the Uniform Crime Report- not only police but also prosecutors are not al-
ing Survey, collects information on incidents of ways comfortable with the legislation. When you
human trafficking violations when they are reported don’t use legislation on a regular basis, it can be
to police forces in Canada. As researcher Dyna challenging. So, that is a definite gap and that we
Ibrahim points out, in 2016, “There was nearly one have a lack of knowledge in both law enforce-
(0.94) police-reported incident of human trafficking ment, and prosecutor, and judiciary.Q
for every 100,000 population—the highest rate
recorded since comparable data became available This also leads to a lack of enforcement of the law
in 2009.”M itself.
The victims of human trafficking are most often Crampton also explained how jurisdictional con-
young women. Between 2009 and 2015, 865 victims straints and difficulties with coordination can make
of human trafficking appeared in the statistics, and investigations into human trafficking challenging,
over 95% of these were women. The majority of those since they are “continually moving and now crossing
women (nearly three-quarters) were under the age into other police jurisdictions.”R The Human Traffick-
of 25; of these, 26% were under the age of 18.N ing Coordination Centre attempts to coordinate the
movement of the files, but, Crampton admits, the
Regionally, there were significant disparities in traf- system is challenging.
ficking statistics for data collected between 2009 and
2016 from those cases that were reported to police. At the same time, and as we heard from some sex
Nearly 66% of cases came from Ontario, while workers and sex workers’ advocates, the more recent
Québec had a rate of over 10%. Alberta, at 8.2%, also focus on the issue of trafficking has the tendency to
represented a significant number of cases. These sta- conflate adult sex work with sex trafficking and to po-
tistics include Criminal Code offences under the cat- sition all people who choose to engage in sex work
egory of human trafficking in the Uniform Crime as victims of sex trafficking. While not denying the se-
Reporting Survey, including: trafficking in persons riousness of the issue of sexual exploitation and traf-
(CCCs. 279.01); trafficking in persons under 18 (CCCs. ficking, those taking this position argue that failing
279.011); material benefit (CCCs. 279.02); material to recognize the lived experiences and perspectives
benefit from trafficking of persons under 18 years of of those who choose to practise sex work compro-
age (CCCs. 279.02[2]); withholding or destroying doc- mises their ability to engage in sex work in a safe and
uments (CCCs. 279.03); and withholding or destroy- rights-based way. Sarah Hunt described how a shift
ing documents to facilitate trafficking of persons in public discourse and policy to position all sex
under 18 years of age (CCCs. 279.03[2]). workers as victims of sex trafficking has “supressed
discussion about the rights of sex workers, resulted
Due to the stigma of trafficking, victims may not want in decreased funding for sex worker organizations,
to report for many different reasons, including being and shut out the voices of people who sell or trade
in physically, economically, and otherwise vulnerable sex who do not equate their experience with pure
positions, or being threatened by traffickers who use victimization.”S
658
indifference that so often characterizes the societal a prostitute, but I lived a double life.… And I re-
and institutional response to the violence inflicted member I was with an Edmonton Sun reporter,
upon Indigenous women – especially those working and I’m like, “If I were to get killed tomorrow,
within the sex industry. what do you think would be said about me?”
“Local Advocate of Missing and Murdered
The one piece that has always been there is the Women, Murdered.” I said, “Now, what if they
hypersexualization of Indigenous women and found out – what if they knew I was a hooker,
girls, and the perception that we are inherently and a prostitute? Would that change it?” He said,
sexually available. And, that – if we are inherently “Yeah, it would.”UU
available, sexually, then the violence that hap-
pens to our bodies doesn’t count.… It’s the in- Seeking justice within systems that actively work to
herent belief within the settler colonial system, position Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
which is the foundation of our current Canadian people as “the lowest of the low,” as many of the wit-
nation state, that Indigenous women and girls nesses explained, is often not only futile but also dan-
are inferior, they’re deviant, they’re dysfunc- gerous work.
tional, and they need to be eliminated from this
nation state, and that’s what makes it okay to As much previous research and many of the testi-
abuse and violate Indigenous women and girls.RR monies demonstrated, encounters between Indige-
nous women and girls involved in the sex industry
These assumptions have important implications for and the justice system often involve experiences of
police investigations, as Bourgeois noted. additional violence at the hands of those with a re-
sponsibility to uphold justice.
Why didn’t police investigate? Why did it take,
you know, almost 20 years before they took this Lanna Moon Perrin spoke frankly about the fear and
seriously? It was because of this belief that these mistrust that stop Indigenous women who experi-
women were entrenched in the sex industry and ence violence in the context of the sex industry from
for that reason, you know, they weren’t likely talking to the police.
victims. And so it allows for general inaction on
violence against Indigenous women and girls, If I were to negotiate something like one act for
and that’s a huge concern for me.SS money, you know, something for something, and
I didn’t get my money, you know? So, I would like
These beliefs also translate into the courts. to be able to go to the police and, you know, I
Bourgeois noted: would like to say, you know, “I was robbed.” You
know, “I was assaulted.” You know, these different
Again, and again, and again, and again and again things and be taken seriously.
our Canadian courts, they really – they rely heav-
ily on the hypersexualization of Indigenous Sex workers who were – who would say some-
women and girls to not only erase the violence, thing like that now would – I don’t even think – I
because they will erase it by saying, “Oh, you can’t even think of someone who would even go
know what? She consented to this,” or “She, you to the cops, honestly, if they were hurt like that.
know, was engaged in prostitution,” or, you Like, I sure the heck wouldn’t. And so, I guess to
know, “She, you know, was drunk and promiscu- be able to see police that might take us seriously,
ous,” or any of those things.TT that we’re allowed that protection too.VV
When they appear in public media sources, too, While all Indigenous women face risks in reaching
sex workers are further marginalized. As Danielle B. out to police as a result of experiencing violence –
expressed: risks that include being treated with a presumption
of criminality and being implicated, arrested, and
You know, in the newspaper, it’s like “Crack-Head charged for violence themselvesWW – Indigenous
Dead,” “Hooker Dead,” “Prostitute Dead,” but that women involved in sex work also face risks related to
was my life. Because I was a crackhead, and I was complex legislation that criminalizes certain aspects
663
This chapter first examines what witnesses shared about the impact of commemoration within
their lives, and then links to the importance of calling forth these teachings to reduce violence
and increase safety. Then, this chapter examines the many artistic expressions within our Legacy
Archive that speak to this important work, as well as the National Inquiry’s engagement in decol-
onizing practices in caring for them. This chapter shares the important lessons generated through
meaningful art engagement and outreach, including our ReClaim Project, led by award-winning
artist Jaime Black.
We characterize these expressions, through art, as the act of “calling forth.” This includes
calling forth the legacies of those who no longer walk among us; calling forth awareness that
leads to concrete action; and calling forth the power and place of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people as a pathway to healing and, ultimately, to safety.
Commemoration and Calling Forth from the Perspectives

of Families
For witnesses sharing their truths with the National Inquiry, commemoration included the act of
remembering loved ones. In many cases, witnesses discussed the importance of commemoration
as a component of healing, as well as of making sure that their loved ones are never forgotten.
As Alisha R. explained in regards to her mother, Laura, “I thought being part of something like
this would be, like, the closest thing to closure that I will ever get. It’s just so that if she is, like,
listening, she can know that, like, I did everything I could. And now she won’t be forgotten.”6
Fallon F., whose parents were murdered when she was a child, discussed a memorial held 20
years later:
It was always important for us to remember them, and to continue to have them in our
memories. And to make sure that other people do as well, because if we don’t continue,
then their memories and what they went through disappears. And it shouldn’t be
forgotten.7
“I THOUGHT BEING PART OF SOMETHING LIKE THIS WOULD BE, LIKE, THE CLOSEST
THING TO CLOSURE THAT I WILL EVER GET. IT’S JUST SO THAT IF SHE IS, LIKE, LISTENING,
SHE CAN KNOW THAT, LIKE, I DID EVERYTHING I COULD. AND NOW SHE WON’T BE
FORGOTTEN.”
Alisha R.
Many witnesses also pointed out the importance of events, or markers, within the commemora-
tion of their loved ones. Some of these events were public, and some, more private. In many
cases, public and personal commemoration combined to create important healing experiences.
55
have been previously removed from their families from a pimp without assistance of police. That
and taken into the foster and child welfare system, happens a lot, you know? … So, yes, I really think
Indigenous people working in the sex industry told that sex workers, we can empower each other.
the National Inquiry about the “families of the heart” We are anti-trafficking and we need more of the
they nurture and that offer protection, love, and support – more support from our communities
connection. to be able to support ourselves as sisters.NNN
For example, in describing her experience as a sex

worker in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside during the
Recognizing Experience and
1990s, Cee-Jai J. testified about the important role Expertise, and Redefining
her “street family” played in caring for each other:
“They were my street family. We’re all hurting, but yet Justice and Security
we had each other. Each of us started to spot each
other, which car would pull up – seeing the head- Beyond offering a model of relationship where In-
lights, trying to remember the licence plate numbers. digenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are
They’d get in, says, ’I’ll be back.’ Trying to watch out recognized as worthy of love, protection, and rights
that they come back.”KKK protections, the practices and principles upon which
these safety-related encounters among sex workers
The depth of these relationships and their role in en- are based offer important teachings for what justice
suring safety and justice are also demonstrated by in the context of Indigenous women working in the
descriptions provided by women who no longer sex industry looks like. To be sure, the truths offered
work in the sex industry but who continue to take on by Indigenous families and survivors provide many
this “familial” role. Jamie L. H. shared: teachings about justice in the context of Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and sex work,
I go down to the Low Track, we call it, north of sexual exploitation, and trafficking.
Hastings in the industrial area. And I visit my
friends down there who are, you know, still work- First, witnesses made clear that justice and security
ing. And you know, make sure they’re okay and depend on recognizing and honouring the agency
just talk about issues. And they give me informa- and expertise held by women themselves to create
tion that I can use to, you know, raise politically, just communities and relationships. As Diane Redsky
because they’re not political.LLL shared, in speaking of the learnings of the National
Task Force on Sex Trafficking of Women and Girls in
Monique F. H. stated: Canada, “Survivor-led initiatives are essential. You
can’t do and shouldn’t do any work at all unless you
I still do that. I still talk to the girls on the street, have a survivor beside you, unless there is a survivor
if I see a young girl working I go give her con- voice at the table, because nobody knows more, no-
doms, of course, because that’s what I do. I do body knows better than a survivor. And so their role
HIV education and prevention. I give them con- is critically important.”OOO
doms and I talk to them and tell them that
they’re loved because a lot of them don’t feel While sharing their experiences and insights during
that. A lot of them don’t feel that love.MMM a truth-gathering meeting at WISH Drop-In Centre,
Indigenous women, trans, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
Lanna Moon Perrin spoke about how sex workers are currently working in the sex industry in Vancouver’s
often responsible for protecting each other in the Downtown Eastside similarly emphasized the impor-
absence of the police. tance of others’ recognizing their expertise in deter-
mining the services and supports that would
Sex workers aren’t pro-trafficking. That’s some- enhance safety and justice. These include having ac-
thing we need to make clear. And, when traffick- cess to safe spaces to engage in sex work; access to
ing is happening, a sex worker is the first person other services, such as health care, counselling, ad-
to call that…. It’s very, very often that one sex dictions services, and legal services; opportunities
worker will help another sex worker get away and spaces in which to learn and practise traditional
667
Daniel B. also explained why it’s so important to remember.
It’s important that as many people come forward as possible because, I mean, these
stories are what – you know, it’s what’s going to benefit, you know, trying to make this
happen, because if we don’t talk about the stories of these women, you know, they’re
forgotten. If they’re forgotten and their stories are forgotten, what do we have to come
back on? You know, what do we have as proof or evidence that, you know, these are the
effects of what has happened and this is what’s going to continue to happen for years
to come?12
Many witnesses also testified to the idea that, beyond creating action for future generations,
their loved ones’ experiences provided strength – were called forth – as a way to contribute to
reclaiming power and place in the present. Many testimonies, from diverse Indigenous perspec-
tives, included these themes. When asked how she would like her loved one remembered, Martha
A. U. explained: “I would like her – her character to be emulated because she was able to help
other people that needed clothing or in need of food to fill their stomachs. I think Canadians, you
would learn of her character, that’s how we should live as Canadians.”13 Delilah S., speaking in
relation to the murder of her sister, Loretta, expressed a similar sentiment: “She’s someone that I
still look up to and that I feel really guides me. And someone who – who’s still teaching me
today through the conversations that we’ve had and the things that she’s lectured me on. But she
– she’s still very much in my heart.”14
Cheryl M., testifying in relation to her sister Carleen, explained how dancing in her sister’s
regalia helps her to call forth.
I know when I put on that regalia, she dances with me. And I have to honour her, honour
her for showing me how life ends or life begins; and she was my greatest teacher. And in
our way, when someone dies, they say, “They came in our lives for a reason, to teach
us.” And so, she was my teacher. She showed me how to be strong, how to communicate
if someone’s mistreating me. How to love my kids when I didn’t feel like it because I
was grieving or I was angry. She taught me to love them, and I did the best I could.15
In relation to Jessica, her cousin, Nikki K. said: “I always say the strength that I have now … is
because of Jess. She shows me something and does something for me to know that she is there
for me and guiding me and helping me. I believe that 100%.”16
Some witnesses directly connected to what the loss of their loved one and the calling forth of
those memories mean in concrete terms. Laura M., testifying in relation to her aunt, talked about
the importance of calling forth and connecting with reducing violence for future generations:
“How can the Inquiry honour my loved one, Betsy [K.]? There are many ways you can honour a
young woman’s life in future generations of Inuit that will go ahead of her.”17 Laura went on to
specify important areas for improvement in services and safety for Inuit women.
57
Similarly, for Fallon F., the most important part of remembering victims is about addressing the
causes of violence that led to their death or disappearance in the first place: “Make the changes.
That’s the best I can say. No memorial. That’s not going to do anything. Make the changes that
need to be done. It has to stop; otherwise, it’s just going to continue.”18
“I KNOW WHEN I PUT ON THAT REGALIA, SHE DANCES WITH ME. AND I HAVE TO HONOUR
HER, HONOUR HER FOR SHOWING ME HOW LIFE ENDS OR LIFE BEGINS; AND SHE WAS
MY GREATEST TEACHER. AND IN OUR WAY, WHEN SOMEONE DIES, THEY SAY, ‘THEY
CAME IN OUR LIVES FOR A REASON, TO TEACH US.’ AND SO, SHE WAS MY TEACHER. SHE
SHOWED ME HOW TO BE STRONG, HOW TO COMMUNICATE IF SOMEONE’S MISTREATING
ME. HOW TO LOVE MY KIDS WHEN I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE IT BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING
OR I WAS ANGRY. SHE TAUGHT ME TO LOVE THEM, AND I DID THE BEST I COULD.”
Cheryl M.
The Legacy Archive

Honouring the lives of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people for future generations is an
important theme that animates the National Inquiry’s own research and engagement; the idea of
linking to this theme through art is the foundation of the Legacy Archive.
The Legacy Archive is based on the idea that art in particular is a powerful tool for commemora-
tion and for calling forth. It can send a message of hope, resilience or reconciliation. Artistic
expressions can bear witness to injustice, recognize the human dignity of those who are targeted,
and raise awareness that will ultimately hold accountable those who are responsible for the
violence that persists today and ultimately, effect change. Art is also an important tool for heal-
ing. As expressive arts therapist, philosopher, and educator Stephen K. Levin has found, art is
important because “there is in the use of art a capacity for self-expression that is desperately
needed by those who suffer intensely.”19
The National Inquiry’s Legacy Archive is a key component of ensuring that families and
individuals are able to remember and to call forth their loved ones in deeply personal expressions
aiming to raise and to support their memories, as well as to raise awareness of the crisis of
violence. As Alisha R. testified, art provided an outlet for her to redirect her energies.
I don’t go out very often anymore. I stay home and I do art now. I needed a hobby.
Something, like, safe, and something I could do by myself … and that was, like, just
healthy…. So I chose painting. So, that’s what I do now…. It’s a quiet life but, like,
when I think of, like, what I’m going to get at the end, it’s worth it.20
58
Other Investigative Issues
Throughout the search for a missing person and/or the aftermath when that person is found de-
ceased, families, friends, and loved ones also engage in relationship with various representatives
of the police force and criminal justice systems, including first-responding officers, investigators,
coroners, and other support people, such as victim services workers. In speaking of their experi-
ence during an ongoing investigation, family members again described strained relationships with
those supposedly involved in the investigation of the disappearance or death of their loved one.
For example, in his testimony, Paul T. spoke about how his missing sister, Amber, was erro-
neously removed from the RCMP’s missing person’s list while she was still missing, and then
about how his mother spent a month getting her back on.73 Dolores S. and Laura A. described
serious flaws in the investigation of the murder of their loved one, Nadine, including the destruc-
tion of evidence and a 60-hour delay in the police response to the crime scene.74 And Lily S.
described what it was like to learn that her mother’s missing person police file, along with the
only photos Lily had of her mother, Viola, was accidentally destroyed by an Ontario Provincial
Police detachment – something Lily found out only after persistently asking to see the file.75
In addition to these very specific problems for which families have little recourse, family mem-
bers shared countless stories of their attempt to contact the investigative officer, the coroner, or
the police to seek out information, and of never receiving a call back in return, being told infor-
mation was unavailable, or even, in some cases, being threatened if they were to continue to seek
information. In her testimony as an institutional witness, senior policy analyst with the Policy
Centre for Victim Issues Naomi Giff-MacKinnon talked about some of these barriers.
So some of the barriers that families have identified in terms of accessing information
about their loved one are – are – there are many intersecting challenges. One is
uncertainty about what information might be available, given some of the historical
events that families have experienced. Families have talked about the uncertainty about
where to gather the information, which agency would hold the information they’re
seeking. Families are also seeking information from multiple agencies and departments
and navigating the access to information or any – any information request procedures
across those agencies could be very difficult. At the same time, many families live in a
jurisdiction that is different from where their loved one went missing or was murdered,
and that can create another layer of – a barrier for access to information for families
as well.76
Oftentimes, action on the investigation again is dependent on family members’ securing the
assistance of a well-connected or vocal advocate who is able to spur the police into action or
access information. For the many families who may not be able to secure this type of support, or
for whom becoming a vocal or adversarial advocate may not be safe, access to information about
the investigation – and even where the investigation stands – is uncommon.
672
As the National Inquiry heard from both family members and representatives of the criminal
justice system, victim services programs can often play an instrumental role in building relation-
ships that support Indigenous families in navigating the criminal justice system and the inves-
tigative process. These programs are supposed to provide the support and guidance necessary,
and to act as a liaison between family members and the criminal justice system. It was clear that
when these services are available, and families are connected with skilled workers, these can be
effective means of easing the investigative process and ensuring a better relationship.
In her testimony, Carol W. spoke about her initial encounter with a victim services worker who
went on to become an ally and advocate for Carol over the course of the next five years as she
searched for her daughter, Karina.
I did not know or trust [the victim services worker], but she just kept showing up,
sometimes three times a week, to give me updates and just to see how I was doing.
Communication was slow as most of the time there was no interpreter, but – when we
would sit and talk or when I would receive an update from the police. Like I said, I did
not trust her, but she just kept showing up. Slowly I began to trust her and realized she
was there to help me.77
At the same time, the varying degrees of availability, training, access, and resources available to
victim services programs, as well as of the frequency with which proper referrals are made by
the RCMP or responding police force to victim services, mean that access to this type of support
is inconsistent.78
More recently, in response to this need for improved access to information for families of
missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls, funding was provided in 2016 to establish
Family Information and Liaison Units (FILUs) in each province and territory in Canada.
Naomi Giff-MacKinnon said about the importance of families’ having access to accurate infor-
mation about their missing and murdered loved one:
Victims and survivors across Canada have talked very openly and frequently about the
importance of having information about … the person who harmed them, as a victim or
survivor, as well as about – general information about how systems work, as well as how
decisions are made within that system. So for families, having accurate up-to-date
information about their loved one and … about all of the information that they’re
seeking about that experience can be a part of their healing journey moving forward.79
According to Giff-MacKinnon, the FILUs “were established in response to the many systemic
and institutional barriers that the families had described in seeking information about their miss-
ing or murdered loved one.”80 This mechanism aims to provide a more accessible and supportive
approach to providing information about the circumstances and investigations of missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Overall, though, the greatest
barrier that Giff-McKinnon reports families talking about is the level of mistrust that exists with
agencies who have the information they want.81
673
Evans, Sue McKemmish, Elizabeth Daniels, and Gaven McCarthy reinforce this statement by
explaining how both the records and the institutions that keep them are places of power, ex-
pressed through the laws, policies, culture, ethics, theories, and models upon which they are
founded.27
While archives may, traditionally, uphold oppressive power structures, they can also work in a
different way. As Schwartz and Cook point out, “Archives have the power to privilege and to
marginalize. They can be a tool of hegemony; they can be a tool of resistance.”28
One way to overcome the challenges of the colonizing archive, argues Mick Gooda, a Gangulu
person from Central Queensland and a Royal Commissioner for Australia’s Royal Commission
into the Child Protection and Youth Detention Systems of the Northern Territory, is for archives
to implement articles from the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples
(UNDRIP). He suggests that these principles can be used as a type of quality assurance for
archives. Gooda believes that the right to self-determination; participation in decision making;
free, prior, and informed consent; resetting relationships; and cultural rights are the key points an
archival institution can take from UNDRIP. Gooda suggests that the right to self-determination
allows
Indigenous peoples to be central players in record keeping processes from the beginning.
Their voices, aspirations, cultures and their value and knowledge systems must be
respected and accommodated. The onus is on the institutions of archiving and record
keeping to evolve in order to accommodate Indigenous peoples, rather than on
Indigenous peoples to conform to mainstream practices.29
Additionally, he stresses that having Indigenous Peoples or communities participate in the

decision-making process improves the lives of that people and community.
UNDRIP has also been cited in a Canadian context as an important tool for archives to incorpo-
rate into policies that address the management of Indigenous archival records, or records that
incorporate Indigenous knowledge. Several of the TRC’s Calls to Action identify UNDRIP as the
“framework for reconciliation” (for example, calls 43, 46, and 92). Calls 69 and 70 specifically
enjoin archives to apply UNDRIP.
In addition to applying UNDRIP, the TRC’s Calls to Action also suggest the need to apply what
are known as the Joinet-Orentlicher Principles on the Preservation and Access to Archives
Bearing Witness to Human Rights Violations. Their roots lie in a set of principles approved in
1997 by the United Nations Human Rights Commission and recommended by United Nations
Special Rapporteur Louis Joinet in his report on the question of the impunity of perpetrators of
human rights violations, and which were updated by lawyer Diane Orentlicher in 2005. The
Joinet-Orentlicher Principles attest to the power of archival records and outline the resulting re-
sponsibilities of archivists, including the need to provide avenues for victims to access records
about themselves created by state, military, intelligence, and police services. Furthermore, the
61
Joinet-Orentlicher Principles also push for penalties for those who falsely conceal, destroy, or
remove important records from archives, especially those from agencies that are responsible for
the protection of human rights and security agencies.30
These principles have enormous implications for archives and archival theory. Essentially, these
principles propose that an archive must:
• facilitate access to relevant records for the marginalized or violated community;
• create measures for preservation of these records;
• build relationships among archives, the courts, and extra-judicial commissions of
inquiry; and
• take measures relating to the management of the archive with respect to restoration or
transition to democracy and/or peace.31
By applying all of these principles, the National Inquiry developed a set of policies governing the
Legacy Archive that centres decolonizing Indigenous protocols for archives from its very founda-
tions. Beginning with UNDRIP, the Legacy Archive’s policies include articles 8.1, 11.1, 12.1, 15.1,
and 31.1.32
Article Legacy Archive Policy
UNDRIP 8.1 The Legacy Archive will be inclusive and will collect all artistic expressions that share Indige-
nous knowledge, especially materials used to relay knowledge about Indigenous traditions,
culture, acts of resistance to colonialism, special events, and historical truths.
UNDRIP 11.1 The Legacy Archive will preserve any artistic expressions that are donated, including records
of performative arts, ceremonies, sculpture, written text, paintings, and much more.
UNDRIP 12.1 The Legacy Archive will adhere to all ceremonial and traditional protocols that go with the
donation, as per donor’s request. Further, the Legacy Archive will adhere to all access and
privacy restrictions, based on any cultural, spiritual, and ceremonial traditions as instructed
by the donor.
UNDRIP 15.1 The Legacy Archive acknowledges, and is aware of, the diversity of Indigenous cultures and
Nations, and will be sensitive to, and stay away from, any type of pan-Indigenous teachings
and descriptions of any artistic expressions donated.
UNDRIP 31.1 With that, the Legacy Archive will always allow a donor to change her/his/their minds about
her/his/their donation in any capacity (continuing consent) and apply standards of free,
prior, and informed consent. The power of ownership will always stay with the donor. The
Legacy Archive will always be respectful of the relationship, and honour the donation for
which it was given.
62
In addition, the Legacy Archive also worked to operationalize the following Calls to Action:
Call to Action Legacy Archive Policy
TRC Call to Action 13 The Legacy Archive will accept archives in any language, especially those that are in any
Indigenous languages, and the Legacy Archive will take on the responsibility of getting the
records translated into English and French. This makes the records accessible to the public
across the nation, but the Legacy Archive primarily aims to preserve the record in the
donor’s preferred language.
TRC Call to Action 79 The Legacy Archive will integrate Indigenous values, practices, and ceremonies into the
processes of archiving, including use of language and the handling of Indigenous objects.
Further, the Legacy Archive will work with donors to share the story about their donation; a
variety of recording options (either audio, video or written text) are available to preserve the
donor’s statement about their art and its meaning, so that donations truly reflect the donor’s
voice. This provides the user with a more engaged, emotional, and powerful relationship
with the artistic expression.
TRC Calls to Action 43 and 44 The archive will inform a donor about the nature of this archive, how the records donated to
(with UNDRIP) their archive will be used, and recognize the conditions under which knowledge can be
ethically and legally acquired.
The Legacy Archive has also implemented the best practice protocols for Indigenous archival
materials that were published by the First Archivists Circle, known as The Protocols for Native
American Archival Materials. These protocols establish the importance of building relationships of
respect and understanding the wishes of people/communities; they stress the importance of
discussions of education for the public and of understanding the issues surrounding the Indigenous
people/communities. The Legacy Archive has implemented these protocols throughout its policies.
Artistic Expressions from the Legacy Archive

Many artistic expressions within the Legacy Archive honour those who no longer walk among
us, and, in doing so, illustrate the importance of relationship and of community for those loved
ones who remain.
Commemoration
At the hearings, witnesses were able to put artistic expressions into the Miskwaabimaag Basket.
The Miskwaabimaag Basket was created by a group of Indigenous kwe (“women”) in Manitoba:
the Miskwaabimaag Collective (“red willow collective”). The basket was gifted to the National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls to assist the Commissioners
as they gathered the stories of loved ones, families, and survivors of violence. For many Indige-
nous Peoples throughout the world, baskets are used to gather things that support our mino-
biimaadiziwin (“the good life of all beings”). Miskwaabimaag (“red willow”) is used by many
Indigenous Nations across Turtle Island. It is often used in ceremony to demonstrate respect and to
63
provide spiritual protection. The red willow used for this basket was harvested near the Manito Api
sacred site, a place where Indigenous people have gathered for ceremony for thousands of years.
The basket represents
kwe; it symbolizes our
continued connection to The National Inquiry
land, language, and included the
culture through the cere- Miskwaabimaag Basket
monies and teachings of (red willow basket) at
our grandmothers. It is a each of the hearings to
symbolize the process of
visible reminder of gathering truths, which
women’s important role are then woven together
in building, strengthen- as a whole.
ing, and repairing
relationships. As the
National Inquiry
undertook its work, the basket held all of the truths that are gathered by the Commissioners.
These stories are teachings that help identify ways we can work together toward a collective
good life.
For example, Gerri Pangman and Kim McPherson, who testified at the Winnipeg Community
Hearing on behalf of their loved one, Jennifer McPherson, donated a dream catcher Christmas
ornament and stained glass feather. As they explained, Jennifer used to make ornaments herself,
and making the ornament,
which was placed in the
Miskwaabimaag Basket
during the ceremony, was
an important way to
honour Jennifer and her
creativity. To each ornament Glass feather, Gerri Pangman
they make, Gerri and Kim and Kim McPherson, AF
attach a card explaining A2017-0013.2.
who Jennifer is so that she
is never forgotten.
There were multiple dona-
tions in memory of babies at
the Maliotenam Community
Hearing. Many people
talked about babies taken away for often questionable “medical reasons,” who were frequently
never seen again. To this day, families are unable to get details of what happened to their babies
or get death certificates.
64
Agnes Poker is an Innu woman
from Pakua Shipi, Quebec,
who donated a heart-shaped
swaddle with embroidered
baby socks, booties, a baby Heart Shape Swaddle
bottle, and mitts. This repre- w/Accessories, Agnes
sents the shocking rape and Poker AF A2017-0038.1.
murder of a baby in foster care
in the 1980s. Marie-Louise
Mark, an Innu woman from
Pakua Shipi, knitted a pair of
baby socks and donated them
on behalf of her son, who was taken and is one of the missing from the community. He was taken
at just 10 months old. Brown baby booties were donated by the Unamen Shipu Women’s Associ-
ation. These booties repre-
sent the first steps of the
baby and also protection of
Brown baby booties, the baby, and so the empty
Simone Bellefleur on booties represent the spirit of
behalf of Unamen the missing baby.
Shipu Women’s
Mothers also featured in
Association,
AF A2017-0040.1.
many of the artistic expres-
sions received. Motherly
Love was painted and do-
nated by Dee-Jay Monika
Rumbolt, whose Inuk name means Snowbird, from Port Hope Simpson, Newfoundland. A
member of NunatuKavut, Monika donated Motherly Love in Happy Valley-Goose Bay. Monika
remembered how hard her
mother worked as a provider
and protector for their family:
“She was so loving and so
compassionate … and her
compassion for others, her
dedication, her strength, made
Motherly Love, Dee-Jay
me what I am today and is Monika Rumbolt (Snow-
incredible that we got this bird), AF A2018-0008.1.
far…. She’s like no other
person … I’m going to do her
justice.”33
65
And I say to my police officers: "Listen, yes, in the Young rookie officers coming out of Depot,
South, you leave, you have assignments, you going up north to do their time and then get a
have patrol areas, but that’s not the case in different posting, and, you know, very much the
Nunavik. I want you to get involved in the com- pattern we hear across the North. And really, a
munity. The patrol is secondary.” They have to sense of these officers not being equipped to
get involved in order to gain confidence and it is deal with really complex policing situations. And
by participating in activities, going to meet the so, one of our recommendations is actually to flip
city council, meeting the hunters’ associations, it on its head, and instead of sending young offi-
meeting the Elders, participating in activities in cers who may not be equipped to deal with re-
schools, etc. And it starts, I see it, a little, then ally complex challenges, may not have cultural
they come to be appreciated…. On the other competency training, to be sending experienced
hand, I have a major problem: the turnover of my officers in. How do you make this a really desir-
staff. There is an incredible staff movement. More able post? What are the incentives needed to do
than 50% of my staff have less than one year of that, to have this be that, you know, when you’re
experience in Nunavik. However, it is a wheel at a certain point in [your] career and you have
that turns continuously and it takes stability in the experience, that this is where you go because
our villages and it certainly takes this perma- you have this experience?AAA
nence for the relationship of trust to be estab-
lished more and so that my police can take the In explaining the need for police with expertise
time to integrate into the community.YY and experience, Chief Jean-Pierre Larose and NAPS
Detective Constable Alana Morrison described how
In addition to problems with staff turnover, witnesses other factors unique to remote communities can
speaking about policing in northern and remote make standard policing response and investigative
communities also described challenges with retain- procedures more difficult. For example, Chief Larose
ing staff who have the policing experience necessary described how, in major crimes investigations, where
to address the often complex situations that occur it is necessary to bring in specialized investigators
in these communities. As Chief Jean-Pierre Larose from Montréal, there can be major delays related to
explained, it is often young, inexperienced officers transportation and weather that ultimately delay the
who take posts in these communities. investigation itself.
In fact, what I see is that they are young police You have to understand that there was a proce-
officers who are almost fresh out of the National dure. Then, before calling the Major Crimes or
Police Academy. And currently, to the south, re- the Centre de vigie et de coordination in Mon-
cruitment, regardless of years, happens on an im- tréal to the Sûreté (CVCO), we had to go through
portant scale. And our police officers, when they the Kuujjuaq office. It was an additional interme-
arrive in Nunavik, I would say that one year of ex- diary that increased the time it was taking. How-
perience in Nunavik corresponds to about three ever, after discussions and all that, we managed
years of experience. So, our police officers are to agree that from now on we are avoiding this
highly recruited by the southern police services: intermediary and we are communicating directly
they are police officers who have acquired a lot with the CVCO of the Sûreté du Québec in Mon-
of experience in a short time in Nunavik, they are tréal, and I can tell you that I have experienced
autonomous, they must be resourceful, to have major events requiring their assistance in the last
initiative because we have very few resources. five months and it has still very much improved
And we are a bit vulnerable, I must admit.ZZ the response time, but there is no less than an
average of 15 to 18 hours of waiting. What you
In her testimony, Jacqueline Hansen, the Major have to understand is that we are police officers:
Campaigns and Women’s Rights campaigner with when we are in a community of three police offi-
Amnesty International Canada, suggested that this cers, that I have to protect the crime scene at -40,
model should be flipped on its head and it should be with blizzard conditions, it’s not easy. We must
the most experienced officers who take up posts in protect the scene, we must wait for the arrival of
these communities. the Sûreté du Québec, and of course, they also
683
Other police forces have similar approaches to Indigenous communities, and suggested that the
improving recruitment: for example, the Regina best solution to addressing gaps in culturally appro-
and Saskatoon police forces each have full-time priate services is to hire more Indigenous police
Indigenous recruiting officers.GGG officers. As he stated:
Understanding the Need for I mean, you don’t give somebody a two-day
course and expect them to be culturally sensi-
Cultural Safety tive. Like I say, probably the best scenario is to
get Indigenous officers to police Indigenous
Another staff-related policing challenge identified by
communities because they know their commu-
policing representatives – as well as by families of
nities. Outside of that, like, I mean, you can give
them training but, you know, I guess through
2SLGBTQQIA people during the Truth-Gathering
experience, it’s – I mean, 34 years [ago] I started,
Process – relates to the cultural knowledge and train-
and I still don’t know very much about – you
ing held by non-Indigenous police officers and other
know?LLL
policing representatives who may be interacting with
Indigenous Peoples. In their testimony, policing
Retired Chief Clive Weighill put forward the require-
representatives with the RCMP outlined a number of
ment of cultural education and awareness for police
initiatives that have been implemented to enhance
as a recommendation for the National Inquiry. As
cultural education and awareness among staff. One
Weighill’s comments demonstrate, this is not merely
of these is in-service training, which includes an on-
the completion of a course that one takes and then
line course on Aboriginal cultural awareness, called
forgets, but, rather, the requirement for the develop-
Aboriginal and First Nations Awareness.HHH This
ment of a deeper understanding and knowledge of
course is available to all members, though it is
Indigenous history and contemporary challenges
mandatory only for those serving in the territories
that is always evolving.
and in some of the northern districts where the ma-
jority of the communities are Indigenous.III Other ini-
We’ve talked about this here, and you can see
tiatives (which vary depending on location and police
from what we’ve been doing in Saskatchewan
force) include watching a video about First Nations,
and most police services now across Canada,
participating in a five-day cross-cultural training
there certainly has to be a huge educational
session, and following suggestions from the Indige-
component on the history, the spirituality, what’s
nous Cultural Advisory Committee.JJJ
happened to the Indigenous people right across
Canada. Every police officer should be very, very
In addition to training on Indigenous history and
fluent in what’s happened with residential
contemporary realities in general, the RCMP has also
schools, what’s happened with colonization, the
developed training that focuses specifically on the
White Paper back in the ’70s, the Sixties Scoop,
issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women.
and contemporary issues and downfalls that are
Included in the cadet training program is a module
happening right now in our Indigenous commu-
specific to this issue, and it requires cadets to work
nity. Every police officer in Canada should be
through a case scenario involving an 18-year-old In-
able to just tell you that right off the top of
digenous girl as the victim. As a part of this module,
their head.MMM
cadets also participate in the blanket exercise (an ex-
ercise devoted to building awareness of and empa-
thy for Indigenous Peoples by having participants The Lack of Wraparound Services
take part in a simulation exercise about the harmful
impacts of colonization).KKK Another challenge identified by policing representa-
tives when they are working with Indigenous Peoples
The need for ongoing and meaningful cultural edu- and communities is the lack of what are sometimes
cation is clear. NAPS Chief Terry Armstrong spoke to referred to as “wraparound services,” such as mental
the limitations of short-term courses as a way of health support, health care, housing, or other forms
understanding the culture and complexities of of social services and culturally relevant support that
individuals who contact the police may need. Police
685
representatives talked about how they often respond Constable Morrison drafted a funding proposal that
to calls – particularly in rural or remote communities allowed her to develop a Survivor Assistance Support
that are significantly underserved – that are not tech- Program to provide support and education, as well
nically police-related but, because of a lack of other as to assist women who want to stay in the commu-
services, to which they are forced to respond. nity following a report of assault. The program also
outlines the challenges of providing that support in
In his testimony, Weighill talked about how a lack of small and remote communities. At this point, this
other supports and services has a particularly nega- program had received one-year funding, though
tive impact on Indigenous youth who may not yet Detective Constable Morrison is hopeful additional
have become involved in the criminal justice system. funding to maintain the program will be awarded.PPP
This lack of services to help them address some of the
challenges they are facing increases their chances of She also talked about how the lack of victim services
becoming involved. Weighill provided the following – specifically in remote communities – can create ad-
explanation of this challenge as one of his recom- ditional difficulties for victims who have not had an
mendations put forward to the National Inquiry. opportunity to ask questions or learn about the court
process.
People complain about the Youth Criminal Justice
Act. They say it doesn’t have a lot of teeth, it does- When court happens in our First Nation commu-
n’t work. I would say the reverse is true. The Youth nities, it’s pandemonium because you’ve got the
Criminal Justice Act is a solid piece of legislation. judge flying in, you’ve got the counsel flying in,
It allows the police to divert youth away from the you’ve got the defence flying in, you’ve got Victim
criminal justice system. You can use unofficial Services flying in, and the NAPS officer has to drive
warnings, you can use official warnings, you can back and forth to get everyone to the school
do a pre-charge diversion, post-charge diversion, where it’s happening, to get everyone set up in
all kinds of things to keep youth out of the crim- the community hall where it may be happening.
inal justice system. The unfortunate thing is There’s no courthouses in the communities, so
there’s no place to divert the youth to, and every- sometimes we take over a portion of a school.
thing keeps falling back to the criminal justice
system…. To me, this is completely lunacy how So, in all that pandemonium, there is no – or
we keep doing this in the system. We keep using there’s very little victim prep for court. So, is that
the criminal justice system to fix the problems. a challenge? Absolutely, it is, because they’ll
The criminal justice system cannot fix the prob- show up to court, but they’re not prepared, you
lems of that youth. They need programming, and know? And, I know the Crowns and the Victim
they need addiction centres, they need some Services try to do the best they can and come in
place to go. So, we’ve got a great Act that allows the day before, but, I don’t know, I think some-
the police and the courts to divert the youth times that it needs to be ongoing so that that in-
away from the criminal justice system, but there’s dividual feels supported and almost held all the
no infrastructure around that. So, that’s my first way through, because that’s not an easy, you
recommendation.NNN know, road that we’re dealing with, because
sometimes court doesn’t happen. Some commu-
In her testimony, NAPS Detective Constable Alana nities, it happens four times a year in these com-
Morrison spoke about the gap that exists for First munities, so can you imagine being a victim who
Nations women in the communities she polices for has to wait so long to deal with, you know, what
following up with women after they have reported you started off trying to protect yourself and
an assault – often related to the fact that existing offi- your body?QQQ
cers and victim services already have too much on
their plates.OOO To address this issue, Detective
686
all those things…. It was a very difficult decision, the same and keep the communities safe,
but we just were no longer in a position, and had because it’s – it’s been pretty tough … it’s been
not been for a while, to keep the communities at an honour, but it’s … when you put on a badge
a level of a safety that the rest of Ontarians get, and say you’re going to protect people and
and probably Canadians.WWW you don’t have the tools to do it and you see the
devastation day in and day out and you know
This action sparked what turned out to be a lengthy that there’s remedies, it’s – it’s tough.AAAA
period of negotiations between NAPS and the
Ontario provincial government to properly legislate Chair Mike Metatawabin shared his hopes regarding
and resource First Nations policing services in the this process and the implementation of Bill 175 and
province. Ultimately, these negotiations, as Chair for Indigenous policing in general.
Metatawabin and Chief Armstrong described, have
resulted in the development of new legislation, Bill I am hopeful that this process, once it passes,
175, the Safer Ontario Act, which came into force in once it becomes implemented, I am hopeful that
January 2019. This legislation is important because it it will spread across the nation, across the coun-
specifically outlines that the need to ensure the try for our brothers and sisters across the country
safety and security of all persons and property in … to be accorded the same privilege, to be pro-
Ontario extends to include First Nations reserves; “the vided with the … same resources. I am also
need to be responsive to the unique histories and hopeful that our young men and women will
cultures of First Nation, Inuit, and Metis communi- step up and provide that safety. Indigenous peo-
ties”; and “the need to ensure that all parts of Ontario, ple providing safety to their own Indigenous
including First Nation reserves, receive equitable people nationwide. That is my hope, that is what
levels of policing.”XXX As Chief Terry Armstrong ex- – what I hope to see in the coming years. This is
plains, NAPS’s efforts in establishing this legislation what’s been lacking, the justice system has been
was not for NAPS only but as a starting point for leg- – has fallen very short for our people, for our
islation for Indigenous policing that other Indigenous communities. But in the spirit of reconciliation as
police services could follow.YYY well, we, too, must step up, our communities, our
leadership.BBBB
In addition to describing the negotiations related to
this legislative framework, Chief Armstrong and Similarly, and citing many of the same concerns as
Chair Metatawabin also described how, in response Metatawabin and Armstrong did, Jean-Pierre Larose
to political pressure from Nishnawbe Aski Nation’s acknowledged the challenges of working under the
leadership to change the negotiation process usually contribution agreement framework, mentioning that
undertaken to renew funding for the tripartite agree- the agreement governing the provision of services in
ment, NAPS will be receiving an increase of 79 new Nunavik had expired in April and that, within the con-
officers over the next five years, as well as funding for text of the renewal of the agreement, his force would
a communication system and two new detachment be asking for an increase in personnel and equip-
buildings.ZZZ ment, as well as in overall resources to be able to
police, including a call centre based in Kuujjuaq with
Reflecting on this lengthy and ongoing process to Inuktitut-speaking operators to better communicate
ensure equitable police services for those living in with those seeking help. At present, calls are sent
NAN, Chief Terry Armstrong shared the following. directly to police radios. Larose also mentioned that
the force, which had 54 officers 15 years ago, only has
So, although we’ve been able to limp through it, 58 or 59 today; this means that, despite significant in-
that’s – that hasn’t been fair and, you know, just creases in population, resources under the tripartite
to – just as a police service we really weren’t ask- agreements have not been sufficiently allocated to
ing for anything more than anybody else was enable the police to do their work.CCCC
asking for, we just – we just wanted to be treated
688
Findings:
• The failure of police services to ensure there is justice and protection for Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people through adequate and bias-free policing services, effective oversight and adjudicative
mechanisms, and meaningful and accessible remedies for violence contributes to the systemic harm they
continue to experience. This treatment is discriminatory and creates environments where Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are underprotected, but targeted for police interventions when exercising their
rights.
• Often, Indigenous people are treated as perpetrators and offenders when they need the protection of the police.
This is reinforced by the practice of racial profiling. However, when crimes occur against Indigenous people,
they do not receive the same access or outcomes from the justice system as non-Indigenous people.
• Police services and other law enforcement officials have tremendous power and do have the ability to infringe
and violate the human rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people without remedy and
recourse. Existing oversight and accountability mechanisms for police services are largely inadequate and fail
to elicit the confidence of Indigenous Peoples. Failure to establish and enforce meaningful and transparent
accountability and oversight of police services and other law enforcement officials perpetuates poor service
delivery and fuels distrust on behalf of Indigenous communities toward police.
• Indigenous Peoples have the inherent right to develop their own system of justice, including policing services.
Policies and programs developed and implemented by the federal and provincial governments that allow for
Indigenous communities to administer their own police services through the First Nations Policing Program
and tripartite agreements are not an authentic exercise of the Indigenous right to self-govern police services.
• Indigenous police services established under the First Nations Policing Program are chronically underfunded
and under-resourced. This results in understaffing, burnout of officers, under-resourced detachments, and unsafe
working conditions for officers. These limitations heighten tensions within the community and ultimately result
in an inability to properly respond to and investigate violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people.
• The criminal justice system struggles to respond effectively to cases of sexualized violence and intimate partner
violence. Many Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who have been subjected to sexualized
violence and intimate partner violence do not report the violence to the police. State prosecution of cases of
sexualized violence and intimate partner violence is also challenging, and the prosecution process rarely
provides survivors with the justice and protection that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are
seeking. The current laws and criminal justice system responses to sexualized violence and intimate partner
violence are failing to protect Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
690
Justice
Many of the expressions explicitly sought to promote justice, building on previous projects
already created by other artists. Artist Jaime Black, who created the REDress Project as a public
art installation that aims to raise awareness about missing and murdered Indigenous women and
girls through the hanging of red dresses, attended the Saskatoon Community Hearing and handed
out red satin ribbons to families and survivors. She explained that the gesture was about “having
loved ones represented and heard and to bring visibility to the issue.… It makes for a really
amazing conversation between people who may not be experiencing any violence in their
families and people who are directly experiencing it.”41
Walking a path; never alone,

Nadzin DeGagné, AF A2017-0028.1.
Black’s REDress Project has influenced many people in their own art expressions in the Legacy
Archive. For example, Nadzin DeGagné, from Quebec, of Algonquin and European ancestry,
created a red-dress painting on canvas called Walking a path; never alone. Inspired by the red-
dress art, she created her own expression: a painting of trees with red dresses hanging from them.
Five felt red-dress pins were placed in the Miskwaabimaag Basket at the Winnipeg Community
Hearing by the family of Nicole Ashley Daniels during their testimony. The dress pins were
made by Nicole’s sisters the night before the family testified, and were worn by the family.
Commissioner Audette asked if they would place them in the basket.
In Smithers, there was the Red Dress Brooch campaign. As explained in a note attached to each
brooch,
Bringing awareness of the Highway of Tears and of all missing and murdered indigenous
and non indigenous women and girls throughout Canada, in an effort to help the Families
by donating a portion of the sale of each “Handmade Red Dress Brooch” to affiliated non-
profit organizations. Design Initiative by Mi’kmaq Artist: Margaret Cranford.
71
Beyond the investigation: Access to Justice within the Courts
In sharing their truths about their relationships and encounters within the criminal justice system,
family members spoke at length about their experience attending (and at times participating in)
court proceedings related to the violence inflicted against their loved one. Many witnesses would
likely agree with Fred F.’s characterization of the adversarial relationship between Indigenous
people and families and the courts: “I really feel like sometimes the courts victimize the victims
over again”82 – a comment he made based on his experience of attending the murder trial of
Curtis Bonnell, the man eventually found guilty of murdering Fred’s 16-year-old daughter, Hilary.
Attending the trial of the person(s) charged with committing violence against someone important
to you is understandably a difficult experience. However, for many Indigenous families, friends,
and supporters, the difficulty of this experience is magnified by the fact that, once again, they may
be forced to seek justice within a process and an institution that have historically been unjust, and
that continue to criminalize Indigenous people at much greater rates than non-Indigenous Canadi-
ans. While many of the families offer valuable teachings and recommendations on how to culti-
vate less adversarial relationships within the courts and during court proceedings, their wisdom
comes at the cost of having to navigate the court process largely on their own.
Indigenous women were more likely to have little to no confidence in the criminal courts
than non-Indigenous women.
John Phelps, federal prosecutor for the Yukon Region, told the National Inquiry that the federal
government operates a Crown Witness Coordinator Program in the Northern Territories to help
victims of crime, especially Indigenous victims, access information about and participate in court
proceedings (as per their rights under the Canadian Victims Bill of Rights). While this program
serves as a conduit of information between the Crown prosecutor and victims of crime, it does
693
not provide the full range of services and supports to which Indigenous victims should have
access. It does not offer legal counsel to victims of crime, but merely facilitates their access to
information. As Phelps explained, “It’s also important for a victim to understand that we are not
lawyers for a victim. We are impartial to the system, and it’s our responsibility to put all informa-
tion before the court, whether or not it’s beneficial to our particular case.”83
“THEY DIDN’T GET MUCH HELP FROM … VICTIM SERVICES THAT I KNEW OF. WE, AS
A FAMILY, AND NOT EVEN MY SISTERS … WERE NOT INFORMED OF THE VALUE OF
PROVIDING A VICTIM IMPACT STATEMENT. NOR WERE WE EVEN MADE AWARE THAT IT
WAS AN OPTION. AND THAT’S WHEN A VICTIM LIAISON ADVOCATE WOULD’VE COME
IN HANDY. HAD WE KNOWN ABOUT THE VICTIM IMPACT STATEMENT AHEAD OF TIME, I
PERSONALLY WOULD HAVE PROVIDED ONE. EVEN IF I COULDN’T BE PRESENT. I WOULD
HAVE HAD ONE OF MY SISTERS READ IT FOR ME. IT WAS VERY CHALLENGING TO GET
INFO ABOUT ANY KIND OF COURT DATES, AND REACHING FAMILY WAS HARDER. I WAS
GOING TO TRY AND BE PRESENT TO ONE OF THE COURT DATES, AND I TRIED ASKING
FOR THE ACTUAL DATE. AND IT KEPT GETTING CHANGED ON ME. SO I LOST MY
NERVE.”
Charlotte M.
Moreover, the Crown Witness Coordinator Program does not engage with victims of crime
immediately after an incident. As Phelps pointed out, “We only become familiar with a file once
a charge has been laid, which could be days, weeks, or months, and in the case of some serious
crimes, it could be years after the actual offence occurred.”84
And, while the program does refer victims of crime to support services, it does not provide
support services itself.
Throughout that initial contact, the Crown Witness Coordinator assesses a number of
factors with respect to a victim and the victim’s needs. But we do not provide any form
of a counselling or significant support service for victims who have needs beyond the
information, and beyond what we’re able to provide during a trial process. So our
practice is to make referrals to other agencies within the community. Those agencies
may be First Nation based, they may be territorial based. For example, in the Yukon
Territory, there’s a very well-resourced victim services program. They may be referred to
non-government organizations as well, and mental health services, counselling services,
that type of things.85
In her testimony, National Inquiry Grandmother Blu discussed what it was like for her, as a
16-year-old girl without any support, to attend and participate in the trial of the man later found
guilty of murdering her caregiver and grandmother.
694
But while I was in court, I sat there for about three weeks inside the courtroom, and I –
I had no counsel. I had no one to help me. I got on the streetcar. I put my – I think it was
a quarter at the time and went down to the courthouse and sat there listening to stuff I
couldn’t understand, and I remember them calling my name to go up to the stand. I’m
sure I told them the story, the same thing, because that was the truth, what happened.
I don’t remember if they cross-examined me. I don’t remember any of that stuff
because that whole year was lost.
I remember my aunty, my aunty … she came with me the day of the sentencing, and she
was like a second mother to me … and – so she helped me. She sat there with me, and
that’s when I heard what had happened to my kokom. That’s when I heard that he was
originally charged with second-degree murder and indignity to a human body…. But
sitting in a courtroom there and not having anybody to help you, as a 16-year-old kid,
right? It wasn’t right. You know, I know it’s, you know, 41 years ago, but there was no
dignity for anybody who was – or identified as an Indigenous person, and it’s not much
better today. It really isn’t.86
When reflecting on the experience she and her sisters shared during the trial of the women found
guilty of murdering her sister, Charlotte M. described how the lack of information provided to
them about the process meant that they were not able to participate in the way they would have
wished to, had they had all the information.
They didn’t get much help from …Victim Services that I knew of. We, as a family, and
not even my sisters … were not informed of the value of providing a victim impact
statement. Nor were we even made aware that it was an option. And that’s when a victim
liaison advocate would’ve come in handy. Had we known about the victim impact
statement ahead of time, I personally would have provided one. Even if I couldn’t be
present. I would have had one of my sisters read it for me. It was very challenging to get
info about any kind of court dates, and reaching family was harder. I was going to try
and be present to one of the court dates, and I tried asking for the actual date. And it kept
getting changed on me. So I lost my nerve.87
For other families, one of the things they found difficult about attending court was listening to
the demeaning and disturbing characterizations of their missing or murdered loved one. Marilyn
W. described how the negative portrayal of her daughter within the courtroom and in the media
during the trial made an already difficult situation even worse:
We went to trial just down the block from here and day after day I had to sit in the
courtroom with the man who killed my sister. Day after day I had to sit in that courtroom
with the media, who all the while they were writing things dehumanizing my sister,
revictimizing me and my family.88
695
Student and Youth Engagement Guide
Over the course of its mandate, the National Inquiry has also engaged in another important
project: Their Voices Will Guide Us, a student and youth engagement guide. As the guide’s
foreword explains:
When we think to the future, we consider the legacy we will leave for those who come
after us: our children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and other young people for
generations to come. One of the best legacies we can leave them is an education that
will help prevent violence and keep Indigenous women and girls safe so that they can all
flourish. Together, we can create a society in which all Indigenous lives are valued.47
The guide asserts the importance of collective responsibility through education as a way to effect
real change. It also emphasizes a human and Indigenous rights approach, through its privileging
of Indigenous perspectives and voices throughout, as well as its emphasis on the very concrete
changes that need to occur to protect these rights.
[Women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people] have human rights that must be upheld so
that they can achieve their dreams and use their gifts, talents, and skills to benefit their
families, communities, and all of Canada. They have the right to the peaceful enjoyment
of their lives. Our collective action can make all of this a reality.48
Developed in collaboration with Indigenous educators across Canada, Their Voices Will Guide
Us invites students of all ages to understand the crisis of violence through forging connections
with communities in their own area and by centring the importance of Indigenous teachings as a
means through which safety can be achieved. In line with our other initiatives on education, the
guide’s purpose is to “engage students of all ages in generating arts-based messages of resilience,
truth, hope, solidarity and justice. These messages can inspire and motivate Canadians from
all walks of life, at all ages, and in all territories to take action in their own lives to generate
transformative social change.”49
A full copy of the guide in English and French is available online and outlines in detail the
National Inquiry’s focus areas and approach to education.
Reclaim(ing) Power and Place: A Pilot Project

As a part of its arts engagement strategy, which includes the call for artistic expressions, the
National Inquiry also created some new projects intended to build awareness and promote educa-
tion about the issues surrounding violence and the targeting of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
75
The ReClaim Project combines the aspect of “remembering” with the concept of “calling forth,”
implying a more active, ongoing engagement with not only the memory of those lost, but also
with the sacred teachings and connectedness that can ultimately help contribute to safety and to
healing. This project connects women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to reclaiming power and
place, to the land, to the sacred and traditional teachings, and to one another. The mission of the
National Inquiry – finding the truth, honouring the truth, and giving life to the truth – is realized
within this project, which aims to reassert presence and power on the land itself as a way of
reclaiming the sacred feminine, promoting safety and wellness, and transforming the narrative
around Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. It creates opportunities for families,
women, and youth to come together to reconnect to the matrilineal knowledge across different
Interdisciplinary artist Jaime Black

stands beside the Red River during a
ReClaim event in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
Organized by renowned Métis artist

Jaime Black, the first pilot of the
ReClaim Project took place in
Winnipeg, at The Forks. As Jaime
reflected on the experience, she
shared:
For centuries, we have gathered where the rivers meet, and this land remembers us,
remembers the drum, the heartbeat, the song, remembers the women who gathered with
their families, harvested clay by the riverbank and formed the vessels. Sitting here
listening to the stories of the Elders, forming clay figures, we see the women who
gathered on this land thousands of years ago, we see them reflected in ourselves.
The first ReClaim gathering at The Forks was a day of connecting, to ourselves and to
each other through story and art making, pulling the past into the present and imagining,
forming, shaping a new future. Participants gathered around the fire to listen to the oral
history of The Forks through the storytelling of Elder Clarence Nepinak, whose family
has a long history tied to the site. Clarence spoke of his family’s travels, their dreams,
and of the spirits of the ancestors that still inhabit the land where the two rivers meet.
In the afternoon we came together in the tipi to acknowledge the missing or murdered
Indigenous women and girls. Palms full of tobacco, a participant led us to the memorial
there devoted to missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls with a drum song
and we put our prayers down together. We returned to the circle grounded in why we
76
were here, why we were gathering, we are here to remember. Not only to remember the
pain but also to remember our power, our agency as women, our strong connection to
this land.
We worked with red clay, with earth, not only knowing that connection to the land in our
minds but really feeling it, working with it, working with the hands, a mutual healing.
We formed human figures, figures of women and girls, goddess figures, calling in the
strength, courage, and power of all the circles of women that have gathered at this place.
My son is there, Josef. He is serious about fire keeping and in awe of this special and
important gathering that his mama is holding. I can tell he feels the weight of it.
I can tell it will change him.
Later we lay our clay figures as gifts at the MMIWG memorial and sing ourselves down
to the water, leaving our offerings to the river, to its slow power, to its mysteries.
My boy ties a piece of red cloth to a stick and, in our silence, all the others do the same
and we become warriors, women walking together with staffs tied with red.
Someone suggests that we cross the bridge to Spirit Island, a place where ceremony has
been held for centuries, that we plant the sticks in the ground there; a promise that we
will continue to stand and to fight for justice for women and girls.
A tour boat goes by as we are placing our sticks along the bank of the river, strips of
bright red cloth against the grey of the day. They watch us and I think, for a moment they
actually see us, they see us standing together.
Clay figures are placed on the land in

ceremony during a ReClaim event in
Thunder Bay, Ontario.
77
How does that happen? How does somebody who confessed to taking a human life, how
do they get away with that?95
Similarly, Delores S. described this attitude when speaking about her interaction with the justice
systems following the death of a loved one, Nadine, in 2015.
The systems involved all respond that Nadine was at fault, and communicated it via
body language, word usage, and demeanour in speaking to the family. Their insensitivity
to the family … exemplifies deeply ingrained attitudes and prejudices they hold.96
Given the judge’s ruling that, at the end of trial, the man accused of murdering her sister was
released on a technicality, it is easy to see how Marilyn and other Indigenous families fighting
for justice may be left to ask, as she does: “Where’s my justice?”97
National Inquiry staff and Commissioners sing the Strong Woman Song in Calgary, Alberta.
700
In Thunder Bay, Ontario, ReClaim
participants spend time connecting with
the land, led by a local Elder and artist
Jaime Black.
Participants then gathered outside in a circle to smudge, and then walked together down the main
road onto campus, each holding a red cloth tie to honour women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA peo-
ple. Together, they walked alongside the bushland that covers much of the college campus, hold-
ing onto their red ties, holding onto their prayers for healing or for justice, for balance, or for
remembering the collective strength of Indigenous women. Each participant chose a space in the
bush to tie their ties, to bind these hopes and promises.
ReClaim participants in Thunder Bay, Ontario, placed red

cloth in the trees as a way to honour and to raise awareness
about violence facing missing and murdered Indigenous
Later, participants worked with clay, and Jaime

shared the understanding of clay work as a direct and
powerful way of connecting to the land. As she ex-
plained, before colonization, some communities
would make vessels of clay from the land where they
made camp. These vessels were often left behind
when the people moved to a new location. This prac-
tice indicates an intimate and respectful relationship
with the land. As they worked with the clay, partici-
pants talked and shared thoughts and knowledge about these concepts, knowing that whatever
they made wasn’t permanent, but that the process of the making brought connection and healing.
79
During a ReClaim workshop,
participants work to create clay figures
to leave on the land as an offering.
The National Inquiry hopes that the ReClaim Project, which is being offered by Jaime Black in
other locations, will inspire other, similar actions that will persist beyond the life of the National
Inquiry itself. In this way, this kind of art action will represent a new way of asserting the impor-
tance of calling forth, and the importance of the power and place of the relatives who no longer
walk among us, and the sacred place they hold in community and in ceremony.
Conclusion: Art Actions for the Future

For those who donated artistic expressions to the Legacy Archive, or who participated in public art
action like the ReClaim Project or in creations of their own, their work is not only about commem-
oration, and it is not restricted to making change today. As Jaycee Gouchey, from Sturgeon Lake
Cree Nation, shared, “I’m doing this for all our lost and stolen sisters, and my daughter is a motiva-
tion…. I don’t want her to grow up scared. I don’t want her to grow up the way I did.”50 In a video
capturing her project, Jaycee made herself look like a victim of violence and sat in silence in a hall-
way for three hours to confront people with the violence that Indigenous women face. Jaycee
wanted to symbolize the silence that Indigenous women also often face when looking for help.
The National Inquiry hopes that the Legacy Archive, the student and youth engagement strategy,
the ReClaim Project, and all of the actions these projects inspire will have legacies of their own and
inspire more acts of commemoration, awareness, courage, healing, and justice. These acts are im-
portant in fulfilling a key pathway to safety, in restoring power and place to Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people everywhere they are.
80
As the National Inquiry heard, when this information is presented to police – often in the crucial
period right after a disappearance and during which there may still be time for intervention – its
value is dismissed, ignored, or – in most cases – interpreted through a filter of racist and sexist
stereotypes and beliefs about Indigenous Peoples in general. These stereotypes become blinders
that impede the investigation and fundamentally damage the relationship between the families
of the missing and murdered and the police.
“AT THE END OF THE DAY – AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME ANY DIFFERENT BECAUSE I
KNOW AND I’VE SEEN IT. I’VE LIVED THROUGH IT. YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT THESE
WOMEN ARE NOT BEING KILLED AND MURDERED, AND THE GOVERNMENT IS ALLOWING
IT TO HAPPEN…. OUR WOMEN, WE GET OUR STRENGTH FROM THE LAND, FROM
MOTHER EARTH. SHE GIVES US STRENGTH, AND SHE’S SICK AND SHE’S DYING, AND
OUR PEOPLE ARE SICK AND THEY’RE DYING. WE’RE PROTECTORS OF THIS EARTH AND
SO MANY OF OUR PEOPLE HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT BECAUSE THEY’RE SUFFERING,
AND THAT’S BECAUSE OF THE SYSTEM.”
Marilyn W.
“Every day I looked”: The Search for Loved Ones

Listening to families talk about the stress and pain that accompany this process of searching
emphasized the additional emotional toll on families when police fail to cultivate a helpful
relationship with families. As Pamela F. explained,
Well, we would search until the sun came up. So we’d only get a few hours sleep and
we’d get up and we’d go search again. That’s what my days were, every day I looked.
Every night I looked. If I was able to be awake in the day time I would look but we
would search all night.102
Wilfred spoke about the emotional toll their search took on them: “You know, one time, she
[Bernice] was in a bush and I heard her cry, I thought she found Jen, and I went running and
running, but she just broke down. All I could do is hug her and tell her we will find her, you
know?”103
For many families, this search for answers and, ultimately, for justice begins with a physical
search for their missing and murdered loved one – an emotionally and physically gruelling
process that often falls on the backs of the families and community members because of the
reluctance or failure of police to respond.104
For example, when the police initially ignored Pamela F. in her attempts to report her 16-year-old
daughter missing, she turned to her community, who helped her and her husband, Fred, initiate a
ground search for Hilary. As she described in her testimony, when the police wouldn’t help her
look for her daughter, her “community did. Big groups of them went all over looking for her. I
mean they literally kicked people’s doors in. I will always be grateful to my community for
704
40 N’we Jinan, “Services.” 46 Chris Scott, “Highway of Tears,” Legacy Archive, AF
A2017-0001.1.
41 Woodward, “Red Dress artist.”
47 National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered
42 Beverly Beckley, “Red Dress Diaries,” Legacy Archive,
Indigenous Women and Girls, Their Voices Will Guide
AF A2017-0024.1.
Us, i.
43 Annie Ross (Maya), “’til victory,” Legacy Archive,
48 Ibid.
AF A2018-0043.1.
49 Ibid.
44 Hermina Joldersma, “In My Heart,” Legacy Archive,
AF A2018-101.2. 50 Jaycee Gouchey (Sturgeon Lake Cree Nation), Legacy
Archive, AF 2018-0042.2. As cited in “Art student pays
45 Mikhayla Patterson, Legacy Archive, AF A2017-
tribute,” included in AF 2018-0042.2.
0042.5.
82
CHAPTER 11
Valuing Lived and Front-Line Experiences

Introduction: Four Guided Dialogues and the
Distinctions-Based Approach
Between October and December 2018, the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indige-
nous Women and Girls hosted four Guided Dialogues to identify best practices and solutions to
increase safety, improve well-being, and safeguard the rights of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in Canada.
the Guided Dialogues brought together front-line service providers and community organizers to
explore the particular perspectives of different Indigenous groups. The following sessions were
hosted:
• 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives and Best Practices (Toronto)
• Inuit Perspectives and Best Practices (Inuvik)
• Métis Perspectives and Best Practices (Edmonton)
• Quebec Perspectives and Best Practices (Wendake)
Each Guided Dialogue brought together participants invited by the Commissioners who
contributed on the basis of trends, experiences and needs identified within the body of National
Inquiry testimonies and statements. Participants were individuals and organizations identified in
public testimonies and statements, or in third-party research on service delivery in key areas. In
inviting participants, the National Inquiry also took into account research and surveys of ally
and support groups and recommendations from Commissioners and internal advisory groups.
One Commissioner was present at each Guided Dialogue.
83
The primary intended outcomes were to:
• deepen knowledge of systemic institutional weaknesses, gaps, and problems that
marginalize and negatively impact the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people;
• identify best practices and solutions for institutional and systemic change that would
increase safety, improve well-being, and uphold the rights of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people in terms of identity and culture, health and well-being,
human security, including housing and anti-poverty work, and issues regarding access
to justice; and
• make specific recommendations to increase the safety of diverse Indigenous groups and
individuals when they experience human and Indigenous rights violations within
experiences of encounter.
The secondary intended outcomes for the Dialogues were to:
• co-create a safe, culturally appropriate, and legitimate dialogue process;
• offer participants an opportunity to share knowledge with peers and to build on one
another’s ideas in “a focused conversation among equals” that appreciates differences
of perspective and experience; and
• convene gatherings of practitioners and professionals in a spirit of respect and
recognition.
Over the course of the Dialogues, data was gathered from multiple sources, including notes taken
at each Dialogue table, as well as flip charts, anonymous participant feedback forms, artwork,
and other documents submitted by participants.
Overwhelmingly, as participants shared in each of the four sessions, racism is at the heart of the
colonial structure and represents a core cause for the violence faced by Indigenous communities.
At the same time, participants highlighted intersecting experiences of discrimination based on
gender and sexual orientation, and discrimination against marginalized populations such as sex
workers, people engaged in substance use, people who are homeless, or based on their intersec-
tional identities as Indigenous groups with many distinctive experiences and perspectives.
This chapter conveys the emerging themes and recommendations from all four Guided
Dialogues. Many key recommendations were echoed across the country. However, this chapter
also aims to delineate, where possible, the issues, perspectives, and recommendations that are
specific to the experiences of 2SLGBTQQIA people, Inuit, Métis communities, and Quebec First
Nations. These groupings provide important regional and issue-specific focus, and, collectively,
emphasize the importance of a distinctions-based approach that acknowledges the issues that can
be addressed in common and those where approaches might differ.
84
The Manifesto of Two-Spirited People of Manitoba
Inc. speaks to many of the issues that participants
discussed at the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives Guided
Dialogue in Toronto, including the need to understand
Two-Spirit teachings, and the values associated with
safety that they imply. Used with permission.
Promoting Empowering Research and Representation

“Not about us, without us at the table.” (Inuit Perspectives)
The collection of data and research processes are often cast as neutral processes, but research has
often been engaged in the service of colonial ideas. One of the priorities for our approach to the
Guided Dialogues was in co-creating a process, with participants, that privileged decolonizing
research processes and applied them in data collection and interpretation. This kind of meaning-
ful engagement led to important discussions regarding the nature of research itself, and the need
to develop more structures that reflect a more equitable representation, particularly in the context
of Indigenous engagement, consultation, and participation in policy and program development.
For many women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, becoming meaningful participants in deci-
sion-making processes is key to unlocking the solutions that have been buried under patriarchy,
misogyny, and colonialism. This is necessary in order to bring about systemic change to support
the safety and well-being of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Participants particularly highlighted the need for more equitable representation of Indigenous
women and youth, Métis and Inuit communities, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and offered recom-
mendations for data collection, research, public engagement, and leadership models to effect
this change.
85
Data Collection and Research
Participants emphasized the importance of collecting accurate, culturally specific, and compre-
hensive data on Indigenous communities to contribute to policy development and strategic
planning for program and service delivery.
Data collection was a particularly prominent theme in the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives Dialogue.
Both social stigma and inadequate data collection methods contribute to inaccurate and incom-
plete data collection on 2SLGBTQQIA experiences. For instance, the census has historically
excluded gender non-binary individuals, and coronary reports currently identify a victim’s
gender based on their biological sex instead of their gender identity. Some participants described
communities where the gender identity and/or sexual orientation of youth who had died by
suicide were deliberately masked by parents or leaders in the community due to homophobia or
transphobia. Participants described how data gaps contribute to the erasure and invisibility of
Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people, and negatively impact funding for dedicated support services
and resources.
“We need to have our numbers in the reports for our advocacy work.”
(2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)1
Specific recommendations for accurate and comprehensive data collection included:
 culturally specific data collection differentiating among Inuit, Métis, and First
Nations victims;
 additional gender options in the census and other avenues for data collection; and
 more specific data collection to recognize and capture the internal diversity of
2SLGBTQQIA communities. Participants noted that the use of “Two-Spirit” as a
blanket term for all Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people perpetuates the erasure of
other gender identities and sexual orientations. Participants specifically called for a
differentiation between “Two-Spirit” and trans-identified individuals, and between
trans-masculine and trans-feminine experiences.
“The term Two-Spirit is an umbrella term that does not necessarily reflect the
diversity of the gender spectrum.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Suggested priority areas for research and data collection included:
 data on Indigenous victims of violence, including murdered and missing people, as well
as on suicide rates, recognizing that the violence, discrimination, and inequities faced by
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people contribute to the risk of death by
suicide;
86
 more accurate statistics on Inuit people in urban centres to ensure adequate funding
for culturally specific support services;
 research and data collection on systemic, institutional discrimination: for instance,

exploring the experiences of Indigenous Peoples in health, justice, and correctional
systems, in order to better understand the gaps, barriers, and inequities they face, and data
on racial profiling in policing against Indigenous Peoples;
 research into the experiences of previous offenders reintegrating into community; and
 research into patterns of violence and the experiences and life trajectories of
vulnerable individuals.
Ethical and Empowering Research

Several participants expressed the sentiment that Indigenous and 2SLGBTQQIA communities
are over-researched and over-consulted without the related sufficient implementation of
recommendations and findings. They described how this pattern of over-consultation risks re-
traumatizing vulnerable populations who have to repeatedly share adverse experiences, while it
contributes to the erosion of trust that can deter Indigenous Peoples from participating in data
collection and public-engagement opportunities. Additionally, some participants discussed issues
with “exploitative” or “predatory” research practices that compromise ethics of consent and can
lead to skewed research findings. For instance, individuals facing poverty are more vulnerable to
being coerced to participate in studies that offer honoraria in exchange for participation.
Participants recommended the following ethical and empowering approaches to research:
 validate diverse forms of knowledge (including academic research, lived experience,

and traditional Indigenous knowledge);
 develop and implement research frameworks, epistemologies, and research

terminology grounded in Indigenous world views;
 promote meaningful collaboration between academics, front-line workers and

grassroots organizations to inform policy development and service delivery;
 dedicate funding and support for research led by Métis, Inuit, First Nations, and
Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people;
 adopt a strength-based approach to research that aims to generate and affirm good
practices, instead of focusing on traumatic experiences; and
87
 update the Tri-Council Policy Statement on Ethical Conduct for Research Involving
Humans (TCPS-2) concerning the guidelines that govern Indigenous research, in order to
better protect research participants from “predatory research tactics.”
“Research partnership is vital. Academics [need] to work with front-line workers in
a meaningful way. Part of finding healing is demanding more authority in [the]
research process and how we are spoken about.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“More Métis research by Métis researchers, that honours and values our ways of
knowing and being – without being ‘extractivist.’” (Métis Perspectives)
Equitable Representation
Participants in the Toronto, Inuvik, and Edmonton sessions discussed the prevalent under-
representation and relative invisibility of Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people, Inuit, and Métis
communities within policy development, and the inequitable distribution of funding and services
for these communities. They described how work done under an “Indigenous” or “Aboriginal”
framework tends to focus on First Nations contexts and cultures, which can be vastly different
from Inuit and Métis communities. At the same time, one participant noted that the Indigenous
communities, whose traditional territories encompass major urban centres, can feel “displaced”
by Indigenous populations migrating to their home. It is important to strike a balance between
acknowledging the historic roots of territories and creating a hospitable environment for
newcomers.
“[The] Métis voice is commonly underrepresented.” (Métis Perspectives)
“Métis citizens and people do not feel they are under the umbrella of ‘First Nations.’
They do not feel comfortable in, or accepted in, those spaces.” (Métis Perspectives)
“There is a lot of presence of First Nations in Ottawa, but Inuit aren’t very visible there.
With no disrespect to them, we’re just not very visible.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“We represent a large area with a smaller population, but [the] issues are so
different.” (Inuit Perspectives)
Additionally, participants in the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives session noted that policies and rec-
ommendations (including the common framing of “missing and murdered Indigenous women”)
often lack a recognition of diverse gender identities and fail to address issues that predominantly
affect Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people.
88
Recommendations to improve equitable representation included:
 dedicated funding streams, programs, and services for Inuit, Métis, and Indigenous
2SLGBTQQIA communities;
 dedicated Inuit and Métis advocacy bodies: for instance, in Edmonton, there were calls
for the establishment of a Métis Health Authority, Métis child welfare agencies, and a
National Circle for Métis Women;
 dedicated Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA advocacy bodies that recognize and address

the unique experiences and needs at the intersections of cultural and gender identities.
There was a strong call in Toronto for a national network or organization to represent
Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people and conduct dedicated advocacy, education, data
collection, and research for their communities;
 equitable inclusion of 2SLGBTQQIA people within First Nations, Métis, and Inuit
leadership and advocacy bodies (such as the Assembly of First Nations, First Nations
Health Authority, Native Women’s Association of Canada, etc.);
 gender-based analysis of policies and recommendations, including landmark

documents such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s Calls to Action; and
 increased public-engagement initiatives, with particular attention to the unique

circumstances that can impact the participation of Inuit, Métis, and Indigenous
2SLGBTQQIA people, and allocation of resources to ensure cultural safety and
inclusion for parties.
“Métis-specific funding for developing transformational change that is rooted in
Métis world views.” (Métis Perspectives)
“Policies need to be based on … values taught by Elders about Inuit culture.”
(Inuit Perspectives)
Participants called for more equitable representation of Indigenous women, youth, and tradition-
ally marginalized populations (such as sex workers, ex-offenders, etc.) in policy making.
“All levels of government need to prioritize LGBTQ2S+ Indigenous youth voices and
experiences in the development of solutions and strategies.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“We women are coming back, and we are taking those leadership roles, so we have the
power to make change. We all want the same thing. We want change. And the change we
want is to have our women in positions of power and leadership.” (Métis Perspectives)
“Indigenous women need to be heard and recognized, when it comes to policy-making

and officiating.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
89
Strengthening Accountability
Implementation of recommendations was a primary concern echoed throughout the Dialogues,
with many participants critiquing historical patterns of over-consultation and relative lack of
implementation. Participants called for the development of a strategic plan for the implementa-
tion of recommendations from the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women, as well as recommendations from other, related provincial, federal, and international
conventions, landmark inquiries, and declarations.2
“First Nations became cynical about the impacts of various commission reports, in the
past. Could it be because they were not an integral part of a governmental action plan?”
(Quebec Perspectives)
“Go from idealism to action. We need to see the system changed.”
(2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“A long-term plan to put in place structural changes. Make sure there is a measure that
resists political changes. That it is enshrined in a master document of the country. That
all governments are obligated to put money in it.” (Quebec Perspectives)
Recommendations to strengthen accountability included:
 an oversight committee to develop a strategic action plan for the recommendations, with
representatives from Inuit, Métis, First Nations, and 2SLGBTQQIA communities;
 safeguards to ensure that the implementation of key recommendations can continue

despite shifts in government or organizational leadership;
“You need recommendations that do not depend on the person in the position. It
should not depend on the person.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 communication and partnerships with key ministries and organizations to create a

broad network of advocacy and action for the implementation of recommendations;
 increased public education and advocacy to increase awareness of Indigenous rights

and recommendations for action; and
 an Indigenous Rights Tribunal, to supplement work from the existing Human Rights
Tribunal, with an acknowledgement of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of
Indigenous Peoples.
90
Core Principles and Values for Safety
Through a discussion of these experiences and themes, participants focused on important
concepts that inform the principle of safety. Specifically, the Guided Dialogues drew attention to
a number of core principles, values, and practices that can increase the accessibility, cultural
safety, and effectiveness of support services to contribute to the safety and well-being of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals.
Wellness as Wholeness
In all four Dialogue sessions, participants expressed a holistic understanding of safety and well-
being, advocating for care that addresses mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual needs.
Similarly, participants predominantly spoke of the individual as being embedded within a web
of interdependent and interactive relationships, including their family, community, wider society,
and environment.
Participants noted that a holistic approach to well-being and the value of relationships is funda-
mental to an Indigenous world view, which emphasizes the interconnected nature of life. Indeed,
one participant in the Quebec Perspectives session suggested that Western models such as the
Maslow hierarchy of needs may not be applicable to an Indigenous context. Rather, participants
in different groups shared Indigenous philosophies such as those reflected in the Cree term mino-
pimatisiwin,3 or the Quechua term of sumak kawsay,4 or the teachings of the medicine wheel.
One participant shared a framework of concentric circles, “with sustenance in the middle, then
children, then women, then Elders, then men” to represent the systemic nature of safety and
well-being.
Participants discussed how moving forward in a culturally safe way, with respect to the delivery
of programs, services, and systems to reflect this holistic approach to well-being, could ultimately
provide improved care not only for Indigenous communities, but for society as a whole.
“Indigenous people have always paved the way when it comes to changing the
systems, opening the door for Canadians.” (Métis Perspectives)
Participants suggested that a holistic and culturally safe approach to program and service deliv-
ery across several different areas, including cultural services as well as those services that are
culturally safe in areas like health, security, and justice, is one that:
 supports the well-being of whole families and communities, including men and boys,
instead of focusing on the individual or services for women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people;
“We won’t become healthy if we look [only] at individuals.” (Métis Perspectives)
91
“These people are part of a community. How can you extract one and help them,
and leave the rest?” (Quebec Perspectives)
 strengthens family and community ties, and fosters trusting relationships of care
between clients and service providers;
“Human connection is medicine.” (Métis Perspectives)
“Who is close to you? Who’s your neighbour? All of these things should be
included in the interventions, instead of just basing the system on the individual....
The community and the family context can be rich resources to improve the
intervention.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 recognizes the primacy of cultural and spiritual needs, the fulfillment of which may
be necessary for the attainment of other wellness goals;
“First Nations women recognize the importance of First Nations spirituality, at the
heart of healing, prior to treat addictions, etc.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“People who heal the most are those who have healed on a spiritual level.”
(Métis Perspectives)
 addresses the root causes of behaviours that serve to place people at risk, and ensure
that needs related to healing and recovery are being met;
“People join gangs because they want to feel like they belong, so one way to deal
with this [need] is to help people form a stronger sense of connection.”
 takes a preventative approach to increasing the safety and well-being of women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people; and
“Often people do not use the services until it’s an emergency. There should be more
prevention, opportunities to ask questions … a preventative service – rather than [a]
cure.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 sees the wholeness of people beyond labels such as mental health diagnoses,
convictions, adverse experiences, ethnicity, gender, etc.
“I have a foster name.… Many other systems wrongfully misconstrued our name …
mislabelled us shamefully…. I reached out to social services for help. I was labelled
with everything in the book … adjustment disorder, borderline personality disorder,
slightly mentally retarded.… These structural and systemic labels promote blaming
the victim. They are pathologies and constructs that perpetuate the missing and
murdered Indigenous women.” (Métis Perspectives)
92
A Haudenosaunee Example of
Healing through Culture
At the National Inquiry’s Expert and Knowledge Keeper Hearing in Toronto, National Family Advisory Circle
member Norma Jacobs opened the second day of hearings with a traditional Haudenosaunee (Iroquois)
Thanksgiving Address.I
The Haudenosaunee (meaning “People of the The whole structure of the Confederacy and the
Longhouse”) are a confederacy made up of six teachings that are there to enhance our life, and
distinct Nations: Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, to acknowledge and validate everything that
Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora. The Thanksgiving was given here on this Earth walk, you know …
Address is an ancient way of greeting the natural because everything here that the Creator
world and aligning the minds of the people as one.II provided for us was for … our benefit, for our
health, mentally, emotionally, physically, and
Norma is Wolf Clan of the Guyohkohnyo Cayuga spiritually.IV
Nation and grew up on the Haudenosaunee Six
Nations reserve. In her address, she thanked the Some of the Haudenosaunee values Norma shared
people, Mother Earth, the food that sustains us, the were about compassion, reciprocity, diversity,
shrubs, grasses, and medicine plants, the trees, the balance, and communication, among others.
birds, the animals, the air, bodies of water, thunder,
lightning, rain, the sun, the moon, the four sacred We learn about, you know, our ancestors, and we
beings, the teachers who bring the words of the learn about being inclusive. We learn about unity,
Creator, and the Creator. Norma called this address “a you know, coming to that one mind, and that
dance of intimacy of how we relate to everything one heart, and that one body. We learn about
that’s in our environment, and we should be doing protocols, intervention, and prevention. We learn
that dance every day.”III about sacred space. You know, we all have sacred
space around us. Acknowledgement, validation,
While opening a gathering with the Thanksgiving values and beliefs, honouring relationship,
Address is traditional in Haudenosaunee territory, healing, ceremony, empowerment.V
Norma also used this opportunity to emphasize
how it and other Haudenosaunee teachings and The Haudenosaunee traditionally have 13 cere-
ceremonies are the most important tools they need monies throughout the year, which help maintain the
for their own well-being. “health and prosperity of the Nations.” VI Norma
explained that coming back to these ceremonies on
Norma taught us that the Creator gave these a regular basis is a way of creating accountability for
teachings to the Haudenosaunee as medicine, to yourself, to build relationship with all of the gifts that
enhance their lives. have been provided through the natural world and
honour one another for it.
93
She sees hope in the way that young people are Norma’s mother taught her that using the medicine
returning to Haudenosaunee ceremonies. of traditional teachings still involves thinking critically
about them, especially with the creeping influence of
I see the dismantling of our culture and our way colonization. Norma said:
of life in all of our communities, but I also see the
restructuring and the revitalization, and I’m One of those things that she used to tell me was,
proud of those people. I’m proud of the young [speaking in Cayuga] you’ve got a brain, use it,
ones. You know, the young men who stand who you know? … She used to say, [speaking in
I haven’t seen growing up, and all of a sudden Cayuga], you’ve got to take … all the things that
there they are, and they’re doing our ceremonies, I shared with you and think about them, and take
speeches. You know, and I feel that respect in them to the depth, you know, of your being.
their behaviour and their attitude for the Apply it to your mind, apply it to your heart,
people.VII apply it to your physical self and to your spiritual
self. She says, and if all of those parts of you feel
Norma emphasized that this revitalization is actually good, then you must be on the right track.
built into the teachings the Haudenosaunee already …
hold – including the Thanksgiving Address: “We
learn about the rebirth every day, when we wake So, I spent my life, you know, thinking about that,
up in the morning, that we have life. So, we know you know, and shaping and chipping away at
how to revitalize, and that’s part of our teaching, to those colonial thoughts and the colonial
restructure, to recognize, to re-enliven our people influence on my family…. I’ve been working at
and to re-evaluate, to re-establish, to rejuvenate.”VIII that all of my life, to find and to enhance the lives
of our people through our stories, through our
For example, Norma shared, the Haudenosaunee way, through our language, through our
have always had their own ways of evaluating the ceremony, you know, and to reclaim that for
health of their communities. myself.X
It was always told to us, too, that, you know, the For Norma, these teachings came down to the idea
state of our health was recognizable by the of one heart, one mind, one body. By working
number of cornfields that we have in our together and reconnecting to their own knowledge,
community, you know, because cornfields – Haudenosaunee can bring each other up to their
white corn is medicine, you know. It tells us highest potential.
about how to use it in mourning, you know,
grieving. So many things that we haven’t even
touched upon.IX
I Norma J. (Cayuga), Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON.

II Kanienkeha: An Open Source Endangered Language Initiative, “Thanksgiving Address.”
III Norma J. (Cayuga), Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 27.
IV Norma J. (Cayuga), Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 4.
V Norma J. (Cayuga), Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, pp. 26–27.
VI Haudenosaunee Confederacy, “Ceremonies.”
VII Norma J. (Cayuga), Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 23.
VIII Norma J. (Cayuga), Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 28.
IX Norma J. (Cayuga), Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 27.
X Norma J. (Cayuga), Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, pp. 21–23.
94
The Importance of Coordinated Services
In addition, almost every Dialogue table across all four sessions called for an interdisciplinary,
systemic approach to increasing safety and well-being for Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA individuals. Participants strongly criticized the predominantly “siloed” organiza-
tion of social services, and the competitive culture among programs that are applying for the
same funding sources. They discussed a number of ways in which partnerships and collaboration
can benefit service providers, including to:
• increase awareness of local services to facilitate referrals and reduce duplication;
• facilitate knowledge exchange to address complex issues;
• enable partnerships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous service providers to increase
staff cultural competency; and
• reduce administrative burdens and increase efficiency.
“I always use the metaphor about the Métis sash. You can’t just pull out one thread
and find a solution to one alone. Then how can you put it back? We need to find
solutions that weave together all those things: health care, justice, policing.”
“Big believer in wraparound services and a network of helpers.… I see the different
disciplines working in silos and trying to sheep steal. I find that frustrating.”
“Inuvik is a mess of organizations. Native band, Gwich’in tribal council,
community leader and council, Métis local. All doing their own thing, not
communicating and coordinating activities. All working in siloes, doing their own
wellness, parenting, etc. programs with their own funding. [We] need partnerships,
coming together to make an action plan.” (Inuit Perspectives)
Recommendations of successful models for coordinated services included:
 federally or provincially funded action tables, bringing social service providers

together to develop partnership, coordinate services, and develop strategic action plans to
support well-being; and
“In a [federally funded] local accessibility table … social services centres, school
board, youth protection, CAVAC [Crime Victims Assistance Centre], victim support
services…. They [didn’t] speak to each other to begin with. Now they sit down and
speak to each other. They do an inventory of what they offer. Opening their eyes.
Should have been done a long time ago.” (Quebec Perspectives)
95
 co-located services. Many of the recommendations that participants shared involved
integrating multiple service providers within the same facility, or in close proximity to
one another, in order to provide “wraparound care.” This “hub” model was especially
highlighted when discussing wise practices for vulnerable or marginalized populations.
“Customers are between two chairs and fall into the cracks.” (Quebec Perspectives)
Participants described how coordinated or co-located services support the well-being and safety
of clients by:
• creating holistic, preventative care plans that address root causes and support multiple
dimensions of well-being in order to increase the success of interventions;
• creating networks of support, which may increase the likelihood of detecting when
individuals go missing, and avoid having clients “fall through the cracks”;
• minimizing the number of times clients need to retell their story, which may exacerbate
trauma;
• improving continuity of care, and minimizing the impact of staff turnover;
• providing follow-up care to address needs that emerge through interventions;
• increasing awareness of available services;
• enabling families to remain together as they receive care instead of separating them into
siloed services; and
• minimizing the need for transportation between services.
“Services [should be] close together: They can see the options, they can see the
goals, they know it’s there, it doesn’t have to be forced. Giving people hope that
there is something there, creating conditions around them that their life is okay
enough that they can think about that.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“There are individuals who are overloaded with service providers, too, because each
one offers a specific service, instead of having a single service provider with an
understanding of the overall situation.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“It cannot be assumed that [one] service [e.g., police] is responsible for all other
services as well. We need to help clarify who does what. The problem is that the
structures and the division of resources among the partners are decided elsewhere.”
96
The Importance of Cultural Safety
Participants outlined various best practices for the ethical and culturally sensitive integration of
Indigenous values and traditions in social services, especially when those services are delivered
by non-Indigenous institutions and organizations.
Participants stressed the importance of providing cultural safety in the delivery of support serv-
ices, which recognizes the internal diversity between and within different Inuit, Métis, and First
Nations communities, instead of offering generalized “pan-Indigenous” or “Aboriginal” services.
For example, there was a call to increase the availability of Métis-specific and Inuit-specific sup-
port services in urban centres. There was a call to demonstrate greater sensitivity for individuals’
diverse spiritual or religious beliefs, including, for example, accommodating Métis who follow
the Catholic faith as well as those who follow Indigenous spiritualities.
“Even though we are all Indigenous, we need specific services. When you are in a
vulnerable place, it is most comfortable to be with your community.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“There are Métis people who follow the wahkohtowin ways. There are also lots of land-
based Métis who are very Catholic, who would want to see a Catholic approach [to
Métis culture in the prison system]. I have an uncle who is an oblate, who also fasts. He
is comfortable walking in both worlds. People love him for that. He makes them feel at
ease. There is not one set-in-stone Métis way, but let people be okay being both or one or
another without judgment!” (Métis Perspectives)
In addition, participants in the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives Dialogue indicated the need to pro-
vide cultural safety in terms of the particular challenges placed before 2SLGBTQQIA people,
who noted the need to reinstate and accept gender as a spectrum, rather than as a colonial binary.
For these participants, culturally safe healing and services need to be inclusive of 2SLGBTQQIA
people who have felt excluded by colonial norms and within their own First Nations, Métis and
Inuit communities because of their gender identity and/or sexual orientation.
The idea of cultural safety also extended to other aspects of care. For participants who are often
forced to access services in a language other than their own, linguistic accessibility was impor-
tant. In the Inuit Perspectives and Quebec Perspectives sessions, there was a strong emphasis on
linguistic barriers that impede Indigenous Peoples from accessing critical support services,
including health care, legal aid, and crisis support. Language barriers may also impact access to
resources and information about available services, and these barriers may lead to discrimination
from service providers. Participants described how linguistic barriers particularly affect
traditional language speakers from northern, rural, or remote communities, especially when
they travel to southern or urban centres. Anglophone Indigenous Peoples face an additional lan-
guage barrier in Quebec.
97
Many of the participants who met within the Guided Dialogue sessions also worked collaboratively to discuss recommendations.
Here, some participants from the Inuit Perspectives Dialogue, as well as other invitees, meet in Ottawa.
Additionally, participants discussed how Indigenous Peoples may feel more comfortable and
safer expressing themselves in traditional languages when speaking about trauma or emotionally
charged issues.
“If someone from the North goes to the Val d’Or hospital, she will probably wait a long
time, and probably [she will] stop the treatment, because there is no translation or
support.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“Another story about a woman in a park: it was visually clear she was sexually
assaulted, but because there was a language barrier and she was a sex worker, the police
easily dismissed her.” (Quebec Perspectives)
One participant described the lack of Indigenous interpreters as a form of discrimination, while
others noted the historical and spiritual significance of being able to speak in traditional
Indigenous languages.
“Expressing yourself in another language when you are in pain – it isn’t your mother
tongue.… A lot of people don’t understand the significance between language and your
spirit and how those things work together.” (Quebec Perspectives)
98
Recommendations to increase linguistic accessibility included:
 federal or provincial funding for interpreters;
 a national database and call centre offering individual referrals to local translators or
linguistically accessible support services;
 staff who are fluent in Indigenous languages that are in high demand in the
communities they serve;
 team-based care or co-located services to increase the likelihood that clients can be
served in a language of their choice; and
 key resources and reports published in Indigenous languages, to serve communities

of interest.
“Glooskap, the Beavers and

the Sugarloaf Mountain,”
or “Klu’skap, Kopitk Aqq
Sugarloaf Mountain” in
Mi’kmaq, is an example of how
local Indigenous stories can be
published in English, French
and Indigenous languages.
Copies of this book and others
in the series were donated to the
National Inquiry’s Legacy
Archive, AF A2018-0004.1
to 0004.
99
“When we speak our language…”:
Understanding the Foundation of
Indigenous Knowledges
While the right to culture is foundational to the right of self-determination, the right to language is
foundational to the right to culture.
Language is one of the main ways people convey In 2016, only 12.5% of Indigenous Peoples spoke an
their culture.I It shapes the way people view the Indigenous language as their mother tongue.III Of
world, and contains knowledge unique to its people. the more than 70 Indigenous languages spoken in
It connects people to their land, their laws, and their Canada, 25 languages have less than 500 fluent
ancestors. Culture is so often rooted in the language speakers.IV Joann Green shared at the Inquiry’s Heilt-
that, once language is taken away, culture is much suk Women Community Perspectives panel in
more susceptible to being eroded – and, with it, Vancouver how much this affects her.
Indigenous knowledge, values, and teachings.
As a Hemas [hereditary chief ] in our community,
Elder Kathy Louis is Chief Commissioner Marion I struggle with the idea that our language – our
Buller’s advisor, and a member of the National Heiltsuk language is so close to extinction. In
Inquiry Elders and Grandmothers Circle. In her expe- August of this year, I conducted a research proj-
rience, language is critical to cultural knowledge. ect and was so disheartened because I realized
that our fluent speakers were only at 1% of our
The primary means of teaching proper behav- entire population, and that really broke my
iour and community-held values was informally heart.V
through storytelling. Stories are powerful ways
of sharing traditional teachings of cultural Losing one’s language makes it much more difficult
knowledge. Deep listening is necessary. The tra- to connect to one’s own identity as an Indigenous
dition of respecting Elders for their wisdom, age, person. This has a significant impact on Indigenous
experience, and sharing plays an important role Peoples’ health and wellness. The National Collabo-
in the passing on of cultural knowledge.II ration Centre for Aboriginal Health (NCCAH) has
argued that culture and language are social determi-
Because Indigenous women are usually the tradi- nants of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis health, and this
tional keepers of their languages and cultures, the is borne out in the testimonies we heard. Many peo-
cultural knowledge passed from mother to daughter ple feel shame for not knowing their language any-
is critical to maintaining that common sense of iden- more, and that loss of cultural identity contributes to
tity. Colonial policies that sever Indigenous women depression, anxiety, substance abuse, and, in some
from their children (for example, residential schools, cases, suicide.VI
the Sixties Scoop, and child welfare), or Indigenous
women and children from their communities (for ex- The loss of Indigenous languages is not an inevitable
ample, discriminatory laws regarding Status and mat- result of the modern world, but of intentional assim-
rimonial property rights), are particularly effective at ilationist policies that targeted Indigenous languages
devastating Indigenous languages. As a result, every for extinction. This is a violation of Indigenous
Indigenous language in Canada is now at risk. Peoples’ languages rights, which were most recently
100
enshrined in the United Nations Declaration on the occurs as young girls evolve to womanhood,
Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). Speakers at the through the puberty rites ceremony. This process
UN’s Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues have is basically the traditional teaching application
called the ongoing violation of language rights a and foundation of the medicine wheel teach-
form of cultural genocide.VII ings.XI
However, this also means people can find healing Wolastoqew (Maliseet) Elder Imelda Perley partici-
and well-being through relearning their Indigenous pated in the National Inquiry’s Knowledge Keepers
language. This revitalization strengthens families and panel in Moncton, New Brunswick. She is doing her
is part of the resurgence of Nation-specific knowl- part to bring the language back, one child at a time.
edge, world views, and legal systems.
My favourite responsibility is I sing to the babies
Although languages are severely threatened, more in the womb…. One way for me to save the lan-
and more people are stepping forward to relearn guage is by naming those babies, but I would get
their languages. According to the 2016 census, the them, you know, used to their language. And I
total number of people who can carry on a conver- work with moms to say the first thing that baby
sation in an Indigenous language rose by 8% from should hear is not, “Is it a boy?” or “Is it a girl?” it’s
1996 to 2016.VIII Estimates also suggest that 35% of [phrase in Wolastoqew]: “I’ve been waiting for
Metis, 23% of First Nations, and 10% of Inuit are cur- you, and here’s your language that’s been wait-
rently learning an Indigenous language as an addi- ing for you.”XII
tional language.IX
In the same panel, Mi’kmaw Elder Miigam’agan
There are also several successful initiatives going on shared that the language comes from their ancestral
today for language learners of all ages, including lan- grandmothers, and contains the essence of how they
guage nests and immersion daycares for small chil- perceive the world.
dren, one-on-one master/apprentice programs for
adults, language programming in schools and uni- That’s my driving force to continually to honour
versities, and apps and digital programs to bring Eld- the language and to bring the voice … of our
ers’ knowledge more easily to the next generation.X cultures forward. And they were held by the
women…. When we speak our language, we re-
Elder Kathy shares that Elders in Samson Cree gard women to be the highest source of life. And
Nation are continuing the necessary work in teaching then so the women teach us, our mothers teach
language and culture to the next generation. us how to connect to life.XIII
The Elders in my community in Alberta say, Rebuilding all Indigenous languages through recov-
“When you lose your traditional language, you ery and revitalization back to normalization – a task
lose the cultural knowledge,” and in my opinion former Governor-General Adrienne Clarkson calls on
you lose your sense of belonging. Today in my Canadians to embrace as a “national imperative”XIV –
community the local Elders insist and encourage will require meaningful, equitable government fund-
Cree language [Y dialect] be taught and learned ing support.
by those prepared to learn about the richness of
our culture, and thus learn about the sacredness Funding for Indigenous language support has been
of the different stages of young girls’ develop- in decline in recent years, as the Truth and Reconcili-
ment. Young girls are required to participate with ation Commission of Canada (TRC) reports. This is in
mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and other rela- stark contrast to the funding dedicated to French-lan-
tives in their development of discipline and re- guage services, which the Supreme Courts of Canada
sponsibility. These values are taught throughout have vigorously defended as essential to the right to
the time spent with the role models. This process freedom of expression.XV The National Inquiry agrees
101
with the TRC that this same defence should apply to The urgency to revitalize and restore the well-
Canada’s “original” languagesXVI just as much as it being of culture and languages is now more than
does to the official languages of English and French. ever a critical endeavor. This task will enlist the
Federal, provincial, and territorial governments can- expertise and collaboration of many, including
not look at funding for Indigenous languages as elders, linguists, teachers, educational institutes,
something “extra,” but as a critical component of ful- non-profits, health care providers, and govern-
filling their mandate on language rights in Canada. ment. It will take place in language nests, in
classrooms, around the kitchen table, and in en-
Revitalizing and normalizing such a wide diversity of vironmental and digital landscapes. Ultimately,
Indigenous languages across the country will be no this concerted vision can ease intergenerational
easy feat. However, it is essential to the health, iden- traumas, promote holistic healing, rebuild self-
tity, and sovereignty of Indigenous Peoples. As the esteem, and restore cultural and linguistic
National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health pride.XVII
says:
I Kirmayer, Brass, and Tait, “The Mental Health of Aboriginal Peoples,” 613.
II Elder Kathy Louis, personal communication, February 6, 2019.
III Statistics Canada, “Census in Brief: The Aboriginal Languages.”
IV Boulanger, “Indigenous Language Revitalization."
V Joann Green (Heiltsuk), Part 1, Public Volume 90, Vancouver, BC, p. 17.
VI National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health, Culture and Language as Social Determinants.
VII “Permanent Forum Speakers Say Violation of Language Rights ‘Cultural Genocide,’ Call for Concrete Public Policy to Protect Indigenous
Languages,” United Nations Meetings Coverage and Press Releases, HR/4948, April 24, 2008,
https://www.un.org/press/en/2008/hr4948.doc.htm. See also Skutnabb-Kangas and Dunbar, “Indigenous Children’s Education.”
VIII Anderson, Insights on Canadian Society, “Results from the 2016 Census.”
IX Statistics Canada, “Census in Brief: Aboriginal Languages in Canada”; Frideres, “Continuity or Disappearance.”
X National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health, Culture and Language as Social Determinants.
XI Elder Kathy Louis, personal communication, February 6, 2019.
XII Elder Imelda Perley (Wolastoqew), Part 1, Public Volume 44(a), Moncton, NB, p. 41.
XIII Elder Miigam’agan (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 44(a), Moncton, NB, pp. 62, 63.
XIV Clarkson, “Indigenous Languages Are Vital.”
XV TRC, Canada’s Residential Schools: The Legacy.
XVI Assembly of First Nations, “Assembly of First Nations Engagement Sessions.”
XVII National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health, Culture and Language as Social Determinants, 7.
102
The Importance of Education
Every single Dialogue group across the country called for ongoing, mandatory training to equip
front-line workers and management to serve and engage with Indigenous communities in cultur-
ally sensitive and safe ways. Participants recommended training in various sectors, including law
enforcement, justice and correctional systems, health care, education, child and family services,
and natural resource industries. Additionally, some participants suggested training for Elders and
Knowledge Keepers working with marginalized populations.
“We need to be seen as human…. There is so much education that needs to happen…. If
police officers have never been taught about the history of why things are the way they
are, that things didn’t just happen, then how can we expect them to know? We need to
educate front-line workers about why women [engage in sex work], why they’ve fallen
into alcohol and drugs. They don’t just fall into it for no reason or like that [with a snap
of the fingers].” (Métis Perspectives)
Proposed topics included:

• history of Indigenous Peoples in Canada, and the impacts of colonialism
• cultural awareness training on the traditions, values, and world views of specific
Indigenous communities
• Indigenous language training specific to communities they serve
• cultural safety and cultural humility training
• 2SLGBTQQIA-inclusion, particularly within an Indigenous context, including an
understanding of traditional Indigenous understandings of gender and sexual orientation
• anti-oppression and decolonization
• understanding of historical, intergenerational trauma and trauma-informed care
• crisis de-escalation and non-violent intervention
• harm-reduction approaches
• suicide prevention and intervention
• context-specific training, such as abuse and domestic violence, sexual exploitation, mental
health concerns, working with youth, etc.
“Anti-racism education is important … because learning about bannock is not going
to help change your views.” (Métis Perspectives)
103
“More needs to be done for services to be trained in the Two-Spirit community. The
Indigenous context is different.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“That the history and realities of the Métis people be woven into the very fabric of
Canadian society, through building the skills, knowledge, and competencies of the
policy makers, the members of the judicial system, the health care system, and the
education system.” (Métis Perspectives)
Recommendations for the implementation of public sector training included:
 mandatory training for all public sector workers;
 continuous training and professional development. Participants noted that current

training programs are often optional or are limited to a brief orientation training. They
emphasized the need for continuous, gradual, in-depth training to familiarize staff with
emerging issues and best practices;
 context-specific training, adapting national programs to reflect the specific Indigenous

communities and marginalized populations they serve, and tailored to users’ needs;
“Inuit and First Nations are different. There are officers who have worked briefly
with First Nations, who come to the North, and they treat us the same [as First
Nations].” (Inuit Perspectives)
 training in collaboration with Indigenous communities, and/or training delivered by

Indigenous facilitators. One participant in Wendake suggested incorporating a “feedback
loop between clients and those who train their service provider, in order to be able to
influence the training that will have an influence on the next generations”;
 curriculum integration, starting in elementary and secondary schools, but also including
mandatory university-level courses;
 community orientation programs delivered by local organizations, Elders, or other

community leaders to introduce front-line workers to local community members,
organizations, and the nuances of cultural norms, traditions, and protocols – from
bereavement practices to seasonal rhythms. This recommendation was particularly
emphasized in the Inuit Perspectives session, in response to the high turnover rate of
social service staff in northern communities, which limits their ability to familiarize
themselves with communities. Some participants recommended hiring Elders or other
local community members as ongoing liaison workers supporting teachers, law
enforcement officers, and other social service staff on a day-to-day basis; and
104
“[There is a need for] orientation, training and integration of new front-line workers
into the communities. They must become a part of the community, we need to teach
them about the community. We need to leverage our mayors to do some of this work.
An appointed Elder in every community – they talk to all service providers, they will
teach and give a cultural orientation, [and] this would be a salaried Elder. Our
communities will grow from that.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“In our culture we acknowledge with a smile or a nod.… The Canadian army [had
begun] training in her community. She was walking down the road while a platoon
was marching towards her. She smiled at them and said, ‘You’d camouflage a lot
better if you were wearing white,’ since they were in green gear in a snowy space.
She expressed this in a joking way to express the hospitality northerners live. Her
comment made the platoon laugh. To joke and be personal is a northern characteristic.
[It is] berry picking season, caribou harvesting season—yet there are 40 members of
the army on 40 ATVs back to back to back driving all over the land, scaring away
caribou and squishing our berries!” (Inuit Perspectives)
 accountable social services for the implementation of measures to ensure cultural safety
and inclusion in programs and policies. As one participant in Inuvik described, training
should be “grounded in [a] professional expectation to utilize Inuit teachings throughout
the job. This will be a form of prevention of violence and threats to the family.”
Continuity of Care
Participants stressed the importance of being able to build long-term, trusting relationships with
service providers, including social workers, health care professionals, and law enforcement. The
high turnover of staff in public sector work, and particularly in northern communities, can leave
individuals feeling abandoned in the midst of crisis situations, which forces them to retell their
story repeatedly, and erodes trust. Additionally, short-term placements limit service providers’
abilities to understand the needs and culture of the community they are working with.
“[She] needs the same person to work with her, listen to her, believe in her, instead of
different people (rotating, no relationship).” (Inuit Perspectives)
Providing long-term funding for program sustainability was deemed important. Participants
expressed a need for consistent, long-term, and, ideally, core funding for successful initiatives.
This will enable community organizations to provide continuous service, develop long-term
strategies, retain expertise, and relieve the administrative burden of annual grant proposals.
Several participants critiqued the prevalence of short-term, project-based funding, which is often
vulnerable to changes in government. They noted that short-term funding increases staff
turnover, threatens the sustainability of projects and partnerships, and may require groups to
pitch “something new” every year, instead of continuing, building on, and expanding successful
initiatives.
105
“To think about initiatives over four years does not change society. You have to think in
the very long term.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“We’ve done some really amazing things in the past, but with changes in government,
funding and community, the projects fall apart.” (Métis Perspectives)
Long-term placements of social service staff, particularly in northern or remote communities,

and encouraging social service providers to build trusting relationships with community
members by engaging in community events, were considered important to continuity of care.
Community Health Centre

in Pangnirtung, Nunavut.
No copyright infringement
intended.
Exploring Safety through Four Key Themes

While participants across all four Guided Dialogues cited the interrelatedness of program
themes, facilitators worked to understand how recommendations about best practices related to
the four key rights areas encapsulated in the Final Report. As a way of grounding best practices
for accountability, participants were guided through questions related to best practices in areas
that contribute to keeping communities, and the women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people within
them, safe.
106
Culture as a Critical Source for Safety
A core theme throughout the Guided Dialogues was the vital importance of culture and commu-
nity for the well-being of Indigenous communities. Based on the holistic approach to safety and
well-being, which grounded the discussions, access to culture was seen as a fundamental right, a
basic need, and a top priority to reduce risks of violence. It was given prominence as a key to
empowering and revitalizing Indigenous communities. Participants spoke eloquently about the
significance of land, languages, and cultural teachings as sources of strength, healing, and guid-
ance that should inform work in all sectors. Family and community members were identified as
critical sources of support and safety, especially for highly vulnerable members of society.
Participants offered a number of recommendations to support the revitalization of Indigenous
cultures, to foster a positive sense of identity among Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA individuals, and to strengthen community ties.
“Culture is a birthright, not a reward.” (Métis Perspectives)
“The answers are there and have always been there. We have not been connecting with
them.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Challenges to Cultural Knowledge and Connection

Engaging in conversations about research models and equitable representation also engendered
many discussions about the participants themselves. The Guided Dialogues weren’t sessions
aimed at hearing personal testimony, but many of those who attended were survivors of violence,
people who worked with families, with women, with girls, and with 2SLGBTQQIA people, as
well as family members themselves. The combination of their lived experiences, along with their
professional expertise, generated important insights into the context of violence, based in racism,
sexism, and ongoing discrimination, that impacts, in an intersectional way, the lives of
participants.
As one 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives participant noted, “There are so many spokes in the wheel of
discrimination.” Participants in all four Dialogue sessions highlighted colonial policies and pro-
grams as a primary cause for the violence faced by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people, as well as the contemporary impacts of those policies – such as substance use, interper-
sonal violence, abuse, and poverty – rooted in intergenerational and multigenerational trauma.
As one participant in Toronto noted, “Colonialism is what brings us here today.”
In particular, participants spoke of the devastating impact of residential schools, the Sixties
Scoop, displacement from traditional lands, and the destruction or banning of traditional Indige-
nous traditions (for example, the killing of Inuit sled dogs). As one 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives
participant noted, “The old people before them had no one to give this [cultural] piece to, with
residential school, etc.” In other words, the physical and cultural separation brought on by these
107
policies resulted in entire bodies of knowledge not being transmitted. In addition, the reality of
languages under threat was noted as an important part of the inability to transmit teachings, or to
learn them as they were intended.
Disconnection and Dislocation

Participants in all four Dialogues also described how the disconnection from land, culture, and
community caused by colonization has had a profound effect on Indigenous Peoples’ sense of
identity and purpose, increasing the risk of suicide or of engaging in substance use or violence.
Discussing the loss of connection from a traditional land base and from the cultural identity
associated with it, several participants across all four Dialogues commented on the pain of
becoming disconnected from their traditional land base in both a material and physical sense,
as well as in a cultural or spiritual sense. In the Métis Perspectives Dialogue, in particular,
participants described how questions of identity become even more fraught, due to differing
perspectives on the definition of “Métis,” and the lack of a Métis land base in many situations
that could help bring communities together to exchange knowledge. As one participant noted,
“Not participating in your culture, you lose your identity and you suffer throughout your life not
knowing your identity and where you came from.”
For Inuit participating in the Inuit Perspectives Dialogue sessions, the impact of multi-
generational trauma and of intergenerational trauma is rooted in policies the National Inquiry
also heard about in the context of its other hearings. For instance, many participants discussed
the impact of the killing of Inuit sled dogs in the mid-20th century. As one participant described,
the sled dogs were an essential part of Inuit people’s livelihood, serving as protectors and com-
panions while facilitating transportation and hunting. Participants discussed how losing the sled
dogs, as well as losing traditional hunting skills and being forced into stationary communities,
contributed to poverty, food insecurity, and a sense of anger, frustration, and purposelessness
among Inuit youth and men. As one Inuk explained, “They used the agricultural law from the
South to justify the kill[ing] of the dogs and killed the lives of those men as they knew it.” The
impacts of that policy have crossed over into the next generation, as one participant noted
about youth.
“We have a generation that are stuck because they don’t know traditional practices for
resiliency and survival. They don’t have an education that provides that opportunity so
that they can’t fall back to the traditional skills, but they also don’t succeed in the wage
economy and they are stuck in the middle. They don’t know this and they also don’t
know that – and there is a lot of rage. And that’s why there’s a lot of acts of violence.”
As this example also makes clear, some participants in the Inuit Perspectives session described a
sense that youth in their communities are caught “in between cultures” or “in two different
worlds, our traditional lives and modern lives.”
108
Aawi – “One who is who they’re
supposed to be”
By Roger Roulette, Ojibwe Language Specialist
Pronoun – A pronoun is a word that takes the place of a noun.
In Algonquian languages such as Cree and Ojibwe, Ikwewaya’ii (prep.) – something feminine, of a
pronouns have no gender as in “he” or “she” as they woman
do in other languages such as English. Instead, they Ininiiwaya’ii (prep.) – something masculine, of a
have “proximates,” which are understood to be either man
“he/she” or “something alive.” This is the reason that
some speakers in these Aboriginal languages may in- Wemitigoozhiikwe (n.) – white woman
terchange the terms when referring to a third person, Wemitigoozhi (n.) – white man (person)
whether they are male, female, or other: in Cree,
“wína” – “he/she or other”; in Ojibwe, “wiin” – “he/she Ikwewing (adj.) – of a woman, in the area of
or other.” womanly
Ininiwing (adj.) – of a man, in the area of manly
When these Aboriginal peoples are speaking in their
respective languages, the only indication of any For all intents and purposes, the Algonquian lan-
reference to gender is by other nouns, as in the fol- guages do not necessarily focus on the gender of the
lowing examples: “he is a big man,” mindido inini; “she third person or “other.” Not only does use of such a
is a tall woman,” ginoozi ikwe. The other ways of gen- language lessen the speaker to presume or make
der qualifiers are adjectives. Adjectives define nouns judgments, but the listener is expected to extrapolate
or things. A man may be referred to as “beautiful,” as or come to a conclusion for themselves on the quali-
it is done in English, but the term is often associated ties, gender, or other attributes of the one spoken
with describing women or people of the feminine about.
persuasion. It is also the same as the term “hand-
some” – minwaabeke, where it may be used to The term aawi is an Ojibwe word that literally means
describe a woman’s appearance, as in “a handsome “he/she is who he/she is supposed to be.” Because
woman,” but is usually attributed to a man’s Ojibwe and Cree have animate and inanimate
appearance. designations in place for gender, the inanimate form
would be aawiwan, or “it is what it is supposed to be.”
The following are examples in Ojibwe grammar for The former is used more often the latter, due to its
nouns and adjectives that may indicate or designate practical usage.
as being close to a person’s gender.
109
Shifts in Societal and Family Values
Other elements of loss rooted in intergenerational trauma included cultural knowledge and
traditions, which also connected with the violence that front-line workers and community mem-
bers see today. For instance, in the Toronto Dialogue on 2SLGBTQQIA experiences, many
participants described the lasting colonial influence on gender norms and relations, and perspec-
tives on gender identity and sexual orientation, leading to increased misogyny, homophobia, and
transphobia in Indigenous communities. For participants working within the 2SLGBTQQIA
communities, the impact is severe, particularly when the understanding of the value of Two-
Spirit and gender-diverse individuals in some Nations is not being communicated consistently
today: “Our young people don’t know our history, so they don’t know who they are, so they
became violent.”
These understandings – the ones that participants thought could offer pathways to healing and
could constitute an important component of best practices in the delivery of services – are rooted
in bodies of knowledge directly threatened by many colonial policies. For example, in discussing
the loss of language and culture, many participants noted how the loss of the rich body of knowl-
edge – including Indigenous languages, traditional skills, guided teachings, stories, ceremonies,
and laws – directly compromised the access of Indigenous Peoples to supports and to services
that take place within the context of cultural safety. Speaking of language, one Inuk participant
noted, “Our language has changed so much over the years. My language is so different from my
ancestors’ now because of the English influence.”
Across all sessions, participants also noted significant shifts in family and societal values, such
as increased consumerism and social isolation, and decreased sense of resiliency or respect for
Elders. For example, some participants proposed that some individuals, especially youth and
men, may be led to engage in violence, criminal behaviour, or substance use as a way to fill in a
gap left by the loss of their culture, linking the violation of cultural rights directly to the violence
that targets Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. As one person explained, in
Toronto,
“Men have lost their teaching; they have been struggling with the consequences of
residential school, drugs, and alcohol. They have crushed spirit and have forgotten that
when they were born they received a gift as an Indigenous People, but events like the
residential school have crushed their gift.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Ironically, as another 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives participant explained, “For many,

[correctional facilities are where] they get cultural support – many people, the first time
they’ve been to a sweat was in a jail. So, they go back in there again to access that.”
One of the distinctive elements that emerged over the course of the Dialogue sessions was how,
for some community members and front-line workers, lateral violence can also contribute to the
targeting of individuals for violence. In the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives and Métis Perspectives
110
Dialogues in particular, participants also spoke about the lateral violence experienced by
2SLGBTQQIA people and Métis people. For instance, Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA individuals
face discrimination, marginalization, and harassment from members of some Indigenous
communities as well as non-Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA communities, and from broader society.
Meanwhile, the existence of differing and strongly held views regarding what constitutes Métis
identity can exacerbate exclusion and harassment within the Métis community, as well as from
other communities, such as from some First Nations people.
Interpersonal Violence and Families under Attack

The impact of much of the discrimination described by participants was interpersonal violence
and families under threat. Participants in all four Dialogue sessions identified family discord
(including the perception of parental neglect by child welfare authorities, family violence, weak
family ties, or parental substance use) as a risk factor for the safety and well-being of Indigenous
children and youth. Many participants emphasized the negative impact of trauma, particularly
from residential school experiences, on parenting abilities and parental substance use, creating
intergenerational cycles of trauma and abuse. Similarly, participants discussed the rupture of
family ties when family members were sent away to residential schools or placed in foster care,
or needed to leave their home community to access services such as health care.
“She and her family were so close. They spent so much time together, working together,
supporting each other, all filled with love. Residential school took that away…. When
she returned home, nothing was the same. Ten months away, and everything was broken
when she returned: the closeness the family had, the love they shared, the caring.”
“Growing up, our parents were caught up in their own addiction [and] we were left to
our own devices…. Where I found safety was with my cousins; cousins took rank, took
on roles to protect each other.” (Métis Perspectives)
Participants discussed how the lack of safety and care in the family home can lead to youth
running away from home at an early age, or children and youth carrying the burden of taking
care of other minors in the family. They indicated a need for greater support for children and
youth facing or fleeing adverse conditions in their family home.
“Kids are running away because there’s something missing – unconditional love, a safe
place.” (Métis Perspectives)
“When I was eight, I had to take care of my family. Today, I see my role being to look
out for those girls and catch them. Nobody ever questioned my role as the provider
and caretaker for my family, they always saw me as the strong one. I never got
acknowledged for all the work I did, for all the growing up I had to do. If only there had
been someone there to say, ‘How can I help you?’” (Métis Perspectives)
111
Recommendations and Best Practices: Centring Families
Of the many systems that participants discussed in reference to their work or to their own experi-
ences, the well-being and unity of families were identified as being central to the safety and
well-being of individual Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Participants high-
lighted childhood as a critical period that can either strengthen and protect women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people from harm, or cause lasting trauma and lead to targeting. Participants
discussed at length the damage caused by experiences of family violence, or by individuals
becoming separated from their families through the residential school system, or by foster care
interventions. They noted that family is a central value in Indigenous cultures, and that positive
change often begins within the family home.
“To make change, you have to start in the bedroom, living room, kitchen and your
bathroom, then four corners of your house, then your whole community. That’s how you
keep your household and community from becoming a violent one.”
Participants discussed a range of systemic inequities that contribute to the persistent overrepre-
sentation of Indigenous children in Canada’s foster care system,5 including:
• the historic use of foster care as an avenue for assimilation (most notoriously through the
Sixties Scoop and Saskatchewan’s targeted transracial adoption program, “Adopt Indian
Métis”);
• the impact of intergenerational trauma on family relations and substance use; and
• socio-economic inequalities, including the underfunding of child welfare and other
social services on Indigenous reserves.6
Indeed, several participants noted that struggling parents are “criminalized” or “doubly victim-
ized” (Quebec Perspectives) by a system that does not acknowledge these systemic inequities.
For instance, one participant described how available subsidized housing does not always meet
the square footage requirements set out by child welfare services, leading to child apprehensions
(2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives). Participants described patterns of precipitous child apprehensions,
which do not help improve living conditions, offer parents support and guidance, or work to
reunite families.
“When you are accused of being guilty by service providers, you have to prove in court
that you are not guilty. Children are always removed before the problem/issue is
addressed.” (Métis Perspectives)
Several groups discussed how child welfare policies and criteria do not reflect Indigenous values
and ways of life, operating under a “colonial structure” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives). In the
Inuit Perspectives session, for example, several participants expressed a sense that federal child
112
Another important initiative is to create a police service that is reflective of the needs of the
community. For the Winnipeg Police Service, according to Chief Danny Smyth, this involves
recruiting Indigenous officers and employees, building relationships with Indigenous service
providers, and ensuring that police receive training and education so that they “understand the
generational trauma inflicted upon Indigenous Peoples through colonization, the residential
school system, and government-imposed Child and Family Services.” Chief Danny Smyth
echoes the voices of Indigenous advocates about the importance of having Indigenous Peoples in
leadership roles in both the police and the community.117 In his testimony, Chief Danny Smyth
provided concrete examples of the way in which this commitment to changing relationships is
being mirrored in the structures, policies, and actions of the police force in working with individ-
uals engaged in the sex industry and those who are at risk for trafficking.
The first is through the establishment of a Counter Exploitation team, whose purpose centres on
relationship building rather than enforcement. He explained:
This team is dedicated to being out in the field to reach out and try to establish
relationships with those they encounter in the community. They’re not involved in any
enforcement activity, they are strictly there to try to understand what’s going on in the
community and establish relationships when possible, educate on resources that are
available to these people.118
In contrast to the many stories and previous research documenting the manner in which police
approach interactions with Indigenous women with a presumption of criminality, this focus on
building relationships and on understanding is a marked shift toward more helpful encounters.
As a second example, Chief Danny Smyth described the development of documenting
encounters such as these that are based on relationship building.
As we started to more earnestly shift over to outreach work and supporting those that
were involved in the sex industry, those that are being exploited, we needed to find
another way to capture some of that work. The acronym, CPTSD, it stands for “crime
prevention through social development.” And, really, what we were asking our units,
primarily our Counter Exploitation teams, is when they had contact in the field to
capture it using that particular type category, CPTSD. And, it could be for anything
from a casual conversation to helping someone give them a ride to a safe place, to taking
them – you know, anything from a medical appointment to giving them a ride home.119
709
Third, the police support their work, and let their work and approach be informed, by
Indigenous-led women’s organizations, such as Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata, which provides a variety
of recreational and social services related to sexual exploitation, and H.O.M.E., or Hands of
Mother Earth, which is a healing lodge outside of Winnipeg where youth who have experienced
sexual exploitation or trafficking can find safety and do healing work. The police also create
more formal partnerships with organizations, community members, and those with lived
experience by participating in the Sexually Exploited Youth Community Coalition, a network
that works collaboratively to address sexual exploitation in Winnipeg. Participation on this
coalition becomes one way of demonstrating a commitment and recognition of the knowledge
and expertise held by Indigenous women to promote safety. As Chief Danny Smyth said,
“Where we come in, after being invited into the group in the last few years, [is] sharing
information and resources with one another. They’re able to bring suspicious activity and
concerns to us and we’re able to share information with them.”120
Chief Danny Smyth provided an example of how the availability of collaborative relationships
between police and Indigenous community organizations, as well as an approach to policing that
promotes protection rather than criminalization, works to support many Indigenous women and
youth who resettle in Winnipeg from the North and who may be at increased risk for violence or
exploitation.
I can certainly recall one young mother who had transitioned down from a remote
community in the North. She was struggling when she got here. She was by herself with
her young daughter, and particularly, she was having trouble meeting the rent. And she
was desperate and she was starting to turn to the street. Some of our community support
officers crossed paths with her and certainly became aware of her situation. They were
able to actually divert her and get her in contact with Eagle Transition [Eagle Urban
Transition is an organization that provides housing and support for people transitioning
to Winnipeg from a remote community]. They literally drove her there for her
appointment and really diverted her from having to be at risk on the street. They were
able to help her provide a subsidy for her rent so she could continue her transition in
Winnipeg. They provide an unbelievable service to our community because we have a
lot of people that come down to Winnipeg and places like Brandon.121
710
International Human Rights Instruments and Principles of Justice
As the preliminary discussion of justice in this chapter demonstrated, access to justice represents
a basic principle of the rule of law. In international human rights law, and as protected by a vari-
ety of human rights instruments, people have the right to be protected from violent crime, as well
as a right to justice when they are victims of these types of crimes. In addition, without the right
to justice, people can’t be heard, exercise their rights, challenge discrimination, or hold states
accountable. The right to justice includes provisions for what are called “effective remedies.”
The right to justice is engaged in any convention or covenant that addresses the idea of “effective
remedies.” Effective remedies are those solutions to which people can turn when they are look-
ing for resolution to a problem.
In addition, Canada has the duty of due diligence, which is the responsibility “to take all appro-
priate measures to prevent, investigate, punish and compensate violence against women. State
responsibility can arise either through the direct actions Canada takes, but state responsibility
also arises where Canada fails to act to protect and promote these rights.”122
The United Nations Development Programme identifies a number of important principles for
action as they relate to access to justice, including:
• policies and programs that ensure a specific focus on the disadvantaged and, in our
particular cases, those targeted for violence;
• capacity development for access to justice that builds on existing strengths and solu-
tions, which involves recognizing what already exists, in terms of agency and expertise;
• effective reforms rooted in an integrated approach, including the protection of rights,
and improving institutional capacities to provide effective remedies; and
• in colonial countries, with legal traditions coming from a colonial past, focusing on
identifying and solving problems, rather than imitating models, within a participatory
process.123
The international Human Rights Framework includes important instruments that serve to support
many of the priorities that families and survivors identified. They include, but are not limited to,
the following.
(ICERD) states that everyone has the right to “effective protection and remedies, through the
competent national tribunals, and other State institutions,” and grants the right for every person
to seek “just and adequate reparation or satisfaction for any damage suffered as a result of such
discrimination” (Article 6). In other words, Indigenous Peoples should be able to obtain justice
from Canada’s legal system; if they don’t, and the reason is due to their being Indigenous, they
could seek compensation for it.
711
The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) also deals with the right to
justice in Article 9, which says that each person is entitled to liberty and security and should not
be arrested or detained without cause. Further, Article 14 means that each person is equal before
the courts, and, in Article 26, the ICCPR also maintains that everyone is equal before the law. In
all respects, every person has the right to be free from any discrimination in the justice system
based on “race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social
origin, property, birth or other status.”
The Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW)
engages the rights of women in reference to justice, arguing that States Parties should take meas-
ures to guarantee that women can enjoy all of their rights, which includes the right to justice in
relation to women who are being trafficked or exploited (Article 6).
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) addresses children in the
context of justice, including Indigenous girls and 2SLGBTQQIA youth, defined as “children” by
the convention. It argues that the rights of child victims should be protected throughout the crim-
inal justice process, including by recognizing the vulnerability of children and adapting proce-
dures to respond to their needs, as well as making sure that children understand their rights,
express their views, receive support, and are ensured safety.
Lakota activist and

educator Leah Gazan urges
Canada to adopt and
implement the United
Nations Declaration on
the Rights of Indigenous
Peoples. Credit: Ben
Powless.
712
“If there is a transphobic family and that forces the child to run away, the kids can be
taken under child welfare. The family should be able to receive support on how to parent
their child better, and [how not to be] transphobic.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“There is a need too for families to adopt more inclusive and affirming languages. The
families have to adapt to the reality of their children.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Participants also identified various recommendations to improve the safety and well-being of
children and youth in care, including:
 Indigenous child welfare agencies,8 or culturally specific child welfare legislation that
would be tailored to the cultural context of particular communities. One participant
recommended that Elders be involved in shaping the legislation, offering guidance so that
Indigenous child welfare agencies are shaped “from a spiritual and cultural place, not [a]
colonial place” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives). Similarly, a participant in the Métis
Perspectives session recommended the involvement of Métis child welfare agencies prior
to apprehensions;
 local foster care placements and kinship care, including increased recognition and
financial support for existing informal arrangements where children and youth are being
cared for by extended family;
 access to culture, especially for children placed in non-Indigenous homes, such as by

providing foster families with dedicated funding for cultural enhancement, and engaging
children and youth in care in community-based cultural programs specific to their heritage;
 stability within group home staff, social workers, and foster care placements;
 support for youth aging out of care, including legal guidance, living skills, mentorship,
and connections to Elders. One participant cited policies that allow children above the
age of majority to continue receiving child support if they are enrolled in a full-time
educational program. They suggested that as the “de facto parent” for children in foster
care, the government should be responsible for comparable support; and
 national or provincial advocacy bodies to oversee and champion the needs and rights of
children and youth, and to provide legal representation to children and youth who are not
receiving adequate care in foster systems.
“There is an existing [new] advocacy group for children who are not being
supported, but it’s only for children and only in the capital. So, [it] needs to be in
other communities and not just for youth. Travelling from one community to the
next is not working. Especially not for crises.” (Inuit Perspectives)
117
The Importance of Cultural Revitalization
Although participants in all sessions discussed the devastating impact colonialism had on Indige-
nous communities’ ability to practise, develop, and transmit their culture between generations,
they also celebrated and encouraged the increasing revival of Indigenous cultures.
In particular, several groups in the Quebec Perspectives Dialogue also echoed the notion that
Indigenous women are sacred, and stressed the need for advocacy and awareness to value and
empower Indigenous women as a component of cultural revitalization.
“Indigenous women are sacred; they need to be humanized. Indigenous women are easy
to be discarded because we have been dehumanized. We need to hold our women and
girls as sacred.” (Quebec Perspectives)
Approaches to fostering Indigenous culture included:
 cultural programming to pass on Indigenous teachings, values, ceremonies, and

traditions with sufficient funding to equitably compensate Elders and Knowledge
Keepers;
 integration of cultural supports and ceremonies in social services;
 integration of Indigenous teachings in school curricula that are culturally specific to

different communities. Suggested programs included classes on Indigenous languages
and history, allotted time to engage in seasonal traditions and ceremonies, and on-the-
land programs. Participants recommended engaging Elders and Knowledge Keepers to
collaborate with teachers in delivering culturally relevant curriculum. They noted that
integrating Indigenous content in public school curricula is important for the cultural
well-being of Indigenous students, and that it also increases awareness of Indigenous
histories – and understanding and appreciation for Indigenous cultures – among non-
Indigenous students. As a result, this can contribute to the dismantling of systemic
discrimination and oppression in Canadian society as a whole;
“The majority of children in schools are Inuvialuit. Not all of us grew up in a
cultural home. I had to be out of school for seasonal cultural activities. We’re trying
to do that in schools, with Elders and champions who can teach children about
being out on the land, and [who can] act as role models. Cultural [and] history
classes need to be mandated, but education is run by [the] territorial government.”
 teaching of Indigenous languages and promotion of their use in day-to-day life;
118
 support for Indigenous artists by investing in infrastructure for art production and
sales, and promotion of, and advocacy for, Indigenous art in Canada;
“Elevate arts in the communities.… [There] needs to be more knowledge about
[the] role of artists in our decolonization process…. Make sure they are funded,
have space to work, have a platform to share.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“Making art [is] a way to let our ancestors go through our body – and put it to use
and do things that will vibrate through the next generation.”
 public education and awareness campaigns on Indigenous cultures and histories, and
promoting lateral kindness and anti-oppression. For instance, some participants suggested
establishing an Indigenous History Month modelled on the existing observance of Black
History Month; and
 programs dedicated to empowering and reaffirming the identity of Indigenous

women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, including programs delivered through schools.
Access to Culture in Urban Settings

Discussions about culture and identity in the Quebec Perspectives Dialogue session centred
notably on delivering programs and services through a culturally grounded lens. This included
the importance of incorporating culturally specific traditions, ceremonies, and healing practices,
either within mainstream social service agencies or through Indigenous-specific service agencies,
such as friendship centres or First Nations holistic health centres.
“Healing will happen through celebrating our identity in implementing our health and
social services.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“Best practices deal with combining conventional knowledge and First Nations
traditional knowledge. A First Nations agency, which entrusts to First Nations people
the capacity to act for their services and care, all the while undertaking a decolonization
process of health care and services, [would be] a contribution of First Nations
knowledge from a cultural angle, connected to the family, the community.”
Additionally, some groups discussed the notion of “Indigenizing” urban spaces as a way to
increase the visibility and recognition of Indigenous communities. For instance, participants
highlighted ideas such as the use of Indigenous languages in street signs or creating a sweat
lodge in a botanical garden.
119
“Create Indigenous spaces … Indigenize the city and the people citizens interact with.
There should be markers of this, for other citizens also. People need to see those
markers: visibility.” (Quebec Perspectives)
Fort Smith, Northwest

Territories has adopted stop
signs that include local
Source: Mario De Ciccio,
Radio-Canada. No copyright
2SLGBTQQIA Identity and Inclusion

A central theme in the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives Dialogue was the tensions within Indigenous
communities concerning differing perspectives on gender identity and/or sexual orientation, and
the associated barriers to accessing culture and ceremony.
From some perspectives, traditional Indigenous cultures held an honourable place for Two-Spirit
persons, which were altered by cis-normative and hetero-normative colonial influences. One Elder
described this as the difference between the “old old way” (Indigenous culture before colonial
contact) and the “new old way” (Indigenous culture influenced by colonization). Some Elders
disagree with this view, reflecting a lack of acceptance of Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA individuals.
Participants described how some Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people are embraced and supported
by their family and community when they express their gender identity and sexual orientation.
Others, however, face discrimination, marginalization, or violence, and may even be forced to
leave their home communities in search of greater acceptance or support services. Similarly,
participating in ceremonies in a way that aligns with an individual’s gender identity can be a
profoundly uplifting experience, which allows 2SLGBTQQIA individuals to connect more
deeply with both their Indigenous and 2SLGBTQQIA identities. Participants described how
some individuals are excluded, discriminated against, or harassed in cultural or ceremonial
120
spaces, or are forced to take on roles in ceremonies that correspond with their biological sex
instead of their gender identity. Several participants described a sense of having to choose
between finding belonging in their home communities and Indigenous identities or “living
their truth.”
“His communities would not let him participate in the Pow-Wow, dance, or drum
because he was gay. [He] had to choose between being gay and [being] Indigenous.”
“This is one place where we truly should be ourselves, but what if we’re not even safe
there?” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“The medicine man … tried to exorcise me. He didn’t see me as a transman but as
something that shouldn’t exist. But that really opened my eyes. I took it as a sign – that
this is coming from a cultural leader and is influencing so many people, and that
something is wrong.... Since then, I’ve been doing things. Putting up gender-neutral
sweats. Talking openly about the events that took place, the hurt that happens, but also
the transformational change.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Participants proposed various recommendations to support 2SLGBTQQIA inclusion in

Indigenous communities and cultural spaces, including:
 dedicated 2SLGBTQQIA ceremonies and cultural spaces, such as gender-neutral

sweat lodges;
 visible indicators in 2SLGBTQQIA-inclusive spaces, such as flying rainbow flags at

Pow-Wows;
 protocols and advocacy for 2SLGBTQQIA inclusion in cultural spaces and

ceremonies; for instance, allowing individuals to choose roles in ceremony based on
their gender identity, or re-establishing traditional roles for Two-Spirit people. As one
participant noted, dedicated 2SLGBTQQIA ceremonies help create a safe space, but can
also perpetuate the marginalization and segregation of 2SLGBTQQIA individuals in
Indigenous communities if “mainstream” cultural spaces assume that they don’t need to
change. Participants spoke of the delicate balance between respecting Elders and cultural
leaders and honouring conventional protocols, on the one hand, and, on the other hand,
the need to “gently challenge and push” discriminatory teachings and practices that are
jeopardizing the safety, well-being, and access to culture of Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA
people. They described gradual shifts in some communities led by dedicated role models,
advocates, and allies, who determinedly participate in cultural spaces despite backlash,
and who open spaces for dialogue; and
“I do things like, I bring a pipe. And that means a lot to them. People have children
identifying as queer and they get to see that. Small steps – word is getting out
there.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
121
“There are 2S ambassadors, going around to different Pow-Wows with their sashes.
Jokes about them are raised up by emcees, and they come up to raise awareness.”
“I know it’s a continuum of change. And it’s not changing fast enough. It’s a
challenge – the Sundance. We’ve seen that strict binary expectation, and youth
being disrespected and ostracized in public. There needs to be a strong advocate….
How do we repair damage that’s done to them? An Elder had told a lesbian to leave
– and we need to repair that relationship. But that’s reactionary, and we need to also
be proactive. We need to challenge these situations. These 2S dancers – they take a
beating, but she’s doing it. We try to support her as much as possible and unite.
Some of the dancers, some of the drummers won’t dance with her. But that’s not the
majority, the majority is open.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
 enhanced role of cultural leaders. In particular, participants noted the degree of

influence that Elders, Knowledge Keepers, and other cultural leaders can have on
2SLGBTQQIA inclusion in the wider community, especially when they are being called
on by schools, social services, or community centres to lead ceremony. Having those
individuals promote the visibility and importance of 2SLGBTQQIA people, and by
including them, was noted as an important measure to increase cultural safety. In
addition, participants called for allied cultural leaders to become more engaged in
advocacy: for instance, by participating visibly in 2SLGBTQQIA events, conferences,
or ceremonies, and therefore showing support.
Celebrating Métis Culture and Identity

In the Métis Perspectives Dialogue, there was a strong emphasis on the role of education,
advocacy, and cultural programming to support positive perceptions of Métis culture and com-
munities, reduce lateral violence and discrimination, and help foster a positive sense of identity
among Métis people.
122
Beadwork as an Act of Resistance
Métis beadwork has its history in the lessons taught by First Nations mothers to their children, and then in
the dynamic nature of the art that emerged from the process.
As material culture researcher Patrick Young Today, flower beadwork remains an important and
explains: distinctive symbol of Métis identity. But, like many art
forms, beading isn’t just about art.
The origin of Métis beadwork designs came from
experimentation and merging of various art Beading represents an opportunity to retain and to
traditions that influenced Métis style. Several share Métis knowledge. For example, Katherine
Plains First Nations used geometric patterns on Boyer, Métis artist and creator of the exhibition “The
their tipi covers, parfleches and clothing and, up Prairie Rose Won’t Mourn Us,” explains how her art is
until the 1840s, Métis decoration was dominated drawn from the lessons learned from important
by geometric designs.I women in her life, from other artists, from her mother
and her grandmother. As she explains:
Once the Catholic Church became more involved in
Métis communities, and through the education by Another thing I saw as a young girl was the care
orders like the Grey Nuns in the West, many Métis that exuded from those female relatives.… I still
beadworkers incorporated new floral designs, using think that is the core of why I take the time, and
new techniques. As Young notes, “By the 1830s, why I spend such an absurd amount of time,
increasingly naturalistic and colourful floral designs doing this work – it’s to connect with that place,
became evident on Métis products from Red River and that memory, of all of those women (from
after the establishment of Roman Catholic mission my family) that is founded in care and connec-
schools at Pembina, St. Boniface and Baie St. Paul.”II tion, in physical work…. I see a strong tie
between using these materials and connecting
Métis beadwork was highly sought-after, especially to the familial memory that I’ve just described –
during the fur trade and on clothing that traders it’s an important place of grounding.V
wore, which often featured trailing flower designs
that earned the Métis the nickname, from the Dakota In addition, Métis beadwork today can constitute an
Sioux and the Cree, of the “flower beadwork people.”III important act of resistance in its use to raise
For a Métis family, beadwork could make the awareness on important issues impacting Indigenous
difference between an easy and difficult season, and and, specifically, Métis women. In addition, the act of
the income generated from this work was an resisting the assimilation of colonization to engage in
important piece of survival for many Métis families, ongoing cultural practice is an important element to
particularly in the face of mounting pressure on their the craft. One project that combined beading and
primary food source, the bison, and the need to resistance is “Walking With Our Sisters,” a crowd-
market their work to non-Métis. Young says that funded project that features thousands of beaded
some Métis women began making “decorated vamps – or moccasin tops – meant to honour women,
Victorian objects such as caribou-hide purses, picture girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who are missing or
frames, greeting cards, glasses cases and ladies’ who have been murdered.VI
caribou-hide slippers. In more northerly regions,
women continued to produce traditional, decorated According to the project’s website, Walking With Our
functional clothing items into the twentieth Sisters features 1,760+ pairs of moccasin vamps and
century.”IV
123
108 pairs of children’s vamps “created and donated They are not forgotten. They are sisters, mothers,
by hundreds of caring and concerned individuals to aunties, daughters, cousins, grandmothers, wives
draw attention to this injustice.” and partners. They have been cared for, they
have been loved, they are missing and they are
What’s more: not forgotten.VII
Each pair of vamps (or “uppers” as they are also Projects like this one demonstrate how beadwork
called) represents one missing or murdered that historically affirmed and supported Métis
Indigenous woman. The unfinished moccasins women is still important in affirming and supporting
represent the unfinished lives of the women women today. As interdisciplinary artist Amy Malbeuf,
whose lives were cut short. The children’s vamps Métis, from Rich Lake, Alberta, shares, “Beading is
are dedicated to children who never returned resistance. Beadwork is revolutionary…. We are
home from residential schools. Together the celebrating and being proud of our culture. Being
installation represents all these women; paying involved in these things makes us strong individuals
respect to their lives and existence on this earth. and nations.”VIII
In This Painting is a
Mirror, by Métis artist
Christi Belcourt, tiny dots
of paint mimic the look
and feel of traditional
Métis beadwork. Used
with the permission of
the artist.
I Young, “Métis Beadwork,” 1.

II Ibid., 2.
III Ibid., 1.
IV Ibid., 3.
V Fournier, “Métis Beading.”
VI UM News Today, “Sewing the Beads of Change.”
VII http://walkingwithoursisters.ca/about/.
VIII Kirman, “Beadwork is an act of resistance.”
124
Recommendations included:
 cultural programming and curriculum integration to help revitalize and practise

Métis language and culture. One participant highlighted the Gabriel Dumont Institute’s
Métis Essential Learnings (MEL) project, which conducted focus groups in Métis
communities across Saskatchewan and consulted Elders to develop a community-based
understanding of Métis culture and identity. They have developed a library of resources
to help safeguard Métis culture and history. The project’s next step (pending funding) is
to work with the Ministry of Education to incorporate cultural information into the
curriculum of schools in Saskatchewan;
“Making the sound of the language spoken word. I don’t speak Michif, but when I
was exposed to that, everything inside of me changed.” (Métis Perspectives)
“There’s singing, jigging, dancing, which is full, healing, fun and joy-filled. That in
itself gives girls, people good memories and good feelings and release and
empowerment.” (Métis Perspectives)
 the fostering of a positive sense of Métis identity by facilitating connections with

family, land, community, and culture;
“I didn’t grow up in my territory. I was adopted out to BC. This dialogue is like
coming home. I will be going to visit my home territories for the first time. I’m
meeting my family and learning my language, and this has been transformational
for me.” (Métis Perspectives)
 education and advocacy on Métis culture, history, and achievements, to increase the
visibility, understanding, and appreciation of Métis people;
“I’m very proud to be a Métis, because of all we have accomplished despite the
hardships. We carry the cross and we carry the smudge. That is the contract. We are
able to negotiate those worlds.” (Métis Perspectives)
 acknowledgement of the traditional homelands of the Métis;

“The words we choose are important. Elders say, ‘I am glad to be on your Treaty 6
territory and homes of the Métis.’ Métis acknowledgement is important.”
 enhanced dialogue and respectful relationships between Métis and First Nations
communities; and
 respect for individuals’ self-identification as Métis.

“[We] need to respect how people self-identify. [I] had to fight my way into being
able to identify how I want to identify.” (Métis Perspectives)
125
This Red River cart was gifted to the National Inquiry
during the hearings held in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan,
AF A2017-0027.1-0027.3.
Métis participants were confident in their own

identities as Métis people, but called for ally-
ship from other Indigenous groups, and from
Métis groups, in terms of creating culturally
safe places to be Métis and to engage in culture.
“Coming in with pipes and drums … shifts the atmosphere and the conversation.”
“At the Law Society, when I sing or give a teaching or speak in the language, I feel like
I’m changing the molecules of the space.” (Métis Perspectives)
Fostering Inuit Values and Culture

Participants in the Inuit Perspectives dialogue spoke of Inuit culture, values, and traditions as
a central source for well-being in Inuit communities – helping to foster a sense of purpose and
belonging, supporting sustainable livelihoods, and offering guidance for the development of
respectful relationships.
Recommendations centred on the revitalization of traditional skills, such as hunting, fishing,
harvesting, and sewing. Participants spoke of traditional skills, such as drumming, dancing,
throat singing, and the sharing of stories and myths. Several participants recommended teaching
Inuktitut in schools and promoting the use of Inuktitut in the public sphere, such as including
fluency in Inuktitut as an asset, priority, or requirement in the hiring of social service staff.
“It’s taking time to get back to our traditions, because it was beaten out of us in
residential school. We have to relearn how to light the qulliq, and sing the songs in the
morning. This is what keeps us safe. We need a good cleansing in the region, because we
had two residential schools here in Inuvik. We are strong and resilient, but we need time
to reconnect with that.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“I teach seal skinning sometimes…. When they learn, there is a sense of pride. There are
feelings of self-esteem and success. Once you accomplish something, whether for girls
or boys, there is a sense of accomplishment and pride, which helps alleviate them from
[painful] things.” (Inuit Perspectives)
126
Notes
1 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public 23 Marilyn W. (Cree). Part 1, Public Volume 30,
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, p. 14. Saskatoon, SK, p. 20.
2 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, 24 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public
Public Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 47-48. Volume 7, Quebec, QC, pp. 38-39.
3 Cheryl M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18, 25 Interview with Bernie Williams and Audrey Siegl,
Membertou, NS, p. 13. September 30, 2018, by Kelsey Hutton, pp. 43-44.
4 Cheryl M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18, 26 Conroy and Cotter, “Self-reported Sexual Assault,” p.
Membertou, NS, p. 19. 16.
5 Cheryl M. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18, 27 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1,
Membertou, NS, p. 7; Mont, “Victoria Rose Paul: Public Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 48-49.
Investigation Report.”
28 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
6 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public Public Volume 7, Quebec City, QC, p. 39.
29 Marlene J., Part 1, Public Volume 6, Smithers, BC, p. 44.
7 World Justice Project, “What is the Rule of Law?”
8 United Nations General Assembly, “Declaration of St. John’s, NL, p. 131.
Basic Principles of Justice.”
9 United Nations General Assembly, “Declaration of the Vancouver, BC, p. 67.
High-Level Meeting,” para. 14 and 15 as quoted in
32 A.B. (Squamish Nation), Part 1, Statement
United Nations Development Programme, “Access to
Justice.”
10 Ibid., para. 13.
34 Jamie L. H. (Indigenous/Irish), Part 1, Public
11 United Nations Development Programme, “Access
to Justice,” 6.
35 Dr. Robyn Bourgeois (Cree), Mixed Parts 2 & 3,
12 Ibid., 3-4.
13 Ibid., 5.
14 Campbell, “New light on Saskatoon’s ‘Starlight Volume 5, Quebec City, QC, p.139; Retired Chief Clive
Tours’”; Brave NoiseCat, “I Am Colten Boushie.” Weighill, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, p. 62.
15 See Shantz, “Another deadly year.” 37 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON,
pp. 93-94.
16 Blu W. (Cree/Mi'kmaq/Métis), Part 1, Public
Volume 117, Vancouver, BC, pp. 33-34. 38 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON,
pp. 90-91.
17 Amnesty International Canada, Stolen Sisters.
18 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume
7, Quebec City, QC. 40 Translation ours. Lise J. (Innu), Part 1, Public
Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 109.
Volume 7, Quebec City, QC., p. 33. 41 Mealia Sheutiapik (Inuit, Frobisher Bay), Mixed Parts 2
& 3, Public Volume 16, St. John’s, NL, p. 25.
20 Correctional Investigator of Canada, Office of the
Correctional Investigator Annual Report 2017-2018. 42 Lanna Moon Perrin (Anishinaabe), Mixed Parts 2 &3,
Volume 7, Quebec, QC, pp. 35-36. 43 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, pp. 83, 92-93.
22 Kassandra Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public 44 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON, p. 93.
720
45 Kassandara Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public 67 Marilyn W. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 30,
Volume 7, Quebec, QC, p. 37. Saskatoon, SK, pp. 12-13.
46 Kassandara Churcher, Mixed Parts 2 & 3, Public 68 For example, see Human Rights Watch, Those Who
Volume 7, Quebec, QC, p. 37. Take Us Away.
47 RCMP, “Missing and Murdered.” 69 Commissioner Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Public Volume 7,
Regina, SK, pp. 10-11; Deputy Commissioner Brenda
48 Human Rights Watch, Those Who Take Us Away,
Butterworth-Car (Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in Hän Nation), Part
p. 80. See also, “Summary of the Forensic Document
2, Public Volume 9, Regina, SK, pp. 326-27; Chief
Review Project,” Annex 1, Volume 1b, in this report.
Superintendent Mark Pritchard, Part 2, Public Volume
49 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public 9, Regina, SK, pp. 216-217, 222, 236-237.
70 Farida Deif, Part 3, Public Volume 9, Toronto, ON,
50 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public p. 102.
51 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 5, Quebec City, QC, p. 55.
72 Mike Metatawabin (Fort Albany First Nation), Mixed
52 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public Parts 2 & 3, Public Volume 5, Quebec City, QC,
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, p. 23. pp. 45-53.
53 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public 73 Paul T. (Mikisew Cree Nation). Part 1, Public
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, p. 29. Volume 20, Edmonton, AB, pp. 14-15.
54 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public 74 Delores S. (Saulteaux, Yellow Quill First Nation),
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, pp. 23-24. Part 1, Public Volume 26, Saskatoon, SK, p. 18.
55 Bernice C. (Sagkeeng First Nation), Part 1, Public 75 Lillian S. (Mishkeegogamang Ojibway Nation), Part 1,
Volume 15, Winnipeg, MB, p. 29. Public Volume 38, Thunder Bay, ON, pp. 18-20.
56 Tanya Talaga (Anishinaabe/Polish), Part 3, Public 76 Naomi Giff-MacKinnon, Part 2, Volume 1, Calgary,
Volume 10, Toronto, ON, p. 64. AB, p. 141.
57 Pamela F. (Burnt Church First Nation), Part 1, Public 77 Carol W. (Muskeg Lake Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 44(b), Moncton, NB, p. 11. Volume 31, Saskatoon, SK, p. 57.
58 Pamela F. (Burnt Church First Nation), Part 1, Public 78 John Phelps, Part 2, Public Volume 1, Calgary, AB;
Volume 44(b), Moncton, NB, pp. 12-13. Naomi Giff-MacKinnon, Part 2, Public Volume 1,
Calgary, AB.
59 Pamela F. (Burnt Church First Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 44(b), Moncton, NB, p. 13. 79 Naomi Giff-MacKinnon, Part 2, Public Volume 1,
Calgary, AB, p. 142.
60 Paul T. (Mikisew Cree Nation), Part 1, Public
Volume 20, Edmonton, AB, p. 14. 80 Naomi Giff-MacKinnon, Part 2, Public Volume 1,
Calgary, AB, p. 140.
61 United Nations, “CCPR/C/CAN/CO/6 – Concluding
observations on the sixth periodic report of Canada.” 81 Naomi Giff-MacKinnon, Part 2, Public Volume 1,
Calgary, AB, pp. 141-142.
62 Marilyn W. (Cree), Part 1, Public Volume 30,
Saskatoon, SK, pp. 4-5. 82 Fred F., Part 1, Public Volume 44(b), Moncton, NB,
p. 63.
63 Tom C., Part 1, Public Volume 4, Smithers, BC, p. 113.
83 John Phelps, Part 2, Public Volume 1, Calgary, AB,
64 Tom C., Part 1, Public Volume 4, Smithers, BC,
p. 58.
pp. 134-135.
65 Pamela F. (Burnt Church First Nation), Part 1, Public
p. 53.
Volume 44(b), Moncton, NB, p. 14.
66 Delores S. (Saulteaux, Yellow Quill First Nation),
pp. 59-60.
Part 1, Public Volume 26, Saskatoon, SK, p. 27.
721
“Today is a new way of living”:
An interview with Dorothy Taqtu Aglukark
She was born in Arviat, in 1945, when her parents and grandparents, and other Inuit, used to move inland
during summers, “to the mosquitoes!” Her grandmother had named this baby, still in the womb, Taqtu¸
after her deceased brother. As Taqtu said, “They used to name babies after their relatives.” Her grandmother
adopted her as per Inuit adoption practices and she was well loved and sheltered by her and her
maternal uncles.
Dorothy Taqtu remembered the time when men As she grew a little older, around 10 years old, it was
would depart on hunting expeditions, for oil had to fall, and her maternal uncle had come to fetch her
be procured for the qulliq (oil lamp) and skin for cloth- and her grandmother to return to the sea for winter.
ing. In her childhood, she recalled the men harvest- They were lacking food by then, and her memory
ing seals and having a delicious meal of seal stomach, goes to her grandmother, who had cut a piece of
and then the next memory was of moving camp leather and had told her to eat it. It was her first mem-
along a river during summer. An image of geese ory of hardship, for in the following days, one of the
comes as young snow geese are harvested onto a dogs would lose strength and had to be left behind.
canoe. Taqtu said, “I remember them doing these They walked a great distance and her uncle became
things, observing them only; there is joy, and there is snow-blind and asked Taqtu to watch out for sled
nothing to break the heart, and nothing to worry tracks that would eventually lead the way. She re-
about.” called the joy when they arrived at a camp where
they were welcomed and fed.
Pictured here is the qulliq used by the National Inquiry

during the Truth-Gathering Process. We incorporated
the qulliq into our ceremonial process, which is usually
used by Inuit women, to symbolize Inuit women’s
strength, care, and love.
129
In 1956, she had a little brother. and slept to rest. I continued walking in the
morning. And lo! There was our camp! My grand-
It would be the last time we would spend on the mother was completely surprised to see me
land that winter in the Inuit manner. The month walking in. A search party had been sent out, by
of November, the ice had formed and an airplane airplane and dog team, but I had reached home
arrived. Some Qallunaat came in to our iglu, and fast enough.
informed us that we are to go to school. Without
any warning! My grandmother, who initially had When she thinks back to how she had walked away
said no, seemed to have acquiesced, since I from residential school, she reflects upon the danger
would be with my brother. We boarded the she may have placed herself in, but also on how she
plane, resisting, and we were sent away to the had missed an opportunity for education, thinking
Arviat missionary school. That first night, he cried that she was a failure. Yet, after so many years, she
all night, and being so much younger he ended encouraged her children to become educated. She
up being sent back home whereas I was to looks back and she knows how well she has been.
remain. However, I was intent on getting home. “Today is a new way of living, and it will continue to
change. It would be good to understand these
One night, Taqtu began to walk back home, leaving changes, being educated. Advising our children to be
the missionary school behind. She tells her story. a certain way, and to not stay quiet.”
Now it is dark and nothing is visible outside. No

one saw me for I had waited for night when all
would be dark, so wise then! There is a hill that
we know, I could imagine our family camp at a
lake. Each time I saw a dark spot, probably a
boulder, I would just give myself to it! As I con-
tinued in the dark and tired, I lay on a boulder
130
Health and Wellness
Participants in the Guided Dialogues highlighted the intersection between physical and mental
well-being and the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals. For
instance, mental health services and substance use treatment were identified as being critical to
supporting family well-being, preventing violence, supporting victims of crime, and rehabilitat-
ing offenders.
Recommendations to increase cultural safety and equity in health care services included:
 expanded and improved mechanisms for accountability and advocacy to support
patients facing discrimination or mistreatment in health care services. For instance, one
participant recommended expanding the number of community health representatives to
more communities, while another participant in the Inuit Perspectives session proposed
establishing an oversight/advocacy committee made up of Inuit community members;
 cultural safety training for health care workers; and
 dedicated 2SLGBTQQIA health services.
Inequities in Health Services

Participants discussed two key inequities that impact Indigenous peoples’ ability to seek or
receive timely health and wellness services: discrimination and mistreatment; and gaps in
services in various regions.
Participants in all four Dialogue sessions described instances of discrimination and mistreatment
from health care workers, including:
• acts of racism, homophobia, transphobia, or discrimination against Anglophones in
Quebec;
• actions by health care providers of dismissing symptoms, misdiagnosing patients, or
making false assumptions based on race;
• refusals to refer patients to specialists, including substance use treatment programs or
physiotherapy; and
• performances of procedures without a patient’s full understanding or informed consent,
such as in cases of forced sterilization.
Participants noted that the prevalence of these experiences has led to an erosion of trust in health
care institutions, and that this becomes a barrier to Indigenous people seeking or receiving proper
medical attention.
“Taking my own [family], or even just myself to the doctors is traumatizing. All because
of past experiences.” (Quebec Perspectives)
131
“A lot of people die from lack of care from the nurses who are not paying attention to
their needs. Her mother had cancer for three months, and was just given Tylenol and sent
home.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“Doctor[s] will reject Indigenous [patients] because our health concerns are too
complex.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Access in Remote, Rural, or Northern Communities

Participants also described how significant gaps in health care services in northern, rural, or
remote communities negatively impact the quality of care that Indigenous people receive, and
contended that this compromises the safety of individuals and their families.
Several participants discussed the risks associated with individuals’ having to travel outside of
their community, province or territory to receive needed care. For instance, participants noted
that the stress of this transition, coupled with a lack of family or community support, negatively
impacts the patient’s well-being and recovery. Patients and accompanying dependents may also
face increased risks in an unfamiliar urban context. For instance, one participant from Inuvik
described how youth accompanying Elders to receive medical care may “end up being drawn out
into vulnerable situations,” such as engaging in substance use, and “may not come back.” Addi-
tionally, it can be difficult for parents to find care for children and dependents while they are
away. One participant described the case of a mother whose children were apprehended by child
and family welfare services when she had to fly out of her community to give birth.
Inuit are often forced to travel far

from home to access health services
not available nearer to the commu-
nity. For many, this travel places
them directly in danger. Source:
Office of the Auditor General of
Canada, 2017, based on information
from the Nunavut Department of
Health.
132
“Often people have to leave to get higher level of [medical] care…. People can have
escorts if they need them, but only people who are involved in their medical care. People
with children often have to leave them behind, and [there is] not always a safe place for
children to be; so they leave their children or don’t go.” (Inuit Perspectives)
Individuals may face long wait times to receive care either within or outside of their home
community, which can significantly increase risks of harm, particularly for individuals seeking
substance use treatment or mental health supports. Participants described instances where a lack
of timely mental health support led to individuals’ committing suicide, or receiving inadequate,
makeshift care. For instance, one participant from Inuvik described how “when someone wants
to commit suicide and they ask for help, the service they get is being put in a jail cell to be moni-
tored. When they are in the cell they experience discrimination, and lateral violence. There is no
follow-up to make sure they didn’t cause harm to themselves or others.”
“When someone needs out-of-territory help for [substance use] treatment, they could be
on a waiting list for six months even if they’re ready to go and accept help now.”
“I know that if a child needs mental health services, they need to be assessed and the
assessor often comes up from Saskatoon and that takes time.” (Métis Perspectives)
Recommendations and Best Practices: Addressing Gaps in Health Care

Services through a Combined Model
While many participants recommended the expansion of mobile health services, some noted that
these services are often too time-limited to provide sufficient care for complex concerns such as
trauma. Additionally, the lack of permanent services within the community leads to insufficient
aftercare (for instance, for individuals recovering from addictions), and offers people no alterna-
tives when facing discrimination or mistreatment from local health care providers, or if they
want a second opinion.
“Limited funding: workers can only visit communities once a year, which is not enough
to help thoroughly heal the trauma.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“[A] psychologist would come on the reserve [for] 20 days within six months. This is not
sufficient.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“Having to move people out of the community to get support, and then to come back
after two weeks to the community where they have lived for 48 years without support: it
doesn’t work.” (Inuit Perspectives)
133
Participants proposed that supporting equitable and safe access to health care in remote
communities requires a combination of approaches, including:
 mobile outreach clinics;

 local capacity building of health care providers, such as midwives;
 increased permanent health services in remote communities;
 increased support for newcomers in urban contexts; and
 increased aftercare and follow-ups offered by local service providers.
New Models for Mental Health and Healing

Across the country, there was a strong call for increased mental health and healing services to
support victims and families in the criminal justice system, to help communities heal from the
intergenerational impacts of colonialism, and to address underlying mental health concerns or
trauma that increase risks of suicide, substance use, and other forms of violence. There was a
particular emphasis on this theme in the Inuit Perspectives and Best Practices Dialogue, where
participants noted that northern communities face greater gaps in mental health services.
Participants called for a variety of models of services to support mental health and healing,
including:
 suicide prevention and crisis support, including 24-hour crisis lines, increased access
to counsellors, crisis response teams, advocacy programs to encourage vulnerable
individuals to reach out for help, and suicide prevention/intervention training for
community members and public-sector workers;
“We must tackle suicide and murder-suicide. How do we learn to encourage people
to ask for help? We need to find a way to defuse things before it comes to the point
where people are so afraid of others that all they can think of is to die.”
“Need a mental health and suicide-prevention squad/crisis-preventions team like
Emergency Medical Service (EMS), who are trained in crisis situations and will
follow up with these individuals.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 affordable long-term therapy for individuals experiencing complex mental health

concerns or healing from trauma. Participants also called for increased access to
psychiatrists and psychologists;
“Twelve sessions are not enough. It opens up, [breaks] the surface, and then what
happens next? It may take 12 sessions for that person to open up, to feel
comfortable with that psychologist. It may re-traumatize.” (Quebec Perspectives)
134
 culturally grounded healing programs that integrate traditional healing practices and
ceremonies. Participants emphasized the need for culturally specific programs for Inuit,
Métis, First Nations, and Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA communities, available in multiple
languages. Examples included community healing circles, land-based programs,
initiatives partnering with Elders, and space in mental health services for ceremony;
“Within the community, we have started healing circles…. We talk about whatever
is troubling your heart, loss, other troubles. [We] use the qulliq, traditional drum in
[the] centre. As you come to the circle, [you] bring whatever you want. [It] doesn’t
cost any money. We might provide soup or stew, and then we go into the sessions.
[It is] very well attended, we try to draw out the men.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“People need to heal through culture, language, and heritage.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 bereavement support services, especially for families of missing and murdered

individuals, or individuals who took their own life;
“One family had five members commit suicide. We need to heal, to be safe, and
keep going.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 local and external care providers. While participants emphasized the importance of
family and community as a source of support for individuals facing adversity, they also
noted that in small communities, individuals may at times need to speak with mental
health support staff from outside the community to minimize conflicts of interest and to
increase privacy;
“There are many health needs and it’s different to talk to family members about
this. Some don’t have Elders to talk to. Sometimes the family says, ‘Just go back to
the relationship.’” (Inuit Perspectives)
“Maybe their cousin or chief is the abuser. You need an outsider, [but still Inuit] that
you can talk to.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“In some cases there is a preference for someone from outside, because there is too
much familiarity locally with people’s histories.… In those cases, a mobile unit of
Inuk support would be preferable.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 integration of mental health services within other sectors, including the criminal
justice system, education system, substance use treatment programs, housing, and child
and family welfare services; ensuring that people interacting with other systems that are
not necessarily health systems can be referred or find mental health support; and
“Parents will also need a place to detox before going to treatment centre. They will
need mental wellness support to get clean and stay committed to going to treatment.
Their children may have experienced trauma during this time. Surrogate
grandparents may be good support for the family and children during this
transition.” (Métis Perspectives)
135
“Community justice [bodies] sometimes run out of ideas in terms of dealing with
some young people, and [they] send them off to Iqaluit, where they end up in the
justice system. Sometimes they need more access to mental health services instead
of ending up in the penitentiary system.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“In Iqaluit, if people are a danger to themselves, and there is no space at the health
centre, they end up in RCMP holding cells. It also happens in other communities.
RCMP are being asked to address mental health issues. There is no mental health
support. It doesn’t address the core of the issue that created the dangerous situation.
We are telling young people that they are criminals when, really, they are seeking
help for mental health. It is leading people down a path of destruction.”
“We know that children are being abused. We know that they are witnessing family
violence.… The education system should have wellness, safety, trauma recovery,
meditation, self-help, issues that come up with abuse. [Then the children] will be
more able to learn how to read and write.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 dedicated funds for healing from the impact of colonialism. For instance, several
participants called for the restoration of the Aboriginal Healing Foundation, with
equitable access or dedicated funds for Inuit and Métis communities.
“It is going to take generations for us to move out of this cycle. A fund that is
specifically about being community-driven. Every community decides what their
needs are, instead of [someone else] putting it on them.” (Inuit Perspectives)
Participants also offered various recommendations to improve access to mental health and well-
ness supports, especially in northern, rural, or remote communities, including:
 24-hour access to some level of support in all communities;

“People who commit suicide do that because they don’t know where to go. There is
nothing for 24 hours. If we could have counsellors 24 hours a day…. We have
nowhere to go and no information indicating this is who you can call. And it’s
urgent. It’s critical that we have a place close to the Inuit. Why is this not
available?” (Inuit Perspectives)
 services in multiple formats, such as phone lines, texting services, or online

consultations;
“Some young people have a hard time articulating what they feel by speaking to
you, they feel more at ease sending text messages. Whatever format is going to
work for people should be made available…. Keeping communication lines open,
whatever the line looks like. As soon as the teen suicide line was made available by
text in Nunavut, they had 15 young people contacting them within 24 hours.”
136
 a dedicated space for services. For instance, participants in the Inuit Perspectives
dialogue described counselling services delivered in a hotel room, or a corporate office
where clients felt uncomfortable due to the security desk and thin walls;
“There is a need for more support to have safe locations established for community
members where the anonymity is available. Some days she walks for hours with her
clients just to be able to provide them with a safe space to unload their pains and
heal. It makes this work challenging without proper space.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 mobile programs, ideally including capacity- and awareness-building components to

recruit, retain and to train local community members and public-sector staff; and
“Healing camp vision is to train Aboriginal counsellors, and to send a mobile unit
out into other communities to train more counsellors.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 increased permanent infrastructure for healing spaces. Participants indicated a need

for more readily available mental health and wellness supports and spaces in all
communities, including sufficient aftercare or follow-up for vulnerable individuals
accessing services outside the community.
“People who are Medevaced after suicide attempts are often just sent home the next
day. There should be more counselling. If they charter a plane, there should be
enough money to send counsellors. Provide psychologists in every village rather
than responding when it’s a crisis. Police and youth protection workers are not
trained to deal with crises.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“We all need to have meeting places in our community. We have RCMP and social
services, but we need a place to go in every community. That would be the ideal
setting. We have churches in the community, we have relatives, we have jails, but
the one thing we need the most, it seems, is a healing place – for women and men.
This is absolutely required now for Inuit. And we know this. Because they say we
are good at hearing people, when people are talking about their pain and sadness,
our fellow Inuit need a friend to speak with in confidence where it won’t be
gossiped in the community.” (Inuit Perspectives)
Substance Use Treatment

Participants described how individuals engaging in substance use face greater barriers when
seeking support services, including health care, due to policies from service providers that
restrict access to programs (as in the case of Métis and sometimes, Inuit) and/or physical
challenges while they are waiting for care when struggling with addictions.
“The crisis line won’t help if there is alcohol or drugs involved, but half the time that’s
what the crisis is.” (Métis Perspectives)
137
However, long wait times, restrictive policies, geographical distance, or financial barriers can
impede individuals from accessing substance use treatment programs when they are seeking help.
Wise practices for the delivery of substance use treatment programs included:
 treatment programs that support whole families, providing children with mental
health supports while parents receive substance use treatment;
 culturally grounded treatment programs, such as land-based programs and programs

engaging Elders;
 enhanced availability of local treatment programs, including in northern communities

and within urban centres. One participant noted that treatment programs in their province
were largely found in rural locations;
 timely access to treatment programs, in order to support individuals when they are
feeling ready for care; and
 follow-up care, including ongoing mental health supports for individuals recovering
from addictions, and engaging their families and communities to support them.
Participants noted that aftercare is particularly important when individuals have travelled
outside of their home communities for treatment.
“There is no aftercare to do follow-ups. People come back to the same home. No
follow-up. No immediate help within the family. So, they return to their previous
behaviours. [There is] no housing support. If you are living with extended family,
and you return, and the people you return to are not sober, people who are homeless
and undergoing treatment, need to be able to return to their own home, their own
space. [There is a] need for counselling services.” (Inuit Perspectives)
Prenatal and Maternity Care

In the Métis Perspectives and Inuit Perspectives Dialogues, several groups discussed the impor-
tance of prenatal and maternity care to support close relationships between mothers and their
children and improve the safety and well-being of pregnant women and new mothers. They
shared traditional teachings and practices for maternity care and birthing, which offered holistic
support for women’s physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, and helped prepare them for their
new roles.
“Traditionally when Inuit women birthed, they would have three support people. ‘The
maker,’ who would be behind her, she would speak blessings over the child, sing a
traditional lullaby. Each lullaby would be specific to each individual child. There would
be two women on either side of her to help offer her strength and support. The pregnant
woman would stand and use gravity to help the baby. The Elders could help the baby
shift if necessary.” (Inuit Perspectives)
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However, gaps in maternity care in rural, remote, or northern communities, coupled with the
loss of traditional birthing practices, now force many women to travel out of their community,
sometimes alone, to give birth.
“The women are flown out from the community alone generally without any emotional
support, or support for the family back home in the community.” (Inuit Perspectives)
Participants noted that they have seen a recent revival of traditional Indigenous approaches to
prenatal and maternity care, including doulas and midwives, or home births, although funding,
training, and access to midwives vary greatly across the country.
Participants called for increased support for maternity care, including:
 funding to train Indigenous midwives, and mentorship programs to help emerging

midwives learn alongside more experienced ones;
 increased maternity care in rural, remote, and northern communities;
“We would like there to be centres in the communities for women to birth, so they
do not have to travel.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 priority of prenatal care, including supporting women’s physical health and nutrition, as
well as providing emotional and cultural supports and traditional teachings; and
 facilitation of Indigenous traditions within mainstream health care services, such as
allowing mothers to keep the placenta for birthing ceremonies.
2SLGBTQQIA Health Care Services

In the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives Dialogue, several groups discussed particular gaps, barriers,
and inequities faced by Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA individuals – especially trans people seeking
gender-affirming care – including:
• a lack of doctors with an understanding of, or specialty in, 2SLGBTQQIA health care
needs;
• financial barriers for gender-affirming care;
• ineffective substance use treatment programs that separate patients based on sex or
gender, don’t address dimensions of gender identity, and may not be “effective in
providing appropriate services for 2S and trans [individuals]”;
• difficulty accessing gender-affirming care, if youth don’t have support from parents;
• homophobia or transphobia from health care providers; and
• a lack of advocates for 2SLGBTQQIA health and wellness.
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Participants noted that these gaps and inequities are more pronounced in northern, rural, or
remote Indigenous communities. They described how individuals who lack access or financial
means for proper care may feel “hopeless” or resort to engaging in criminal behaviour, sex work,
or black markets to access gender-affirming hormones.
“When I transitioned in 2013, I had to travel eight hours to get hormones.”
“Trans [individuals] have a hard time getting services, and once they get services, the
doctor does not know how to help.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“Trying to get access to hormones – if the children don’t have supportive parents, then
they won’t get access by the age 18, and by then it’s maybe too late – because they did
not have access to the hormones.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Participants recommended an expansion of 2SLGBTQQIA-specific health services, including

health centres, substance use treatment programs, and mental health services and resources.
Healing Programs for Men and Boys

Participants across the country repeatedly mentioned that programs and services should not focus
solely on the well-being and empowerment of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
individuals. They described how the loss of traditional roles for men and boys, due to the impact
of colonization, and the high rates of unemployment and intergenerational trauma all contribute
to a low sense of self-worth among men and boys and an increased propensity toward violence
and harmful behaviour.
“The men are unemployed, ashamed, don’t know how to ask for help, don’t know how
to talk about emotions. Men are our throwaway people. We are so quick to throw them
under the bus. But they need this just as much as the women do.” (Métis Perspectives)
Participants called for efforts to “lift up” Indigenous men and boys through initiatives such as:
 safe spaces to discuss emotions, learn healthy coping skills for negative emotions, and
learn about healthy relationships and parenting;
 programs that support allyship against misogyny and violence against women, such as
the recent Moose Hide Campaign [the Moose Hide Campaign is a grassroots movement
of Indigenous and non-Indigenous men and boys who are standing up against violence
toward women, wearing small squares of moose hide to symbolize their commitment];
140
 mentorship programs and male role models to promote healthy forms of masculinity;
 networking and employment support services; and
 culturally grounded programs, such as on-the-land programs, or programs to learn
traditional skills such as hunting and fishing.
Leo Wells, Clarence Wolfleg Jr., and Sean

Cutter sing a drum song in Calgary,
Alberta.
“These programs also need male role models, teaching about how to be a good man.
Where are little boys getting positive male-to-male relationships and modelling in
their formative years? There is a gap.” (Métis Perspectives)
“Teaching the boys and the men how to be in respectful and loving relationships.
There was a lot of violence and trauma when we grew up and it was carried down.
Young men have to be retaught how to live and to be in relationships.”
Human Security Issues

The National Inquiry has incorporated a broad definition of “security” based in human security
and development, understanding that Indigenous groups in Canada have been and continue to be
threatened by economic, social, and political marginalization, as well as by underdevelopment in
many communities. Marginalization is not an accidental or an incidental result; rather, marginal-
ization is a product of colonialism and of colonization, as well as of the ongoing discrimination
that targets Indigenous communities and individuals.
Participants across the country emphasized the need to lower rates of poverty, unemployment,
and insecure housing in Indigenous communities in order to mitigate a number of associated risk
factors that threaten the safety and well-being of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
141
individuals. Participants advocated for equitable access to basic needs, such as shelter and food,
along with increased support to attain higher levels of education and employment.
“Working on poverty, housing, and food insecurity needs to be tackled first.”
Inequities in Security
Poverty and insecure housing were identified as critical risk factors that disproportionately
impact Indigenous communities in Canada. Participants listed a number of historic and systemic
inequities that contribute to the prevalence of poverty and homelessness for Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, including:
• lower education rates, adverse experiences, discrimination in education systems, and
difficulty accessing post-secondary education;
• higher unemployment rates, and racial- or gender-based biases in hiring processes;
• the loss of traditional Indigenous land, skills, and livelihoods;
• higher costs of living in northern communities;
• lack of support for youth aging out of foster care;
• being forced out of the family home or home communities due to family violence or
discrimination due to gender identity or sexual orientation;
• lack of affordable housing, and insufficient capacity in shelters, or lack of shelters; and
• cyclical, intergenerational impacts of low socio-economic status.
Participants described how poverty and insecure housing increase risks of:
• family violence, exacerbated by the stress of financial hardships and overcrowding;
• foster care interventions;
• engagement in criminal behaviour;
• mental health concerns, low sense of self-worth, and suicidality;
• substance use and addictions;
• sexual exploitation or being forced to engage in sex work as a means of subsistence;
• contraction of infectious diseases, such as tuberculosis, due to overcrowding; and
• food insecurity.
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Additionally, participants discussed the social stigma and marginalization faced by homeless
people, including increasing restrictions on the spaces where homeless people are allowed to
gather and sleep in urban centres. One participant described how homeless people are often not
identifiable when they pass away, making it difficult for their families to learn what happened to
them. Individuals living in poverty may also have increased difficulty participating in cultural
ceremonies or accessing social services, including health care. Participants in the 2SLGBTQQIA
Perspectives session noted that trans people face additional financial difficulties accessing gen-
der-affirming care. Several groups noted how financial difficulties can make it difficult for
individuals to travel or access shelter in order to flee family violence, especially for those living
in rural, remote, or northern communities.
“Poverty is the main factor of vulnerability.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“When parents are homeless, so are their children; this affects every part of their
well-being.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“If you don’t have housing, it affects everything else: security, health, etc.”
“Poverty is a core part of the conversation; that’s why kids are taken away, not
because the parents don’t love and care for them.” (Métis Perspectives)
“[Financial difficulty] forces trans people to crime, mostly sex work and buying
illegal drugs for [gender-affirming care]. When you are on-reserve and you don’t have
a home or education, you end up homeless. Then you lose more rights and respect by
service providers.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Other factors and risks participants described as negatively impacting the safety and well-being
of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals include:
• social isolation or disconnection from families and communities;
• low levels of education;
• unemployment;
• sexual trafficking and exploitation; and
• involvement in gangs.
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The Manitoba Basic Annual
Income Experiment (Mincome)
Structural poverty has profound impacts on family and community health, and can be very difficult to
escape. In recent years, governments have considered implementing test programs for a guaranteed basic
income to reduce poverty in Canada. However, these studies are not new. One of the most significant long-
term guaranteed income experiments was a five-year study in Manitoba, known as Mincome, which ran
between 1974 and 1979.
In 1968, the Economic Council of Canada produced While there was no official data collected on the
analysis that recommended implementation of a impacts of the study on the communities’
“Guaranteed Annual Income (GAI) program to address determinants of health,III a number of former partici-
poverty.”I Following this recommendation, the Liberal pants have noted the positive impacts on their lives
federal government under Pierre Elliott Trudeau and on their family’s health. When family providers
partnered with the Manitoba New Democratic Party fell ill, the family could rely on the guaranteed income
provincial government under Edward Schreyer to provided by the program.IV The structure of the
test a new strategy for combatting poverty. Officially program also gave people the ability to either stay in
known as the Manitoba Basic Annual Income school or go back to school to gain new professional
Experiment, this project is most often associated skills that could be translated into better economic
with the city of Dauphin, where nearly one-third of prospects.V
Dauphin’s population became eligible for this income
experiment.II One of the experiment’s hypotheses to test was if a
guaranteed income would make people unmotivated
The overall goal of the project was to test the viability to work. This was not the case; people could and did
of providing a top-up with no strings attached for continue to work, with their top-up adjusted in a way
workers whose income did not reach a living wage. that did not penalize working families for earning
The project developed three levels of guaranteed additional income. What the experiment did do was
funding ($3,800, $4,600, and $5,400), based on tax provide families with “financial predictability and a
rates for a family unit of two adults and two children sense of stability,” VI helping to lift many people out of
younger than 15, with adjustments for smaller and poverty.
larger family sizes. Throughout the experiment, the
federal government agreed to pay 75% of the project Despite these successes, Mincome was cancelled
while Manitoba covered the remaining 25%. In with the election of new federal and provincial
addition to the top-up, another goal of the project governments in the late 1970s.
was to evaluate the effects of such a program on the
overall community.
144
The Ontario government decided to recreate this health will almost certainly suffer.VIII As Candice S.
experiment as a three-year pilot project in 2017 told the National Inquiry, “Poverty has an impact – it
under Kathleen Wynne. However, the pilot project impacts everything. Your mental health, your
was cancelled after a change in government, despite spiritual health, your physical health, your access to
the urging of anti-poverty activists and business services…. It’s really, really sad.”IX Meaningfully
leaders alike.VII changing the structures that maintain poverty in
Canada has to be at the top of the priority list if
The World Health Organization has declared that Canada is serious about upholding Indigenous
poverty is the single biggest social determinant of Peoples’ rights to health.
health – meaning that if you live in poverty, your
I Simpson, Mason, and Godwin, “The Manitoba Basic Annual Income Experiment,” 86.
II Lum, “A Canadian City.”
III Mason, “Revisiting Manitoba’s Basic Income Experiment.”
IV Lum, “A Canadian City.”
V Ibid.
VI Ibid.
VII Monsebraaten, “100 Canadian CEOs.”
VIII World Health Organization, “Poverty and Social Determinants.”
IX Candice S. (Skatin Nation), Part 1, Public Volume 106, Vancouver, BC, p. 11.
145
Access to Housing or Shelter
Several participants echoed the notion that access to shelter is a basic human right, and that a
lack of safe and affordable housing or shelter increases risks of violence and harm, presents a
barrier to fleeing unsafe situations, or forces individuals in rural, remote, or northern communi-
ties to migrate to urban centres.
“What is it that will keep you safe? Housing – a place to go back to at night.”
“The base [should be] that everyone have a roof over their heads. [Priority] number two
is food. You can put more effort into your challenges, once you have a roof and food.”
Barriers to accessing housing and shelter include:

• insufficient capacity in shelters, including warming shelters and emergency shelters for
individuals fleeing violence, as well as lack of shelters;
• shortage of subsidized housing, creating long wait-lists;
• deferred maintenance challenges that limit available housing or shelter space,
adding financial burdens to shelter and housing organizations. This creates poor living
conditions, which negatively impact the sense of self-worth of individuals in need of
shelter and housing;
“It’s very expensive to build houses, and utilities need to be upgraded. It’s very hard
to catch up. Maintenance services are also a big issue, especially for infrastructure.
Small communities have a hard time getting things done to maintain housing.”
“[The] homeless shelter has been shut down, because of bedbug infestation. Takes a
long time to get someone to clean it. It’s run by an NGO [non-governmental
organization], which can’t afford to bring it up to code.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“Non-profit housing is built in sub-par standards, making it seem like [clients] are not
appreciated, [because] they are living in … subsidized housing.” (2SLGBTQQIA
Perspectives)
• risks of discrimination in shelters, including racism, homophobia, and transphobia;

• lack of transitional housing for individuals returning to communities from correctional
facilities or from substance use treatment programs, or aging out of care. Participants
noted that individuals at these transition points are particularly vulnerable to violence or
harm, and that the lack of shelter funding from justice, health, or child welfare sectors
increases the burden on shelter spaces;
146
“Judges are releasing men to the ‘care’ of a shelter, but there is not [enough]
funding to house these men through the justice system, and they expect the shelter
to absorb or find space for them.… [There are] men sleeping on [the] floor and in
[the] kitchen.” (Inuit Perspectives)
• strict policies against substance use in shelters, which create barriers for individuals
struggling with addictions. One participant from Inuvik described her experience on the
board for a men’s shelter where other members lacked an understanding of addictions,
espousing the belief that “if [someone] wants the shelter enough, they will stay sober.”
She said there was little support for “wet” shelters that allow substance use due to
complications of insurance and risk management. Another participant described how
substance use policies “further marginalize the already marginalized”;
“It sends the message that you’re not welcome here, because you use drugs and
alcohol. Some women were murdered because they used drugs. They will use drugs
to stay awake and stay safe. This stigma around drug use and alcoholism makes
people feel unwelcome, unsafe, and puts them on the street and at risk.”
“The rules [for substance use] for [2SLGBTQQIA] clients in facilities cannot be so
stringent. These people are at the facilities in crisis.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“Men in the system are in crisis. [It is] unrealistic to expect them to avail
themselves of services. These men are not choosing to use. One should not have to
choose using or housing.” (Inuit Perspectives)
• gender-based shelters and prioritization of women with children in housing. This
supports the safety of women and girls, but also creates complications and barriers for
families, men, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals. For instance, some participants described
how policies against teenage boys in shelter spaces force women to have to choose
whether to leave their sons behind when seeking emergency shelter spaces. Other women
may feel safer staying with their partners on the streets instead of seeking shelter space.
The prioritization of women with children limits available shelter and housing space for
2SLGBTQQIA individuals (particularly those without children) and for men, who have to
leave their home during situations of family violence;
“I wouldn’t have been able to take my son with me to the shelter if I had needed to
do it. Daughter, yes. That’s what mothers have to think about.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“Often women on the street want to stay with their boyfriend for security reasons.”
“A lot of 2S don’t have housing because there are requirements to have children …
and a lot of 2S folks don’t have children. That doesn’t make sense. They’re not
included in the list.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
147
“There is no transitional housing for the abuser, for these mainly men, to go, to
live.” (Inuit Perspectives)
• financial barriers to public housing for individuals who are marginally above the low-
income threshold, or are receiving limited income support; and
• inequitable access to housing, where individuals with connections to influential people
may receive preferential treatment.
Recommendations and Best Practices: Addressing the Crisis of

Housing and Shelter
There was a strong call for increased and well-maintained shelters and subsidized housing in all
communities, with sufficient capacity to meet current and projected demands. While many par-
ticipants discussed the need for priority shelter spaces for women fleeing violence, groups also
recommended establishing a variety of housing and shelter alternatives in communities, in order
to meet the needs of different populations, including:
 mixed-gender shelter and housing, accommodating couples and families with teenage
boys;
 wet shelters accommodating individuals struggling with substance use;
 dedicated 2SLGBTQQIA housing and shelters, or dedicated beds in shelters for trans
and non-gender binary individuals; and
“Establish 2S treatment centres and shelters with practitioners who are 2S
themselves or [who] ‘get’ it.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
 transitional housing with relevant support services for individuals fleeing family
violence, youth aging out of care, or individuals returning to communities from
correctional institutions or substance use treatment programs.
Participants spoke of housing and shelter as a critical first step that establishes the security,
stability, and trusting relationships needed to address more complex risk factors. Many described
housing and shelter models that integrate support services, such as substance use treatment
programs, employment services, cultural supports, and mental health services.
“First, you house the person. You give them a place to live and be safe. Then you start
focusing on the other issues that lead to homelessness and addictions.”
“We need a place that’s not like a conventional shelter, but a living space; not necessarily
a permanent space, but you need space where you have access to a phone, Internet, a
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place to study, a place to get training.… You need these things to get a job. We need
supports for employment. I wouldn’t see it like a shelter, where there are bunk beds. We
need dignity and privacy. Maybe you moved from the reserve to the city, and you don’t
have your supports there. Transitional housing that helps you and mentors … you could
hire 2S people to do that.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Some participants described the importance of providing long-term housing options for individu-
als and families, with recommendations to increase transitions from shelter spaces to subsidized
housing.
“Shelters [are] such a dehumanizing experience.… The place you belong [to] is
constantly stripped away. There’s never any place you belong.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“[The] assumption was that sending men out in the cold, even in extreme cold weather,
would motivate them. These men were being turned out in the morning. At 7:00 or 8:00
a.m. these Inuit men are being turned out into the cold, with harmful impacts, [including]
on their self-esteem.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“Not just shelters and safe houses, but stable, reliable housing, where they can live long-
term. It’s not temporary, it’s permanent. So, if they have children, they can go to school.
Stable home.… They don’t have that grounding space, to shut the door and go to bed,
and then get ready for the day to go to work or school.” (Inuit Perspectives)
As with other support services, participants emphasized the importance of providing culturally
specific support services in shelters and housing, adapted to the identities of local clientele: for
instance, including Inuit- and/or Métis-specific support services in urban shelters, and housing
for those arriving from rural, remote, or northern communities.
“For people who are not in their home communities, which are very far away, it gets
really hard when they can’t find a stable and safe place to rest their head. There needs to
be more subsidized housing for women and families…. First Nations-specific, Métis-
specific, Inuit-specific; even though we are all Indigenous, we need specific services.
When you are in a vulnerable place, it is most comfortable to be with your community.”
149
Education and Employment
Alongside basic needs assistance, participants called for increased investment in education and
employment services in order to obtain, as one participant described, “high quality education and
meaningful work for all” (Inuit Perspectives). These investments included:
 advocacy about the importance of education, and celebration of the achievements of

Indigenous students excelling in school;
 strengthened communication between schools and parents to promote schools as a
safe place, especially for families impacted by the legacy of residential schools or other
adverse school experiences;
“Investing in children, in the education system. Parents had trouble walking into
those schools, because of their trauma. We need to make schools a safe place, a
healthy place for families, with food, where everybody can have meals together.”
 financial support for Indigenous post-secondary students and youth aging out of care;
 increased mental health services and culturally specific supports for students,
especially in post-secondary institutions;
 increased access to post-secondary education in rural, remote, or northern
communities: for instance, through the expansion of online learning opportunities
and development of needed digital infrastructure;
“You should be able to learn in a different way, not having to leave community and
go thousands of miles away to do advanced learning. We need access to the Web
faster than circa 1999, in order to be successful in an online education. A rights-
based approach to access to the Internet.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 the teaching to youth of traditional Indigenous skills, such as hunting, fishing, arts, or
language skills, and developing careers in the revival of Indigenous traditions;
“[I] saw one 12- or 13-year-old boy who was very skilled culturally [such as in]
trapping, language, etc. but would shrink in school, because he struggled with maths,
etc. [We should be] building Knowledge Keepers. Some kids are naturally Knowledge
Keepers, but they struggle in school. Those are the mentoring roles we have as adults.
Can you identify people in your community who are like that? How do you recognize,
lift them? What can you do with them, to help young women and girls stay safe?”
 promotion of careers in the trades;

 employment services; and
 recognition for experiential equivalencies for jobs and education.
150
Practices to Enhance Security for 2SLGBTQQIA People
Although the National Inquiry, through the Truth-Gathering Process, has adopted the inclusive
acronym of 2SLGBTQQIA, it acknowledges the diversity of experiences within this spectrum.
The Dialogue held in Toronto was a rich opportunity that many people identified as the first time
in their lives they had been in a room with so many 2S and Indigenous LGBTQQIA people, and
how feeling that they were not alone was a healing experience. As a result, many suggested that
it would be important to support a networking of Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people across the
country, because of the strength generated in working together and in getting together. At the
same time, some participants pointed out that the distribution of participants left some groups,
such as transwomen, feeling largely underrepresented, and shared how the needs of different
groups whose identities are included in this acronym might not be the same, particularly in the
areas of security and of justice.
In highlighting common experiences, however, participants in the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives Dia-
logue session particularly emphasized the need to address administrative procedures, protocols, and
program designs in social services to ensure the safety, dignity, and accessibility of 2SLGBTQQIA
individuals, especially trans-identified individuals and individuals with non-binary gender identi-
ties. Recommendations included:
 gender-inclusive options in application or intake forms, Status cards, and data collection;
 accommodation of non-binary gender identities in program and service design by
eliminating gender-based grouping of programs and services, allowing individuals to
join gender-based programs and services based on their gender identity, and/or offering
dedicated trans, non-binary, or gender-neutral programs and services. Participants
emphasized the need for greater gender-inclusivity in both social and cultural spaces, as
well as in key support services and institutions such as housing and shelters, substance
use treatment programs, and correctional institutions; and
 availability of gender-neutral washrooms and change rooms in facilities.
Strengthening Community Ties

Alongside culture and family, participants stressed the importance of strong community
networks, role models, and community spaces to support the well-being of Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals. They described how people facing discrimination and
marginalization – such as 2SLGBTQQIA individuals, sex workers, ex-offenders, or individuals
lacking secure housing – tend to form their own communities of support. These communities of
support are extremely valuable for their well-being and security in the face of adversity.
“When Métis women are suffering, we do what we’ve always done. We get together and
support each other doing Métis practices … Métis beading, trade show/craft fair,
traditional performers and … dry dance…. It’s not enough to give people housing, they
151
need to have their community surrounding them. Often you don’t know who your
neighbour is.” (Métis Perspectives)
Participants offered a number of recommendations to strengthen community ties, including:
 low-barrier “safe spaces,” where individuals can gather, engage in social activities and
Indigenous traditions and ceremonies, and/or have access to support services;
“Women’s centres in each community are essential … a place where women find
themselves, it’s a place that is very warm. They can sit and just talk. It must be a
place where different women come (women, grandmothers) and must also provide
places for children…. It’s a place of sharing. It is a place where you can also spread
knowledge. It is a … place where I feel good.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 recreational centres offering extracurricular activities to promote healthy lifestyles,

decrease isolation, and deter youth from engaging in gangs, substance use, or criminal
behaviour;
 peer support networks, and encouraging a culture of mutual support; and
“The big question we heard was: Who would advocate for me? If I were murdered,
if I were missing, or if my children were taken away? … There’s a need to raise an
angel network of all Métis people who look out for one another. That’s what love is,
that’s what the circle represents. So that when you go anywhere, someone will take
you in.” (Métis Perspectives)
“We need to get back to volunteerism – when people get money to cook for [a]
community feast, they just cook the food, drop it off, and leave. When a community
volunteer’s cooking, they cook the food and bring it to feast and stay for
festivities.” (Inuit Perspectives)
 mentorship programs for youth.
A young jingle dress dancer and cousin of

Nicole Ashley Daniels, an MMIW family
member, chats with Commissioner Michèle
Audette in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Used with
permission.
152
Justice
In discussing their encounters with various elements of the justice system, participants across all
four Dialogues noted the frustration they felt in trying to navigate systems they didn’t see as fair,
representative, or their own. In many cases, participants discussed how justice might be redefined
in Indigenous terms, and in terms of how people kept each other safe, cared for one another, and
ensured that the laws and rights were upheld and related responsibilities were followed. These
principles are still important today. While the context of justice might have changed from what one
participant called the “old old way,” understanding how these concepts might be articulated to
transform the encounters that people have today was a key feature of our discussions.
Inequities in Policing, Justice, and Corrections

Participants discussed a number of issues related to inequities in the justice system, including:
• delays in court proceedings due to insufficient capacity. Participants noted that delays
can prolong the healing process for victims and families and create barriers for victims
living in remote communities who lack the resources to relocate for prolonged periods of
time to seek justice;
“If she is a fragile woman, in family law and domestic violence, a woman at risk
cannot wait so long. Someone who is in a remote area and has to go to court, it’s not
as accessible.” (Quebec Perspectives)
• discrimination and inequities in the criminal justice system. Several participants
argued that the justice system overcriminalizes Indigenous Peoples, while offering overly
lenient sentences in cases of violence against women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Some participants questioned the impact of Gladue rights on the safety and justice of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals;
• the discrediting of victim statements based on race or mental health, or from victims
who were seen to be engaging in “high risk” behaviours at the time of the crime, such as
sex workers, or victims who were inebriated or were engaging in substance use;
“Often it is just you going to make a statement and it’s all men. Sometimes your
story is overlooked/diminished by your looks, your mannerisms, your skin colour.”
• limited access to court services and victim support services in northern communities; and
• racial discrimination or mistreatment from guards in correctional institutions.
153
Of particular note regarding 2SLGBTQQIA individuals who are incarcerated, trans people who
have not undergone gender-affirming surgery are often placed in a binary system, according to
biological sex. They can face violence, discrimination, and segregation from staff and other indi-
viduals within the institution.
“There is a case of an [incarcerated] transwoman, who was mistreated, and who made a
formal complaint of human rights abuses. The officers did not want to give her back her
[female] clothes. They gave her paper clothes. What she needs is someone to support
her.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Participants also identified a number of gaps and inequities that obstruct fair and timely access to
security and law enforcement for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals.
These included:
• police discrimination. The majority of Dialogue groups shared experiences of
discrimination and mistreatment from law enforcement officers based on race, gender and
gender identity. Several participants described instances of racial profiling of Indigenous
suspects, paralleled with delayed, or a lack of, responses to reports from Indigenous
victims. Other participants spoke of instances of harassment, sexual abuse, transphobia,
homophobia, and a lack of accountability for reports of discrimination or abuse of power.
Participants noted that the prevalence of contemporary police discrimination,
compounded with the historical role of police in the enforcement of colonial policies
(such as the killing of Inuit sled dogs, or the forcible removal of children for residential
school) has led to an erosion of trust in law enforcement institutions, which deters
individuals from seeking help. In addition, the ongoing mistrust, due to negative
experiences with law enforcement, continues to foster an environment in which many
participants noted, people feel unsafe even asking the police for help;
“Police are very transphobic. When people say their name and it doesn’t ‘match’
their ID, they can be arrested.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“You’re less likely to turn to the police if you’ve been abused, even more less likely
if you have been abused by the police.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“First question from police dispatch: ‘Is she Indigenous?’ After telling them over
and over again that we needed an ambulance, they still sent the police first. Then
they kept calling and calling, and there was no ambulance for another hour and a
half.” (Quebec Perspectives)
“When a crime happens, they aren’t thorough with investigations. They just assume
it is domestic violence from the men in our community. It feels like our women are
worth less than others.” (Métis Perspectives)
154
Table of Contents
Introduction to Section 3: Healing Families, Communities, and Nations 1

Chapter 9: Wellness and Healing 5
Introduction: Safety, Healing, and Strength 5
Healing Self and Family: Beginning the Journey 6
Families of the Heart 14
Ceremonial and Traditional Knowledge 19
“It’s just a work in progress”: Finding Other Outlets for Healing 27
Healing for Future Generations: Engaging Youth in Wellness 32
“We can’t have only the women heal”: Healing Men and Boys 37
A Lifetime of Healing 38
The Importance of Access to Healing 40
Finding Strength 41
The National Inquiry’s Aftercare Program, and Lessons Learned 47
Conclusion: Respect and Connection 49
Chapter 10: “I am here for justice, and I am here for change”:

Commemoration and Calling Forth 53
Introduction: Beyond Commemoration 53
Commemoration and Calling Forth from the Perspectives of Families 55
The Legacy Archive 58
The Complicated Nature of Archives 60
Artistic Expressions from the Legacy Archive 63
Student and Youth Engagement Guide 75
Reclaim(ing) Power and Place: A Pilot Project 75
Conclusion: Art Actions for the Future 80
to “interrogations” or when victims are alone giving statements. Participants noted that insuffi-
cient victim support services can negatively impact the reliability of victim statements, and
therefore threaten the victims’ ability to receive justice in courts.
“The process is confusing, you don’t get things explained to you, you don’t
automatically have a lawyer. It sends a message to aggressors of who is the easy victim.”
“Victim services isn’t always safe for women, [who are] sometimes more traumatized by
the services provided. They have to relive the incident, and do not feel like they are
being helped. [They are] interrogated and made to feel like a criminal, rather than a
victim.” (Métis Perspectives)
Recommendations and Best Practices: Justice

Improving Law Enforcement Practices
Participants proposed measures and initiatives to reduce discrimination, improve crisis response,
and help rebuild trusting, collaborative relationships between law enforcement and community
members. Recommendations included the following:
“It’s a sense of trust that also needs to be developed. Without trust, people do not even
want to go to police premises. You have to trust someone who can support them. These
are small steps, and it will take time.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 physical descriptors instead of racial descriptors in law enforcement procedures and

media reports, in order to discourage racial stereotyping, profiling, and discrimination in
security and justice systems as well as the broader society;
“[The police force] didn’t realize that they were being racist by asking on dispatch
whether someone was of Aboriginal descent. By … removing that from protocol,
we’re changing things.” (Métis Perspectives)
 protocols for early intervention in crisis situations or cases of family violence, as well
as more immediate responses to reports of missing Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA individuals;
“These are situations that don’t need to escalate, if they are addressed when
attention is required. I know the RCMP do very beautiful work, but in emergencies
there’s not enough response. If we give them information, we can avoid murders
and killings. Incidents of murders and rage escalate, and we can avoid it if we get
prompt attention.” (Inuit Perspectives)
“They need to realize everyone knows everyone in our villages and communities.
Sometimes they don’t understand how urgent our calls are. We know our people and
know when it is urgent.” (Inuit Perspectives)
156
“It requires a change of approach and steps. You have to initiate a reaction the very
moment the call is triggered.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 extended length of law enforcement placements, especially in remote or northern

communities. For instance, some participants recommended minimum five-year
contracts, and incentives to remain in the community long-term;
 engagement with community members in community events, or through the

establishment of liaison officers in schools and social services to build trusting
relationships, especially with youth or marginalized community members; and
“[The] RCMP planned a round dance for First Nations and Métis people in the
Saskatoon Police Service gym. Some people (like my niece) were nervous about
going because of the negative experiences they had had in that building. It turned
out to be a huge success. Biggest round dance Saskatoon has seen.”
“We have a police officer who does the liaison at our centre, and he came once a
week to build relationships. Today he has too much to do because he is called all the
time – it is really an important support and the users of our services have confidence
now. It’s really a plus to have this connection. It really facilitates the exchanges.
When he arrived, the women started to open up. But it’s because of the person, too.
It takes the ability to meet the system.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 increased training and community orientations for law enforcement officers.

Focus on Crime Prevention through Community-Based Models
Participants additionally recommended preventative measures to safeguard women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people against common risks, and empower them to increase their own safety.
These included:
 expand and legitimize community-based security models, such as local peacekeeper

officers, or the Bear Clan Patrol program based in Winnipeg. Participants described how
community-based security patrols can often offer a more timely response, particularly in
northern, rural, or remote communities, and may be more effective at de-escalating
situations due to their deeper knowledge of local contexts and cultures. Community-
based security programs can increase the overall sense of safety in communities and
provide preventative measures, such as providing resources, developing relationships,
educating community members on their rights, and providing outreach;
“Many communities have peacekeepers, who are busier than the police force,
because people trust them and go to them when things happen.” (Métis Perspectives)
157
 provide secure transportation options. Women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals
living in remote communities face increased risks due to a lack of secure transportation
options both within and beyond their communities. Gaps in transportation can make it
difficult to flee unsafe circumstances such as domestic violence, or individuals may resort
to unsafe means of travel such as hitchhiking. Participants highlighted successful
initiatives such as “safe rides” programs, or monitoring “high recruitment areas” such as
bus stops to ensure that vulnerable individuals have a safe means for transportation;
“Last year, the government cut off transportation services, so I see a lot of women
on the highway every day. Lack of transportation services is a huge issue. It puts a
lot of women at risk every day.” (Métis Perspectives)
 identify and provide early warning of risks, such as legislative measures that allow for
the disclosure of a person’s criminal history to their partners,9 or identifying spaces and
services that are unsafe for 2SLGBTQQIA individuals;
 provide public education on non-violent conflict intervention, safety, self-defense skills,
consent, Internet safety, sexual exploitation prevention, and on rights. Participants noted
that raising awareness of risks and safety measures is particularly important for
Indigenous youth moving to urban centres who may be less aware of safety risks in an
urban context; and
 leverage technology for safety. For instance, participants discussed the use of social
media or mobile phone applications as an accessible “check-in system” for vulnerable
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals.
This sign, on British Columbia’s

infamous Highway of Tears, warns
young women not to hitchhike. The
Highway of Tears refers to an over 700
kilometre stretch of the Yellowhead
Highway in British Columbia where
many Indigenous women have
disappeared or been found murdered.
158
Navigating the System: Improving Victim Support Services
Participants offered recommendations to help victims/survivors and families navigate the legal
system and support their healing and well-being throughout the process of seeking justice,
including:
 Indigenous legal advocates to help orient survivors and families within the legal
system and to accompany survivors when giving statements. Participants in the Quebec
Perspectives Dialogue proposed that the Centres d’Aide aux Victimes d’Actes Criminels
(or CAVAC)10 establish dedicated Indigenous centres to provide culturally appropriate
supports;
 information kits for survivors and families with resources, service directories, and
orientation to the legal system;
 support for Elders or family members to accompany survivors when giving statements;
“Being in a room with men can be intimidating. We’re not supported by Elders or
cousins or family.… If the woman is properly supported, she could [provide] better
testimony. The victims need to be solid, so there aren’t any slips in people’s minds,
because it can cause damage. I see victims who were well supported versus ones
that are not supported. I see the damage this causes.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 increased cultural and spiritual supports for survivors, including during court
proceedings;
 interpreters for Indigenous language-speakers as well as to help survivors and families
understand legal terminology;
 community-based spaces for access to justice, including access to legal counsel and
spaces where survivors may feel more comfortable reporting a crime if they feel unsafe in
the security and justice system;
“Every Indigenous friendship centre should have a centre for access to justice, too.
Many people do not feel comfortable asking for help, so you need a service that is
confidential and accessible on-site.” (Quebec Perspectives)
 increased victim support services in remote communities. One participant suggested

the use of video conferencing to provide more advance legal counsel for survivors
seeking justice through travelling courts;
 increased support services, especially for survivors of family violence, including safe
houses, financial aid, transportation to flee unsafe circumstances, and legal advice for the
enforcement of emergency protective orders; and
“Restraining orders need to be explained to people: what they are for, how to use
them. People don’t know how to enforce their rights. They think the paper means
nothing, and the aggressor lives in my community. That paper should have been
159
explained to those women: How does it work? What does a breach look like? What
are the nuances of living in the same community or shopping in the same stores?”
 aftercare to support survivors and families in the healing process.

“The survivors are all alone in their grief, even if they are all together.”
Restorative Justice and Indigenous Laws

Across all four sessions, there was strong support for restorative justice programs, particularly
models grounded in traditional Indigenous approaches to law and justice. Participants argued that
culturally grounded restorative justice programs can be more effective in fostering a sense of
accountability in offenders, addressing root causes of violence to reduce recidivism, and support-
ing healing for survivors, offenders, and their surrounding families and community.
“He won’t feel any shame in front of the judge/jury. But in front of the community, there
is more accountability. A youth hearing their impact on people because of their
vandalism is more impactful than going to court.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Nonetheless, some participants suggested that survivors of violence should be entitled to choose
between different approaches to justice proceedings, informed by the specific context and the
survivors’ needs.
“Restorative justice was good for some [youth], but not for all situations. A young
woman was raped, but the family of the boy who did it, [wanted restorative justice]
instead of jail time. But the young woman ended up being re-victimized. The girl didn’t
have a lot of family support, but the boy had a big family and even the Elders who were
there were related to him…. Victims should have a choice in what justice options they
want. Jail time, criminalization isn’t what everyone wants.”
“[I am] hesitant to say they are always the best solution, because they work different in
different communities, with different levels of success.” (Métis Perspectives)
Participants in the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives session called for increased funding and training
for 2SLGBTQQIA-specific restorative justice programs. Such programs need to be inclusive and
safe, reflecting diverse understandings of gender, and equipped to address 2SLGBTQQIA
perspectives.
160
Understanding the Complicated
Nature of “Traditional
Governance”
The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Confederacy is one of the best-known examples of Indigenous forms of
traditional governance. It is made up of six distinct Nations who agree to live under a single governance
system, encoded in the 117 articles of the Great Law of Peace. The Great Law includes many aspects of
Haudenosaunee life, including rights and remedies in the case of criminal acts and other traditional forms
of ensuring justice. The traditional Haudenosaunee Confederacy Council still operates today, despite the
fact that the Dominion of Canada, as enforced by the RCMP, imposed an Indian Act chief-and-council
system on the Haudenosaunee in 1924.I This is a testament to the resilience of the Haudenosaunee.
However, as we heard from some women in the many trials, they persuaded the chiefs to end the
Truth-Gathering Process and through other means, feuds between them and together abided by the
there are ways in which “traditional governments” or Great Law of Peace.III
the traditional forms of justice they use have been
warped by sexism, racism, and colonization, and are The Great Law of Peace, or Kaianerekowa, lays out the
now failing Indigenous women and girls. Haudenosaunee rules of governance based on the
three principles of righteousness (justice between
These struggles aren’t unique to the Haudenosaunee. people and Nations), health (soundness of mind and
Instead, as Mohawk professor and cultural anthropol- body, and the peace that comes from that), and
ogist Dawn Martin-Hill writes, “the global reality of power (the authority of the law). It defines the struc-
colonialism leaves Indigenous communities shat- ture of the Haudenosaunee Council, different Clans’
tered, fragmented and traumatized, and creates roles and responsibilities within it, as well as laws re-
space for the growth of a desperate and perverted garding adoption, legal redress for murder and theft,
radicalism.”II and international relations. The needs of future gen-
erations, the “faces yet to come,” are an important
The Six Nations of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy consideration in any deliberation, and decisions
(“People of the Longhouse”), also known as the affecting the entire confederacy are made on a con-
“League of Nations,” are Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, sensus model through the Grand Council, while Clan
Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora. The confederacy was councils and Nations are given the authority to
born during a time of violent conflict between the handle their own affairs.IV As professor of law at the
Nations, until the Creator sent the Peacemaker, also University of Victoria Faculty of Law and Canada
known as Deganawida, to teach people the laws they Research Chair in Indigenous Law John Borrows
needed to live in peace. After the Peacemaker’s peo- writes in Canada’s Indigenous Constitution, “The
ple originally rejected his message, he enlisted the Kaianerekowa is a complex and significant legal code
help of Jikonsahseh, a powerful woman and ally who and stands as a testament to the power of human cre-
became known as the first “Mother of Nations.” Later, ativity and accomplishment.”V
with the help of Aiionwatha (Hiawatha) and after
161
Within this system, Haudenosaunee women have Haudenosaunee and other Indigenous Nations.XII As
had great political autonomy through the General Michael Cousins explains in his 2004 master’s thesis,
Council of the Women, as well as through their roles banishment was used in rare circumstances where the
as Clan Mothers, who choose chiefs and keep them offender posed a significant risk to others’ safety and
accountable. Also, in the consensus-based decision- did not show remorse. Banishment also allowed the of-
making model of the Haudenosaunee, every person fender time for “intense personal reflection that often
has a voice and a veto. According to the Great Law, led to a spiritual awakening.”XIII In almost all the cases,
Haudenosaunee women are the explicit owners of banishment was meant to be temporary. As he ex-
the longhouse and the land, and have equal property plains, “Banishment rarely occurred for life, and the in-
rights as men. Major decisions could not be made dividual often returned home after a prescribed period
without the consent of women.VI of exile and would be allowed to remain if they had
fully embraced the principles of peace and unity.”XIV
Haudenosaunee traditional territory encompassed
southern Ontario, southern Quebec, New York, and Today, banishment has been revived as a form of
Wisconsin.VII By the late 1800s, the stark difference be- traditional justice in Six Nations and other First
tween the many rights of Haudenosaunee women as Nations.XV People may be stripped of their membership
compared with settler women inspired early suffra- or band enrolment, forced off the reserve, and have
gettes, including Elizabeth Stanton, Matilda Joslyn their land reverted to the band council. However, there
Gage, and Lucretia Mott, to see that other systems of are disputes about how it is being used today.
society were possible. These feminists frequently
wrote about the freedoms enjoyed by Six Nations Some community members we heard felt that their
women in local newspapers and in their professional traditional governments were being co-opted, and
writing as they fought for the basic right to vote.VIII only “selectively” banishing some people, while not
Matilda Joslyn Gage was so impressed that, in her others. This has been particularly painful for family
book Woman, Church & State – The Original Exposé of members of missing and murdered loved ones or sur-
Male Collaboration Against the Female Sex, published vivors of sexual violence who live in the same small
in 1893, she wrote: “Under their women, the science community as the offender. Some of the women we
of government reached the highest form known to heard from have sought to have these offenders
the world.” IX removed from the community but were shut down,
with few avenues to challenge the decision.
The confederacy has always maintained its sover-
eignty, despite several hundred years of colonization. In her article “She No Speaks,” Dawn Martin-Hill dis-
However, as cultural anthropologist Dawn Martin-Hill cusses the example of one Six Nations mother, whose
writes, Haudenosaunee laws, like in all Indigenous daughter was sexually assaulted in front of witnesses.
Nations, have been affected by “missionizing, When she tried to go to the police, Six Nations Peace-
residential schools and assimilation policies”X that di- keepers insisted instead that they would “deal with it”
minished women’s authority. While traditional gov- by taking him into a sweat lodge and teaching him
ernments had strong checks and balances to its how to respect women—despite the mother’s objec-
power built in, the legacies of colonization have tions that this was not the appropriate punishment.
taken those away. As she puts it, “We are healing, but As Martin-Hill says:
it is a path fraught with the debris of colonial domi-
nation.”XI The mother decided to investigate our traditions
that deal with sexual assault according to the
The issue of “banishment” is one such area where tra- Great Law, and she sought out a Clan mother
ditional governments may not be delivering justice who would have some authority on the matter.
for Indigenous women and girls. The Clan mother explained to her that tradition-
ally a violator of women would have suffered
Historically, banishment was one of several forms severe consequences for his crime. This punish-
of punishment for severe crimes used by the ment would have been carried out by the
162
women of the community. Afterwards, the These and other circumstances show that we cannot
mother shared with me and others her feelings deny Indigenous women justice in the name of
of being terrorized, intimidated and scorned by “tradition.” However, Indigenous forms of justice,
the Peacekeepers. She was experiencing first- law, and governance are essential to the work of
hand how “tradition” is used to subordinate decolonizing, and the Haudenosaunee Confederacy
women and to silence women.XVI is built on principles of peace and justice that do
protect its people. In an editorial criticizing the use of
In Kahnawà:ke, a Mohawk community in Quebec, banishment for those people fighting addictions, Six
violence under the guise of “tradition” has manifested Nations member Jonathan Garlow reminds us that
through the “marry out, get out” law, as it is known. many challenges across Canada are the same; what is
This local law, passed in the early 1980s, stipulates uniquely given to each community is the gift of their
that any Mohawk member living in Kahnawà:ke with teachings, which allows them to cope with the chal-
a non-Indigenous spouse must leave the reserve. lenges they face.XVIII
While this law is meant to help preserve Mohawk
land and culture, this has caused anguish for many Indigenous communities should not be afraid to call
Mohawk women who are denied their right to live out the ways in which “tradition” hurts Indigenous
close to the family and culture they love, while regu- women, while at the same time they revitalize the
lating who they are allowed to marry and with whom principles underpinning their own justice systems. As
they are allowed to have children. For those who Dawn Martin-Hill emphasizes, “Although the cultural
have been forced out, the law contributes to their revitalization movement is critical to our cultural sur-
own and their children’s loss of language and culture. vival and to teaching our young people traditional
While the Quebec courts have struck down this law ways, we must ensure that we are teaching and pass-
as unconstitutional, this remains a deeply con- ing on traditions that are true to us.”XIX
tentious issue in the community.XVII
I Cousins, “The Inherent Right.”

II Martin-Hill, “She No Speaks," 107.
III Borrows, Canada’s Indigenous Constitution; Haudenosaunee Confederacy, “Confederacy’s Creation.”
IV Cousins, “The Inherent Right.”
V Borrows, Canada’s Indigenous Constitution, 73.
VI Cousins, “The Inherent Right.”
VII Borrows, Canada’s Indigenous Constitution.
VIII Wagner, Sisters in Spirit.
IX Gage, Woman, Church & State.
X Martin-Hill, “She No Speaks,” 110.
XI Ibid., 112.
XII Kunesh, “Banishment as Cultural Justice.”
XIII Cousins, “The Inherent Right,” 45.
XIV Ibid., 45.
XV Kunesh, “Banishment as Cultural Justice”; Garlow, “Could Using Banishment?”
XVI Martin-Hill, “She No Speaks,” 107.
XVII Fennario, “‘Marry out, Get out’”; Peritz, “Mohawk Community’s ‘Marry out, Get out.’”
XVIII Garlow, “Could Using Banishment?”
XIX Martin-Hill, “She No Speaks,” 109.
163
Rehabilitation and Reintegration Supports
Participants voiced support for culturally grounded rehabilitation and reintegration programs in
correctional facilities, such as healing circles, increasing access to Indigenous ceremony or on-
the-land programs, Indigenous art and culture workshops, and support from Elders. Participants
argued that these programs offer holistic support to help address root causes of violence and crimi-
nality, rebuilding offenders’ sense of identity and positive self-worth while reducing recidivism.
“Teach young people how to build their own sweat lodge [in correctional facilities].
They are so happy to be part of something, to have a role [in ceremony]. Even if they
don’t agree, they can work together and respect each other.” (2SLGBTQQIA
Perspectives)
Participants discussed the need to increase access and availability of successful rehabilitative
programs; for instance, by:
 allowing individuals in remand to access programs and services while waiting for
sentencing or convictions, so that they may use that time toward constructive growth;
 improving availability of programs and services for individuals with shorter sentences
or serving time in provincial facilities; and
 safeguarding programs from shifts in funding or leadership, including staff turnover
within correctional facilities and changes in government.
Participants emphasized the need for increased support for individuals transitioning back into
communities from correctional facilities, in order to support them in re-establishing healthy lives
and rebuilding relationships with their community. Key programs and services identified by
participants include:
 transitional housing in well-connected areas of the community, to increase access to
other support services;
 dedicated employment services, with a recognition of the increased barriers previous
offenders face in finding employment;
 healing lodges, providing ongoing, culturally grounded support to address root causes of
criminal behaviour such as trauma;
 ceremonies to mark this important transition and welcome them back into the
community; and
“Ceremony that represents leaving behind what once was, and what is no more.”
 dedicated 2SLGBTQQIA support services, acknowledging the particular challenges

that this population faces in correctional facilities, such as renewed trauma from
discrimination.
164
At the Two Spirit Pow Wow in Winnipeg, Manitoba,
Two-Spirit dancers are able to dance as themselves.
Used with permission courtesy of Sadie-Phoenix Lavoie,
two-spirit Anishinaabe from Sagkeeng First Nation,
Treaty 1.
Conclusion: Making Connections

The Guided Dialogue sessions sought to bridge many of the experiences the National Inquiry
heard about with the need to better understand the context within which these experiences took
place. Bringing together front-line service providers, along with Elders and Knowledge Keepers,
provided a bridge that animated our approach to transforming experiences into actionable,
impactful recommendations. Embracing a new research model within the context of the National
Inquiry, and perhaps of national inquiries in general, participants were also able to build their
own bridges and forge new connections for engagement in the critical and important community-
building and capacity-building work that they do. We thank the participants for their candour,
their passion, and their ongoing commitment to improving outcomes and creating safety for
165
Notes
1 Quoted statements in this report are drawn from notes 5 According to 2016 census data tables, as interpreted
taken during the Guided Dialogues sessions, indicating by the Ontario Human Rights Commission, Indigenous
the session perspective in brackets to provide further children made up over half of the children in foster care
context for the statement. Although notetakers were in Canada, although they represent only 7% of the total
instructed to stay true to the language used by population. See Ontario Human Rights Commission,
participants as much as possible, quotes do not Interrupted Childhoods.
necessarily represent verbatim statements from
6 In 2016, the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal
participants. Minor edits for syntax and clarity are
concluded that First Nations children in Canada have
indicated with brackets.
received inequitable funding for child and family
2 For instance, participants cited the Truth and welfare services, constituting racial discrimination.
Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s Calls to See First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of
Action, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights Canada, “Canadian Human Rights Tribunal Decisions
of Indigenous Peoples, the Royal Commission on on First Nations Child Welfare and Jordan’s Principle:
Aboriginal Peoples, the Viens Commission, a Information Sheet.”
resolution passed by the Assembly of First Nations
7 See Canada, Department of Health, “Jordan’s
regarding Two-Spirit people, and the Convention on
Principle” and First Nations Child and Family Caring
Violence Against Women.
Society of Canada, “Jordan’s Timeline.”
3 As Williams, Craft, and Pastora Sala describe, “The
8 One participant cited the fourth Call to Action from
Cree worldview is founded on relationships with the
the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada
goal of achieving mino-pimatisiwin” (13), a concept
(2015) that calls for an affirmation of the right of
that includes physical, social, economic, cultural, and
Indigenous governments to establish and maintain their
environmental well-being. See Williams, Craft and
own child-welfare agencies. See Truth and Reconcilia-
Pastora Sala, “Keeyask.”
tion Commission of Canada, Calls to Action, 1.
4 The Quechua term sumak kawsay, also known in
9 Participants cited Saskatchewan’s introduction of the
Spanish as buen vivir, can be translated to English as
Interpersonal Violence Disclosure Protocol (Clare’s
“good living” or “the good life.” This concept reflects
Law) Act in 2018.
ethical principles of living in harmony with our
communities and nature, and preserving culture and 10 Assistance Centres for Victims of Crimes.
identity. See Pachama Alliance, “Sumak Kawsay.”
166
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Calls for Justice

As the evidence demonstrates, human rights and Indigenous rights abuses
and violations committed and condoned by the Canadian state represent
genocide against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
These abuses and violations have resulted in the denial of safety, security,
and human dignity. They are the root causes of the violence against
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people that generate
and maintain a world within which Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people are forced to confront violence on a daily basis,
and where perpetrators act with impunity.
The steps to end and redress this genocide must be no less monumental
than the combination of systems and actions that has worked to maintain
colonial violence for generations. A permanent commitment to ending the
genocide requires addressing the four pathways explored within this
report, namely:
• historical, multigenerational, and intergenerational trauma;
• social and economic marginalization;
• maintaining the status quo and institutional lack of will; and
• ignoring the agency and expertise of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
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Addressing these four pathways means full compliance with all human and Indigenous rights
instruments, as well as with the premise that began this report: that the daily encounters with
individuals, institutions, systems, and structures that compromise security must be addressed
with a new view toward relationships.
Although we have been mandated to provide recommendations, it must be understood that these
recommendations, which we frame as “Calls for Justice,” are legal imperatives – they are not
optional. The Calls for Justice arise from international and domestic human and Indigenous
rights laws, including the Charter¸ the Constitution, and the Honour of the Crown. As such,
Canada has a legal obligation to fully implement these Calls for Justice and to ensure Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people live in dignity. We demand a world within which First
Nations, Inuit, and Métis families can raise their children with the same safety, security, and
human rights that non-Indigenous families do, along with full respect for the Indigenous and
human rights of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis families.
As we noted in our Interim Report, there has been very limited movement to implement recom-
mendations from previous reports. What little efforts have been made have focused more on
reactive rather than preventative measures.1 This is a significant barrier to addressing the root
causes of violence. Further, insufficient political will continues to be a roadblock across all
initiatives. We maintain now, as we did then, that proper prioritization and resourcing of solu-
tions by Canadian governments must come with real partnerships with Indigenous Peoples that
support self-determination, in a decolonizing way.2
In presenting these Calls for Justice, we begin, first, by setting out the principles for change that
have informed our work throughout the National Inquiry, and that represent the building blocks
for meaningful and permanent transformation. These basic principles permeate and inform all of
our Calls for Justice, and should be considered guiding principles for interpreting and imple-
menting all of the Calls for Justice.
Next, we articulate our Calls for Justice as imperatives for redress that go beyond one area or
issue and that touch on all of the abuses and violations that family members and survivors of
violence identified in sharing their truths.
These Calls for Justice represent important ways to end the genocide and to transform systemic
and societal values that have worked to maintain colonial violence.
Our Calls for Justice aren’t just about institutions, or about governments, although they have
foundational obligations to uphold; there is a role for everyone in the short and the long term.
Individuals, institutions, and governments can all play a part; we encourage you, as you read
these recommendations, to understand and, most importantly, to act on yours.
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Principles for Change

Our Calls for Justice are based on a solid foundation of evidence and law. Witnesses who shared
their truths with us also explained that there are many important principles and ideas that must
inform the implementation of any of the Calls for Justice in order for them to be effective and
meaningful.
A Focus on Substantive Equality and Human and Indigenous Rights
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are holders of inherent Indigenous
rights, constitutional rights, and international and domestic human rights. In addition, many
Indigenous Peoples in Canada are rights holders under various Treaties, land claims, and
settlement agreements.
As this report affirms, and as the Canadian Human Rights Commission has pointed out:
A fundamental premise of this approach is that Indigenous women and girls should not be
treated solely as victims but as independent human rights holders…. A human
rights-based approach would be a critical element in efforts to bring about a paradigm shift
in Canada’s relationship with Indigenous Peoples, particularly Indigenous women and
girls. This is because such an approach would reframe issues of importance related to
Indigenous women and girls as a “denial of rights” instead of “unfulfilled needs”.
Exposure to violence would then be seen as a systemic violation of the rights to gender
equality and non-discrimination requiring broad structural changes (i.e. policing
practices, judicial), instead of a symptom of service gaps requiring temporary solutions.
This approach would reaffirm Canada’s commitment to uphold and to promote the human
rights of people in vulnerable circumstances. It would also constitute a significant step
towards the implementation of Canada’s obligations enshrined in international human
rights conventions and declarations (e.g. the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms
of Discrimination Against Women, Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Racial
Discrimination, and the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples).
These obligations were further outlined in the recommendations made by various
international bodies, such as the Committee on the Elimination of All Forms of
Discrimination Against Women and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.3
Throughout this report we have also pointed to other legal instruments, including the Convention
on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (PPCG), that must be considered in
terms of viewing Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as rights holders. Please
note that, due to the complexity of the issue of genocide, a supplementary report will be available
on our website that explores this finding in greater detail within a legal framework of analysis.
Throughout these Calls, we maintain that all actions and remediation to address root causes of
violence must be human and Indigenous rights-based with a focus on substantive equality for
Indigenous Peoples.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Indigenous women speak out: there can be

no true reconciliation without justice.
Credit: Ben Powless
“Substantive equality” is a legal principle that

refers to the achievement of true equality in
outcomes. It is required in order to address the
historical disadvantages, intergenerational
trauma, and discrimination experienced by a
person to narrow the gap of inequality that they
are experiencing in order to improve their over-
all well-being. In addition, the fundamental
principle that human rights are interconnected
means that none of the issues addressed in this
report, though separated for ease of reading and
comprehension, should be considered in isolation; all are key to achieving and maintaining sub-
stantive equality and in implementing measures that uphold rights and create safety. In these
Calls for Justice, we frequently call upon “all governments”; in the interpretation of these Calls,
“all governments” refers to federal, provincial, territorial, municipal, and Indigenous
governments.
A Decolonizing Approach
Implementation of these Calls for Justice must include a decolonizing approach. As we explained
in our Interim Report:
A decolonizing approach aims to resist and undo the forces of colonialism and to
re-establish Indigenous Nationhood. It is rooted in Indigenous values, philosophies, and
knowledge systems. It is a way of doing things differently that challenges the colonial
influence we live under by making space for marginalized Indigenous perspectives. The
National Inquiry’s decolonizing approach also acknowledges the rightful power and
place of Indigenous women and girls.4
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Decolonizing approaches involve recognizing inherent rights through the principle that Indige-
nous Peoples have the right to govern themselves in relation to matters that are internal to their
communities; integral to their unique cultures, identities, traditions, languages, and institutions;
and with respect to their special relationship to their resources, which many witnesses described
as their relatives.
Our approach honours and respects Indigenous values, philosophies, and knowledge systems. It
is a strengths-based approach, focusing on the resilience and expertise of individuals and com-
munities themselves.
Inclusion of Families and Survivors
The implementation of the Calls for Justice must include the perspectives and participation of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people with lived experience, including the
families of the missing and murdered and survivors of violence. The definition of “family” is not
limited to a nuclear family. “Family” must be understood to include all forms of familial kinship,
including but not limited to biological families, chosen families, and families of the heart.5
We centre their contributions throughout the report, because we know that this inclusion is key to
healing and to understanding the strength and resilience that lie at the heart of each person, each
family, and each community from whom we heard. We maintain the need for this approach to the
implementation of all Calls for Justice, ensuring that the specific measures taken fully engage
these perspectives and this expertise.
Self-Determined and Indigenous-Led Solutions and Services
Services and solutions must be led by Indigenous governments, organizations, and people.
This is based on the self-determination and self-governance of Indigenous Peoples, as defined
per articles 3 and 4 of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples
(UNDRIP):
Article 3: “Indigenous Peoples have the right to self-determination. By virtue of that
right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social
and cultural development.”
Article 4: “Indigenous Peoples, in exercising their right to self-determination, have the

right to autonomy or self-government in matters relating to their internal and local
affairs, as well as ways and means for financing their autonomous functions.”
Though defined by these articles, self-determination actually represents an inherent right that
exists independent of any statute or legislation. The colonial mindset by which Indigenous
leaders ask for permission and the state gives permission has to end. Further, the exclusion of
Indigenous women, girls, 2SLGBTQQIA people, Elders, and children from the exercise of
Indigenous self-determination must end.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Where Indigenous Peoples and non-Indigenous governments have to work together to create
solutions and deliver services, it must be in true partnership that respects Indigenous self-
determination in all matters. Within this, we maintain that solutions should stem from Indigenous
communities and Nations, and that these solutions must be prioritized and sustainably and
equitably resourced.
Recognizing Distinctions
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people come from diverse First Nations, Métis,
and Inuit communities. The Calls for Justice must be interpreted and implemented in an equitable
and non-discriminatory way, addressing the needs of distinct Indigenous Peoples, and taking into
account factors that make them distinct. These include, but are not limited to:
• Self-identification
3 First Nation
3 Inuit
3 Métis
• Geographical- or regional-specific information

3 North, South, East, West
3 Proximity to urban centres, oceans, water, and natural resources
3 Locations of traditional territories and homelands
3 Municipal, provincial, and territorial boundaries
• Residency
3 On-reserve/off-reserve
3 Rural/urban
3 Remote and northern
3 Communities and settlements
• A gendered lens and framework that ensures that impacts on women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA individuals are taken into account. This also includes understanding the
differences and diversity among 2SLGBTQQIA people and understanding that the
needs, within communities of individuals, may not necessarily be the same.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Cultural Safety
The interpretation and implementation of the Calls for Justice must include the necessity for
cultural safety. Cultural safety goes beyond the idea of cultural “appropriateness” and demands
the incorporation of services and processes that empower Indigenous Peoples. The creation of
cultural safety requires, at a minimum, the inclusion of Indigenous languages, laws and proto-
cols, governance, spirituality, and religion.
Trauma-Informed Approach
Incorporating knowledge of trauma into all policies, procedures, and practices of solutions and
services is crucial to the implementation of the Calls for Justice. It is fundamental to recognizing
the impacts of trauma and to responding appropriately to signs of trauma. Interpretation and im-
plementation of the Calls for Justice must include funding to ensure all necessary steps to create
a trauma-informed approach and to deliver trauma-informed services are viable.
The interpretation and implementation of our Calls for Justice must take into account all of these
approaches and principles, because they are interconnected and inseparable. All Calls for Justice
are aimed at ending genocide, tackling root causes of violence, and improving the quality of life
of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This is the only way forward.
Sarah Birmingham is the mother of Mary Ann Birmingham, killed in 1986. When she remembers her daughter,
she always remembers her smiling. Now she's participating in the #SacredMMIWG education and
awareness campaign to make change. Credit: Nadya Kwandibens
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Overarching Findings
While we have included findings specific to particular themes, issues and communities through
the second section of this report, we maintain that there are many truths that we heard that make
it clear how these areas are connected and are inseparable, where the actions or inactions of
particular groups, institutions, and governments have served to promote violence and perpetuate
genocide.
Overarching findings include:
R The significant, persistent, and deliberate pattern of systemic racial and gendered human
rights and Indigenous rights violations and abuses – perpetuated historically and main-
tained today by the Canadian state, designed to displace Indigenous Peoples from their
land, social structures, and governance and to eradicate their existence as Nations,
communities, families, and individuals – is the cause of the disappearances, murders, and
violence experienced by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and is
genocide. This colonialism, discrimination, and genocide explains the high rates of
An absolute paradigm shift is required to dismantle colonialism within Canadian
society, and from all levels of government and public institutions. Ideologies and
instruments of colonialism, racism, and misogyny, past and present, must be rejected.
R Canada has signed and ratified many international declarations and treaties that affect
Indigenous women’s, girls’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s rights, protection, security, and
safety. Canada has failed to meaningfully implement the provisions of these legal instru-
ments, including PPCG, ICESCR, ICCPR, UNCRC, CEDAW, and UNDRIP.
Further, the Canadian state has enacted domestic laws, including but not limited to
section 35 of the Constitution, the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, and human rights
legislation, to ensure the legal protection of human rights and Indigenous rights. All
governments, including Indigenous governments, have an obligation to uphold and protect
the Indigenous and human rights of all Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people as outlined in these laws. Canada has failed to protect these rights and to
acknowledge and remedy the human rights violations and abuses that have been consis-
tently perpetrated against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
There is no accessible and reliable mechanism within the Canadian state for Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to seek recourse and remedies for the violations
of their domestic and international human rights and Indigenous rights. The Canadian legal
system fails to hold the state and state actors accountable for their failure to meet domestic
and international human rights and Indigenous rights obligations.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
R The Canadian state has displaced Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people from their
traditional roles in governance and leadership and continues to violate their political rights.
This has been done through concerted efforts to destroy and replace Indigenous governance
systems with colonial and patriarchal governance models, such as the Indian Act, and
through the imposition of laws of general application throughout Canada. Indigenous
governments or bands as established under the Indian Act or through local municipal gov-
ernments do not have the full trust of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Indigenous bands and councils and community leadership who have authority through
colonial law are generally seen as not representing all of the interests of Indigenous
R We recognize self-determination and self-governance as fundamental Indigenous and

human rights and a best practice. Indigenous self-determination and self-governance in all
areas of Indigenous society are required to properly serve and protect Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This is particularly true in the delivery of services.
Efforts by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to be self-determining
face significant barriers. Many Indigenous women’s advocacy organizations and grassroots
organizations engaging in essential work to support survivors of violence and families of
missing or lost loved ones, and working toward restoring safety, are underfunded and
undersupported by current funding formulas and systems.
Temporary and deficit-based approaches do not increase capacity for self-determination or
self-governance, and fail to adequately provide protection and safety, as well as substantive
equality. Short-term or project-based funding models in service areas are not sustainable,
and represent a violation of inherent rights to self-governance and a failure to provide
funding on a needs-based approach, equitably, substantively, and stably.
Clifford Crowchild honours the

memory of his mother, Jacqueline
Crazybull, killed in 2007. The
#SacredMMIWG awareness
campaign was developed by Eagle
Vision and shot by renowned
Anishinaabe photographer Nadya
Kwandibens. Credit: Nadya
Kwandibens
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Calls For Justice For All Governments

The National Inquiry heard many truths connected with the deliberate actions and inactions of all
levels of government. In addition, the evidence makes clear that changing the structures and the
systems that sustain violence in daily encounters is not only necessary to combat violence, but
is an essential legal obligation of all governments in Canada. We target many of our Calls for
Justice at governments for this reason, and identify how governments can work to honour
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and to protect their human and Indigenous
rights, in the thematic areas examined within this report.
Human and Indigenous Rights and Governmental Obligations
1.1 We call upon federal, provincial, territorial, municipal, and Indigenous govern-
ments (hereinafter “all governments”), in partnership with Indigenous Peoples, to
develop and implement a National Action Plan to address violence against Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as recommended in our Interim Report and in
support of existing recommendations by other bodies of inquiry and other reports.6 As
part of the National Action Plan, we call upon all governments to ensure that equitable
access to basic rights such as employment, housing, education, safety, and health care is
recognized as a fundamental means of protecting Indigenous and human rights, re-
sourced and supported as rights-based programs founded on substantive equality. All
programs must be no-barrier, and must apply regardless of Status or location.
Governments should:
i Table and implement a National Action Plan that is flexible and distinctions-based,
and that includes regionally specific plans with devoted funding and timetables for
implementation that are rooted in the local cultures and communities of diverse
Indigenous identities, with measurable goals and necessary resources dedicated to
capacity building, sustainability, and long-term solutions.
ii Make publicly available on an annual basis reports of ongoing actions and develop-
ments in measurable goals related to the National Action Plan.
1.2 We call upon all governments, with the full participation of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people, to immediately implement and fully comply with all
relevant rights instruments, including but not limited to:
i ICCPR, ICESCR, UNCRC, CEDAW, and ICERD, as well as all optional protocols to
these instruments, including the 3rd Protocol to the United Nations Convention on the
Rights of the Child (UNCRC).
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
ii American Convention on Human Rights: specifically, that Canada ratify the American
Convention on Human Rights and the Inter-American Convention on the Prevention,
Punishment, and Eradication of Violence against Women.
iii All the recommendations of the 2015 UN CEDAW Inquiry Report and cooperation
with the UN Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women on all
follow-up procedures.
iv All recommendations made by international human rights bodies, including treaty-
monitoring bodies, on causes and recommendations to address violence against all,
but specifically Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals.
v UNDRIP, including recognition, protection, and support of Indigenous self-gover-
nance and self-determination, as defined by UNDRIP and by Indigenous Peoples,
including that these rights are guaranteed equally to women and men, as rights
protected under section 35 of the Constitution. This requires respecting and making
space for Indigenous self-determination and self-governance, and the free, prior, and
informed consent of Indigenous Peoples to all decision-making processes that affect
them, eliminating gender discrimination in the Indian Act, and amending the Consti-
tution to bring it into conformity with UNDRIP.
1.3 We call upon all governments, in meeting human and Indigenous rights obligations, to
pursue prioritization and resourcing of the measures required to eliminate the social,
economic, cultural, and political marginalization of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people when developing budgets and determining government activities
and priorities.
1.4 We call upon all governments, and in particular Indigenous governments and Indigenous
representative organizations, to take urgent and special measures to ensure that Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are represented in governance and that
their political rights are respected and upheld. We call upon all governments to equitably
support and promote the role of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in
governance and leadership. These efforts must include the development of policies and
procedures to protect Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people against
sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and racism within political life.
1.5 We call upon all governments to immediately take all necessary measures to prevent,
investigate, punish, and compensate for violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
1.6 We call upon all governments to eliminate jurisdictional gaps and neglect that result in
the denial of services, or improperly regulated and delivered services, that address the
social, economic, political, and cultural marginalization of, and violence against,
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Vanessa Brooks’s sister, Tanya

Brooks, was killed in 2009. As part
of the #SacredMMIWG portrait
series, she remembers how her life
was with Tanya in it: peaceful,
serene, her sacred space.
Credit: Nadya Kwandibens
1.7 We call upon the federal, provincial, and territorial governments, in partnership with
Indigenous Peoples, to establish a National Indigenous and Human Rights Ombudsper-
son, with authority in all jurisdictions, and to establish a National Indigenous and
Human Rights Tribunal. The ombudsperson and tribunal must be independent of
governments and have the authority to receive complaints from Indigenous individuals
as well as Indigenous communities in relation to Indigenous and human rights viola-
tions, and to conduct thorough and independent evaluations of government services for
First Nations, Inuit, and Métis people and communities to determine compliance with
human and Indigenous rights laws.
The ombudsperson and the tribunal must be given sufficient resources to fulfill their
mandates and must be permanent.
1.8 We call upon all governments to create specific and long-term funding, available to
Indigenous communities and organizations, to create, deliver, and disseminate preven-
tion programs, education, and awareness campaigns designed for Indigenous communi-
ties and families related to violence prevention and combatting lateral violence. Core
and sustainable funding, as opposed to program funding, must be provided to national
and regional Indigenous women’s and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s organizations.
1.9 We call upon all governments to develop laws, policies, and public education campaigns
to challenge the acceptance and normalization of violence.
1.10 We call upon the federal government to create an independent mechanism to report on
the implementation of the National Inquiry’s Calls for Justice to Parliament, annually.
1.11 We call upon the federal government – specifically, Library and Archives Canada and
the Privy Council Office – to maintain and to make easily accessible the National
Inquiry’s public record and website.
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Calls for Justice for All Governments: Culture

2.1 We call upon all governments to acknowledge, recognize, and protect the rights of
Indigenous Peoples to their cultures and languages as inherent rights, and constitution-
ally protected as such under section 35 of the Constitution.
2.2 We call upon all governments to recognize Indigenous languages as official languages,
with the same status, recognition, and protection provided to French and English. This
includes the directives that:
i Federal, provincial, and territorial governments must legislate Indigenous languages
in the respective territory as official languages.
ii All governments must make funds available to Indigenous Peoples to support the
work required to revitalize and restore Indigenous cultures and languages.
2.3 We call upon all governments to ensure that all Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people are provided with safe, no-barrier, permanent, and meaningful
access to their cultures and languages in order to restore, reclaim, and revitalize their
cultures and identities. These are rights held by all segments of Indigenous communities,
from young children to Elders. The programs and services that provide such access should
not be tied exclusively to government-run cultural or educational institutions. All govern-
ments must further ensure that the rights of Indigenous children to retain and be educated
in their Indigenous language are upheld and protected. All governments must ensure
access to immersion programs for children from preschool into post-secondary education.
2.4 We call upon all governments to provide the necessary resources and permanent funds
required to preserve knowledge by digitizing interviews with Knowledge Keepers and
language speakers. We further call upon all governments to support grassroots and com-
munity-led Indigenous language and cultural programs that restore identity, place, and
belonging within First Nations, Inuit, and Métis communities through permanent,
no-barrier funding and resources. Special measures must include supports to restore and
revitalize identity, place, and belonging for Indigenous Peoples and communities who
have been isolated from their Nations due to colonial violence, including 2SLGBTQQIA
people and women who have been denied Status.
2.5 We call upon all governments, in partnership with Indigenous Peoples, to create a
permanent empowerment fund devoted to supporting Indigenous-led initiatives for
Indigenous individuals, families, and communities to access cultural knowledge,
as an important and strength-based way to support cultural rights and to uphold self-
determined services. This empowerment fund should include the support of land-based
educational programs that can assist in foundational cultural learning and awareness.
This empowerment fund will also assist in the revitalization of distinct cultural practices
as expressed by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, with eligibility
criteria and decision making directly in their hands.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
2.6 We call upon all governments to educate their citizens about, and to confront and
eliminate, racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia. To accomplish this, the federal
government, in partnership with Indigenous Peoples and provincial and territorial
governments, must develop and implement an Anti-Racism and Anti-Sexism National
Action Plan to end racist and sexualized stereotypes of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. The plan must target the general public as well as public services.
2.7 We call upon all governments to adequately fund and support Indigenous-led initiatives
to improve the representation of Indigenous Peoples in media and pop culture.
Calls for Justice for All Governments: Health and Wellness

3.1 We call upon all governments to ensure that the rights to health and wellness of Indige-
nous Peoples, and specifically of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
are recognized and protected on an equitable basis.
3.2 We call upon all governments to provide adequate, stable, equitable, and ongoing
funding for Indigenous-centred and community-based health and wellness services that
are accessible and culturally appropriate, and meet the health and wellness needs of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The lack of health and wellness
services within Indigenous communities continues to force Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people to relocate in order to access care. Governments must ensure
that health and wellness services are available and accessible within Indigenous commu-
nities and wherever Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people reside.
3.3 We call upon all governments to fully support First Nations, Inuit, and Métis communi-
ties to call on Elders, Grandmothers, and other Knowledge Keepers to establish commu-
nity-based trauma-informed programs for survivors of trauma and violence.
3.4 We call upon all governments to ensure that all Indigenous communities receive immedi-
ate and necessary resources, including funding and support, for the establishment of
sustainable, permanent, no-barrier, preventative, accessible, holistic, wraparound serv-
ices, including mobile trauma and addictions recovery teams. We further direct that
trauma and addictions treatment programs be paired with other essential services such as
mental health services and sexual exploitation and trafficking services as they relate to
each individual case of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people.
3.5 We call upon all governments to establish culturally competent and responsive crisis
response teams in all communities and regions, to meet the immediate needs of an
Indigenous person, family, and/or community after a traumatic event (murder, accident,
violent event, etc.), alongside ongoing support.
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3.6 We call upon all governments to ensure substantive equality in the funding of services
for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as well as substantive equality
for Indigenous-run health services. Further, governments must ensure that jurisdictional
disputes do not result in the denial of rights and services. This includes mandated
permanent funding of health services for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people on a continual basis, regardless of jurisdictional lines, geographical location,
and Status affiliation or lack thereof.
3.7 We call upon all governments to provide continual and accessible healing programs
and support for all children of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people and their family members. Specifically, we call for the permanent
establishment of a fund akin to the Aboriginal Healing
Foundation and related funding. These funds and their
administration must be independent from government
and must be distinctions-based. There must be accessi-
ble and equitable allocation of specific monies within
the fund for Inuit, Métis, and First Nations Peoples.
Rinelle Harper is a survivor and advocate who refused to let

people ignore the issue of violence against Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. She says: “I want people to
know that change starts with us.” Credit: Nadya Kwandibens
Calls for Justice for All Governments: Human Security

4.1 We call upon all governments to uphold the social and economic rights of Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people by ensuring that Indigenous Peoples have
services and infrastructure that meet their social and economic needs. All governments
must immediately ensure that Indigenous Peoples have access to safe housing, clean
drinking water, and adequate food.
4.2 We call upon all governments to recognize Indigenous Peoples’ right to self-determina-
tion in the pursuit of economic social development. All governments must support and
resource economic and social progress and development on an equitable basis, as these
measures are required to uphold the human dignity, life, liberty, and security of Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. All governments must support and
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resource community-based supports and solutions designed to improve social and

economic security, led by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This
support must come with long-term, sustainable funding designed to meet the needs and
objectives as defined by Indigenous Peoples and communities.
4.3 We call upon all governments to support programs and services for Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in the sex industry to promote their safety and security.
These programs must be designed and delivered in partnership with people who have
lived experience in the sex industry. We call for stable and long-term funding for these
programs and services.
4.4 We call upon all governments to provide supports and resources for educational, train-
ing, and employment opportunities for all Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. These programs must be available within all Indigenous communities.
4.5 We call upon all governments to establish a guaranteed annual livable income for all
Canadians, including Indigenous Peoples, to meet all their social and economic needs.
This income must take into account diverse needs, realities, and geographic locations.
4.6 We call upon all governments to immediately commence the construction of new
housing and the provision of repairs for existing housing to meet the housing needs of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This construction and provision
of repairs must ensure that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have
access to housing that is safe, appropriate to geographic and cultural needs, and avail-
able wherever they reside, whether in urban, rural, remote, or Indigenous communities.
4.7 We call upon all governments to support the establishment and long-term sustainable
funding of Indigenous-led low-barrier shelters, safe spaces, transition homes, second-
stage housing, and services for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
who are homeless, near homeless, dealing with food insecurity, or in poverty, and who
are fleeing violence or have been subjected to sexualized violence and exploitation. All
governments must ensure that shelters, transitional housing, second-stage housing, and
services are appropriate to cultural needs, and available wherever Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people reside.
4.8 We call upon all governments to ensure that adequate plans and funding are put into
place for safe and affordable transit and transportation services and infrastructure for
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people living in remote or rural communi-
ties. Transportation should be sufficient and readily available to Indigenous communities,
and in towns and cities located in all of the provinces and territories in Canada. These
plans and funding should take into consideration:
• ways to increase safe public transit;
• ways to address the lack of commercial transit available; and
• special accommodations for fly-in, northern, and remote communities.
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Calls for Justice for All Governments: Justice

5.1 We call upon all governments to immediately implement the recommendations in
relation to the Canadian justice system in: Bridging the Cultural Divide: A Report on
Aboriginal People and Criminal Justice in Canada, Royal Commission on Aboriginal
Peoples (1996); and the Report of the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba: Public
Inquiry into the Administration of Justice and Aboriginal People (1991).
5.2 We call upon the federal government to review and amend the Criminal Code to
eliminate definitions of offences that minimize the culpability of the offender.
5.3 We call upon the federal government to review and reform the law about sexualized
violence and intimate partner violence, utilizing the perspectives of feminist and
5.4 We call upon all governments to immediately and dramatically transform Indigenous
policing from its current state as a mere delegation to an exercise in self-governance and
self-determination over policing. To do this, the federal government’s First Nations
Policing Program must be replaced with a new legislative and funding framework, con-
sistent with international and domestic policing best practices and standards, that must
be developed by the federal, provincial, and territorial governments in partnership with
Indigenous Peoples. This legislative and funding framework must, at a minimum, meet
the following considerations:
i Indigenous police services must be funded to a level that is equitable with all other
non-Indigenous police services in this country. Substantive equality requires that
more resources or funding be provided to close the gap in existing resources, and that
required staffing, training, and equipment are in place to ensure that Indigenous po-
lice services are culturally appropriate and effective police services.
ii There must be civilian oversight bodies with jurisdiction to audit Indigenous police
services and to investigate claims of police misconduct, including incidents of rape
and other sexual assaults, within those services. These oversight bodies must report
publicly at least annually.
5.5 We call upon all governments to fund the provision of policing services within Indige-
nous communities in northern and remote areas in a manner that ensures that those serv-
ices meet the safety and justice needs of the communities and that the quality of policing
services is equitable to that provided to non-Indigenous Canadians. This must include
but is not limited to the following measures:
i With the growing reliance on information management systems, particularly in the
area of major and interjurisdictional criminal investigations, remote communities
must be ensured access to reliable high-speed Internet as a right.
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ii Major crime units and major case management must be more accessible to remote
and northern communities on a faster basis than the service is being delivered now.
iii Capacity must be developed in investigative tools and techniques for the investiga-
tion of sexualized violence, including but not limited to tools for the collection of
physical evidence, such as sexual assault kits, and specialized and trauma-informed
questioning techniques.
iv Crime-prevention funding and programming must reflect community needs.
5.6 We call upon provincial and territorial governments to develop an enhanced, holistic,
comprehensive approach for the provision of support to Indigenous victims of crime and
families and friends of Indigenous murdered or missing persons. This includes but is not
limited to the following measures:
i Guaranteed access to financial support and meaningful and appropriate trauma care
must be provided for victims of crime and traumatic incidents, regardless of whether
they report directly to the police, if the perpetrator is charged, or if there is a conviction.
ii Adequate and reliable culturally relevant and accessible victim services must be
provided to family members and survivors of crime, and funding must be provided
to Indigenous and community-led organizations that deliver victim services and
healing supports.
iii Legislated paid leave and disability benefits must be provided for victims of crime or
traumatic events.
iv Guaranteed access to independent legal services must be provided throughout court
processes. As soon as an Indigenous woman, girl, or 2SLGBTQQIA person decides
to report an offence, before speaking to the police, they must have guaranteed access
to legal counsel at no cost.
v Victim services must be independent from prosecution services and police services.
5.7 We call upon federal and provincial governments to establish robust and well-funded
Indigenous civilian police oversight bodies (or branches within established reputable
civilian oversight bodies within a jurisdiction) in all jurisdictions, which must include
representation of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, inclusive of
diverse Indigenous cultural backgrounds, with the power to:
i Observe and oversee investigations in relation to police negligence or misconduct,
including but not limited to rape and other sexual offences.
ii Observe and oversee investigations of cases involving Indigenous Peoples.
iii Publicly report on police progress in addressing findings and recommendations at
least annually.
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5.8 We call upon all provincial and territorial governments to enact missing persons
legislation.
5.9 We call upon all governments to ensure that protection orders are available, accessible,
promptly issued, and effectively serviced and resourced to protect the safety of
5.10 We call upon all governments to recruit and retain more Indigenous justices of the
peace, and to expand their jurisdictions to match that of the Nunavut Justice of the
Peace.
5.11 We call upon all governments to increase accessibility to meaningful and culturally
appropriate justice practices by expanding restorative justice programs and Indigenous
Peoples’ courts.
5.12 We call upon federal, provincial, and territorial governments to increase Indigenous
representation in all Canadian courts, including within the Supreme Court of Canada.
5.13 We call upon all provincial and territorial governments to expand and adequately resource
legal aid programs in order to ensure that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people have access to justice and meaningful participation in the justice system. Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people must have guaranteed access to legal
services in order to defend and assert their human rights and Indigenous rights.
5.14 We call upon federal, provincial and territorial governments to thoroughly evaluate the
impact of mandatory minimum sentences as it relates to the sentencing and over-incar-
ceration of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and to take appropriate
action to address their over-incarceration.
5.15 We call upon federal, provincial, and territorial governments and all actors in the justice
system to consider Gladue reports as a right and to resource them appropriately, and to
create national standards for Gladue reports, including strength-based reporting.
5.16 We call upon federal, provincial, and territorial governments to provide community-
based and Indigenous-specific options for sentencing.
5.17 We call upon federal, provincial, and territorial governments to thoroughly evaluate the
impacts of Gladue principles and section 718.2(e) of the Criminal Code on sentencing
equity as it relates to violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people.
5.18 We call upon the federal government to consider violence against Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people as an aggravating factor at sentencing, and to amend
the Criminal Code accordingly, with the passage and enactment of Bill S-215.
5.19 We call upon the federal government to include cases where there is a pattern of inti-
mate partner violence and abuse as murder in the first degree under section 222 of the
Criminal Code.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
5.20 We call upon the federal government to implement the Indigenous-specific provisions of
the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (SC 1992, c.20), sections 79 to 84.1.
5.21 We call upon the federal government to fully implement the recommendations in the
reports of the Office of the Correctional Investigator and those contained in the Auditor
General of Canada (Preparing Indigenous Offenders for Release, Fall 2016); the Calls
to Action of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2015); the report of
the Standing Committee on Public Safety and National Security, Indigenous People in
the Federal Correctional System (June 2018); the report of the Standing Committee on
the Status of Women, A Call to Action: Reconciliation with Indigenous Women in the
Federal Justice and Corrections Systems (June 2018); and the Commission of Inquiry
into certain events at the Prison for Women in Kingston (1996, Arbour Report) in order
to reduce the gross overrepresentation of Indigenous women and girls in the criminal
justice system.
5.22 We call upon the federal government to return women’s corrections to the key principles
set out in Creating Choices (1990).
5.23 We call upon the federal government to create a Deputy Commissioner for Indigenous
Corrections to ensure corporate attention to, and accountability regarding, Indigenous
issues.
5.24 We call upon the federal government to amend data collection and intake-screening
processes to gather distinctions-based and intersectional data about Indigenous women,
5.25 We call upon all governments to resource research on men who commit violence against
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Calls for Justice: Industries, Institutions, Services,

and Partnerships
As this report has demonstrated, so much of the violence shared in the truths of those who testi-
fied began with an encounter between a person and an institution or a service that could have
ultimately contributed to wellness, if it had occurred differently. In this section of our Calls for
Justice, we identify important industries, institutions and services that are featured in testimony
throughout this report. We include the idea of partnership, because so many of these services and
institutions operated in partnership with governments at all levels; these Calls, therefore, while
aimed at service providers, must be interpreted with an insistence on proper resourcing and
interjurisdictional cooperation, in order to ensure safety for Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
Calls for Media and Social Influencers:
6.1 We call upon all media, news corporations and outlets, and, in particular, government-
funded corporations and outlets; media unions, associations, and guilds; academic insti-
tutions teaching journalism or media courses; governments that fund such corporations,
outlets, and academic institutions; and journalists, reporters, bloggers, film producers,
writers, musicians, music producers, and, more generally, people working in the enter-
tainment industry to take decolonizing approaches to their work and publications in
order to educate all Canadians about Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. More specifically, this includes the following:
i Ensure authentic and appropriate representation of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, inclusive of diverse Indigenous cultural backgrounds, in
order to address negative and discriminatory stereotypes.
Winnipeg Police Chief Danny

Smyth participates in the National
Inquiry’s #SacredMMIWG art
project/portrait series. He and many
others continue to bring light to the
issue of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
ii Support Indigenous people sharing their stories, from their perspectives, free of bias,
discrimination, and false assumptions, and in a trauma-informed and culturally
sensitive way.
iii Increase the number of Indigenous people in broadcasting, television, and radio, and
in journalist, reporter, producer, and executive positions in the entertainment industry,
including, and not limited to, by:
• providing educational and training opportunities aimed at Indigenous inclusion;
and
• providing scholarships and grants aimed at Indigenous inclusion in media,
film, and music industry-related fields of study.
iv Take proactive steps to break down the stereotypes that hypersexualize and demean
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and to end practices that per-
petuate myths that Indigenous women are more sexually available and “less worthy”
than non-Indigenous women because of their race or background.
Calls for Health and Wellness Service Providers:

7.1 We call upon all governments and health service providers to recognize that Indigenous
Peoples – First Nations, Inuit, and Métis, including 2SLGBTQQIA people – are the
experts in caring for and healing themselves, and that health and wellness services are
most effective when they are designed and delivered by the Indigenous Peoples they are
supposed to serve, in a manner consistent with and grounded in the practices, world
views, cultures, languages, and values of the diverse Inuit, Métis, and First Nations
communities they serve.
7.2 We call upon all governments and health service providers to ensure that health and
wellness services for Indigenous Peoples include supports for healing from all forms of
unresolved trauma, including intergenerational, multigenerational, and complex trauma.
Health and wellness programs addressing trauma should be Indigenous-led, or in part-
nership with Indigenous communities, and should not be limited in time or approaches.
7.3 We call upon all governments and health service providers to support Indigenous-led
prevention initiatives in the areas of health and community awareness, including, but not
limited to programming:
• for Indigenous men and boys
• related to suicide prevention strategies for youth and adults
• related to sexual trafficking awareness and no-barrier exiting
• specific to safe and healthy relationships
• specific to mental health awareness
• related to 2SLGBTQQIA issues and sex positivity
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7.4 We call upon all governments and health service providers to provide necessary
resources, including funding, to support the revitalization of Indigenous health, well-
ness, and child and Elder care practices. For healing, this includes teachings that are
land-based and about harvesting and the use of Indigenous medicines for both ceremony
and health issues. This may also include: matriarchal teachings on midwifery and post-
natal care for both woman and child; early childhood health care; palliative care; Elder
care and care homes to keep Elders in their home communities as valued Knowledge
Keepers; and other measures. Specific programs may include but are not limited to
correctional facilities, healing centres, hospitals, and rehabilitation centres.
7.5 We call upon governments, institutions, organizations, and essential and non-essential
service providers to support and provide permanent and necessary resources for special-
ized intervention, healing and treatment programs, and services and initiatives offered in
7.6 We call upon institutions and health service providers to ensure that all persons involved
in the provision of health services to Indigenous Peoples receive ongoing training,
education, and awareness in areas including, but not limited to:
• the history of colonialism in the oppression and genocide of Inuit,
Métis, and First Nations Peoples;
• anti-bias and anti-racism;
• local language and culture; and
• local health and healing practices.
7.7 We call upon all governments, educational institutions, and health and wellness profes-
sional bodies to encourage, support, and equitably fund Indigenous people to train and
work in the area of health and wellness.
7.8 We call upon all governments and health service providers to create effective and well-
funded opportunities, and to provide socio-economic incentives, to encourage Indige-
nous people to work within the health and wellness field and within their communities.
This includes taking positive action to recruit, hire, train, and retain long-term staff and
local Indigenous community members for health and wellness services offered in all
7.9 We call upon all health service providers to develop and implement awareness and
education programs for Indigenous children and youth on the issue of grooming for
exploitation and sexual exploitation.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Calls for Transportation Service Providers and the Hospitality Industry:

8.1 We call upon all transportation service providers and the hospitality industry to under-
take training to identify and respond to sexual exploitation and human trafficking, as
well as the development and implementation of reporting policies and practices.
Calls for Police Services:

9.1 We call upon all police services and justice system actors to acknowledge that the histor-
ical and current relationship between Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people and the justice system has been largely defined by colonialism, racism, bias,
discrimination, and fundamental cultural and societal differences. We further call upon
all police services and justice system actors to acknowledge that, going forward, this
relationship must be based on respect and understanding, and must be led by, and in
partnerships with, Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
9.2 We call upon all actors in the justice system, including police services, to build respect-
ful working relationships with Indigenous Peoples by knowing, understanding, and
respecting the people they are serving. Initiatives and actions should include, but are
not limited to, the following measures:
i Review and revise all policies, practices, and procedures to ensure service delivery
that is culturally appropriate and reflects no bias or racism toward Indigenous
Peoples, including victims and survivors of violence.
ii Establish engagement and partnerships with Indigenous Peoples, communities, and
leadership, including women, Elders, youth, and 2SLGBTQQIA people from the
respective territories and who are resident within a police service’s jurisdiction.
iii Ensure appropriate Indigenous representation, including Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people, on police services boards and oversight authorities.
iv Undertake training and education of all staff and officers so that they understand and
implement culturally appropriate and trauma-informed practices, especially when
dealing with families of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
9.3 We call upon all governments to fund an increase in recruitment of Indigenous Peoples
to all police services, and for all police services to include representation of Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, inclusive of diverse Indigenous cultural
backgrounds, within their ranks. This includes measures such as the following:
i Achieve representative First Nations, Inuit, and Métis diversity and gender diversity
within all police services through intensive and specialized recruitment across Canada.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
ii Ensure mandatory Indigenous language capacity within police services.

iii Ensure that screening of recruits includes testing for racial, gender, gender identity,
and sexual orientation bias.
iv Include the Indigenous community in the recruitment and hiring committees/process.
v In training recruits, include: history of police in the oppression and genocide of In-
digenous Peoples; anti-racism and anti-bias training; and culture and language train-
ing. All training must be distinctions-based and relevant to the land and people being
served; training must not be pan-Indigenous.
vi Retain Indigenous officers through relevant employment supports, and offer incen-
tives to Indigenous officers to meet their unique needs as Indigenous officers serving
Indigenous communities, to ensure retention and overall health and wellness of the
service.
vii End the practice of limited-duration posts in all police services, and instead imple-
ment a policy regarding remote and rural communities focused on building and sus-
taining a relationship with the local community and cultures. This relationship must
be led by, and in partnership with, the Indigenous Peoples living in those remote and
rural communities.
9.4 We call upon non-Indigenous police services to ensure they have the capacity and re-
sources to serve and protect Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. We
further call upon all non-Indigenous police services to establish specialized Indigenous
policing units within their services located in cities and regions with Indigenous
populations.
i Specialized Indigenous policing units are to be staffed with experienced and well-
trained Indigenous investigators, who will be the primary investigative teams and
officers overseeing the investigation of cases involving Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
ii Specialized Indigenous policing units are to lead the services’ efforts in community
liaison work, community relationship building, and community crime-prevention
programs within and for Indigenous communities.
iii Specialized Indigenous policing units, within non-Indigenous police services, are to
be funded adequately by governments.
9.5 We call upon all police services for the standardization of protocols for policies and
practices that ensure that all cases of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people are thoroughly investigated. This includes the following
measures:
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
i Establish a communication protocol with Indigenous communities to inform them of

policies, practices, and programs that make the communities safe.
ii Improve communication between police and families of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people from the first report, with
regular and ongoing communication throughout the investigation.
iii Improve coordination across government departments and between jurisdictions and
Indigenous communities and police services.
iv Recognize that the high turnover among officers assigned to a missing and murdered
Indigenous woman’s, girl’s, or 2SLGBTQQIA person’s file may negatively impact
both progress on the investigation and relationships with family members; police
services must have robust protocols to mitigate these impacts.
v Create a national strategy, through the Canadian Association of Chiefs of Police, to
ensure consistency in reporting mechanisms for reporting missing Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. This could be developed in conjunction
with implementation of a national database.
vi Establish standardized response times to reports of missing Indigenous persons and
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people experiencing violence, and conduct a regu-
lar audit of response times to monitor and provide feedback for improvement.
vii Lead the provincial and territorial governments to establish a nationwide emergency
number.
9.6 We call upon all police services to establish an independent, special investigation unit
for the investigation of incidents of failures to investigate, police misconduct, and all
forms of discriminatory practices and mistreatment of Indigenous Peoples within their
police service. This special investigation unit must be transparent in practice and report
at least annually to Indigenous communities, leadership, and people in their jurisdiction.
9.7 We call upon all police services to partner with front-line organizations that work in
service delivery, safety, and harm reduction for Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people to expand and strengthen police services delivery.
9.8 We call upon all police services to establish and engage with a civilian Indigenous advi-
sory committee for each police service or police division, and to establish and engage
with a local civilian Indigenous advisory committee to advise the detachment operating
within the Indigenous community.
9.9 We call upon all levels of government and all police services for the establishment of a
national task force, comprised of an independent, highly qualified, and specialized team
of investigators, to review and, if required, to reinvestigate each case of all unresolved
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
files of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people from
across Canada. Further, this task force must disclose to families and to survivors all non-
privileged information and findings.
9.10 We call upon all police services to voluntarily produce all unresolved cases of missing
or murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to the national
task force.
9.11 We call upon all police services to develop and implement guidelines for the policing of
the sex industry in consultation with women engaged in the sex industry, and to create a
specific complaints mechanism about police for those in the sex industry.
Calls for Attorneys and Law Societies:

10.1 We call upon the federal, provincial, and territorial governments, and Canadian law
societies and bar associations, for mandatory intensive and periodic training of Crown
attorneys, defence lawyers, court staff, and all who participate in the criminal justice
system, in the area of Indigenous cultures and histories, including distinctions-based
training. This includes, but is not limited to, the following measures:
i All courtroom officers, staff, judiciary, and employees in the judicial system must
take cultural competency training that is designed and led in partnership with local
ii Law societies working with Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
must establish and enforce cultural competency standards.
iii All courts must have a staff position for an Indigenous courtroom liaison worker that
is adequately funded and resourced to ensure Indigenous people in the court system
know their rights and are connected to appropriate services.
Calls for Educators:

11.1 We call upon all elementary, secondary, and post-secondary institutions and education
authorities to educate and provide awareness to the public about missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and about the issues and root
causes of violence they experience. All curriculum development and programming
should be done in partnership with Indigenous Peoples, especially Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Such education and awareness must include historical
and current truths about the genocide against Indigenous Peoples through state laws,
policies, and colonial practices. It should include, but not be limited to, teaching Indige-
nous history, law, and practices from Indigenous perspectives and the use of Their
Voices Will Guide Us with children and youth.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
11.2 We call upon all educational service providers to develop and implement awareness and
education programs for Indigenous children and youth on the issue of grooming for
exploitation and sexual exploitation.
Calls for Social Workers and Those Implicated in Child Welfare:

12.1 We call upon all federal, provincial, and territorial governments to recognize Indigenous
self-determination and inherent jurisdiction over child welfare. Indigenous governments
and leaders have a positive obligation to assert jurisdiction in this area. We further assert
that it is the responsibility of Indigenous governments to take a role in intervening, ad-
vocating, and supporting their members impacted by the child welfare system, even
when not exercising jurisdiction to provide services through Indigenous agencies.
12.2 We call upon on all governments, including Indigenous governments, to transform cur-
rent child welfare systems fundamentally so that Indigenous communities have control
over the design and delivery of services for their families and children. These services
must be adequately funded and resourced to ensure better support for families and
communities to keep children in their family homes.
12.3 We call upon all governments and Indigenous organizations to develop and apply a defi-
nition of “best interests of the child” based on distinct Indigenous perspectives, world
views, needs, and priorities, including the perspective of Indigenous children and youth.
The primary focus and objective of all child and family services agencies must be up-
holding and protecting the rights of the child through ensuring the health and well-being
of children, their families, and communities, and family unification and reunification.
12.4 We call upon all governments to prohibit the apprehension of children on the basis of
poverty and cultural bias. All governments must resolve issues of poverty, inadequate
and substandard housing, and lack of financial support for families, and increase food
security to ensure that Indigenous families can succeed.
12.5 We call upon all levels of government for financial supports and resources to be pro-
vided so that family or community members of children of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are capable of caring for the chil-
dren left behind. Further, all governments must ensure the availability and accessibility
of specialized care, such as grief, loss, trauma, and other required services, for children
left behind who are in care due to the murder or disappearance of their caregiver.
12.6 We call upon all governments and child welfare services to ensure that, in cases where
apprehension is not avoidable, child welfare services prioritize and ensure that a family
member or members, or a close community member, assumes care of Indigenous chil-
dren. The caregivers should be eligible for financial supports equal to an amount that
might otherwise be paid to a foster family, and will not have other government financial
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
support or benefits removed or reduced by virtue of receiving additional financial sup-

ports for the purpose of caring for the child. This is particularly the case for children
who lose their mothers to violence or to institutionalization and are left behind, needing
family and belonging to heal.
12.7 We call upon all governments to ensure the availability and accessibility of distinctions-
based and culturally safe culture and language programs for Indigenous children in the
care of child welfare.
12.8 We call upon provincial and territorial governments and child welfare services for an
immediate end to the practice of targeting and apprehending infants (hospital alerts or
birth alerts) from Indigenous mothers right after they give birth.
12.9 We call for the establishment of a Child and Youth Advocate in each jurisdiction with a
specialized unit with the mandate of Indigenous children and youth. These units must be
established within a period of one year of this report. We call upon the federal govern-
ment to establish a National Child and Youth Commissioner who would also serve as a
special measure to strengthen the framework of accountability for the rights of Indige-
nous children in Canada. This commissioner would act as a national counterpart to the
child advocate offices that exist in nearly all provinces and territories.
12.10 We call upon the federal, provincial, and territorial governments to immediately adopt
the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal 2017 CHRT 14 standards regarding the implemen-
tation of Jordan’s Principle in relation to all First Nations (Status and non-Status), Métis,
and Inuit children. We call on governments to modify funding formulas for the provision
of services on a needs basis, and to prioritize family support, reunification, and preven-
tion of harms. Funding levels must represent the principle of substantive equity.
12.11 We call upon all levels of government and child welfare services for a reform of laws
and obligations with respect to youth “aging out” of the system, including ensuring a
complete network of support from childhood into adulthood, based on capacity and
needs, which includes opportunities for education, housing, and related supports. This
includes the provision of free post-secondary education for all children in care in
Canada.
12.12 We call upon all child and family services agencies to engage in recruitment efforts to
hire and promote Indigenous staff, as well as to promote the intensive and ongoing
training of social workers and child welfare staff in the following areas:
• history of the child welfare system in the oppression and genocide of Indigenous
Peoples
• anti-racism and anti-bias training
• local culture and language training
• sexual exploitation and trafficking training to recognize signs and develop specialized
responses
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
12.13 We call upon all governments and child welfare agencies to fully implement the
Spirit Bear Plan.7
12.14 We call upon all child welfare agencies to establish more rigorous requirements for
safety, harm-prevention, and needs-based services within group or care homes, as well
as within foster situations, to prevent the recruitment of children in care into the sex
industry. We also insist that governments provide appropriate care and services, over the
long term, for children who have been exploited or trafficked while in care.
12.15 We call upon child welfare agencies and all governments to fully investigate deaths of
Indigenous youth in care.
Calls for Extractive and Development Industries:

13.1 We call upon all resource-extraction and development industries to consider the safety
and security of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as well as their
equitable benefit from development, at all stages of project planning, assessment,
implementation, management, and monitoring.
13.2 We call upon all governments and bodies mandated to evaluate, approve, and/or monitor
development projects to complete gender-based socio-economic impact assessments on
all proposed projects as part of their decision making and ongoing monitoring of proj-
ects. Project proposals must include provisions and plans to mitigate risks and impacts
identified in the impact assessments prior to being approved.
13.3 We call upon all parties involved in the negotiations of impact-benefit agreements re-
lated to resource-extraction and development projects to include provisions that address
the impacts of projects on the safety and security of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. Provisions must also be included to ensure that Indigenous
women and 2SLGBTQQIA people equitably benefit from the projects.
13.4 We call upon the federal, provincial, and territorial governments to fund further inquiries
and studies in order to better understand the relationship between resource extraction
and other development projects and violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. At a minimum, we support the call of Indigenous women and
leaders for a public inquiry into the sexual violence and racism at hydroelectric projects
in northern Manitoba.
13.5 We call upon resource-extraction and development industries and all governments and
service providers to anticipate and recognize increased demand on social infrastructure
because of development projects and resource extraction, and for mitigation measures to
be identified as part of the planning and approval process. Social infrastructure must be
expanded and service capacity built to meet the anticipated needs of the host communi-
ties in advance of the start of projects. This includes but is not limited to ensuring that
policing, social services, and health services are adequately staffed and resourced.
196
witnesses cited the importance of healing in their lives, they also pointed out that many Indige-
nous people don’t have access to healing services, or can’t access services for the time they need
to heal. True healing at all levels requires long-term and engaged support.
This section of the Final Report is also about understanding the kind of actions that move society
beyond commemoration and toward social justice. The National Inquiry characterizes these
kinds of actions, which aim to support commemoration for the purposes of social change, as
calling forth. Within the Truth-Gathering Process, witnesses from distinctive Indigenous commu-
nities offered examples of commemoration and calling forth in their own lives. For many, a
central component of commemoration was making sure that their loved ones were not forgotten,
so that their losses could serve as reminders to all of society about the importance of keeping
women and girls safe, and about the fact that, as the National Inquiry has asserted many times,
“our women and girls are sacred.” Beyond creating change for future generations, many wit-
nesses also testified to the idea that their loved ones’ experiences provided strength – were called
forth – as a way to contribute to reclaiming power and place in the present. The lessons their
loved ones taught them in life are still with them in death, giving families direction and strength
moving forward.
Ultimately, the most important part of healing and wellness, commemoration, and calling forth,
is acting on the solutions provided to ending violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. The final chapter of this report, which precedes its recommendations,
highlights a series of four Guided Dialogue sessions aimed at identifying needs-based
recommendations for distinctive Indigenous groups.
the Guided Dialogues brought together front-line service providers and community organizers
to explore distinctive perspectives and best practices. We engaged in these dialogues to deepen
our knowledge of systemic gaps and weaknesses, identify best practices and suggest specific
recommendations for change through the lenses of culture, health, security and justice. They
service providers, organizers and people with lived experience, Elders, academics and outreach
support to share perspectives related to their own backgrounds within specific Inuit, Métis,
2SLGBTQQIA and Quebec contexts.
Overwhelmingly, participants identified racism as being at the heart of the colonial structure,
representing a core cause for the violence faced by Indigenous communities. At the same time,
participants highlighted intersecting experiences of discrimination based on gender and sexual
orientation, discrimination against marginalized populations such as sex workers, people en-
gaged in substance use, people who are homeless, or based on their intersectional identities as
Indigenous groups with many distinctive experiences and perspectives.
Through a discussion of their own experiences and themes, participants also identified a number
of core principles that can increase the effectiveness of support services for Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. These core principles are:
• valuing wellness as wholeness, with a holistic understanding of safety and well-being,
caring for mental, emotional, spiritual and physical needs;
• using an interdisciplinary, systemic approach to coordinating services, rather than
“silos” or forcing programs to compete against each other for funding;
• understanding the importance of cultural safety and integrating Indigenous values and
traditions in social services;
• ongoing, mandatory training to equip front-line workers and management with the
education necessary to engage with Indigenous communities in culturally safe ways;
and
• being able to build long-term, trusting relationships with service providers, including
social workers, health care professionals and law enforcement, with continuity of care.
Overall, the guided dialogue sessions sought to bridge the experiences the National Inquiry heard
about in other parts of the Truth-Gathering Process with a better understanding of the context
within which these experiences took place. Bringing together front-line service providers, along
with Elders and Knowledge Keepers, provided a bridge that animated our approach to transform-
ing experiences into actionable, impactful recommendations. We thank the participants for their
candor, their passion, and their ongoing commitment to improving safety for Indigenous women,
Ultimately, this section of the Final Report is about raising up. Healing principles that family
members and survivors articulated over and over again were centred in building strength, lifting
others, and doing so in a spirit of respect and of connection. These same principles animate the
recommendations that provide a blueprint for action; necessary steps to take, from all levels and
from all sectors, to keep First Nations, Métis, and Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
safe.
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Calls for Justice for All Canadians

As this report has shown, and within every encounter, each person has a role to play in order to
combat violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Beyond those
Calls aimed at governments or at specific industries or service providers, we encourage every
Canadian to consider how they can give life to these Calls for Justice.
We call on all Canadians to:
15.1 Denounce and speak out against violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
15.2 Decolonize by learning the true history of Canada and Indigenous history in your local
area. Learn about and celebrate Indigenous Peoples’ history, cultures, pride, and diver-
sity, acknowledging the land you live on and its importance to local Indigenous
communities, both historically and today.
15.3 Develop knowledge and read the Final Report. Listen to the truths shared, and acknowl-
edge the burden of these human and Indigenous rights violations, and how they impact
15.4 Using what you have learned and some of the resources suggested, become a strong ally.
Being a strong ally involves more than just tolerance; it means actively working to break
down barriers and to support others in every relationship and encounter in which you
participate.
15.5 Confront and speak out against racism, sexism, ignorance, homophobia, and transpho-
bia, and teach or encourage others to do the same, wherever it occurs: in your home, in
your workplace, or in social settings.
15.6 Protect, support, and promote the safety of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people by
acknowledging and respecting the value of every person and every community, as well
as the right of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to generate their
own, self-determined solutions.
15.7 Create time and space for relationships based on respect as human beings, supporting
and embracing differences with kindness, love, and respect. Learn about Indigenous
principles of relationship specific to those Nations or communities in your local area and
work, and put them into practice in all of your relationships with Indigenous Peoples.
15.8 Help hold all governments accountable to act on the Calls for Justice, and to implement
them according to the important principles we set out.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Suggested Resources for Learning:

National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. Our Women
and Girls Are Sacred: The Interim Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Women and Girls. http://www.mmiwg-ffada.ca/publications/.
National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls.
Their Voices Will Guide Us: Student and Youth Engagement Guide.
http://www.mmiwg-ffada.ca/publications/.
Transcripts, testimonies, and public statements offered during the Truth-Gathering
Process, available at www.mmiwg-ffada.ca/transcripts/ and http://www.mmiwg-
ffada.ca/part-ii-and-part-iii-knowledge-keeper-expert-and-institutional-hearing-transcripts/.
In addition, please consult our bibliography for a list of all sources used in this report.
Suggested Resources for Allyship:

Amnesty International. “10 Ways to Be a Genuine Ally to Indigenous Communities.”
https://www.amnesty.org.au/10-ways-to-be-an-ally-to-indigenous-communities/.
Dr. Lynn Gehl. “Ally Bill of Responsibilities.”
http://www.lynngehl.com/uploads/5/0/0/4/5004954/ally_bill_of_responsibilities_poster.pdf.
Indigenous Perspectives Society. “How to Be an Ally to Indigenous People.”
https://ipsociety.ca/news/page/7/.
Montreal Urban Aboriginal Community Strategy Network. “Indigenous Ally Toolkit.”
https://gallery.mailchimp.com/86d28ccd43d4be0cfc11c71a1/files/102bf040-e221-4953-a9ef-
9f0c5efc3458/Ally_email.pdf.
200
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Lorne Cardinal, from Squamish,

BC, reminds us that it’s not over –
there are still missing and murdered
women in this country, and still
work to be done. Credit: Nadya
Kwandibens
Calls for Justice: Distinctions-Based Calls

As we have maintained throughout the National Inquiry, and within this report, while many
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people share experiences of violence in common,
the distinctions among these communities are important in understanding some of the specific
ways, beyond the Calls for Justice already articulated, in which their rights to safety can be up-
held by all governments, institutions and service providers. While the time limitations imposed
upon the National Inquiry have not permitted an in-depth analysis based on regional or local
specificity, we extend these Calls for Justice in relation to particular Indigenous communities –
Inuit, Métis and First Nations as well as to Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people – whose distinctive
needs must be addressed.
Inuit-Specific Calls for Justice:

Principles and guidelines for interpretation and implementation
Distinctions-Based Approach
Inuit, Métis, and First Nations are distinct peoples. Implementation of all recommendations in
this Final Report and actions taken to ensure safety and social, economic, political, and cultural
health and prosperity of Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people must be done in a manner
that is distinctions-based, recognizing and reflecting the distinct needs and governance structures
of Inuit and reflective of the distinct relationship between Inuit and the Crown. They must also
respect and appreciate the internal diversity within Inuit communities, including the diverse
history, languages, dialects, and spiritual and religious beliefs.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Decision Making through Inuit Self-Determination

All actions taken to ensure the safety and well-being of Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people must include the participation of Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and those
with lived experience. Further, they must recognize and implement Inuit self-determination. All
actions must be Inuit-led, rooted in Inuit laws, culture, language, traditions, and societal values.
Implementation efforts will succeed only through the recognition and respect of Inuit knowledge,
wisdom, and expertise.
Improving the safety and the social, economic, and cultural health and prosperity of Inuit
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people can be achieved only through the sustained, whole-
some, and transparent collaborative action of all governments (federal, provincial, and territorial)
in full partnership with Inuit. Inuit society is artificially compartmentalized and divided through
colonial geopolitical boundaries. Therefore, federal, provincial, and territorial jurisdictions must
work with Inuit self-determination mechanisms to ensure appropriate decision making regarding
intervention programs and services. Further, all governments must not use jurisdiction as an
excuse to impede actions required to eliminating the social, economic, political, and cultural
inequality and infrastructure gaps that are resulting in increased violence against Inuit women,
Substantive Equality
State recognition, protection, and compliance with the human rights and Indigenous rights of
Inuit are a legal imperative. Efforts by all governments are required to achieve substantive equal-
ity for Inuit. There must be true equality in outcomes. Nothing less than substantive equality is
required to address the historical disadvantages, intergenerational trauma, and discrimination
experienced by Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in order to ensure their social,
economic, political, and cultural prosperity. In order to obtain substantive equality, all the spe-
cific needs of Inuit must be met in a culturally appropriate way and include equitable, sustainable
and long-term resourcing and funding.
Calls for Justice for Inuit

Testimony shared by Inuit witnesses, experts, and Elders, and submissions by Inuit representa-
tive organizations, along with existing reports and research, demonstrated that Inuit have unique
and distinct experiences of colonial oppression and violence. Further, witnesses emphasized
distinct areas of concern and priority areas for Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
that require distinct recommendations.
16.1 We call upon all governments to honour all socio-economic commitments as defined in
land claims agreements and self-government agreements between Inuit and the Crown.
These commitments must be upheld and implemented. Articles 23 and 24 of the
Nunavut Land Claims Agreement, and commitments by governments to provide for the
housing and economic needs of Inuit, must be fully complied with and implemented.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
16.2 We call upon all governments to create laws and services to ensure the protection and
revitalization of Inuit culture and language. All Inuit, including those living outside Inuit
Nunangat, must have equitable access to culture and language programs. It is essential
that Elders are included in the development and delivery of these programs.
16.3 We call upon all governments with jurisdiction in Inuit Nunangat to recognize Inuktut as
the founding language, and it must be given official language status through language
laws. Inuktut must be afforded the same recognition and protection and promotion as
English and French within Inuit Nunangat, and all governments and agencies providing
services to Inuit must ensure access to services in Inuktut, and invest in the capacity to
be able to do so. Furthermore, all government and agency service providers must be
culturally competent and educated in Inuit culture, laws, values, and history, also well as
the history of colonial violence perpetuated by the Canadian state and government
agents against Inuit.
16.4 Given that the intergenerational transfer of Inuit knowledge, values, and language is a
right that must be upheld, we call upon all governments to fund and support the recording
of Inuit knowledge about culture, laws, values, spirituality, and history prior to and since
the start of colonization. Further, this knowledge must be accessible and taught to all
Inuit, by Inuit. It is imperative that educational institutions prioritize the teaching of this
knowledge to Inuit children and youth within all areas of the educational curriculum.
16.5 Given that reliable high-speed Internet services and telecommunications are necessary
for Inuit to access government services and to engage in the Canadian economic, cul-
tural, and political life, we call upon all governments with jurisdiction in Inuit Nunangat
to invest the infrastructure to ensure all Inuit have access to high-speed Internet.
16.6 We call upon all governments and Inuit organizations to work collaboratively to ensure
that population numbers for Inuit outside of the Inuit homeland are captured in a disag-
gregated manner, and that their rights as Inuit are upheld. These numbers are urgently
needed to identify the growing, social, economic, political, and cultural needs of
urban Inuit.
16.7 We call upon all governments to ensure the availability of effective, culturally appropri-
ate, and accessible health and wellness services within each Inuit community. The
design and delivery of these services must be inclusive of Elders and people with lived
experience. Closing the service and infrastructure gaps in the following areas is urgently
needed, and requires action by all governments. Required measures include but are not
limited to:
i The establishment and funding of birthing centres in each Inuit community, as well as
the training of Inuit midwives in both Inuit and contemporary birthing techniques.
203
In Regina, Saskatchewan,
members of the National
Family Advisory Circle
(NFAC) speak to the public
audience. NFAC members
have worked to support each
other through the sometimes
difficult process of hearing
the truths that, for them as
family members and sur-
vivors, are very close to their
own hearts.
Many of the testimonies we heard from survivors and family members in relation to healing
directly engaged the need to begin to heal from the trauma of colonization, of exploitation, of
violence, and of hurt. There were also key moments where that healing began. For some, this
journey began based on a personal decision to move forward. Monique F. H. described how she
was living at a women’s shelter, injecting and drinking every day, and found herself on and off
the street. Having been sexually abused as a child and engaged in violent relationships through-
out her life, Monique made the decision, at her stepfather’s urging, to rejoin her family in
Halifax. As she explained, the moment that she made the decision to do so was transformational.
So I phoned one of the pawnshop guys that I knew, because with my life I knew a lot of
people, and I asked him, I said, “Come and buy everything … that I have, and get me a
ticket to Halifax.” And he did. He took all my stuff and he gave me a ticket. I know that I
did not have anything worth any kind of money, but I think he seen something – the
potential of me living a different life and he gave me the break that I needed.2
That encounter, and the person’s decision to buy her possessions to provide her with a ticket out
of Saskatchewan, made a difference. Monique eventually became an HIV advocate for women
and a social worker. She currently works for CAAN, the Canadian Aboriginal AIDS Network.
“THAT KIND OF LOVE IN THAT KIND OF ENVIRONMENT, YOU’D BE SURPRISED WHAT YOU
COULD DO. I HAD CHANGED MY WHOLE ENVIRONMENT. I HAD CHANGED ALL OF MY
FRIENDS. I CHOSE TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT ENERGY, AND WHAT PEOPLE I LET IN
MY CIRCLE, AND AROUND MY HOUSE, AND MY FAMILY, AND MY CHILDREN. BECAUSE OF
WHAT I WENT THROUGH, I PROTECTED THOSE CHILDREN…. THAT MADE ME HAPPY.”
Stephanie H.
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Inuit children in care. In the absence of a federally mandated Inuit Child and Youth
Advocate, we call on all provinces and territories with Inuit children in their care to each
establish Inuit-specific child and youth advocates.
16.16 We call upon all government agencies providing child and family services to Inuit chil-
dren to enumerate and report on the number of Inuit children in their care. This data
must be disaggregated and the reports must be shared with Inuit organizations and Inuit
child and youth advocates.
16.17 We call upon all governments to prioritize supporting Inuit families and communities to
meet the needs of Inuit children, recognizing that apprehension must occur only when
absolutely required to protect a child. Placement of Inuit children with extended family
and in Inuit homes must be prioritized and resourced. Placement outside of their com-
munities and outside their homelands must be restricted.
16.18 We call upon all governments to respect the rights of Inuit children and people in care,
including those who are placed in care outside of their Inuit homelands. All govern-
ments must ensure that children and people in care have access to their families and kin-
ship systems and have meaningful access to their culture and language and to culturally
relevant services. All child and family services agencies must work with Inuit communi-
ties within their jurisdiction to meet their obligations to Inuit children in their care.
We call upon all governments to immediately invest in safe, affordable, and culturally
appropriate housing within Inuit communities and for Inuit outside of their homelands,
given the links between the housing crisis and violence, poor health (including tubercu-
losis) and suicide. Immediate and directed measures are required to end the crisis.
16.19 We call upon all governments to develop and fund safe houses, shelters, transition
houses, and second-stage housing for Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
fleeing violence. These houses and shelters are required in all Inuit communities and in
urban centres with large Inuit populations. Shelters must not require full occupancy to
remain open and to receive funding. Further, they must be independent from child and
family services agencies, as women may not seek shelter due to fear of agency involve-
ment. This action includes the establishment and funding of shelters and safe spaces for
families, children, and youth, including Inuit who identify as 2SLGBTQQIA, who are
facing socio-economic crises in all Inuit communities and in urban centres with large
Inuit populations.
16.20 We call upon all governments to support the establishment of programs and services
designed to financially support and promote Inuit hunting and harvesting in all Inuit
communities. All governments with jurisdiction in Inuit Nunangat must immediately
increase minimum wage rates and increase social assistance rates to meet the needs of
Inuit and to match the higher cost of living in Inuit communities. A guaranteed annual
livable income model, recognizing the right to income security, must be developed and
implemented.
205
Many witnesses also expressed how other encounters, or people in their lives, were instrumental
to healing and to transforming their experiences. In Monique’s case, she described both her step-
father and her eventual husband as important men in her life who helped her to change. As she
described, her stepfather and her mother had travelled from Halifax to Saskatoon to visit her in
the women’s shelter before Monique had decided to return home: “My stepfather told me … that
he wasn’t going to leave without me because he knew that I was in a bad place. He knew I wasn’t
taking care of myself. He knew that I was using drugs. I was – by then full-blown injecting.
Drinking every day. Putting myself at high risk for everything.” Eventually, as she explained,
“and as time went on, for that month, I realized that I needed to get away from there.”3
Monique also explained how the move – getting out of there – facilitated her meeting her current
husband. She met him because they worked together, and he helped her through a very difficult
time when she didn’t have her children. He continues to support her through her rough times and
when she is triggered, such as when she gave a talk about her own life in Halifax and couldn’t
get out of bed for days. She said, “He helped me see the strength inside of me that I didn’t know
I had.”4 She is very grateful for her husband, with whom she has four children.
As these powerful examples show, the help of others in the healing journey is an important
feature of many testimonies heard by the National Inquiry.
For Monique, as well as for others, part of the key to healing was changing the circumstances in
which she lived. Stephanie H., who described a pact she made with her husband to get sober
together, also talked about the importance of changing the environment in her life, and how that
led her to being able to raise her children.
That kind of love in that kind of environment, you’d be surprised what you could do.
I had changed my whole environment. I had changed all of my friends. I chose to be
responsible for what energy, and what people I let in my circle, and around my house,
and my family, and my children. Because of what I went through, I protected those
children…. That made me happy.5
Healing through family was a prominent theme in the testimonies. For many, even appearing
before the National Inquiry was a feat of courage they credited to their families. As Adrienne B.
asserted, “I just have to say first off, that the strength I have to do this comes from my family.”6
Courtney B. affirmed, “I’m really grateful that my family is able to come together…. We’re
going to speak the truth, we’re going to share our story, and we’re going to stand with each
other each step of the way.”7
Lu’ma Native Housing Society
Lu’ma Native Housing Society provides affordable and secure housing for Indigenous families and
individuals with low and moderate incomes in Vancouver and across British Columbia. The society owns and
operates just under 500 units of housing. It also helps Indigenous people who are moving into cities from
their home communities.
Though Lu’ma Native Housing Society’s main focus is Many family members and survivors identified that
on providing housing, it has expanded its services to young people, especially those transitioning out of
address a variety of needs in different Indigenous care or moving into the city for the first time, need
communities.I more support to make sure they are not targeted by
those who would exploit them.
In her testimony, Barb L. described some of these
services. As Barb described, the society has taken this chal-
lenge on by providing mentorship and housing for
I belong to a fabulous organization now, and youth aging out of foster care to prevent them from
they have opened a medical clinic. So they being exploited or becoming homeless. This program
started with housing, it’s Lu’ma Native Housing. aims to prepare youth for adulthood by empowering
We started with housing, and then now we have them and connecting them with their communities
all these subsections of … the gaps that are as well as their culture. It provides flexible and youth-
being created around Vancouver. So my program driven programs to address their needs in real time
is, you know, helping the youth that are aging in a holistic and Indigenous-led way.
out of care, and we have a medical centre as well.
That medical centre practises both Western med-
icine and our traditional medicine. So we have
healing rooms, we have Elders, and anybody in
the city has access to that. So that makes me
proud. That’s a great place to be and take care of
yourself in all areas, so it’s good.II
I “Lu’ma Native Housing Society.”

II Barb L. (Heiltsuk/Nisga’a First Nations), Part 1, Statement Volume 360, Richmond, BC, p. 15.
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
to uphold this right. Within the Nunavut Territory, and in accordance with Article 23 of
the Nunavut Land Claims Agreement, the RCMP has obligations to recruit, train, and
retain Inuit. The RCMP must take immediate and directed measures to ensure the
number of Inuit within the RCMP in Nunavut, and throughout the Inuit homelands, is
proportionally representative.
16.33 We call upon all governments to invest in capacity building, recruitment, and training
to achieve proportional representation of Inuit throughout public service in Inuit home-
lands.
16.34 Within the Nunavut Territory, we call upon the federal and territorial governments to
fully implement the principles and objectives of Article 23 of the Nunavut Land Claims
Agreement. Proportional representation is an imperative in the arenas of public services
and, in particular, the child welfare system, social services, the criminal justice system,
police services, the courts, and corrections throughout Inuit Nunangat.
16.35 We call upon the federal government and the Province of Quebec to ensure the intent
and objectives of the policing provisions of the James Bay Northern Quebec Agreement
are fully implemented, including Inuit representation, participation, and control over
policing services within Nunavik. The federal government and the government of
Quebec must ensure the Kativik Regional Police Force (KRPF) is resourced and pro-
vided with the legal capacity to provide Nunavik Inuit with effective and substantively
equitable policing services. Urgent investments are required to ensure that the KRPF
has the infrastructure and human resource capacity to meet its obligations to provide
competent, Inuit-specific policing services.
16.36 We call upon all governments to ensure there are police services in all Inuit communities.
From Salluit, Nunavik, Elisapie

Isaac is an Inuk singer/songwriter,
mother, filmmaker and producer.
She reminds us that lost loved ones
are “Taken, Not Forgotten.”
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
16.37 We call upon all governments within Inuit Nunangat to amend laws, policies, and
practices to reflect and recognize Inuit definitions of “family,” “kinship,” and “customs”
to respect Inuit family structures.
16.38 We call upon all service providers working with Inuit to amend policies and practices to
facilitate multi-agency interventions, particularly in cases of domestic violence, sexual-
ized violence, and poverty. Further, in response to domestic violence, early intervention
and prevention programs and services must be prioritized.
16.39 We call upon all governments to support and fund the establishment of culturally appro-
priate and effective child advocacy centres like the Umingmak Centre, the first child
advocacy centre in Nunavut, throughout the Inuit homeland.
16.40 We call upon all governments to focus on the well-being of children and to develop
responses to adverse childhood experiences that are culturally appropriate and evidence-
based. This must include but is not limited to services such as intervention and
counselling for children who have been sexually and physically abused.
16.41 We call upon governments and Inuit representative organizations to work with Inuit
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people to identify barriers and to promote their equal
representation within governance, and work to support and advance their social,
economic, cultural, and political rights. Inuit women, Elders, youth, children, and
2SLGBTQQIA people must be given space within governance systems in accordance
with their civil and political rights.
16.42 We call upon the federal government to ensure the long-term, sustainable, and equitable
funding of Inuit women’s, youths’, and 2SLGBTQQIA people’s groups. Funding must
meet the capacity needs and respect Inuit self-determination, and must not be tied to the
priorities and agenda of federal, provincial, or territorial governments.
16.43 We call upon all governments and service providers within the Inuit homelands to en-
sure there are robust oversight mechanisms established to ensure services are delivered
in a manner that is compliant with the human rights and Indigenous rights of Inuit.
These mechanisms must be accessible and provide for meaningful recourse.
16.44 We call upon all governments to ensure the collection of disaggregated data in relation
to Inuit to monitor and report on progress and the effectiveness of laws, policies, and
services designed to uphold the social, economic, political, and cultural rights and well-
being of Inuit women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Monitoring and data collection
must recognize Inuit self-determination and must be conducted in partnership with Inuit.
Within any and all mechanisms established to oversee and monitor the implementation
of the National Inquiry’s recommendations, we call upon all governments to ensure the
equitable and meaningful involvement of Inuit governments and representative organi-
zations, including those of Inuit women, girls, and and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
16.45 We call upon the federal government to acknowledge the findings of the Qikiqtani Truth
Commission and to work to implement the recommendations therein in partnership with
Qikiqtani Inuit Association and the Inuit of the Qikiqtaaluk region.
16.46 Many people continue to look for information and the final resting place of their lost
loved one. The federal government, in partnership with Inuit, has established the
Nanilavut project. We recognize the significance of the project as an important step in
healing and Inuit self-determination in the healing and reconciliation process. We call
upon the federal government to support the work of the Nanilavut project on a long-term
basis, with sustained funding so that it can continue to serve Inuit families as they look
for answers to the questions of what happened to their loved ones. We further insist that
it must provide for the option of repatriation of the remains of lost loved ones once they
are located.
Métis-Specific Calls for Justice:

The Calls for Justice in this report must be interpreted and implemented in a distinctions-based
manner, taking into account the unique history, culture and reality of Métis communities and
people. This includes the way that Métis people and their issues have been ignored by levels of
government, which has resulted in barriers to safety for Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. The diversity of the experiences of Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, both
among themselves, and as between other Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
must be fully recognized and understood.
All actions taken to ensure the safety and well-being of Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people must include their participation, including those with lived experience. In addition, the
recognition and protection of, and compliance with, the human rights and Indigenous rights of
Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people on a substantively equal basis is a legal
imperative.
Métis witnesses who testified at the National Inquiry, and Parties with Standing’s closing sub-
missions, emphasized the need for greater awareness of Métis issues and distinctive realities, and
practical supports for Métis families. They also focused on guiding principles such as: Métis
self-determination, and the need for culturally-specific solutions; respect for human rights; pre-
vention in relation to violence and child welfare, and substantively equal governmental support
for Métis children and families; and, inclusion of all Métis perspectives in decision making,
including 2SLGBTQQIA people and youth.
17.1 We call upon the federal government to uphold its constitutional responsibility to Métis
people and to non-Status people in the provision of all programs and services that fall
under its responsibility.
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CALLS FOR JUSTICE
17.2 We call upon the federal government to pursue the collection and dissemination of
disaggregated data concerning violence against Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people, including barriers they face in accessing their rights to safety, informed by Métis
knowledge and experiences. We also call upon the federal government to support and
fund research that highlights distinctive Métis experiences, including the gathering of
more stories specific to Métis perspectives on violence.
17.3 We call upon all governments to ensure equitable representation of Métis voices in
policy development, funding, and service delivery, and to include Métis voices and per-
spectives in decision-making, including Métis 2SLGBTQQIA people and youth, and to
implement self-determined and culturally specific solutions for Métis people.
17.4 We call upon all governments to fund and support Métis-specific programs and services
that meet the needs of Métis people in an equitable manner, and dedicated Métis advo-
cacy bodies and institutions, including but not limited to Métis health authorities and
Métis child welfare agencies.
17.5 We call upon all governments to eliminate barriers to accessing programming and
services for Métis, including but not limited to barriers facing Métis who do not reside
in their home province.
17.6 We call upon all governments to pursue the implementation of a distinctions-based

approach that takes into account the unique history of Métis communities and people,
including the way that many issues have been largely ignored by levels of government
and now present barriers to safety.
17.7 We call upon all governments to fund and to support culturally appropriate programs
and services for Métis people living in urban centres, including those that respect the
internal diversity of Métis communities with regards to spirituality, gender identity, and
cultural identity.
17.8 We call upon all governments, in partnership with Métis communities, organizations,
and individuals, to design mandatory, ongoing cultural competency training for public
servants (including staff working in policing, justice, education, health care, social work,
and government) in areas such as trauma-informed care, cultural safety training, anti-
racism training, and understanding of Métis culture and history.
17.9 We call upon all governments to provide safe transportation options, particularly in
rural, remote, and northern communities, including “safe rides” programs, and to moni-
tor high recruitment areas where Métis women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals
may be more likely to be targeted.
17.10 We call upon all governments to respect Métis rights and individuals’ self-identification
as Métis.
211
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
17.11 We call upon all governments to support and fund dialogue and relationships between
Métis and First Nations communities.
17.12 We call upon police services to build partnerships with Métis communities, organiza-
tions, and people to ensure culturally safe access to police services.
17.13 We call upon police services to engage in education about the unique history and needs
of Métis communities.
17.14 We call upon police services to establish better communication with Métis communities
and populations through representative advisory boards that involve Métis communities
and address their needs.
17.15 We call upon all governments to fund the expansion of community-based security
models that include Métis perspectives and people, such as local peacekeeper officers or
programs such as the Bear Clan Patrol.
17.16 We call upon all governments to provide support for self-determined and culturally
specific needs-based child welfare services for Métis families that are focused on pre-
vention and maintenance of family unity. These services will also focus on: avoiding the
need for foster care; restoring family unity and providing support for parents trying to
reunite with children; healing for parents; and developing survivor-led programs to
improve family safety. These services include culturally grounded parenting education
and interventions that support the whole family, such as substance abuse treatment
programs that accommodate parents with children and that are specifically suited to
Métis needs and realities. We also call upon all governments to provide long-term stable
funding for wraparound services and exceptional programs aimed at keeping Métis
families together.
17.17 We call upon all governments to provide more funding and support for Métis child
welfare agencies and for child placements in Métis homes.
17.18 We call upon all governments to establish and maintain funding for cultural program-
ming for Métis children in foster care, especially when they are placed in non-
Indigenous or non-Métis families.
17.19 We call upon all governments to address Métis unemployment and poverty as a way to
prevent child apprehension.
17.20 We call upon all governments to fund and support programs for Métis women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people, including more access to traditional healing programs, treatment
centres for youth, family support and violence prevention funding and initiatives for
Métis, and the creation of no-barrier safe spaces, including spaces for Métis mothers
and families in need.
212
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
17.21 We call upon the federal government to recognize and fulfill its obligations to the Métis
people in all areas, especially in health, and further call upon all governments for serv-
ices such as those under FNIHB to be provided to Métis and non-Status First Nations
Peoples in an equitable manner consistent with substantive human rights standards.
17.22 We call upon all governments to respect and to uphold the full implementation of
Jordan’s Principle with reference to the Métis.
17.23 We call upon all governments to provide Métis-specific programs and services that
address emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual dimensions of well-being, including
coordinated or co-located services to offer holistic wraparound care, as well as increased
mental health and healing and cultural supports.
17.24 We call upon all governments and educators to fund and establish Métis-led programs
and initiatives to address a lack of knowledge about the Métis people and culture within
Canadian society, including education and advocacy that highlights the positive history
and achievements of Métis people and increases the visibility, understanding, and
appreciation of Métis people.
17.25 We call upon all governments to fund programs and initiatives that create greater access
to cultural knowledge and foster a positive sense of cultural identity among Métis com-
munities. These include initiatives that facilitate connections with family, land, commu-
nity, and culture; culturally specific programming for Métis 2SLGBTQQIA people and
youth; events that bring Métis Elders, Knowledge Keepers and youth together; and
mentorship programs that celebrate and highlight Métis role models.
Sharon Johnson is sister to Sandra

Johnson, killed in 1992. Every year
she organizes a Valentine’s Day
Memorial Walk in Thunder Bay to
honour and remember those who
are no longer with us. Credit: Nadya
Kwandibens
213
Families of the Heart
For witnesses who testified, finding love and support in those who assembled with them in the
most difficult of circumstances, and especially through family, was important. Amena E. found
the strength to begin healing through the support of her family, whom she described as
patient with me through rough times. They let me know my self-worth, show me that I
can be strong through whatever life throws at me, and let me know that it’s important to
voice my opinion and let my voice be heard…. I found strength through my friends, who
have given me a shoulder to cry, and a person to vent to. And being able to laugh until
we’re crying because we’re – because of silly jokes. Through therapeutic late-night
drives, and talks, and then letting me break out of my shell and feel comfortable in my
own skin. And the endless love they continue to show me on a regular basis, especially
on the bad days. Thank you.8
The National Inquiry also heard about other kinds of families – families of the heart – who were
instrumental in providing both healing and safe spaces to those looking for ways to heal. Alisha
R. talked about relocating to Edmonton, where she didn’t have any family, and the importance
she placed on creating one there. As she explained, “I thought, like, if I don’t have any family,
then I’m going to have to, like, reach out to the community. So, I’ve just been
reaching a lot. And then, you know, every once in a while, somebody grabs your hand.”9
Those who grabbed someone’s hand were often close friends. As Harriet L. shared:
The little symbol that I have for my healing is butterflies. Me and my friend have a love
of butterflies because we both have lost daughters and it’s a sign for us that, you know,
they’re okay. They’re up in heaven and they’re soaring freely, fluttering their – their
wings and they’re in the best place, you know, that they could ever be. And we share –
me and my – my friend share the love of butterflies because of our daughters and we
both like the colour purple and that helps us together in – in our grief. And we can share
even without talking, so it’s – it’s good to have those friends.10
Micah A. discussed the support coming from her community in Igloolik after the death of her
daughter: “A lot of people in Igloolik have supported me.… I am very thankful to them. And the
Elders there and my friends in Igloolik would come and visit as Inuit do. I am very thankful.
They used to tell me, ‘You’re going to be able to smile one of these days.’ I couldn’t believe
them.”11 As Micah’s story reveals, these families and communities are crucial for many people as
an important means of support, particularly in communities.
14
Participating in the National Inquiry, for some witnesses, was an important way to identify and to
strengthen the community around the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLBGTQQIA people. As Anni P. expressed:
Coming here has been so healing for me, so healing. Being around all these beautiful
Indigenous people has filled me up, has given me even more strength … when I think
about how we can heal, like I just see how we love and support each other here … and I
think, man, if we could ever just come together and start supporting each other, start
lifting each other up like we do here.… If we could bring this home to our reserves, we
would be even more unstoppable than we are now.12
Anni’s comments speak to the important strength to be found in community, and in identity, as a
means to begin the healing journey.
“THE LITTLE SYMBOL THAT I HAVE FOR MY HEALING IS BUTTERFLIES. ME AND MY FRIEND
HAVE A LOVE OF BUTTERFLIES BECAUSE WE BOTH HAVE LOST DAUGHTERS AND IT’S A
SIGN FOR US THAT, YOU KNOW, THEY’RE OKAY. THEY'RE UP IN HEAVEN AND THEY’RE
SOARING FREELY, FLUTTERING THEIR – THEIR WINGS AND THEY’RE IN THE BEST PLACE,
YOU KNOW, THAT THEY COULD EVER BE. AND WE SHARE – ME AND MY – MY FRIEND
SHARE THE LOVE OF BUTTERFLIES BECAUSE OF OUR DAUGHTERS AND WE BOTH LIKE THE
COLOUR PURPLE AND THAT HELPS US TOGETHER IN – IN OUR GRIEF. AND WE CAN SHARE
EVEN WITHOUT TALKING, SO IT’S – IT’S GOOD TO HAVE THOSE FRIENDS.”
Harriet L.
15
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
18.11 We call upon all governments, service providers, industry, and institutions to
accommodate non-binary gender identities in program and service design, and offer
gender-neutral washrooms and change rooms in facilities.
18.12 We call upon all police services to better investigate crimes against 2SLGBTQQIA
people, and ensure accountability for investigations and handling of cases involving
2SLGBTQQIA people.
18.13 We call upon all police services to engage in education regarding 2SLGBTQQIA people
and experiences to address discrimination, especially homophobia and transphobia, in
policing.
18.14 We call upon all police services to take appropriate steps to ensure the safety of
2SLGBTQQIA people in the sex industry.
18.15 We call upon all governments, educators, and those involved in research to support and
conduct research and knowledge gathering on pre-colonial knowledge and teachings
about the place, roles, and responsibilities of 2SLGBTQQIA people within their
respective communities, to support belonging, safety, and well-being.
18.16 We call upon all governments and educators to fund and support specific Knowledge
Keeper gatherings on the topic of reclaiming and re-establishing space and community
for 2SLGBTQQIA people.
18.17 We call upon all governments, service providers, and educators to fund and support the
re-education of communities and individuals who have learned to reject 2SLGBTQQIA
people, or who deny their important history and contemporary place within communities
and in ceremony, and to address transphobia and homophobia in communities (for ex-
ample, with anti-transphobia and anti-homophobia programs), to ensure cultural access
for 2SLGBTQQIA people.
18.18 We call upon all governments and service providers to educate service providers on the
realities of 2SLGBTQQIA people and their distinctive needs, and to provide mandatory
cultural competency training for all social service providers, including Indigenous
studies, cultural awareness training, trauma-informed care, anti-oppression training, and
training on 2SLGBTQQIA inclusion within an Indigenous context (including an under-
standing of 2SLGBTQQIA identities and Indigenous understandings of gender and
sexual orientation). 2SLGBTQQIA people must be involved in the design and delivery
of this training.
18.19 We call upon all governments, service providers, and educators to educate the public on
the history of non-gender binary people in Indigenous societies, and to use media, in-
cluding social media, as a way to build awareness and understanding of 2SLGBTQQIA
issues.
216
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
18.20 We call upon provincial and territorial governments and schools to ensure that students
are educated about gender and sexual identity, including 2SLGBTQQIA identities, in
schools.
18.21 We call upon federal and provincial correctional services to engage in campaigns to
build awareness of the dangers of misgendering in correctional systems and facilities
and to ensure that the rights of trans people are protected.
18.22 We call upon federal and provincial correctional services to provide dedicated
2SLGBTQQIA support services and cultural supports.
18.23 We call upon coroners and others involved in the investigation of missing and murdered
Indigenous trans-identified individuals and individuals with non-binary gender identities
to use gender-neutral or non-binary options, such as an X-marker, for coroners’ reports
and for reporting information related to the crimes, as appropriate.
18.24 We call upon all governments to address homelessness, poverty, and other socio-
economic barriers to equitable and substantive rights for 2SLGBTQQIA people.
18.25 We call upon all governments to build safe spaces for people who need help and who are
homeless, or at risk of becoming homeless, which includes access to safe, dedicated
2SLGBTQQIA shelters and housing, dedicated beds in shelters for trans and non-binary
individuals, and 2SLGBTQQIA-specific support services for 2SLGBTQQIA individuals
in housing and shelter spaces.
18.26 We call upon health service providers to educate their members about the realities and
needs of 2SLGBTQQIA people, and to recognize substantive human rights dimensions
to health services for 2SLGBTQQIA people.
18.27 We call upon health service providers to provide mental health supports for
2SLGBTQQIA people, including wraparound services that take into account particular
barriers to safety for 2SLGBTQQIA people.
18.28 We call upon all governments to fund and support, and service providers to deliver,
expanded, dedicated health services for 2SLGBTQQIA individuals including health
centres, substance use treatment programs, and mental health services and resources.
18.29 We call upon all governments and health service providers to create roles for Indigenous
care workers who would hold the same authority as community mental health nurses
and social workers in terms of advocating for 2SLGBTQQIA clients and testifying in
court as recognized professionals.
18.30 We call upon federal, provincial, and territorial governments and health service
providers to reduce wait times for sex-reassignment surgery.
217
CALLS FOR JUSTICE
18.31 We call upon all governments and health service providers to provide education for
youth about 2SLGBTQQIA health.
18.32 We call upon child welfare agencies to engage in education regarding the realities and
perspectives of 2SLGBTQQIA youth; to provide 2SLGBTQQIA competency training
to parents and caregivers, especially to parents of trans children and in communities
outside of urban centres; and to engage in and provide education for parents, foster
families, and other youth service providers regarding the particular barriers to safety
for 2SLGBTQQIA youth.
1 National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, Interim Report.
2 Ibid.
3 Canadian Human Rights Commission, “Submission by the Canadian Human Rights Commission to the
Government of Canada Pre-Inquiry Design Process.”
4 National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, Interim Report, 22.
5 National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, Interim Report.
6 Ibid.
7 Available at https://fncaringsociety.com/spirit-bear-plan
218
An Acknowledgement of All Those Who
Shared Their Truth
We acknowledge all of the family members, survivors, Elders, Knowledge Keepers, experts
and institutional witnesses who shared their truth with the National Inquiry. This list includes all
public witnesses who shared in the Truth-Gathering Process, named below. Some names may
appear more than once if they shared in multiple formats.
While we can’t name the many people whose statements will not be released to the public, we
pay tribute to them as well.
To everyone, thank you.
Whitehorse, Yukon – Part 1 Dorothy H. Marilyn S.

Community Hearing Edna D. Mary C.
Allan Florence W. May B.
Ann M. R. Frances N. Norman D.
Ann S. Gina G. Pamela B.
Annette E. Greta J. Shaun L.
Bella B. Hammond D. Starr D.
Bryan J. Heather A. Terri S.
Cathy D. Ivan B. Terry L.
Cecilia G. Jane A. C. Toni B.
Cindy A. Joan J. Tracy C.
Crystal B. Joy O. William C.
Darla-Jean L. Lloyd C. Yvonne S.
Dennis S. Logan B.
Diane L. Lorraine D.
219
Dilico Anishinabek
Family Care
Dilico Anishinabek Family Care provides a variety of services to support the well-being of Anishinabek
Peoples. It was created in 1986 as a way to transfer some control over child welfare services to Anishinabek
bands in the Thunder Bay area of northern Ontario. Dilico’s main office is in the Fort William First Nation near
Thunder Bay, with district offices in Whitesand First Nation, Pic Mobert First Nation, Longlac, and Nipigon.
There are 13 First Nations communities within Dilico’s service area.
Over time, Dilico Anishinabek Family Care has I’m grateful today to say that I’ll be four months
expanded to deliver a wider range of programming, sober by the grace of my Creator…. I went to the
including health, mental health, and addictions serv- Anishinaabe people, Dilico treatment centre.
ices. Dilico offers a voluntary residential addictions Where I found my spirituality again and strength
treatment program. It also delivers several post-treat- was through the Elders, the teachings, being able
ment support services, including group therapy and to go in and grieve the way that I should have
housing support. been able to grieve as a child. But I was 52 years
old when I finally got to grieve with an Elder.I
Darlene G. is an intergenerational residential school
survivor from Annapolis Valley First Nation in Nova Many of Dilico’s services incorporate Anishinaabe
Scotia, whose mother died when she was 12. She told culture, values, and traditional practices. To do so, it
the Inquiry that Dilico played an important part in her uses Elders, traditional healers, ceremonies, sweat
first overcoming her addictions. She explained that lodges, feasts, a traditional parenting program, and a
Dilico’s emphasis on culture was part of what made drum singing and teachings program.II
it so effective.
I Darlene G. (Mi’kmaq), Part 1, Public Volume 18, Membertou, NS, p. 57.

II “Dilico Anishinabek Family Care.”
18
Membertou, Nova Scotia – Connie F. Saskatoon, Saskatchewan –
Part 1 Community Hearing Danette P. C. Part 1 Community Hearing
Agnes G. Daniel P. Barbara B.
Audrey S. Edward L. Brenda F.
Becky M. Elaine D. Brenda O.
Candice S. Gail K. L. Carol W.
Cheryl M. Gayle G. Connie L.
Clayton S. Henry F. Conrad B.
Darlene G. Joanne A. Crystal F.
Delilah S. Joyce E. Danielle E.
Deveron P. Judy C. Debbie G.
Francis P. Keanu G. Delores S.
Georgina D. Lance F. Dionne D.
Joe M. Lane F. Doreen W.
Marie P. Lorna M. Dorthea S.
Miriam S. Marilyn B. Eva P.
Monique F. H. Mary F. Everett S.
Natalie G. Melanie D. Gord S.
Paula S. Muriel W. Gwenda Y.
Rebecca M. Nancy C. Josephine L.
Robert P. Jr. Nicole W. Lance S.
Robert P. Sr. Paul T. Laura A.
Vanessa B. Ricki M. Leslie K.
Roxanne R. Leslie M.
Edmonton, Alberta – Part 1 Sharon P. Lillian P.
Community Hearing Linda Y.
Stephanie H.
Adele W. Lynda J-S.
Vanessa C.
Adrienne B. Margaret D.
Virginia L.-H.
Arlene P. Marilyn W.
Wilbert A.
Berna B. Mary L.
Brenda St. S. Maxine G.
Carol B. Mona W.
221
Ceremonial and Traditional Knowledge
Finding healing and, ultimately, happiness though personal healing was a deeply personal experi-
ence for many witnesses; the ability to start this journey depended, in many cases, on the kinds
of support available. In many examples, people looked first to ceremony and to traditional
knowledge to find the pathway to healing. Within this, traditional teachings and working with
Elders were particularly important, as well as attending and participating in ceremonies.
Summarizing important themes he heard through the testimonies, in an address to the
Commissioners, Treaty 6 Grand Chief Wilton Littlechild stated:
[There’s] the sacred teaching of love. Love. And then throughout the hearings, we heard
stories about first they said, I hate myself, I hate that I’m brown-skinned or I’m Indian,
I’m ashamed of myself; but then things turned. They changed, and in my view, in my
opinion, the truth and reconciliation journey also changed on those days; when a woman
came in front of us and said, you know, I can get up in the morning now, and I look
myself in the mirror, and I say to myself, I love you, I couldn’t do that before. We heard
about the loss of parental skills because of residential school with many and that
discovery of the courage to say that again. People said, you know, for the first time I can
now turn to my spouse or my partner and say to them, I love you. For the first time now,
I can say to my children – couldn’t do this before – I love you.… These are teachings
that we must go back to, old people said.13
In Quebec City, Elder Roland Sioui adresses the audience.
The importance of these resources and teachings was

evident throughout Métis, First Nations, and Inuit
testimonies.
Part of the reason for reliance on teachings and Elders is the
idea of cultural safety and connection to identity as a neces-
sary component of healing. Kirby B. explained how cere-
monies have been an indispensable part of finding healing and safety: “A ceremonial lodge, which
is a Sundance lodge, this is part of where my healing came about. I had to follow through on
myself. I had to find my way. This is part of regrowing and reconnecting to my identity.”14
19
Moncton, New Brunswick – Sophie N. Catherine A.
Part 1 Community Hearing Susan E. Cheryl M.
Allan Sabattis-Atwin Daniel P.
[panellist]
Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Delima F.
Barbara B. Newfoundland and Denise P-M.
Chelsea Jadis [panellist] Labrador – Part 1
Community Hearing Desneiges P.
Deanna B.
Amena E. H. Érica B.
Dr. Judy Clark [panellist]
Benigna A. I. Florence D.
Elder Imelda Perley
Opolahsomuwehs [panellist] Charlotte W. Francine D.
Elder Miigam’agan [panellist] Dionne W.-Y. Francine F.
Fred F. Gordon O. Jacqueline F. O.
Kindra B. Harriet (Rutie) L. Jean-Marc Q.
Leona Simon [panellist] Johannes Lampe Jeannie C.
Madison Donovan [panellist] Kim C-M. Jeannie C.
Pamela F. Silpa O. Karen Baker-Anderson
[panellist]
Sylvia M.
Kirby B.
Rankin Inlet, Nunavut –
Part 1 Community Hearing Lizzie Aloupa [panellist]
Montreal, Quebec – Part 1
Arsene A. Community Hearing Lizzie C.
Bernadette K. Adrienne A. Lucie D.
Danielle C. Angela G. Lucie Q.
David R. Angèle P. Manon O.
Emilia A. Annette D. Marie-Jeanne B.
Jayko L. Annie Arnatuk [panellist] Marie-Louise A.
Jeannie A.-Q. Anthony G. Mary Thomassie [panellist]
Killaq E.-S. Antoinette F. Mary-Annie B.
Janet B. Barbara S. Maurice K.
Laura M. Beatrice R. T. Nathalie H.
Martha A. U. Bessie C. B. Olivier G.
Micah A. Françoise R. Rebecca Jones [panellist]
Nikki K. Carol D. Reepa Evic-Carleton
[panellist]
223
Sarah B. Ashley S. Jason P.
Sarah N. Audrey S. Joann Green [panellist]
Silas B. Benedict P. Johanne B.
Theresa “Tess” L. Bernie W. Joni M. G.
Blu W. Juanita D.
Thompson, Manitoba – Bonnie F. Verna W.
Part 1 Community Hearing Candice C. S. Karen C.
Arla T. Carla M. Kelli L.
Carol W. Catherine M. Kim R.
Christine M. Cheylene Moon [panellist] Leona Humchitt [panellist]
Dennis A. Chief Judy W. Leonard G.
Fred S. Chief Marilyn Slett [panellist] Lillian H.
Helen B. Claude M. Linda L.
Hilda A. P. Cora M. Lisa B. J.
Janet L. Cynthia C. Lisa J. R.
Keith A. Danielle S. Lori D.
Lianna A. Dawn G. Lorna B.
Lillian C. Delilah P. Maggy (Margaret) G.
Mark T. Dorothy P. Marge H.
Melvin A. Elizabeth M. W. Mark Handley [panellist]
Minnie A. Erin Pavan [panellist] Mary A. W.
Rita T. Evelyn Y. Mavis Windsor [panellist]
Susan C. Fialka Jack [panellist] Melodie C.
Floyd P. Millie P.
Vancouver, British Gertrude P. Minnie K.
Columbia – Part 1
Community Hearing Gladys R. Mona S.
Althea W. Grace T. Moses M.
Angela L. Halie B. Myrna A.
Anni P. Jacquita W. Nancy W.
Anthony S. Jamie L. H. Nicole D. B.
Archie P. Jamie Lee Hamilton [panellist] Patrick S.
224
Métis, First Nations and Inuit witnesses cited the need to view cultural care as an important part
of the healing continuum. As Leona Star reflected during the Community Initiatives Panel on
Indigenous Determinants of Well-being:
Oftentimes, when we think of wellness or interventions within the health care system and
trying to bring that forward, we often think of, “Oh, we need more investment into the
hospitals. We need more investment into certain programming.” However, it really fails to
really recognize those things in our communities that have always carried us through.18
Monique F. H. explained that, although ceremonies can be tools for healing, they have also
been used in some ways to exclude. Working with women who are HIV positive, Monique is
employed by the Canadian Aboriginal AIDS Network (CAAN), and points out how her
organization made a point of bringing transwomen into the women’s circle. As she explained,
I don’t hear people all the time acknowledging them. At CAAN what we did was we
invited the transwomen into our circle, into our women’s circle because we wanted them
to feel like they belonged because they do belong with us. And that was a really
powerful ceremony when we invited them into our circle.19
The importance of being able to engage in ceremony and in cultural practices was cited from
Métis, First Nations, Inuit and 2SLGBTQQIA perspectives as an important way to heal. Ensuring
access to these supports for all Indigenous people who need them, as well as for families of miss-
ing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in particular, is of vital
importance for the journey forward.
“OFTENTIMES, WHEN WE THINK OF WELLNESS OR INTERVENTIONS WITHIN THE HEALTH

CARE SYSTEM AND TRYING TO BRING THAT FORWARD, WE OFTEN THINK OF, “OH, WE
NEED MORE INVESTMENT INTO THE HOSPITALS. WE NEED MORE INVESTMENT INTO
CERTAIN PROGRAMMING.” HOWEVER, IT REALLY FAILS TO REALLY RECOGNIZE THOSE
THINGS IN OUR COMMUNITIES THAT HAVE ALWAYS CARRIED US THROUGH.”
Leona Star
21
Iqaluit, Nunavut – Mixed Mike Metatawabin St. John’s, Newfoundland
Parts 2 & 3 Institutional & Patricia Tate and Labrador – Mixed
Expert/Knowledge Keeper Parts 2 & 3 Institutional &
Hearing: “Colonial Renée Brassard Expert/Knowledge Keeper
Violence” Savannah Gentile Hearing: “Sexual Exploita-
Elder Elisapi Davidee Chief Terry Armstrong tion, Human Trafficking &
Aningmiuq Sexual Assault”
Chief Danny Smyth
Hagar Idlout-Sudlovenick Winnipeg, Manitoba –
Mixed Parts 2 & 3 Institu- Staff Sergeant Darryl
Inukshuk Aksalnik
tional & Expert/Knowledge Ramkissoon
Dr. Janet Smylie
Keeper Hearing: “Child & Diane Redsky
Jasmine Redfern Family Welfare” Jennisha Wilson
Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour Dr. Allan Wade Assistant Commissioner
T.J. Lightfoot Dr. Amy Bombay Joanne Crampton
Dr. Cindy Blackstock Chief Joe Boland
Quebec City, Quebec – Cora Morgan Assistant Deputy Attorney
Mixed Parts 2 & 3 Institu- General Juanita Dobson
Dr. Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond
tional & Expert/Knowledge
Sarah Clark Lanna Moon Perrin
Keeper Hearing: “Criminal
Justice Oversight & Susan Aglukark Mary Fearon
Accountability” Mealia Sheutiapik
Connie Greyeyes Dr. Pertice Moffitt
Diane Sere Dr. Robyn Bourgeois
Ellen Gabriel Rachel Willan
Jacqueline Hansen Inspector Tina Chalk
Kassandra Churcher
The Honourable Kim Beaudin
226
Statements
The witnesses listed below have chosen to share their statement publicly, either under their own
name, a pseudonym or their initials. However, this list is not yet complete. This is because the
National Inquiry works with each family member or survivor to determine the level of confiden-
tiality their statement requires, as well as to ensure it complies with other legal requirements.
This review process was still ongoing by the time the Final Report went to press.
To access all of the truths shared publicly through the statement-gathering process, please visit
our website at www.mmiwg-ffada.ca.
“A.B.” Barb C. Catherine M.

“A.B.” Barb L. Catherine M.
“April” Bear T.
Catherine A. M.
“Betty J.” Bernard A.
Cathy C.
“Jade” Bernice K.
Cathy W.
“Kohkom” Blade F.
“Mother Bear” Bobbie J. Cecilia B.
“Sister 1” Bobby M. Chantal H.
“Woman from Dakelh Bonnie P. Chantell S.
Nation” Brenda B. Charles P.
A.F. Brenda G.
Charlotte J.
Aggie M. Brenda W.
Alaiyne C. Chelsea J.
Brenda W.
Alexander S. Brent B. Cheryl A. J.
Alisha R. Brent C. Christine C.
Amber K. Chrystal S.
Brett M.
Ann L.
Bridget P. Cindy H.
Ann S.
Byron M. Coreen A.
Anne-Marie A.
Archie P. Candice N. Cori K.
Ashley J. Carol M. Crystal S.

Audrey S. Caroline B. Dana F.
B.W. Daniel A.
Caroline S.-O.
227
Daniel B. Eleanor K. Jacalyn S.
Danielle B. Elijah B. Jacqualene W.
Danielle S.-O. Elizabeth B. Jacqueline A.
Danny P. Ellen B. James W.
Darlene S. Emily P. Jamie H.
David C. Evelyn C. Janet T.
Deana B. Ezekial B. Janice A.
Deanna J. Falina C. Jaylene D.
Deanna S. Fay B. Jeanette G.
Debra P. Francis M. Jenna B.
Dennis L. Freda C. Jennie B.
Desiree W. Freda H. Jennifer G.
Destiny G. Gary D. Jennifer H.
Dianne B. Gary M. Jennifer S.
Dominic C. Gary O. Jennifer S.
Donalee S. George D. Jennifer T.
Donna C. Gloria L. Jeremiah B.
Doris F. Gloria O. Jerry G.
Doris G. Gloria S. Jimmy T.
Dorothy S. Gwen W. Joachim B.
Duncan F. G. Harold R. Joan B.
E.M. Hazel B. R. Jocelyn W.
Edmund S. Hazel M. John S.
Edna H. Henrietta I. Jones O.
Elaine A. Herman N. Judy F.
Elaine B. D. Ida B. Julie Ann A.
Elaine R. Irene Q. June B.
228
Karen B.-B. Madeleine D. E. Natasha A.
Karen E. Madison C. Nicole A.
Karen K. Maggie M. G. Nina J.
Karin S. Maggie H. Norma J.
Karissa J. Margaret S. Norma J.
Kathy A. Margaret V. H. Pam W.
Kathy K. Marge H. Patsy C.
Kenneth T. Margie A. Paula M.
Kerrigan F. Maria S. Paula P.
Kristal G. Marie M. Pearlene B.
Laura L. Marie-Jeanne A. Peter B.
Laurence M. Marie-Louise N. Peter B.
Laurie B. Marilou S. Peter Q.
Lawrence B. Martha M. Phoebe S.
Leesee K. Mary C. Phyllis R.
Leona W. Mary Jane K. Phyllis R.
Lillian C. Matilda W. Pierre-Paul N.
Lillian H. Maura G. R.P.
Lina G. Melanie M. Rachel E.
Linda M. Michael W. Rejeanne W.
Lionel C. Michele B. Rhea F.
Lizz N. Michele G. Ruth M.
Loretta P. L. Michelle R. S.A.
Lornie B. Muriel C. S.M.
Lorraine S. N.A. Sadie C.
Lucy G. Nancy B. Sara H.
Mabel J. Nancy G. Sarah A.
229
Sarah N. Sue C. Valentino P.
Shara L. Sylvia G. Veronica M.
Sharna S. Tama H. Véronique A.
Sharon J. Tammy B. Vicki H.
Sharon L. P. Terrell D. Vicky L.
Sheena J. Terri S. Vince M.
Shirley C. Terriea W. Vincent J.
Shirley T. Thelma F. Virginia C.
Siasi A. Therese M. Vivian B.
Sim’oogit Hay’maas Chester Thérèse N. Wendy L.-L.
M.
Thomas S. Wendy R.
Sonia B.
Thomas S. William F.
Sophia B.
Tom M. B. Yvan P.
Stephanie S.
Toni C.
Steven A.
V.P.
Legacy Archives
This list includes everyone who publicly donated an artistic expression to the National Inquiry’s
Legacy Archive.
Adele E. Waskewitch Ben Napoleon Richard Calvin Marcellous Dawson

Adele Siobhan Keyes Beverley Susan Beckley Cheryl L. Wadhams
Agnes Poker Billie Jeanne Lynn Sinclair Chris Scott
Aileen Marian Norton Swift Brandi Leigh Price Christine Lily Baker
Andrea Denise Menard Brandon Claire Sebastian Dee-Jay Monika Rumbolt
Poitras
Anne Anderson Don Weitz
Brigitte André
Annie Grace Ross Edith Darlene Clarke
Calvin Kieran Bruce
Audrey Siegl Elaine Margaret Bomberry
Charlie-Dawson
230
Erika Liisa-Irene Richard Lorelei Sharon Williams Pavel Desjarlais
Garth Oliver Bowen Lorraine Frederica Richard Racelle Lillian Koay
George Frederick Connell Louis-Georges Fontaine Rory Dawson
Geraldine (Gerri) Sharpe Louise Imbeault Samantha Pelkey
Grégoire Canapé Lydia Lee Ann Marie Dawson Shawnee Bernadette
Monchalin
Harriet Lillian Prince Marcelline Blacksmith
Sheree Elaine Shiyehno
Hermina Joldersma Maranada Roseanne Johnson
Shevonne Hall
Ina Betty George Mari Charlie
Susan Elaine Ouriou
Irvin J. Waskewitch Marie Louise Mark
Susan Marie Weber
Jacqueline Marie Maurice Melannie Belly
Tevin Sage Meetoos
Jason Tulugak Daniel Sikoak Melissa Danielle Cook
Toni Lemaigre
Jean St. Onge Mélissa Picard
Valerie A. Davidson
Jeannette Vollant Melodie Casella
Vern
Jeannette Vollant Mikhayla Myrtie Patterson
Véronique André
Jessica Przeszlo Muskosis Lonny Victor Morin
Vince Fontaine
Juanita Desjarlais Murray Steven Porter
Yvette Bellefleur
Kahlan Liberty Hanuse Mylinda Lucille Gislason
Yvonne Marie Chartrand
Kathleen Nisbet Nadzin Yvette-Marie
DeGagné
KyeOwna Marie Miller
Nicole Carpenter
Latisha Adriane Tori
Wadhams Ovide Robert Caribou
231
ANNEX 1
Summary of
Forensic Document Review Project
Introduction and Overview

Overwhelmingly, the families who testified before the National Inquiry were seeking answers
to perceived flaws in the investigations into the loss of their loved ones. They discussed many
ways, documented throughout Chapter 8, in which they felt that police services had failed in
their duty to properly investigate the crimes committed against them or their loved ones, leading
ultimately to a failure to obtain closure and justice within the existing system.
In response, the National Inquiry established the Forensic Document Review Project (FDRP),
consisting of two teams conducting a review of police and other related institutional files. One
team examined files of the Province of Quebec; the second group examined police files in all
other provinces and territories throughout the rest of Canada. In this summary, when we refer to
the FDRP, we are referring specifically to this second group. Information and recommendations
of the Quebec FDRP are located in the Supplementary Report of the National Inquiry into
Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls devoted to Quebec. The purpose of the
FDRP was to identify potential systemic barriers or problems and areas of weakness relating to
the protection of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and to make recommen-
dations to the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls about
the systemic causes of their disappearances and deaths.
During the course of the project, the Forensic Document Review Project (FDRP), which was
tasked with examining files outside of Quebec, obtained and reviewed 174 files and 35 previous
reports and studies on policing related to Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
and analyzed publicly available information related to those files.
Overall, the FDRP review includes:
28 Police Forces Subpoenaed by the FDRP
30 Subpoenas Issued
35 Reports Reviewed
174 Files Obtained and Analyzed, consisting of:
• 136,834 Documents
• 593,921 Pages
233
ANNEX 1
Over the course of its review, the FDRP identified the following significant issues:
1. There is no reliable estimate of the numbers of missing and murdered Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA persons in Canada.
2. The two Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) reports dated 2014 and 2015 on missing
and murdered Indigenous women and girls identify narrow and incomplete causes of homi-
cides of Indigenous women and girls in Canada.
3. The often-cited statistic that Indigenous men are responsible for 70% of murders of Indige-
nous women and girls is not factually based.
4. Virtually no information was found with respect to either the numbers or causes of missing
and murdered Métis and Inuit women and girls and Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA persons.
5. Indigenous communities, particularly in remote areas, are under-prioritized and
under-resourced.
6. There is a lack of communication to families and Indigenous communities by police services
and a lack of trust of the police by Indigenous communities.
7. There continues to be a lack of communication with and coordination between the police and
other service agencies.
8. Deaths and disappearances of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people are marked
by indifference. Specifically, prejudice, stereotypes, and inaccurate beliefs and attitudes about
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA persons negatively influence police investiga-
tions, and therefore death and disappearances are investigated and treated differently from
other cases.
This summary has four parts. Part 1 sets out the mandate of the FDRP and the relevant legal
framework within which the FDRP was created and conducted its work. Part 2 details the
processes of the FDRP, including some of the challenges and issues faced by the Forensic
Document Review Project. Part 3 of this report discusses what the review has learned. Part 4 sets
out the Recommendations of the FDRP.
234
ANNEX 1
Part I
The Mandate and Framework of the FDRP
The Mandate of the FDRP
The FDRP was established by the Commissioners of the National Inquiry pursuant to section
11(1) of the federal Inquiries Act. The FDRP was given a mandate by the Commissioners of the
National Inquiry to:
1. identify potential systemic barriers or problems and areas of weakness relating to the
protection of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals; and
2. make recommendations about the systemic causes of the disappearances and deaths of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals and acts of violence against them.1
The FDRP conducted a forensic review of police and related institutional files and reviewed the
reports of previous inquiries and publicly available research on the issue of policing related to
Members of the Forensic Document Review Project – National

Under the supervision of the National Inquiry’s Director of Research, Dr. Karine Duhamel, the
national teams consist of:
Steven Kelliher – Team Lead, Counsel
Leah Mack – Deputy Team Lead
Declan Redman – Counsel and Researcher
William MacDonald – Investigator
In addition to these members, the National Inquiry’s research teams and the team at MT>3, a
division of McCarthy Tétrault, has been crucial to the FDRP’s work. Some members of the
National Family Advisory Circle and the Grandmothers of the Commissioners’ Grandmothers
Circle also played an advisory role alongside the FDRP to provide input into the process. The
Quebec Forensic Document Review Project cooperated closely with the National team members
to align methodology and best utilize resources. The work of the Quebec FDRP is documented
alongside their findings, as part of the Quebec-specific report.
235
Being bad is easy and, like, being an ass is easy, and being mean to people and, like, all
that stuff; that’s easy. It’s a lot harder to, like, go out of your way for somebody and, like,
just genuinely mean it. You don’t have to gain anything. And, like, I don’t know. I try to
do the stuff and I think about, like, what she would want. Or, I ask her for guidance and,
like, little things like that.23
In Calgary, Alberta, the

Union of British Columbia
Indian Chiefs shows this
banner during its closing
submissions.
For some witnesses, engaging with others and helping others as a part of healing takes place in
groups of women, working together. Rachel W. suffered abuse at home and was sexually ex-
ploited as a youth. She struggled with addictions and within violent relationships, and is now
working on her recovery in her own life and through helping others. As she explained, “I give
thanks every day and gratitude for being where I am.… So, each day I encounter, silently I am
thankful, and it’s just a work in progress. It’s constant. Constant.”24
“I GIVE THANKS EVERY DAY AND GRATITUDE FOR BEING WHERE I AM.… SO, EACH
DAY I ENCOUNTER, SILENTLY I AM THANKFUL, AND IT'S JUST A WORK IN PROGRESS.
IT’S CONSTANT. CONSTANT.”
Rachel W.
Kim C.-M. explained she is part of an organization called AnânauKatiget Tumingit, which means
“all our mothers’ footprints.” AnânauKatiget Tumingit works with women “developing their
leadership skills, tackling, you know, some of the really difficult, hard issues that they have to
deal with in the communities.… [We do this work] in honour of our mothers and our grandmoth-
ers and those strong leader women from our communities who came before us and taught us so
much.”25 It is focused on violence prevention and run by a volunteer board.
28
ANNEX 1
For these reasons, this summary does not made specific reference to any of the confidential
information obtained for the purpose of the FDRP. Nonetheless, issues identified and recommen-
dations of the FDRP in this report are based on all of the information that the FDRP obtained and
analyzed, including information that the FDRP is required to keep confidential.5 The FDRP has a
Transparency Statement that briefly sets out its mandate, explaining what the FDRP can and
cannot do as part of its review.6
The work of the FDRP included the following:
1. Make specific recommendations about systemic problems, barriers, and weaknesses in
investigations of:
a) reports of missing persons;
b) suspicious deaths;
c) implausible deaths; and,
d) acts of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA persons.
2. Make specific recommendations about systemic problems, barriers, and weaknesses with a
view to improve coroner practices; police investigations; missing person searches; prosecu-
tions; and outcomes and relations among police, prosecutors, and coroners and families,
survivors, and their communities.
3. Assist in identifying, reviewing, and making recommendations to Commissioners in accor-
dance with terms (r.) and (s.) of the federal Terms of Reference to refer information that the
National Inquiry received in the course of its investigation that may be used in an investigation
or prosecution under the Criminal Code or that may relate to misconduct.
The scope of what the FDRP could do and could not do stems from the authority granted to the
Commissioners in law and based on the mandate they received. The following is the list of what
the FDRP could not do:
1. Disclose publicly any information obtained by the FDRP, except in accordance with
the Legal Path: Rules of Respectful Practice or as required by law.
2. Examine the exercise of prosecutorial discretion by Crown counsel.
3. Make specific findings of misconduct in respect to any identifiable person or
organization.
4. Reinvestigate police investigations.
5. Express conclusions or recommendations about the possible civil or criminal liability
of any person or organization.
237
ANNEX 1
Part II
The Process of the FDRP
The Creation of the FDRP
The FDRP began its work in March 2018. At first, the nature of the work that could initially be
undertaken was limited until all members of the team were formally retained and had obtained
the required security clearances from the Privy Council Office.7 The first six and a half months of
the FDRP’s work were devoted principally to setting up the work of the FDRP and developing
the framework that would guide the work of the FDRP.
The Framework
The framework that would ultimately guide the work of the FDRP involved a number of
significant tasks, designed to guide both the substantive work of the FDRP and the process to
be undertaken. An overall methodological framework for the work of the FDRP falls into three
categories:
(i) the process for selecting and obtaining the files;
(ii) the methodology for the analysis of the files;
(iii) the time frame and process for producing a report, setting out significant issues
it has identified.
Revising the FDRP Action Plan in Light of the Six-Month Extension
of the National Inquiry’s Mandate
As the Commissioners set out in their extension request letter dated March 6, 2018, to the
Honourable Carolyn Bennett, by early March 2018, work had begun to create the FDRP, but the
substantive work of the team was not yet underway. Without an extension, the Commissioners
wrote, they feared the number of files the FDRP would be able to review would be limited.
While the federal government ultimately granted a short extension to the mandate of the
National Inquiry by six months until the end of June 2019, the number of files that could be
obtained and the extent of analysis that could be undertaken on the files that were obtained were
restricted by our inability to subpoena documents or testimony past December 31, 2018 – a fact
that would have been well understood by the government and police forces within the context
of the decision not to extend the National Inquiry’s mandate. The National Inquiry’s ability to
resolve police objections to the production of documents for the FDRP would be significantly
impeded and the scope of work would not be as comprehensive as it had initially hoped.
238
ANNEX 1
Selecting the Files

The National Inquiry, as part of its investigative function and prior to the establishment of the
FDRP, had issued subpoenas seeking the production of documents, which included specific
police files and other institutional files as well as various policy and training manuals, operational
directives, and other relevant documents from police forces and other government agencies.
The document management firm of MT>3 was retained by the National Inquiry to manage the
electronic handling and storage of information in a Ringtail database.8 Documents subpoenaed by
the National Inquiry were provided in a secure manner directly to MT>3’s offices in Toronto.9
There, MT>3 scanned, indexed, and coded the documents using a specialized team of lawyers
and staff. The Ringtail database provided a secure, confidential electronic location for the storage
and management of the police files and other documents
subpoenaed by the National Inquiry.
The FDRP selected only files for review that related to families or survivors who engaged with
or registered with the National Inquiry as part of its Community Hearings and Statement
Gathering events. The Commissioners, Commission counsel, and staff also referred files based
on evidence and hearings. The FDRP had lists of cases of missing and murdered Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people created by some police forces that were shared with the
National Inquiry. The large public and private record created in the Truth-Gathering Process also
meant that the FDRP could rely on the testimony shared with the National Inquiry.
Together with MT>3, the FDRP reconciled all of this information in order to determine the
names of the victims in respect of whom files could be sought. Often it was necessary to make a
determination, based on the testimony provided to the National Inquiry by a family member or
loved one, as to which police force had jurisdiction of a death or disappearance.
Obtaining the Files

Issuing the Subpoenas
It is important to note that in addition to reviewing files subpoenaed directly for the FDRP, the
teams also reviewed police files that had been provided in response to prior subpoenas issued by
the National Inquiry.
In total, between September 20, 2018, and December 31, 2018, the National Inquiry issued 30
subpoenas specifically for the FDRP to 28 police forces across Canada, seeking a total of 479
files. For a variety of reasons – for example, the age of the file, lack of identifying information,
or public interest privilege claims – and due to the time constraints, the National Inquiry was not
able to obtain all of the files subpoenaed.
239
ANNEX 1
The table below sets out, by police force, not including Quebec, the number of files subpoenaed
for the FDRP and the number of files obtained at the time of writing this summary.
Table 1: Number of Files Subpoenaed and Obtained
Police Force Files Requested Files Received
1 Brandon Police Service 1 1

2 Brantford Police Service 1 1
3 Calgary Police Service 6 1
4 Cape Breton Regional Police 1 1
5 Charlottetown Police Service 1 1
6 Edmonton Police Service 22 15
7 File Hills First Nation Police Service 1 0
8 Fredericton Police Force 3 2
9 Halifax Regional Police 2 0
10 Lethbridge Police Service 3 3
11 Manitoba First Nation Police Service 2 0
12 Prince Albert Police Service 5 4
13 New Westminster Police Department 1 1
14 Nishnawbe-Aski Police Service 1 0
15 Ontario Provincial Police 8 2
16 Ottawa Police Service 2 0
17 RCMP (three subpoenas) 298 107
18 Regina Police Service 16 8
19 Saskatoon Police Service 8 3
20 Springfield Police Service 1 0
21 Sudbury Police Service 1 0
22 The Royal Newfoundland Constabulary 3 0
23 Thunder Bay Police Service 14 9
24 Toronto Police Service 10 0
25 Vancouver Police Department 35 5
26 Victoria Police Department 3 1
27 Waterloo Regional Police Service 1 1
28 Winnipeg Police Services 29 4
29 Unknown/Other 4
240
ANNEX 1
Content of the Subpoenas

The subpoenas prepared by the FDRP had three components: the subpoena itself, and two
schedules: Schedule A and Schedule B.
Schedule A was 12 pages in length and comprised of three parts. It set out:
(i) a description of the documents to be provided10
(ii) the required format for the documents11
(iii) a certification to be completed by the responding officer12
Schedule B of the each subpoena set out information in respect to each person whose file was
sought. This included personal information, the nature of the incident, the location of the
incident, and the relevant police agency.
Files Obtained for the FDRP
As of April 2, 2019, the FDRP had received and reviewed 174 police files. These files consisted
of more than 136,834 documents and 593,921 pages. The tables below indicate the breakdown of
the files by type of incident, location, status (solved/unsolved), and age of victim.
Type of Incident:
(Solved/Unsolved): Status of the File
1%
17%
Homicide (145) Solved (101)
83% 41% 58%
Unsolved (71)
Dissapearance (29)
Unknown (2)
Date of the Incident: Ages of the Victims:
50 90
45
40 80
35 70
30 0-20 years old
60
25
20 50 21-40 years old
15 40 41-60 years old
10
5 30 61+ years old
0 20 Unknown
9
U ent
0
-P 0
n
19 195
19 197
19 198
19 199
20 200
11 201
10
s
no
re
-
nk
20
60
71
81
91
01
0
19
Ages of the Victims

20
241
The Red Shawl Campaign
The Red Shawl Campaign at the University of New Brunswick (UNB) is part of a month-long awareness
movement to bring attention to the issues surrounding missing and murdered Indigenous women. Started
by UNB Elder-in-Residence Imelda Perley, it has been held every October since 2014.
The Red Shawl Campaign combines advocacy and

healing for the community. Throughout October, red
shawls are hung around the UNB campus as a re-
minder of missing and murdered Indigenous women.
The Red Shawl Campaign has connections with the
REDress Project, but is inspired by the cultural impor-
tance of the shawl in Mi’kmaq-Wolastoqey societies.
Shawls are traditionally given to women as they grow
as a symbol of protection, healing, and hope.I
Elder Imelda spoke about the Red Shawl Campaign

at the National Inquiry’s Knowledge Keeper panel in
Moncton, New Brunswick. She said that one of the
most amazing parts of starting this campaign was the
support they received from non-Indigenous allies,
from the store that donated materials to the church
group who knit and crocheted red shawls to donate.
Culminating in a series of events held over multiple

days, the Red Shawl Campaign seeks to bring the
community together while providing comfort and
support to the families of lost loved ones. One of
these events is a ballet performed by the Atlantic
Ballet Theatre called Ghosts of Violence. The ballet
presents Indigenous traditions and cultures to a
greater public while raising awareness of missing and
murdered Indigenous women. In speaking about this
partnership, Elder Imelda recalled:
I wanted it more Indigenous. I said I know your

dancers can’t wear shawls but is there anything I In what has now become tradition, Indigenous artists
can do. Can I at least bless the ballet shoes that paint the ballet slippers to be used in the annual Ghosts
they’re going to be dancing with because this of Violence ballet. These slippers were painted by Claudia
message is spiritual, it’s not just a performance. Gray and her son Oakley, from Listuguj Mi’gmaq First
And so we got this idea to do artwork on the bal- Nation. Facebook, Atlantic Ballet Atlantique Canada
let shoes to give it more presence of our symbols. Public Page, September 29, 2016, Fredericton, NB.
30
ANNEX 1
trauma-informed approach, the National Inquiry cannot release any information received from
police files. However, it is noteworthy that the National Inquiry did issue subpoenas to the
RCMP as part of their investigative mandate beginning in 2017.
The National Inquiry was repeatedly informed that the RCMP unit created to respond to and
participate in the National Inquiry simply did not have the resources available to fully respond to
our requests for documents.
There were ongoing disputes over production of RCMP files between the National Inquiry
and the Government of Canada. In relation to some files, where a valid subpoena was issued,
Canada gave the National Inquiry production schedules that went into the spring of 2021. The
government also argued that the National Inquiry should have sought these files earlier. Part of
the National Inquiry’s investigative mandate was to collect evidence and determine which files
were needed. Community Hearings, where families and survivors shared their truths, did not end
until April 2018. Statement gathering continued until December 2018.
Regardless of when subpoenas were issued, the fact that the RCMP could produce only certain
files more than three and a half years from the date that files were demanded (September 2018 to
April 2021) demonstrates that they did not have the manpower to cooperate with production of
files. The National Inquiry mandate was only two and half years long, so offering to provide files
in a three-and-a-half-year time frame added insult to injury.
The disputes over production resulted in in-camera and ex parte motions, hearings, and inter-
views. Although both parties worked together to ensure production of some files, even when
Commissioners made orders for production of files, Canada “had no capacity to produce” the
files and often claimed that the file size was a barrier to producing them.
In relation to a couple of files, the National Inquiry filed an application pursuant to section
37(3)(a) of the Canada Evidence Act, RSC 1985, c. C-5 in the Federal Court to dispute Canada’s
claim of public interest immunity. As these matters are before the court and subject to confiden-
tiality orders, we will not be able to provide specific information about the contested files. We
assert the position that the files are not protected by public interest privilege. The files are no
longer under active investigation. The files should be produced and are important to making
recommendations regarding the systemic causes of the disappearances and deaths of Indigenous
women and girls. We argue that public interest in disclosure to the National Inquiry outweighs
any assertion of public interest privilege. We will not know whether our application will be
successful or not at the time the Final Report is released.
243
ANNEX 1
Analyzing the Files

It was crucial that the review process was as objective and standardized as possible. The FDRP,
in consultation with members of the FDRP Advisory Circle,13 developed a Forensic Investigative
Checklist to be utilized in the review of each file. The checklists s included as part of this
Summary.
The Investigative Checklist was developed in part based on existing best practices manuals for
police investigations, including, in particular, British Columbia’s Provincial Policing Standards
Manual. The Investigative Checklist is broken down into the investigative steps that may be
required in a missing person’s case or homicide investigation and includes the advice of the
Advisory Circle members’ lived experience. The review process was undertaken in three stages.
The first stage of the review was undertaken by a specialized team at MT>3 assisting the FDRP.
Each member of the MT>3 team was assigned files and reviewed those files using the checklist
developed by the FDRP. The members of MT>3 completed the preliminary review. During their
review, the MT>3 member would electronically highlight all portions of the file that they
believed to be significant.14
After completing their review, the MT>3 member would complete the Investigative Checklist for
each police file. The Ringtail version of the checklist used by MT>3 was divided into headings
based on the stages of an investigation, and included specific investigative steps to be undertaken
under the following headings:
a. General investigation
b. Conduct at crime scene
c. Efforts to obtain and utilize documentary evidence
d. Efforts to obtain and utilize physical evidence
e. Case management and oversight
f. Communication with and treatment of victim, family members, witnesses, and others
The second stage included a review of the file by the FDRP investigator. Significant issues or
concerns with the police investigation, recurring themes, or issues suggesting systemic causes
or trends, were noted. The review also included noting the follow-up steps that the FDRP may
want to consider; and whether or not the file may be suitable for referral pursuant to terms (r.) or
(s.) of the National Inquiry’s mandate.
244
ANNEX 1
It is important to note that the secondary review did not duplicate or restrict itself to the efforts
of MT>3. The secondary review utilized the completed checklist to concentrate on concerns or
issues identified by MT>3, which often led to a focused examination into the file and further
review of any additional concerns.
The third stage was a review process by the lead and researcher of the FDRP. They reviewed the
results of both the initial analysis by MT>3 and the secondary reviews conducted by the FDRP in-
vestigator. Part of the tertiary review process also included a consultative process between mem-
bers of the FDRP and the MT>3 team members. The consultative process was comprised of
ongoing, extensive discussions with respect to the files under review. Interwoven with the tertiary
review stage of the process was a literature review process, which is discussed later in this report.
At each stage of the review process, care was taken to ensure that the investigative issues arising
during the first two stages of the review were independently verified.
Notes on Terms of Reference
Term (p.) of the federal Terms of Reference directs the Commissioners not to express any
conclusions or recommendations regarding the civil or criminal liability of any person or
organization. While, in some cases, the FDRP may make reference to the conduct or actions of
organizations, any such comments are not an indication that any conclusions about the civil or
criminal liability of any person or organization are being found by the Commissioners.
Terms (r.) and (s.) of the federal Terms of Reference authorize the Commissioners of the National
Inquiry to provide to the appropriate authorities any information that the Commissioners have
reasonable grounds to believe may be used in the investigation or prosecution of a criminal
offence, or that may relate to misconduct. Terms (r.) and (s.) provide as follows:
r. if the Commissioners have reasonable grounds to believe that any information obtained
in the course of the Inquiry may be used in the investigation or prosecution of an of-
fence under the Criminal Code, authorize the Commissioners to remit that information
to the appropriate authorities;
s. authorize the Commissioners to remit to the appropriate authorities any information
that was obtained in the course of the Inquiry that the Commissioners have reasonable
grounds to believe relates to misconduct;
The federal Terms of Reference of the National Inquiry do not expressly prevent the Commission-
ers from making findings or allegations of misconduct against persons or organizations. However,
some of the provincial and territorial Orders-in-Council – for example, in British Columbia – ex-
pressly prohibit any findings of misconduct. The many Inquiries Acts, with the exception of those
of Nova Scotia, Quebec, Manitoba, and the Yukon, require that a notice of alleged misconduct be
provided if a finding of misconduct may be made. Section 13 of the federal Inquiries Act requires
that no report be made against any person until a misconduct notice has been provided.15
245
Healing for Future Generations: Engaging Youth in Wellness
For many people, the importance of healing lies not only in the current generation, but in the
future ones, through work with youth. The importance of healing youth also featured promi-
nently in testimony concerning the need to heal in Métis, First Nations, Inuit, and 2SLGBTQQIA
communities, further explored in our analysis of the Guided Dialogues in Chapter 11. As
Lorraine S. shared,
What I see happening is our kids are doing their own suicides now, or now they’re
killing each other because they don’t have a connection, they don’t have a bonding with
somebody. They don’t have a bonding with the grandparents anymore, with the parents –
it’s all disrupted.26
Some witnesses discussed their work with youth as a way to engage youth in wellness. Travis
Hebert, who is Cree/Métis and who is part of the hip hop duo Mob Bounce, discussed his work
with youth like those from ’Na Aksa Gyilak’yoo School, who appeared before the National
Inquiry to share “The Highway,” the song they wrote in November 2016 as part of a creative
writing and artistic expression project at their school in Kitsumkalum. As he explained about
his work in connecting youth to the healing power of culture and identity:
A lot of it relates to being able to connect with inner space and sacred space. And when
we go through experiences in our lives, whether they’re trauma or memories that are
difficult, you know, even good ones, there’s this inner space that’s tampered with that
creates walls and blockages.
For youth, Travis explained, the impact of this kind of disconnection is clear:
And when we go into communities, you know, you can see through the body language,
you know, where the eyes are – you know, some youth tend to go into this space and
look down. It’s because they’re protecting themselves. There’s a very vulnerable space
within.27
“AFTER I PUT ALL MY FEELINGS DOWN ON PAPER AND WE FINISHED THE SONG,
WE ALL ENDED UP BREAKING DOWN AND CRYING BECAUSE WE’RE PUTTING OUR
VOICES OUT THERE, WE’RE STANDING UP FOR WHAT WE ARE TRYING TO SHOW.”
Youth from ‘Na Aksa Gyilak’yoo School
Youth themselves who were part of the panel talked about how engaging in the project helped
them to begin their own healing journey: “After I put all my feelings down on paper and we fin-
ished the song, we all ended up breaking down and crying because we’re putting our voices out
there, we’re standing up for what we are trying to show.”28
32
ANNEX 1
Part III
Identification of Issues
To begin to address the systemic causes of the high numbers of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, it is necessary to first determine how many
have been murdered or gone missing in Canada over the years.
Following the review described above, it was apparent to the FDRP that there are significant
unanswered questions in relation to the numbers of missing and murdered Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Based on its review, the FDRP is of the view that these sys-
temic issues exist across the country in relation to policing. Below are eight significant issues
that the FDRP has identified.
1) There is no reliable estimate of the numbers of missing and murdered Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Canada.
In its review, the FDRP identified that there is still not a complete understanding of the numbers
of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. The FDRP
asserts that there is not an empirically reliable estimate of the number of missing and murdered
Indigenous women and girls in Canada.
The RCMP’s 2014 Report:
On May 16, 2014, the RCMP released the results of their study entitled “Missing and Murdered
Aboriginal Women: A National Operational Overview” (“2014 Report”). The 2014 Report
purports to provide “the most comprehensive data that has ever been assembled by the Canadian
policing community on missing and murdered Aboriginal women.”16
The 2014 Report states that there have been 1,017 homicides and 164 disappearances (1,181
total) of Indigenous women and girls in Canada between 1980 and 2012. However, the RCMP
acknowledged that these figures are unreliable and the actual figures could well be many times
higher.
The data on the numbers compiled by the RCMP was based principally on a review of the statis-
tical information gathered from the Canadian Centre for Justice Statistics (CCJS) Homicide
Survey (“Homicide Survey”) between 1980 to 2012.17 There were issues with the collection of
Indigenous identity on the Homicide Survey in that the accuracy and completeness of the
information depend wholly on the police officers who complete the survey.
Startlingly, as of 2013, half of all police services, including the RCMP, do not report information
on the Indigenous identity of homicide victims.18 According to Statistics Canada, the RCMP
stopped reporting Indigenous identity in the Homicide Survey in 2001.19 Further, the quality of
247
ANNEX 1
the data that is collected and reported on Indigenous identity is suspect. Often, an officer will
rely only on a visual assessment to determine whether an individual is recorded as being
Indigenous. It is important to point out that the 2014 Report does not mention the limitations of
the information contained in the Homicide Survey, upon which the statistics in the 2014 Report
are based.
Issues with the collection of Indigenous identity on the Canadian Police Information Centre
(CPIC) as it relates to disappearances:
The figure of 164 disappearances is calculated on the basis of the information contained in the
CPIC database, together with a limited review of file information held by the RCMP. The CPIC
database began to record Indigenous identity in 2011,20 but it also leaves the identification of
Indigeneity to the discretion of individual police officers. Importantly, prior to 2011, no police
force in Canada recorded Indigenous identity in CPIC. Again, the RCMP acknowledge that they
do not know if the actual number of disappearances could be significantly higher.
Although changes have been made to the CPIC form and to the Homicide Survey, inconsistent
reporting practices continue to hinder the ability to determine the true number of missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Only some police forces
currently record the race, ethnicity, or cultural affinity of people who have disappeared. Police
forces are not required to report these numbers to Statistics Canada.
The FDRP points out that the numbers cited in the 2014 Report likely underestimate the true num-
bers of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. It is concern-
ing that, despite being aware that the true numbers could well be vastly higher than what is
presented in either their 2014 Report or their 2015 updated Report, the RCMP has not done any-
thing to clarify these misstatements. A reader of the 2014 Report could be misled into believing
that there is a reliable empirical foundation upon which the numbers contained in the report are
based when there is not. It is the view of FDRP that the statistics set out in the 2014 Report do not
provide a reliable basis for either operational decision making or for the development of policy.
2) The RCMP reports identify a narrow and incomplete understanding of the
causes of homicides.
The RCMP’s 2015 Report:
On June 19, 2015, the RCMP released a second report in relation to missing and murdered
Indigenous women and girls entitled “Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Woman: 2015 Update to
the National Operational Overview” (“2015 Report”). Although the National Inquiry’s federal
Terms of Reference do not expressly mention the 2015 Report, the RCMP state that the 2015
Report is intended to provide an update and further analysis on the findings in the 2014 Report
and it should be read together with the 2014 Report.
248
The Young Bears Lodge
Young Bears Lodge is a healing lodge for Indigenous youth aged 13 to 18 who want to change their
relationship with alcohol or drugs. Based in Vancouver, it is run by the Urban Native Youth Association.
Recognizing that a one-size-fits-all approach does not work best for youth, its approach draws attention to
the uniqueness of each individual, their strengths, knowledge, skills, preferences, and goals, in support of
changes they wish to achieve.
With an Indigenous focus, the lodge brings tradi- him from a report written by the British Columbia
tional teachings, cultural practices, and communities Representative for Children and Youth about Paige, a
of origin to the forefront to help youth move toward 19-year-old Indigenous teen who went through years
health and well-being. Its philosophy includes two- of neglect and “persistent inaction” from more than
eyed seeing, culture as therapy, trauma-informed 40 social workers in her life before she died of an
care, harm reduction, and person-centred care. Its overdose in April 2013.II
programming includes community cultural events,
such as going to Pow-Wows, workshops with Elders In particular, Patrick affirmed the healing and stability
and traditional Knowledge Keepers, teachings on that culture can bring to the lives of Indigenous youth.
traditional ceremonies, individual and group coun-
selling, connecting with positive role models, health- The one line in that Paige report that stood out
ier coping skills, life skills, and many more. Indigenous to me, it said, “The one time Paige had stability
youth are introduced to many aspects of their own was when she was in Young Bears treatment cen-
cultures, and are guided toward educational paths tre, a youth-based cultural treatment centre.”
of their choosing and provided with referrals to That was the one time she had stability, they said
additional services and programs.I in the report. And I believe that because that has
been what has stabilized my life, you know,
Patrick S. told the National Inquiry about his experi- learning about my culture.III
ence of trauma as the result of his older sister’s mur-
der when he was only 15 years old. Living through Patrick was very grateful for the cultural and spiritual
the hurt and difficulties brought on by that trauma, direction he received. However, healing through cul-
he self-medicated with alcohol and drugs. He high- ture should be available to every Indigenous youth,
lighted information that had a significant impact on not just a lucky few.
I “Urban Native Youth Association – Young Bears Lodge.”

II Manitoba Advocate for Children and Youth, “Paige’s Story.”
III Patrick S. (Kwagu’ł, Fort Rupert, Qualicum), Part 1, Public Volume 102, Vancouver, BC, p. 10.
34
ANNEX 1
Without question, family violence is a serious issue in all segments of society, Indigenous and
non-Indigenous. However, policies or awareness campaigns created by the RCMP focusing
solely on Indigenous men as the perpetrators of violence against Indigenous women and
girls ignore significant issues critical to the protection of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. They also feed bias and stereotyping, encouraging racism, without
addressing violence perpetrated by non-Indigenous people.
Problems with solved rates and characterization of deaths in the RCMP reports:
Both the 2014 Report and the 2015 Report focus on identifying the number and causes of
“solved” homicides of Indigenous women and girls in Canada. The two reports do not consider
suspected homicides, deaths deemed suspicious, or homicides not reported to Statistics Canada
on a Homicide Survey.29 This total number is unknown. A significant but overlooked component
of the 2014 Report is the reference to clusters of occurrences of unsolved murders or disappear-
ances.30 The RCMP identify 225 unsolved disappearances or murders of Indigenous women and
girls at the time of the 2014 Report, including 105 disappearances classified as “unknown” or
“foul play suspected,” and 120 unsolved homicides.
In the 2015 Report, this number has been reduced to 106 known unsolved homicides and 98
known unsolved disappearances.31 The RCMP note that multi-agency task forces have been
established in several areas with the highest volume of unsolved murders and disappearances.32
These task forces were established to, among other things, determine whether one or more
persons were responsible for multiple murders or disappearances.33
The true figure of these unsolved disappearances and homicides may be much higher, depending
on the accuracy of police classification of a disappearance as “suspicious” or “death as caused by
homicide.” The FRDT believes that there were repeated instances on review of files of police
mischaracterizing disappearances and deaths as “not suspicious.”
3) The often-cited statistic that Indigenous men are responsible for 70% of murders
of Indigenous women and girls is not factually based.
The release of the 70% statistic:
In December 2014, following the release of the 2014 Report, the minister of Aboriginal Affairs
at the time appeared to publicly blame Indigenous men for the high numbers of deaths of
Indigenous women and girls in Canada, stating that “it’s apparent what part of the problem is.
Obviously, there’s a lack of respect for women and girls on reserves. So, you know, if the guys
grow up believing that women have no rights, that’s how they are treated.”34 The minister made
these comments despite there being no reference in the 2014 Report to the ethnicity of offenders
of violence against Indigenous women and girls.
In March 2015, the minister stated during a private meeting of Treaty 6, 7, and 8 chiefs in
Calgary, Alberta, that Indigenous men were responsible for 70% of murders of Indigenous
women and girls.35 A month later, in April 2015, the RCMP commissioner at the time issued a
250
The Good Touch/Bad Touch
Program in Nunavik
The Good Touch/Bad Touch program in Nunavik started in 2012 as a collaboration between the Nunavik
Regional Board of Health and Social Services, the Department of Youth Protection, the Kativik Ilisarniliriniq
School Board, Nunavik health centres, and the Kativik Regional Police Force (KRPF). I
KRPF Prevention Counsellor Lizzie Aloupa shared woman who was sexually abused…. So, we built
about her experience piloting the Good Touch/Bad a two-day healing workshop using that resource.
Touch program at the National Inquiry’s panel discus- …
sion on the healing journey of Inuit women.
We only go to communities that request the pro-
The Regional Health Board decided that we gram, because sexual abuse is rampant in all the
would prioritize sexual abuse in Nunavik. At that communities, or was. So, when we’re invited to a
time, we didn’t know what to do, where to begin. community, we take the front-line workers, give
I was the only Inuk in a committee that decided them the two-day “Hidden Face” healing work-
to work on that. shop, and give them orientation to sexual abuse,
and then we go into the school.
So, in the beginning … we pilot-projected the
Good Touch/Bad Touch program. The Health We do the same thing with all the staff of the
Board had taken this program and we went over school, and then finally we go into the
it, we translated it, we adapted it to what we classrooms and we teach each class three times,
needed, and we did that in Kindergarten and as prescribed by the program. And on the fourth
Grade 1 … because I’m a certified teacher, I went day, we meet each child to make sure that what
to teach the program in two schools. we taught them was understandable.II
In the second school, we realized that one The Good Touch/Bad Touch program teaches
teacher and one worker could not even bear to children about abuse, about safe and unsafe touches,
hear the word[s] “sexual abuse,” so I realized and about who can help them if they are threatened
before we go into the classrooms, we have to or harmed, using skills appropriate to their age.III It is
work with the front-line workers first. So, Pauk- a positive example of different service providers
tuutit Inuit Women of Canada had this … coming together to help protect children in a
resource called “The Hidden Face.” It is about a culturally sensitive way.
I Nunavik Regional Board of Health and Social Services, “Good Touch/Bad Touch.”
II Lizzie Aloupa (Inuit, Quaqtaq), Part 1, Public Volume 66, Montreal, QC, pp. 10–11.
III Nunavik Regional Board of Health and Social Services, “Good Touch/Bad Touch.”
35
ANNEX 1
Although recent changes have been made to both the Homicide Survey and CPIC in relation to
gender and Indigeneity, the collection of information still depends on the judgment and discre-
tion of individual police officers completing the Homicide Survey or entering information
into CPIC.
As the RCMP acknowledge in the 2014 Report,38 relying on individual officers to gather statisti-
cal information can lead to perception-based assessments, resulting in incomplete and inaccurate
information. Further, without uniform data collection practices and information sharing between
police services, it is impossible to create a reliable body of information to better understand
distinct causes of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people,
especially those from distinct Métis, Inuit, and 2SLGBTQQIA communities.
The FDRP found that there were effectively no references to victims of violence as being
2SLGBTQQIA persons. We encountered some identification by police of victims as being Métis
and Inuit; however, that determination was incidental to the investigation. Overwhelmingly, it
appears as though cases of deaths or disappearances of Indigenous women, girls, and gender-
diverse people are treated similarly, regardless of the distinction of being Métis, Inuit, or a
2SLGBTQQIA person.
The FDRP was not able to fully explore the distinctions that may exist in the way that cases of
deaths or disappearances of Métis and Inuit women and girls and 2SLGBTQQIA persons are
treated by police forces because of the absence of identification or information of documents
and reports. This is concerning because without an awareness of those being harmed or what the
cause of violence is against those distinct groups, there is a decreased chance to provide
meaningful, distinction-based solutions.
5) Indigenous communities, particularly in remote areas, are under-prioritized and
under-resourced.
This issue does not look at funding or resourcing issues of Indigenous police services. Other
parts of the Final Report and findings and recommendations of the Commissioners address that
issue. This issue is identified by the FDRP as specific to RCMP under-resourcing and under-
prioritizing Indigenous communities. The RCMP provides federal policing services pursuant to
the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Act. They provide policing under contract at the provincial,
territorial, and municipal levels to 3 territories, 8 provinces, 150 municipalities, more than 600
Indigenous communities, and 3 international airports.39
Prospective members of the force spend their first 26 weeks at the RCMP Academy in Regina,
Saskatchewan. One of the requirements of joining the RCMP is a willingness to relocate any-
where in Canada. Although the RCMP will consider an officer’s preferred posting location, after
graduation, officers are posted to a detachment based on operational priorities.40 Future postings
are determined based on a variety of factors, including an individual officer’s role and promo-
tional interest, staffing requirements, and available opportunities.
252
The Ottawa Inuit Children’s Centre
The Ottawa Inuit Children’s Centre (OICC) is one of many projects set up by the urban Inuit of Ottawa. It is a
parent-driven initiative that provides cultural, educational, recreational, and social services to Inuit children
and families (including land-based family camps), supports for adoptive and foster parents, supports for
Inuit women experiencing partner violence, and other programs.I
Reepa Evic-Carleton, originally from Nunavut, told From having started with only five staff, the OICC
the National Inquiry about her work at the OICC. now employs over 60 people, offering a wide variety
of helpful programs serving Inuit families living in
I’m now working with the Ottawa Inuit Children’s Ottawa. As Karen Baker-Anderson shared with the
Centre and I’m really loving it…. I work as a National Inquiry:
mental health counsellor and we work with the
family. We run the parenting courses, the Inun- The services are nothing but a tool kit to help
nguiniq parenting courses…. It’s 20 weeks long people. People ask, “How have we grown this
and it’s for Inuit parents. So, it’s been really won- agency?” And it’s simple. We have done what the
derful to have that running.II Inquiry needs to do. We have asked Inuit: “What
do you need?” We have listened, and we have
Karen Baker-Anderson is the executive director of responded. The community built this agency. It
OICC, and, as one of the interesting facts she shared, is theirs. You can see it in the eyes of the children
said, “We deal with many children who have never, in when they walk through the doors. You can hear
fact, lived or seen or experienced the North in any it with the staff and how proud they are of their
way, shape, or form, other than the cultural stories work.
and the pictures that are passed to them as they visit …
the centre and speak with their families.”III
There needs to be healing, we need to get back
The OICC includes educational programs on to what Inuit always know and have known: that
language and culture, connects Inuit Elders with children are the centre of the universe. Without
youth, and provides support to children and families children, there is no community. IV
receiving medical care. The OICC also organizes an art
studio program to bring culture and language skills
to children and youth.
I “Ottawa Inuit Children’s Centre.”

II Reepa Evic-Carleton (Inuit, Pangnirtung), Part 1, Public Volume 66, Montreal, QC, p. 20.
III Karen Baker-Anderson, Part 1, Public Volume 66, Montreal, QC, p. 23.
IV Karen Baker-Anderson, Part 1, Public Volume 66, Montreal, QC, pp. 29–30.
36
ANNEX 1
When communication did occur, it was often felt to be unsatisfactory by the families and
community. The information that the FDRP obtained contained very little in the way of informa-
tion on the substance of the communication by police officers to family members. On this basis,
Commissioners must heed what was shared by families in testimony that expressed dissatisfac-
tion, as this was a theme that was heard regardless of Indigenous identity, geography, police
service, or other factors. The National Inquiry also heard stories of good communication by
police services and good interactions between police officers investigating disappearances or
murders and families, but too often we heard families describing instances such as the following:
• the characterizing of a disappearance as “non-suspicious” based on the perceived
lifestyle of the victim – such as a transient sex trade worker;
• conclusions that no foul play was involved despite strong evidence that might suggest
otherwise;
• family members’ input about how the disappearance was out of character; the ignoring
of information the family had to share;
• statements that she must have “run away” or be “out partying”;
• determinations that death was suicide, and no further investigation.
Solutions and recommendations must ensure that families are empowered in relationships with
police services as valued contributors and deserving of respect and are appropriately updated and
heard. Schedules of communication should take into account family needs, and “family” must be
defined by Indigenous perspectives, not just police perspectives or legal definitions.
7) There is an ongoing lack of communication with and coordination between the
police and other service agencies.
In a number of cases, there was evidence that the killer of an Indigenous woman or girl had a
history of violence against the victim or other people. In some instances, that previous history of
violence was not properly addressed. It is apparent to the FDRP that, at least in part, the failure to
take adequate preventative measures was as a result of a profound indifference on the part of
police. Better communication and coordination between the police and other service agencies,
in some instances, potentially might have prevented the subsequent homicide of the victim.
The safety and protection of Indigenous communities and persons are a shared responsibility of
the police and other government agencies – including child protection services. Issues warranting
comment by the FDRP were identified in the following cases.
In one case, a very young developmentally delayed Indigenous girl was beaten to death by her
foster father. There was evidence suggesting that physical assaults against the child likely oc-
curred over a period of time. The child was seen by a community doctor shortly before her death
and presented with bruising and scarring on her body, which the foster mother explained was
caused by the clumsiness of the child.43 If any concerns were raised with child protection
254
“We can’t have only the women heal”: Healing Men and Boys
Of the key themes we encountered within the context of healing, many witnesses, particularly
among Inuit and First Nations participants, cited the importance of healing men as a way to com-
bat violence. Among witnesses, some men, who are also former perpetrators, came forward to
share their story. We acknowledge their participation and their willingness to begin to rebuild
trust by sharing their stories in such a public way.
Bernard A. grew up surrounded by violence and was sexually abused. He also witnessed the
abuse of his family members, who were abused in front of him. As part of his trauma, Bernard
became a substance abuser and became violent himself. As an adult, Bernard has committed to
trying to break this cycle for his children. Bernard’s son was recently murdered, and he has
struggled with that pain. Bernard recounted the circumstances that led him to begin his healing,
to confront his violence toward those around him, after he put two of his friends in hospital.
When I went to see the judge in Cornwall, Ontario, he gave me an ultimatum. “Either go
to rehab or go to prison for 25 years for being a very violent person,” he said. I could not
see myself as a caged animal, so I chose rehab. And, when I went to rehab, that was just
to get away from the jail. I loved getting drunk, got up getting stoned, 22 years old. I had
no problems.
But once he was in the program for two months, he said, “I started hearing people’s stories simi-
lar to mine.” He began to speak in group and “the floodgates opened.” He was able to talk about
his childhood trauma, including the molestation, the rape, and the violence that he had witnessed.
“All that hurt and that pain, I had to forgive the people that did it to us,” he said.30
Matthew W., who was sexually abused as a child, talked about violence that he himself perpe-
trated in his home, and how finding a way toward healing began with listening to the women
around him.
I had to listen to my wife. I had to listen to the females in my life … just being able to
look at myself and say, “Well, why am I doing it this way? Why am I doing it that way?”
You know? Where did I go wrong? And, just reflect. And, I think that – and being honest
with myself, you know what I mean? Being honest with myself was key. I mean, I look
back at who I was and I hate that person, but I also love them.31
As a member of the National Inquiry’s Elders and Grandmothers Circle, traditional medicine
carrier Audrey Siegl explained how the work that she does is about the community as a whole –
including men: “We don’t just do it for our women here, we don’t just do it for brown women,
we’re doing it for all women. We’re doing it for all little girls. And then we have to open that up
to boys and men. We can’t have only the women heal.”32
37
The idea that healing must extend to men was reflected in many of the testimonies we heard
from fathers, brothers, and male relatives and friends. In particular, this idea was especially
prominent within Inuit testimonies offered both during the course of the National Inquiry’s hear-
ings and within the Guided Dialogues discussions. For instance, both Harriet and her husband
Johannes L., Inuit from Labrador, testified about how intimate partner violence in their commu-
nity was aggravated not only by the lack of services for Inuit women fleeing from violence, but
also by the need for their male partners to heal from intergenerational trauma.33
In Calgary, a drumming circle

offers a song.
A Lifetime of Healing
For some witnesses, appearing before the National Inquiry to testify in relation to loved ones was
a healing experience. Amena E. H., who shared about her mother, Mary, an Inuk woman mur-
dered in 2002 when Amena was only five years old, explained how, for her, sharing has helped.
I think the best thing anyone could ever do in a situation like mine is to continue to talk
about it. And continue to bring awareness to it because it sometimes it feels like it’s just
being shoved underneath a rug or something like that. And it needs to be talked about.
And it helps with the healing to talk about your feelings and the anger, the sadness, and
the grief. It needs to be something to be worked on.34
Sarah B., testifying about her daughter Mary Ann, said, “I have been shut down, I have clamped
down my emotions for this long and at last I let them go before you…. I thank you so much for
this opportunity to speak. I would otherwise have never spoken about it, ever.”35 She continued:
“Let’s keep moving forward together; I still have life in me to live…. I feel now, from this point
on I will be able to speak more about it. I want to start healing, too. It is not something I need to
be ashamed of, as it turns out; it’s not shameful to speak of – it is not my shame.”36
38
ANNEX 1
the RCMP’s investigation was deficient and the delays in commencing the investigation were
unreasonable and unexplained.44
Perhaps the most striking observation is the pervasive sense of indifference towards missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, which seems to be reflected in
all aspects of the criminal justice process.
That is not to suggest that every case was poorly investigated or prosecuted. Without a doubt,
there are many police officers who diligently investigate cases. Many of the investigations that
were reviewed were performed to an exemplary standard.
The sense of indifference observed in the files reviewed by the FDRP manifested itself in a
myriad of ways. In numerous instances, there was an unusually high number of investigative
errors, including:
• destruction or loss of evidence;
• delays in initiating an investigation;
• delays or apparent complete lack of follow-up in interviewing witnesses and suspects;
• failure to obtain and review relevant evidence;
• failure to follow up investigative leads or to otherwise take the investigative steps that,
in the view of the FDRP, would be consistent with best investigative practices.
The FDRP was not mandated to examine the exercise of prosecutorial discretion. However, file
reviews conducted by the FDRP noted a significant number of instances where murder charges
were laid but Crown counsel decided to accept a guilty plea to a lesser charge of manslaughter
rather than proceed to trial – often to the outrage of the victim’s family and communities.
In some murder investigations reviewed, the adequacy of the police investigation or strength
of the evidence were clearly factors in the decision by the Crown to accept a plea bargain and
reduce charges. While the prosecutorial decisions to accept pleas to manslaughter in circum-
stances that appear to warrant charges of first- or second-degree murder may well be justified,
the frequency with which this occurs understandably raises questions in the Indigenous commu-
nity, particularly when the sentences on conviction escape the mandatory parole ineligibility of
10 or 25 years on the more serious charges.
A striking sense of indifference pervades too many police investigations into missing and
murdered Indigenous women and girls. “Indifference” in this context is helpfully described in
the evidence of Dr. Lohrasbe before the Commission of Inquiry into the death of Mi’kmaq man
Frank Paul, who, when completely incapable of caring for himself, was denied entry to the jail
and left in an alley, where shortly thereafter he died.
257
ANNEX 1
Dehumanization is the central construct in the understanding of man’s inhumanity to

man. This is true both in the context of major group conflicts (wars, prison camps) and in
the more mundane and everyday examples of interpersonal violence. Among groups,
dehumanization occurs when the group considers another group as somehow excluded
from the moral order of being human.... At the individual level, seeing another as
‘beneath’ oneself (whether for reasons of race, gender, sexual orientation, social class,
personal habit, etc.) is a crucial psychological prerequisite for inflicting violence.45
Dr. Lohrasbe explained, “Dehumanization lurks behind attitudes and beliefs that render another
individual different in a negative way,” and that “mistreatment is seen in a different light than if
directed to someone with whom one can empathize or identify with.” He further said of
indifference:
Dehumanization is not always ‘active’ or assertive. Indifference can be just as potent.
Turning away and not responding to the human needs of another person automatically
facilitates inhuman actions. Indifference is a shutting down of feelings of compassion
and connection for another human being, unresponsiveness in the face of someone in
distress. Indifference then activates self-justification in the form of cognitive distortions
… and perpetuates itself.46
The dehumanization and manifest indifference towards Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people can no longer be tolerated as it becomes an excuse for inaction or failure
to adequately respond to and fully investigate crimes of violence.
258
ANNEX 1
Part IV
Recommendations
Ultimately the FDRP made the following six recommendations:
R That in all the following recommendations, Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people
play a central role in their development and implementation.
R That the FDRP should be continued. We recommend the creation of an independent,

Indigenous-led national review body with the statutory powers to access all relevant infor-
mation and to compel the testimony of any witness necessary to enable a complete review
of all cases of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls that will, among other
things, determine the true numbers of, and causes of violence against, missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGTBQQIA people.
R That the federal, provincial, and territorial governments create a permanent, national,
Indigenous-led police task force for the purposes of receiving complaints from Indigenous
families and loved ones and reviewing and assessing investigations of missing and/or
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
R That the federal, provincial, and territorial governments establish an independent, Indige-
nous-led national task force to research into, and make recommendations about, how to
improve the collection and sharing of information about missing and murdered Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people and, in particular, Métis, and Inuit women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Canada.
R That Indigenous policing be recognized as a component of self-government, and, wherever

possible, Indigenous police forces be created and funded to provide policing to Indigenous
communities.
R That where possible, police forces designate Indigenous officers to either investigate or
monitor the investigations of missing or murdered Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people.
259
ANNEX 1
A Concluding Word
from the Commissioners
The work of methodically reviewing police files was a challenging but vital part of the National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. Throughout Part 1 of our
Truth-Gathering Process we heard from families and survivors about how encounters with police
either respected their rights and promoted safety, or had the opposite effect. The failure of police
to respond or inadequate responses by police services, was noted by numerous families as
leading or perpetuating factors in the violence their loved ones experienced and/or as factors
contributing to disappearances and murders going unresolved. Despite the lack of cooperation of
some police services and the limited number of files the FDRP was able to access, the significant
issues that the FDRP identified are supported by previous reports and by the testimony and
experiences of many Indigenous Peoples from whom the National Inquiry heard. The issues the
FDRP identified assist in our understanding of the police responses to violence against Indige-
nous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. As Commissioners for the National Inquiry into
Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, we accept and adopt the significant issues
that the FDRP identified as set out in this summary as findings of the National Inquiry and we
have weighed and considered these findings in forming our Calls for Justice.
260
ANNEX 1
Notes
1. See http://www.mmiwg-ffada.ca/forensic-document- management of records obtained by the National
review-project/. Inquiry. As such, the National Inquiry was required to
2. The Legal Path: Rules of Respectful Practice for the use Ringtail software to manage documents, including
National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Women the police files obtained on behalf of the FDRP.
and Girls, Rule 49.1: “Information contained in police 9. The software allowed the members of the FDRP to
and other institutional files directly compelled by or work securely remotely. A significant benefit to using
produced to the Forensic Document Review Team in an electronic data management system was that it was
response to a request, subpoena or other statutory not necessary for the FDRP to develop the
compulsion from the Forensic Document Review Team infrastructure needed to store all of the hundreds of
shall not be categorized as set out in Rule 49 above thousands of pages of documents. The database
and is not subject to disclosure to parties, their included the ability to restrict access to documents.
representatives, their counsel, and any third party.” 10. The documents to be provided were divided into 27
3. Protected “A” is used for low-sensitivity information different types of documents, some of which were then
like dates of birth, SIN numbers, and home addresses. broken down into further subtypes of documents.
Protected “B” information is used for law enforcement 11. A Data Intake Protocol set out how the documents were
records, medical records, financial records, and the to be formatted, organized, and encrypted prior to being
like. Protected “C” information is the most sensitive delivered to MT>3.
“protected” information, used for police agents,
12. The certification required the officer(s) responsible
informants, and the like, in circumstances in which
for responding to the subpoena to certify, as best as
disclosure could risk life-threatening injury.
possible, that the police force had complied with the
4. Within the Classified category, there are three subpoena accurately and completely. The review of the
sub-classifications: “Confidential,” “Secret,” and “Top FDRP depended on the degree to which the records
Secret.” “Confidential” information includes types of produced in response to the subpoenas are accurate,
information such as administrative plans and complete, and reliable. As the FDRP was reliant on
negotiations between departments. “Secret” includes the individual police forces to produce the files, the
draft legislation, trade talks, and departmental input certification was created to provide a degree of
into the national budget. “Top Secret” information assurance of the accuracy, completeness, and reliability
includes information related to international affairs and of the records produced.
intelligence matters, where the disclosure could cause
13. Advisory Circle members provided assistance in
exceptionally grave injury to Canada.
addressing concerns and making recommendations to
5. Where possible, when information cannot be released, the Commissioners on topics related to the FDRP
this summary refers to any publicly available within an Indigenous perspective and world view, one
information that was obtained and analyzed. that makes central the lived experience of families and
6. www.mmiwg-ffada.ca/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/ communities who have experienced loss and violence,
ENGLISH-Forensic-Document-Review-Team- but did not review documents and information received
Transparency-Statement-Final-1.pdf. A copy is also for the FDRP.
included as a part of this annex. 14. “Significance” for the purposes of the MT>3 review
7. As explained in the National Inquiry’s Interim Report, included any information contained in the file that a
the Government of Canada’s procurement and reviewer believed to be both material and relevant to
contracting practices resulted in long delays in payment the FDRP’s mandate. For example, if the reviewer
of invoices. Further, the initial process of setting up the believed that there was a failure to communicate in a
team – obtaining contracts and the requisite security timely way to family members of a missing person, that
clearances – was convoluted and lengthy. The portion of the file would be flagged for the FDRP.
requirement and process of obtaining security 15. Inquiries Act (RSC, 1985, c. I–11): “No report shall be
clearances often took months and therefore resulted in made against any person until reasonable notice has
delays in beginning the work of the FDRP. been given to the person of the charge of misconduct
8. Term (n.) of the federal Terms of Reference requires the alleged against him and the person has been allowed
Commissioners to use the electronic data systems full opportunity to be heard in person or by counsel.”
specified by the Privy Council Office for the
261
ANNEX 1
16. Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), “Missing 33. See for example The Missing Women Commission of
and Murdered Aboriginal Women: A National Inquiry, Forsaken, Vol. I.
Operational Overview,” 4 (2014 Report), 34. Bernard Kennedy, “Valcourt urges First Nations,
http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/en/missing-and-murdered- provinces to take action on murdered Aboriginal
aboriginal-women-national-operational-overview. women,” December 12, 2014, https://ottawacitizen.com/
17. Ibid., 21. news/politics/bernard-valcourt-rejects-inquiry-on-
18. United Nations, Convention on the Elimination of murdered-aboriginal-women.
Violence Against Women (CEDAW), New York, 18 35. Jorge Barrera, “Valcourt used unreleased RCMP data to
December 1979, para. 159, https://www.ohchr.org/en/ claim Aboriginal men responsible for majority of
professionalinterest/pages/cedaw.aspx. murders of Aboriginal women: Chiefs,” March 25,
19. Canadian Centre for Justice Statistics, “Collecting Data 2015, https://aptnnews.ca/2015/03/25/chiefs-say-
on Aboriginal People,” 12. valcourt-used-unreleased-rcmp-data-claim-indigenous-
men-responsible-majority-indigenous-women-murders/.
20. United Nations, CEDAW, para. 70.
36. RCMP, 2015 Report, 14.
21. RCMP, “Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women:
2015 Update,” 10 (2015 Report). www.rcmp- 37. RCMP, 2015 Report, 15.
grc.gc.ca/en/missing-and-murdered-aboriginal-women- 38. Ibid., 21.
2015-update-national-operational-overview . 39. RCMP, “About the RCMP,” http://www.rcmp-
22. Statistics Canada, “Homicide in Canada, 2014,” grc.gc.ca/about-ausujet/index-eng.htm.
https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/85-002- 40. RCMP, “Qualifications and Standards to Become an
x/2015001/article/14244-eng.htm. RCMP Officer,” http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/en/
23. Ibid. qualifications-and-requirements.
24. Ibid. 41. RCMP, “Organizational Structure,” http://www.rcmp-
25. RCMP, 2014 Report, 12. Note that these figures do not grc.gc.ca/about-ausujet/organi-eng.htm.
take into consideration the large numbers of missing, 42. CBC News, “Elders watched helplessly while woman
and unsolved murders of, Indigenous women and girls. beaten to death,” September 15, 2014,
26. Canadian Femicide Observatory, “106 Women and https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/north/elders-watched-
Girls Killed by Violence: Eight-Month Report by the helplessly-while-woman-beaten-to-death-1.2766541.
Canadian Femicide Observatory for Justice and 43. There was no evidence in the file available to the FDRP
Accountability,” 2018–2019, accessed January 13, to indicate whether the doctor or medical staff reported
2019, https://femicideincanada.ca/sites/ to child protective services any concerns they may have
default/files/2018-09/CFOJA%20FINAL% had about the physical well-being of the child.
20REPORT%20ENG%20V3.pdf. 44. Juris Graney, “Report finds RCMP investigation of
27. RCMP, 2015 Report, 14. Amber Tuccaro’s murder case was ‘deficient,’”
28. RCMP, 2015 Report, 14. Edmonton Journal, September 19, 2018,
https://edmontonjournal.com/news/crime/report-finds-
29. RCMP, 2014 Report, 21. rcmp-investigation-of-amber-tuccaros-murder-case-was
30. Ibid., 16. -deficient.
31. RCMP, 2015 Report, 7. 45. Dr. Shabehram Lohrasbe, “Report for the Inquiry –
32. RCMP, 2014 Report, 16. These are task forces such as Frank Paul,” accessed March 15, 2019,
Project KARE, Project Evenhanded, Project E-Pana, www.seatoskymeetings.com/wp-content/uploads/
Project Devote; It is noteworthy that much of the Civil-Court-Process-Diane-Turner-Handout-1.pdf.
resistance encountered by the FDRP in regards to the 46. Ibid.
production of files was in relation to files that formed
part of these special projects.
262
According to Elder Lillian
Pitawanakwat, Ojibwe/Pota-
wotami, “The strawberry teaches
forgiveness and peace. The
strawberry is shaped like a heart,
and strawberries are known to
our people as heart berries.”
The strawberry is, in part, a representation of our vision. Many Indigenous Nations consider the
strawberry to be women’s medicine. It is heart shaped and is connected to a vast system of
leaves, runners, and roots; so, too, is the heart connected to all the organs and parts of the human
body. The heart is the centre of the human. The heart berry helps us understand connection
between the mind, body, spirit, and emotions.45
In the words of Haudenosaunee Elder Jan Longboat, the strawberry represents Konnorónhkhwa,
commonly translated as “I love you” or a caring and compassion toward another relation. Jan
explains that when you say this to someone, it represents your dedication to loving them to the
end. It was important to weave the strawberry teachings into every phase of the continuum of
care process to “show you care,” as Jan explains, because the strawberry reminds us of the com-
mitment to provide support through all stages of the journey. We tried to be mindful of this
when supporting family members and survivors of violence who shared their truth within the
Truth-Gathering Process.
Our understanding of community engagement is a communication process for working collabo-
ratively with families and survivors, as well as other key stakeholders, to address issues related
to their participation in the Truth-Gathering Process. This approach was developed through
collaboration with family members and survivors from different Indigenous communities and
perspectives, who helped us to understand how to best develop, implement, and maintain a pro-
gram to support wellness for those who came forward to share their truths. We are grateful for
their voice and guidance in the development of the following four foundational aspects rooting
our best practices, which allowed us to establish a circle of support for family members,
survivors, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who journeyed with the National Inquiry.
42
ANNEX 1
COMPLETE
 Complete a review of any past history of person as a reportee, victim, or witness that might be
relevant;
 Complete a preliminary risk assessment and complete any missing person intake form in use
by the police service.
SEARCH
 Search all relevant locations; including the missing person’s residence;
 Search point last seen and last known location;
 Search possible destination(s) or other locations considered relevant – obtaining consent or
authority as required.
OBTAIN & CHECK

 Obtain a detailed description and photograph of the missing person;
 Check for the missing person on CPIC, PRIME or other police information systems;
 Off-line CPIC search related to missing person;
 Check for family violence history and police records.
PROVIDE
 Provide the family and or reportee of the missing person with information about available
support services;
 Provide information on the investigative process and the file number.
 Provide information to assist the reportee and or family in dealing with the media.
 Provide the name and contact information of the officer designated as family liaison.
 Seek victim services assistance to maintain contact if liaison officer is unavailable.
 Notify the aboriginal liaison officer.
 Notify the reportee or family and friends of any actions taken or information they may seek or
can provide to assist the investigation.
 Provide regular and timely updates to family and friends.
264
ANNEX 1
The following additional investigative steps should be considered by the police investigator if
circumstances or initial investigative findings warrant further investigation; or are required by a
police services’ policies and procedures:
FURTHER INVESTIGATION
 Issue a BOLO and or Assistance To Locate bulletin;
 Issue an AMBER Alert – if the criteria for an alert are met and circumstances allow;
 Conduct neighbourhood enquiries and or a video canvass;
 Obtain consent or authority for gathering evidence;
 Locate and obtain video surveillance footage;
 Seize computers and electronic devices;
 Obtain passwords and review social media account(s);
 Obtain and review bank records;
 Obtain and review phone records;
 Seize personal items of deceased;
 Obtain and test biological samples;
 Obtain and test familial biological samples;
 Obtain medical and or dental records;
 Request assistance from other police services;
 Request assistance from other agencies, including, but not limited to child protection services;
taxi companies; public transit; towing companies; airport authorities; Canada Border Services
Agency;
 Profile the case on the police service’s website, social media platform(s), and or the
NCMPUR’s Canada’s Missing website.
 Reach out to the media and take any other steps that may assist in the investigation.
IF FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED

 Refer the investigation to the section or investigator responsible for major or serious crime
investigations;
 Complete VICLAS (Violent Crime Linkage Analysis System) entry.
265
ANNEX 1
MAJOR CRIME INVESTIGATION

British Columbia’s Provincial Policing Standards Manual notes, “... certain cases stand out from
others in terms of the seriousness of the offence, the scope or complexity of the investigation, or
the resources required to successfully carry out the investigation.
These investigations must be effectively planned and managed from the earliest opportunity to
make effective and efficient use of resources and to protect the public from further risk.”2
In all cases, the investigation of major crimes should be conducted by a competent individuals
with relevant investigative experience and training. Consideration should be given to assigning
investigators who are from the community or area that speak the language, and know the Indige-
nous customs of the area. As well, oversight command of the investigation should be undertaken
by someone with expertise in major case management or a subject directly relevant to the
investigation.3
Reviews of case files associated with the murder of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people shall examine not only the thoroughness of the investigative steps taken,
but also the actions and diligence of any major case management team – or lack thereof. A
comparative study of uncleared “Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal” missing persons cases in
British Columbia where foul play was not ruled out found the following:
“The most common probable cause of the missing person cases among Aboriginals and non-
Aboriginals was a kidnapping; however, Aboriginals were much more likely to have this proba-
ble cause than non-Aboriginals. Perhaps because of this, cases involving an Aboriginal missing
person were more likely to have an identified suspect, unless the subject was a prostitute.”4
The investigative team for a major case investigation should be comprised of persons with appro-
priate training and skills, or demonstrated competency and experience to undertake, at minimum,
the following roles or functions:5
(a) legal applications;
(b) affiant;
(c) crime analyst;
(d) interviewers, including persons with appropriate training and skills, or demonstrated
competency and experience to conduct or provide guidance with respect to
interviewswith vulnerable witnesses;
(e) qualified polygraph examiner;
(f) confidential informer handling;
(g) police agent handling;
(h) undercover operations;
266
ANNEX 1
(i) physical surveillance;

(j) interception of private communications/electronic surveillance;
(k) witness protection and handling;
(l) extraction and analysis of digital evidence; and
(m) forensic experts.
Command and major crime supervisors must consider the need to access expert resources to
assist with the investigation – including but not limited to:6
(a) behavioural sciences services (e.g., criminal profiling, geographic profiling);
(b) forensic pathology;
(c) forensic anthropology/archaeology;
(d) forensic entomology;
(e) forensic odontology;
(f) forensic botany;
(g) pattern/wound interpretation;
(h) blood spatter analysis;
(i) other medical experts; and
(j) other forensic experts.
267
ANNEX 1
Homicide
Comparative Investigative Checklist
With multiple officers and specialists involved in homicide investigations, there are innumerable
tasks to be undertaken that may or may not be reflect in a case file. Each homicide investigation
is unique in the same way that every crime has its own specific elements. Accordingly, not all
investigative steps may be required for every investigation. Likewise, the sequence of actions
taken may vary with each investigation.
The checklist below drawn from several sources encompasses the many actions undertaken and
investigative tasks in response to a homicide – and serves as a reasonable standard for compari-
son of police homicide case files reviewed by the FDRP.
ARRIVAL AT THE SCENE

 Enter scene by route least likely to disturb evidence – noting route of travel; check victim for
signs of life; and note time of arrival;
LIVING VICTIM
 Summon medical aid; obtain Dying Declaration;
 Conscious victim – attempt to obtain details of assailant identity and description;
 Unconscious victim – ensure a police officer remains with the victim at all times to note any
dying declarations if victim regains consciousness;
REMOVAL OF VICTIM FROM SCENE

 If possible, before removal photograph victim’s position at scene;
 If time and circumstances do not permit photos before victim is removed, note the position of
the victim in report.
 Officer accompanying victim to hospital should collect victim’s clothing and personal effects
when available;
 Officer to note time clothing and effects received and record identity of person(s) from whom
items were received;
 Items handled by physicians and nurses should be marked by them, and the chain of custody
noted.
268
Although many family members and survivors chose support from Elders, it was important for
us to also include specialized services on-site. We included psychologists, psychiatric nurses, and
counsellors in our circle of support throughout the Truth-Gathering Process. Our best intentions
were to include Indigenous practitioners where requested, though access to some of these services
was limited by availability. When we included non-Indigenous practitioners, we chose individuals
who had an understanding of the historical context of Indigenous Peoples in Canada and an
understanding of intergenerational trauma.
“I STARTED TALKING TO AN ELDER. WHAT REALLY HELPED ME WAS I REALLY HAD TO

SHARE WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH ME, SO I STARTED SHARING WITH AN ELDER AND SHE
LISTENED AND LISTENED, NEVER JUDGED. AND, I CRIED A LOT. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW
WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME BECAUSE I’VE NEVER LIVED THIS KIND OF A LIFE BEFORE.”
Reepa Evic-Carleton
The National Inquiry’s Aftercare Program, and Lessons Learned

The National Inquiry was mandated by the Terms of Reference to conduct matters in a trauma-
informed way and to make culturally appropriate support available to registered families who
shared their truth in order to ensure continued healing. As a result, we developed a short-term
aftercare framework to guide the provision of these services. Family members and survivors of
violence who shared their truth played an active role in creating an aftercare plan inclusive of
their personal wellness needs. Providing support after an individual shared their truth was critical
in assisting them along their healing journey.
Our short-term aftercare program was intended to address immediate needs, where support
would be provided for up to three months. This would enable time for referral to organizations
for longer-term support where available. Financial resources were made available up to $3,500 to
support the implementation of the individual aftercare plan. It was important for us to advocate
for individuals to have full choice and control of their aftercare, as we heard throughout the
Truth-Gathering Process that many family members and survivors were not seeking support from
grassroots organizations and government services. In many cases, witnesses cited no culturally
appropriate or preferred services in their community, a lack of trust in the service providers, a
lack of financial resources to engage in memorials for lost loved ones, and geographical barriers
to accessibility.
With these concerns in mind, the National Inquiry established an aftercare program that tried to
address these concerns. It was the first of its kind in terms of its establishment of individualized
and needs-specific contribution agreements between the government and the family member or
survivor. This meant that each individual who shared their truth could develop an individualized
aftercare plan, outlining their needs. Financial resources would go directly to them to implement
47
ANNEX 1
 Make careful notes of the position of the victim’s body;

 Note any change in location of body prior to arrival – as reported by witnesses;
 Note position and condition of clothing; substances on deceased and clothing;
 Examine the ground underneath the victim;
 Take careful measurements of the scene - including each room in a house.
PHOTOGRAPHS
 Photograph scene and victim;
 Take colour photographs from all angles;
 Work from perimeter to centre;
 Include photographs of entrance and exit routes to scene;
 Include photographs of intersections and roadways;
 Include overhead photographs;
 Photograph victim as clothing and items are removed from body;
 Photograph wounds and injuries at scene:
 Photograph wounds and injuries during medical examination;
 Photograph items of evidence in place at the scene – using ruler when scale is important;
 Ensure all possible locations relevant to the scene are photographed;
 Ensure all rooms are photographed;
VIDEO TAPE
 Video recordings should be made of scene where possible;
 Include video images of collecting evidence;
 Include video images of examining victim at scene;
 Video record witnesses and suspect(s);
AUTOPSY
 Arrange for transportation of the victim to morgue;
 Police officer should be present for autopsy;
270
ANNEX 1
 If possible before autopsy take finger prints of deceased;

 If not possible get prints once autopsy is completed;
 Photograph autopsy.
MAJOR CRIME INVESTIGATOR(S)

 Respond to scene;
 Obtain summary of situation from officer at scene;
 Check scene security and take steps necessary to correct or improve;
 Review all actions of officers at the scene;
 Initiate investigation from beginning;
 Identify victim.
RECONSTRUCT EVENTS
 Attempt to reconstruct events by use of body position;
 Number and location of wounds;
 Trajectory of bullets;
 Bloodstains and substances;
 Other signs of violence;
 Other physical evidence at scene.
INVESTIGATION
 Assign specific tasks to individual officers;
 Supervise execution of assigned tasks;
 Conduct neighbourhood enquiries;
 Conduct video canvasses;
 Obtain consent or authority for gathering evidence;
271
this plan. This approach meant that organizations would no longer receive the funding to create
aftercare support but rather, in keeping with being trauma-informed and supporting the individ-
ual’s right to make choices around their healing, family members and survivors could create a
healing plan which resonated with their immediate wellness needs.
Ultimately, the financial support for aftercare services could be used to fund the following:
• referrals to existing support services and programs which may have financial implica-
tions such as treatment centres, counselling, and on-the-land healing programs;
• costs to attend ceremonial events, including: travel and accommodation, meals,
child care, honorarium for Elders if the ceremony they’re conducting is not part of an
organization’s event, supplies (e.g. medicines, cloth);
• traditional healing and counselling from an established Healer/Elder/Cultural Liaison;
• Western counselling from a qualified professional;
• memorial and commemoration events/ceremonies;
• travel costs, including transportation and hotel accommodation;
• workshops related to healing and wellness, such as suicide intervention, grief and loss,
working through trauma;
• activities that support and enrich physical wellness; and
• other reasonable items considered upon special request.
The majority of aftercare activities requested for short-term healing were cultural and commemo-
ration activities. Access to ceremony and traditional healing practices was a recurring request we
heard throughout the aftercare process. Visits with Elders, harvesting medicines, making regalia,
feasts, beading, healing circles, land-based healing programs, hunting and gathering of tradi-
tional foods, and attending Pow Wow, Sundance and sweat ceremonies, and other spiritual
practices were commonly requested.
It is important to note that many family members didn’t differentiate between commemoration,
healing and wellness; in fact, we heard repeatedly throughout the Truth-Gathering Process that
the act of commemoration and remembrance of a lost loved one is most often expressed in a
ceremonial way and contributes to the grieving process needed for healing. As Virginia C.
explained, for example, after a farmer found her mother’s remains outside of Prince Albert,
“That gave us some closure. At least then we could bury my mother next to her mother on
Sturgeon Lake Reserve. My mother’s remains were buried, we had a traditional funeral which
was very, very releasing of our emotions and our sorrow.”54
48
Elder Sarah Ponniuk lights the qulliq in Happy Valley-Goose
Bay and in St. John’s, Newfoundland.
Conclusion: Respect and Connection

For Monique F. H., whose work helping others is informed by her own experiences, drawing
from the stories and experiences of other women gives her the motivation to continue to work to
heal others: “Hearing the stories of the women that I work with…. They lift, you know, they give
you so much strength. I try to give that back to them all the time.”55 Providing strength and lift-
ing others up, and doing so in a spirit of respect and of connection – these are principles that wit-
nesses articulated over and over again. Understanding that healing requires a holistic approach
and must be delivered in a culturally safe and specific way, without an expiry date, is key to
ensuring that whatever solutions are generated as a result of this process can be successful. The
provision of self-determined services led by those who know best what they, their families, and
their communities might need is an important and basic truth upon which all others must be
based.
“HEARING THE STORIES OF THE WOMEN THAT I WORK WITH…. THEY LIFT, YOU
KNOW, THEY GIVE YOU SO MUCH STRENGTH. I TRY TO GIVE THAT BACK TO
THEM ALL THE TIME.”
Monique F. H.
49
ANNEX 1
Transparency Statement
The National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (the National
Inquiry) has established a Forensic Document Review Project as permitted by section 11 of the
federal Inquiries Act.
The federal terms of reference and those of several other jurisdictions direct the National Inquiry
to take into account that the Inquiry process is intended, to the extent possible, to be trauma-
informed and respect the persons, families and communities concerned. This includes a trauma-
informed, respectful approach to the handling of personal information.
The work of the Forensic Document Review Project is governed by the federal, provincial and
territorial legislation, common law, terms of reference, the National Inquiry’s Legal Path: Rules
of Respectful Practice and the principles set out in this Transparency Statement.
Mandate of the Forensic Document Review Project
The Forensic Document Review Project is responsible for conducting a forensic review of police
and related institutional files to:
1. identify potential systemic barriers or problems and areas of weakness relating to the
protection of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals; and,
2. make findings and recommendations about the systemic causes of the disappearances
and deaths of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals and acts of
violence against them.
What Information will the Document Review Team Obtain and Analyze?
The National Inquiry will refer to the Forensic Document Review Project a selection of cases
drawn from the cases pertaining to the more than 1,700 families or survivors who have engaged
with, or who have registered to engage with the National Inquiry as part of its Community Hear-
ings and Statement Gathering events, with a Statement Gatherer or through artistic expression.
As part of its review of such cases, the Forensic Document Review Project will obtain and
analyze related police, coroner and attorney general (Crown counsel) files, as well as court
records and other information from relevant institutions.
All information compelled by and produced directly to the Forensic Document Review Project
will be kept strictly confidential. It will be used only for the purposes of the Forensic Document
Review Project analysis and recommendations, and in accordance with the National Inquiry’s
terms of reference, the Legal Path: Rules of Respectful Practice and applicable law.
274
ANNEX 1
What the Forensic Document Review Project Will Do

In accordance with the National Inquiry’s Terms of Reference, the mandate of the Forensic
Document Review Project and the Legal Path: Rules of Respectful Practice, the Forensic
Document Review Project will:
1. Make specific recommendations about systemic problems, barriers and weaknesses in
investigations of:
a) reports of missing persons;
b) suspicious deaths;
c) implausible deaths; and,
d) acts of violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA individuals.
2. Make specific recommendations about systemic problems, barriers and weaknesses
with a view to improve coroner practices, police investigations, missing person
searches, prosecutions, outcomes and relations between police, prosecutors and
coroners, and families, survivors and their communities.
3. In accordance with paragraphes “r.” and “s.” of the Federal Terms of Reference make
recommendations to the Commissioners about:
a) opening or re-opening investigations, and which police force, civilian oversight
office or other agency should be asked to open or re-open the investigation.
b) sending to the appropriate public authorities information that may be used in an
investigation or prosecution under the Criminal Code.
c) sending to the appropriate public authorities information that may relate
to misconduct.
What the Forensic Document Review Project will Not Do:
In accordance with the National Inquiry’s Terms of Reference, the mandate of the Forensic
Document Review Project and the Legal Path: Rules of Respectful Practice, the Forensic
Document Review Project:
1. disclose publicly any information obtained by the Forensic Document Review Team,
except in accordance with the Legal Path: Rules of Respectful Practice or as required
by law;
2. examine the exercise of prosecutorial discretion by Crown counsel;
3. make specific findings of misconduct in respect to any identifiable person or
organization;
275
ANNEX 1
4. re-investigate police investigations; or,

5. express conclusions or recommendations about the possible civil or criminal liability
of any person or organization.
Rule 49: All evidence, subject to Rule 49.1, shall be categorized and marked P for public sittings and, if necessary, C for sittings
in camera, and PB where publication bans are issued. If an anonymity order has been ordered, the fact of the Order will be
reflected in the transcript.
Rule 49.1: Information contained in police and other institutional files directly compelled by or produced to the Forensic
Document Review Project in response to a request, subpoena or other statutory compulsion from the Forensic Document Review
Project shall not be categorized as set out in Rule 49 above and is not subject to disclosure to parties, their representatives, their
counsel, and any third party.
276
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Markers or monuments in honour of victims were diverse, depending on the community in
which they took place. As Marie P., testifying for her sister, Virginia, said:
We have [a] sister spirit walk. What else do we do? We do gatherings. We put a quilt up
on our reserve … we had a quilt of ladies – women and men that were missing and they
have it on a quilt. It’s on display there in our gymnasium and we have a lot of support.8
Shaun L., testifying about his mother, Jane, indicated how markers and monuments aren’t just
about memorializing, but about acknowledging the important legacy of those who might otherwise
be painted simply as victims. As he explained:
One thing is there has to be a memorial in every community, First Nations community,
with the names engraved of all the women, names not to forget.… We have to have, I
don’t know, a symbol or something where those names are engraved and there forever.
Because they did something. They did something great. They brought in the next
generation. My – my family and my friends who sit behind me, their mom, their
grandma gave them some amazing life lessons and those have to be remembered.9
Shaun’s testimony speaks to the importance of commemoration as a way not only to remember
those who no longer walk among us, but also as a way to call forth the legacies they have left
for the future.
Many witnesses also identified how attending events and participating in community could help
other families as well as contribute to their own healing journey. Harriet L., testifying about her
daughter, explained:
I do a lot.… I help with [the] Take Back the Night March in September. I attend vigils
when I can. I attended Sisters in Spirit vigil[s] and my daughter’s picture is always up in
other vigils.… That’s how – that’s how our Inuit ancestors lived, to let go so that we can
– so their spirit can be set free.10
Similarly, for many people, the National Inquiry represented a forum in which these memories
could come alive and serve another purpose. As Ruby F., testifying in relation to her sister, said,
“But I was really happy, given the opportunity to speak about my sister Linda [F.], because all
my life it felt like I needed somebody to know something about my sister.”11
“IT WAS ALWAYS IMPORTANT FOR US TO REMEMBER THEM, AND TO CONTINUE TO

HAVE THEM IN OUR MEMORIES. AND TO MAKE SURE THAT OTHER PEOPLE DO AS
WELL, BECAUSE IF WE DON’T CONTINUE, THEN THEIR MEMORIES AND WHAT THEY
WENT THROUGH DISAPPEARS. AND IT SHOULDN'T BE FORGOTTEN.”
Fallon F.
56
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292
Daniel B. also explained why it’s so important to remember.
It’s important that as many people come forward as possible because, I mean, these
stories are what – you know, it’s what’s going to benefit, you know, trying to make this
happen, because if we don’t talk about the stories of these women, you know, they’re
forgotten. If they’re forgotten and their stories are forgotten, what do we have to come
back on? You know, what do we have as proof or evidence that, you know, these are the
effects of what has happened and this is what’s going to continue to happen for years
to come?12
Many witnesses also testified to the idea that, beyond creating action for future generations,
their loved ones’ experiences provided strength – were called forth – as a way to contribute to
reclaiming power and place in the present. Many testimonies, from diverse Indigenous perspec-
tives, included these themes. When asked how she would like her loved one remembered, Martha
A. U. explained: “I would like her – her character to be emulated because she was able to help
other people that needed clothing or in need of food to fill their stomachs. I think Canadians, you
would learn of her character, that’s how we should live as Canadians.”13 Delilah S., speaking in
relation to the murder of her sister, Loretta, expressed a similar sentiment: “She’s someone that I
still look up to and that I feel really guides me. And someone who – who’s still teaching me
today through the conversations that we’ve had and the things that she’s lectured me on. But she
– she’s still very much in my heart.”14
Cheryl M., testifying in relation to her sister Carleen, explained how dancing in her sister’s
regalia helps her to call forth.
I know when I put on that regalia, she dances with me. And I have to honour her, honour
her for showing me how life ends or life begins; and she was my greatest teacher. And in
our way, when someone dies, they say, “They came in our lives for a reason, to teach
us.” And so, she was my teacher. She showed me how to be strong, how to communicate
if someone’s mistreating me. How to love my kids when I didn’t feel like it because I
was grieving or I was angry. She taught me to love them, and I did the best I could.15
In relation to Jessica, her cousin, Nikki K. said: “I always say the strength that I have now … is
because of Jess. She shows me something and does something for me to know that she is there
for me and guiding me and helping me. I believe that 100%.”16
Some witnesses directly connected to what the loss of their loved one and the calling forth of
those memories mean in concrete terms. Laura M., testifying in relation to her aunt, talked about
the importance of calling forth and connecting with reducing violence for future generations:
“How can the Inquiry honour my loved one, Betsy [K.]? There are many ways you can honour a
young woman’s life in future generations of Inuit that will go ahead of her.”17 Laura went on to
specify important areas for improvement in services and safety for Inuit women.
57
Similarly, for Fallon F., the most important part of remembering victims is about addressing the
causes of violence that led to their death or disappearance in the first place: “Make the changes.
That’s the best I can say. No memorial. That’s not going to do anything. Make the changes that
need to be done. It has to stop; otherwise, it’s just going to continue.”18
“I KNOW WHEN I PUT ON THAT REGALIA, SHE DANCES WITH ME. AND I HAVE TO HONOUR
HER, HONOUR HER FOR SHOWING ME HOW LIFE ENDS OR LIFE BEGINS; AND SHE WAS
MY GREATEST TEACHER. AND IN OUR WAY, WHEN SOMEONE DIES, THEY SAY, ‘THEY
CAME IN OUR LIVES FOR A REASON, TO TEACH US.’ AND SO, SHE WAS MY TEACHER. SHE
SHOWED ME HOW TO BE STRONG, HOW TO COMMUNICATE IF SOMEONE’S MISTREATING
ME. HOW TO LOVE MY KIDS WHEN I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE IT BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING
OR I WAS ANGRY. SHE TAUGHT ME TO LOVE THEM, AND I DID THE BEST I COULD.”
Cheryl M.
The Legacy Archive

Honouring the lives of women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people for future generations is an
important theme that animates the National Inquiry’s own research and engagement; the idea of
linking to this theme through art is the foundation of the Legacy Archive.
The Legacy Archive is based on the idea that art in particular is a powerful tool for commemora-
tion and for calling forth. It can send a message of hope, resilience or reconciliation. Artistic
expressions can bear witness to injustice, recognize the human dignity of those who are targeted,
and raise awareness that will ultimately hold accountable those who are responsible for the
violence that persists today and ultimately, effect change. Art is also an important tool for heal-
ing. As expressive arts therapist, philosopher, and educator Stephen K. Levin has found, art is
important because “there is in the use of art a capacity for self-expression that is desperately
needed by those who suffer intensely.”19
The National Inquiry’s Legacy Archive is a key component of ensuring that families and
individuals are able to remember and to call forth their loved ones in deeply personal expressions
aiming to raise and to support their memories, as well as to raise awareness of the crisis of
violence. As Alisha R. testified, art provided an outlet for her to redirect her energies.
I don’t go out very often anymore. I stay home and I do art now. I needed a hobby.
Something, like, safe, and something I could do by myself … and that was, like, just
healthy…. So I chose painting. So, that’s what I do now…. It’s a quiet life but, like,
when I think of, like, what I’m going to get at the end, it’s worth it.20
58
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306
Some works of art
were community col-
laborations, including
the wooden star blan-
ket curated by a Cree
artist, Jessica Slater, Community Art Piece,
composed of 128 indi- Saa-Ust Centre, AF A2018-
vidual tiles. Each tile 0049.1-0049.128.
was hand-painted by
survivors and families
affected by missing
and murdered Indige-
nous women and girls
at the Saa-ust Centre in
the Downtown Eastside while the National Inquiry was in BC. The Saa-ust Centre is a space for
families and survivors affected by missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls, an idea
brought to life by the City of Vancouver’s Urban Indigenous Peoples Advisory Community.
Saa-ust Centre opened its doors to the National Inquiry as a pop-up location for statement gather-
ing in the spring and summer of 2018, where the survivors and family members could make a
statement with the National Inquiry and share their thoughts on small wooden tiles that made up
the star blanket. The tiles were beautifully illustrated with feathers, red dresses, flowers, and the
medicine wheel. Some had encouraging words: “Our Women and Girls are Sacred,” “Gone but
Not Forgotten,” “Justice,” “Cultural Resurgence,” “Cultural Healing,” “Truth-Respect-Humility-
Love-Wisdom-Courage-Honesty,” “Hope,” “We Stand Together,” “Beautiful,” and “We are All
One – Namwiyut.”
Jason Sikoak, an Inuk
man from Rigolet,
Nunatsiavut, painted the
watercolour Sister Drum-
mer in Faded Red, along
with an accompanying Sister Drummer in
poem of the same name. Faded Red, Jason
Sikoak, AF A2017-
The watercolour depicts
0017.1.
an Inuk woman drum-
ming and was created in
memory of a loved one,
Elaine Flowers. The
poem reflects the heavy
emotion one carries of the
loss of a loved one.
66
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308
Her amauti is empty …
She carries no child …
Her burden is heavier than any.
She carries with her the names:
… of the missing
… of the murdered
… of the lost mothers, sisters, and daughters …
The red is fading from the fabric of her amauti as the struggle of those left behind
fades from the consciousness of those not mourning the loss of a sister … a mother …
a daughter …
Faded also, by the salt of the tears as we mourn those taken from us …
Her song, her drum, her voice … will never fade …
She drums to have them remembered …
Those lost to us forever …34
The Legacy Archive also received musical expressions. For example, Vince Fontaine donated
his song “Through the Flood,” with the accompanying music video. The song addresses violence
and the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Vince’s daughter Gabrielle Fontaine sings in the song performed by Vince’s band, Indian City.
As Vince explained:
It is our small and humble contribution to this tragic issue.… We want to remember
those we have lost, and share the weight with families in pain. Socially, we want to
foster a future of healing and positive change. Politically, we want to continue the
conversation of equal weight to tragedies across the communities.35
Musical expressions to the archive also included a song by Adele Keyes about the suspicious
death of Annie Pootoogook, an Inuk artist from Cape Dorset, Nunavut, who was found in the
Rideau Canal on September 19, 2016. Adele wrote the song, as she explained in donating her
expression, “in honour of Annie, the legacy she left behind, and the questions that remain
concerning her tragic passing.”36
As these expressions demonstrate, individuals and organizations who donated to the Legacy
Archive shared deeply personal recollections of those who have been taken through many of the
rights violations detailed within this report. These donations represent important touchstones for
commemoration, as well as for calling forth, to work toward eliminating violence against
67
Healing
The Legacy Archive also received many expressions calling attention to healing, both personal
and collective, from the historic and ongoing traumas of colonialism.
For example, a heart puzzle
collage was donated through
the British Columbia Be-
reavement Helpline at the
Vancouver Community Sisters in Strength,
Hearing. This heart puzzle Melodie Casella on
collage was made by family behalf of the BC
Bereavement Helpline,
members of missing and AF A2018-0019.1.
murdered Indigenous
women and girls. The family
members participated in the
first annual Sisters in
Strength Wellness Retreat
held in October 2017 at Sts’ailes Lhawathet Lalem (Sts’ailes Healing House). The wellness
retreat was hosted by the British Columbia Bereavement Helpline and organized by Terry
Androvsky (counsellor support). Each woman was given a puzzle piece to create a memorial to
their loved one with various art supplies. When put together, the pieces formed a heart. Each bro-
ken piece could be put together to reveal strength, love, and beauty. One of the women took her
piece home, which left a hole in the heart. This happened for a reason: it expresses how family
members live the rest of their lives with a piece missing from their heart. Members stated that
“being in a grassroots setting with ladies who also understand grief and loss, it brings forth the
healing along with strength.” Another family member stated that it “helped me gain my balance
once again.”37
Gerri Sharpe made the etched
vase pictured on the left at a
glass workshop with Robbie
Craig, a northern artist. On the
sides of the vase are etchings
of wind and on the front, an
Etched vase and medicine, etching of a muskox. In her
Gerri Sharpe, AF A2018- testimony at the Yellowknife
0001.1 to 0001.2. Community Hearing in Janu-
ary 2018, Gerri shared that
muskoxen give both meat and
strength, and that they protect
their young by forming a
circle around them. She also
donated a smudge that accom-
68
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311
panies the vase, made up of ground sweetgrass, cedar, tobacco, and sage. It is the last smudge
from Walking With Our Sisters, for which Gerri was the keeper of the sacred bundle. She gifted
the vase with the smudge to the National Inquiry during her testimony at the Community Hear-
ing in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories.
In Quebec, a sacred
antler was donated by
Jean St. Onge, an Innu
man from Uashat mak
Mani-utenam, at the
Community Hearing in Sacred antler,
Jean St. Onge, AF
Maliotenam. He shared
A2017-0035.1.
the story behind the
antler in a video. The
sacred antler has trav-
elled with the National
Inquiry since then, and
was part of the National
Inquiry’s sacred bundle at each hearing. Jean spoke of the oral history and importance of the
master of all animals, “Papa Kasi,” and how he is the protector and helps the others to survive.
That is why he put a caribou antler on the base: so it will help us find our direction. The base is
painted in red, signifying Indigenous Peoples, and the closed flowers painted on the base repre-
sent witnesses before they testify, when they are closed off to the world. There are also open
flowers, and the open flowers are the witnesses after they testify.
Also from Maliotenam,
Veronique and Brigitte
André donated a bear wall
mural, which hangs on the
wall. It was created by
Brigitte in memory of
Wall Mural – Bear Clan, their parents. As they ex-
Veronique and Brigitte
plained, the bear is very
André, AF A2017-0041.1.
important in their commu-
nity in many ceremonies;
the spirit of the bear is a
symbol of strength and
bear oil is used as healing
medicine. In addition,
their father was a hunter.
Veronique and Brigitte offered this mural as a way for families to begin healing and to give them
courage on their journey. They also offered the mural in memory of their uncle and aunt who
went missing many years ago.
69
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313
Walk with Us and Bella Spirit is
a piece in two parts painted and
donated by Nicole Carpenter, a
member of the Heiltsuk First
Walk with Us and Bella Nation, from Bella Bella, British
Spirit, Nicole Carpenter, Columbia, who came to the
AF A2018-0014.1 to Vancouver Community Hearing
0014.2. to support her sister. These paint-
ings show Nicole’s community of
Bella Bella from the view of her
grandmother’s house on the
beach and represents the strength
that has been passed down from
her grandmothers: the family was her grandmothers’ strength; she and her sister were her
mother’s strength; and her daughter, mother, and sister are her strength. When asked where she
finds her strength, Nicole, who is a single mother, responded, “Family, community … [but] when
I’m really down I have to remind myself why I’m doing it, everything is for my daughter … so I
get a lot of strength from her, my mum, and my sister.”38
Some healing cultural expressions were also oriented toward youth. For instance, Travis Hebert,
works with N’we Jinan, the non-profit organization that creates educational and artistic expres-
sion opportunities for Indigenous youth and that worked with the youth from Kitsumkalum First
Nation discussed in Chapter 9. As we explored earlier, Travis presented to the Commissioners at
the Smithers Community Hearing on the importance of artistic expression as evidence, and on
the vital role it plays in the lives of Indigenous youth. Travis donated the CD by N’we Jinan39
titled Silent War: Volume 5, which is described on their website as follows:
There is a story that has been blowing in the winds of our history. Many generations ago,
an elder from the mountains shared a prophetic tale about a group of leaders united
through music, prayer and love. Fully armoured, ready for battle, prepared for the risk;
the story of the silent war is ready to be told by hundreds of young Indigenous voices, in
hopes to shed light on the darkest truths of our beautiful country.40
Travis and his business partner, Craig, work together providing workshops to Indigenous youth.
Mob Bounce has been actively doing youth work since 2011, helping to combine traditional and
spiritual expressions of Indigenous cultures with contemporary methods of musical and artistic
expression.
70
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May 6, 2008. federal minister.” CBC News, November 2,
Simpson, Leanne. “Anger, Resentment and Love: https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/crisis-philpott-
Fuelling Resurgent Struggle.” NAISA Paper child-welfare-1.4385136
Presentation, Washington, DC, June 6, 2015.
Barrera, Jorge. “Spouse of senior official began
Thorslund, Jorgen. “Why Do They Do It?: Proposals work for BC FN health agency days after
for a Theory of Inuit Youth Suicide.” Looking federal audit questioned hiring practices.”
to the Future: Papers from the 7th Annual Inuit APTN News, February 12, 2016. Accessed
Studies Conference. Fairbanks, Alaska: Associ- October 17, 2018.
ation Inuksiutiit Katimajiit Inc., 2012: 149–61. https://aptnnews.ca/2016/02/12/spouse-of-senior-of-
ficial-began-work-for-bc-fn-health-agency-days-af-
ter-federal-audit-questioned-hiring-practices/
Newspapers and Baum, Kathryn Blaze, and Matthew McClearn.

“Prime target: How serial killers prey on
Broadcast Media Indigenous women.” The Globe and Mail,
May 16, 2018. Accessed December 21, 2018.
Aboriginal Peoples Television Network. “AANDC https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/pri
Cuts to First Nation Organizations and Tribal me-targets-serial-killers-and-indigenous-women/arti-
Councils – Updated,” 2015. Accessed cle27435090/
July 3, 2018. https://aptn.ca/news/wp-content/up-
loads/sites/4/2015/01/15-01-13-Federal-Budget- Big Canoe, Christa. “Cindy Gladue suffered her last
Cuts-to-FN-Organizations-and-Tribal-Councils-1.pdf indignity at murder trial.” CBC News, April 2,
2015. Accessed December 23, 2018.
Aboriginal Peoples Television Network. “Alberta https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/cindy-gladue-
Métis settlements sign framework agreement suffered-her-last-indignity-at-murder-trial-1.3019500
with Canada.” APTN News, December 17,
2018. Accessed January 17, 2018. Borden Colley, Sherrie. “New housing to help
https://aptnnews.ca/2018/12/17/alberta-metis-settle- Indigenous women and children fleeing
ments-sign-framework-agreement-with-canada/ domestic violence.” CBC News Nova Scotia,
March 17, 2017. Accessed October 25, 2018.
Aboriginal Peoples Television Network. “APTN https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/nova-scotia/indige-
investigates.” Accessed October 27, 2018. nous-women-children-domestic-violence-housing-
https://aptn.ca/news/wp- mikmaw-native-centre-1.4030026
content/uploads/sites/4/2014/10/SchoolLetter1.jpg
315
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Brake, Justin. “Mohawk lawyer says Gladue case CBC News. “AFN seeks public inquiry into
before Supreme Court important for Indigenous allegations against Manitoba Hydro workers.”
women’s fight for justice.” APTN News, Octo- August 22, 2018. Accessed January 30, 2019.
ber 16, 2018. Accessed November 24, 2018. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/hydro-
https://aptnnews.ca/2018/10/16/mohawk-lawyer- projects-report-amnesty-international-1.4794595
says-gladue-case-before-supreme-court-important-
for-indigenous-womens-fight-for-justice/ CBC News. “First Nations rally over allegations of
racism, sexual violence from Hydro workers.”
Brandson, Ashley. “Blindsided: Manitoba officials January 18, 2019. Accessed January 30, 2019.
seize newborn from mother in hospital.” APTN https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/first-na-
News, January 12, 2019. Accessed January 20, tions-protest-manitoba-hydro-1.4984819
2019. https://aptnnews.ca/2019/01/12/blindsided-
manitoba-officials-seize-newborn-from-mother-in- CBC News. “Northern Ontario First Nations win
hospital/ battle to raise $4 treaty annuities.” December
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Brave NoiseCat, Julian. “I am Colten Boushie. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/sudbury/robinson-
Canada is the all-white jury that acquitted his huron-treaty-annuities-decision-1.4958050
killer.” The Guardian, February 28, 2018.
Accessed August 25, 2018. https://www.the- CBC News. “PEI taking different approach to home-
guardian.com/commentisfree/2018/feb/28/colten- lessness.” February 14, 2015. Accessed
boushie-canada-all-white-jury-acquitted November 26, 2018.
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/prince-edward-is-
Brophy, Aaron. “Indian City song addresses missing, land/p-e-i-taking-different-approach-to-homeless-
murdered Indigenous women.” Samaritan Mag, ness-1.2957712
June 26, 2017. Accessed September 5, 2018.
https://www.samaritanmag.com/musicians/indian- CBC News Montreal. “Quebec’s Indigenous inquiry
city-song-addresses-missing-murdered-indigenous- to explore ‘climate of tension and mistrust.’”
women March 16, 2017. Accessed October 14, 2018.
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Bruser, David, Jim Rankin, Joanna Smith, Tanya indigenous-inquiry-val-dor-1.4027908
Talaga, Jennifer Wells, and Andrew Bailey.
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did not know or barely knew killers, Star analy- ripped out.” January 25, 2018. Accessed
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Buchan, Alex. “Chamber of mines responds to CBC Radio. The Current. “MMIWG Winnipeg
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saskatoons-starlight-tours/ talaga-1.4902181
316
Red-dress pin, Red Dress Community Care Project.
These were handed out to people at the

hearings.
In Thunder Bay, there was the Red Dress
Community Care Project, put on by Walking
With Our Sisters, who had a series of bead-ins
to create hundreds of red-dress and heart pins
for attendees and witnesses as a way of
showing that, as a community, they care about them.
Beverly Beckly donated the Red Dress Diaries on behalf of her partner’s cousins, and all
Indigenous Peoples of Alberta and western Canada, at the Edmonton Community Hearing. The
Red Dress Diaries consists of 54 poems, numbered backwards, symbolizing the 54% of the
missing and murdered women who are from western Canada. Among them, the poem “Sunshine”
poignantly describes the stark distinction between life and death, for one person.
In this time she’s missed the most
a summer girl of copper skin
eyes that laughed
sang a youthful song
closed and dreamed a million lights
prospecting time
counting down to happiness and love
even in the lean mean years that sparkle was there underneath a cot of dirt.
does dirt cover her now?
No more shine through?

dull grey silence
no laughter, no song, no movement?
lost upon the rotting?42
72
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Greer, Darrell. “Aglukark brings therapy through
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Accessed November 27, 2018. https://nunavut- sterilizations across Canada: Senator.” CBC
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Harris, Michael. “The Unrepentant Whore: How
Jamie Lee Hamilton changed the way we look Kirkup, Kristy. “Trudeau announces new funding for
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walrus.ca/the-unrepentant-whore/ https://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2016/06/13/jus
tin-trudeau-to-meet-with-chief-of-troubled-at-
Hinchey, Garrett. “Iqaluit is one of the most tawapiskat-first-nation.html
expensive cities in Canada to rent, CMHC
says.” CBC News, June 22, 2017. Accessed Kirman, Paula E. “Beadwork is an act of resistance.”
January 5, 2019. Windspeaker, May 3, 2018. Accessed
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northern-capitals-1.4173777 https://windspeaker.com/news/windspeaker-
news/beadwork-is-an-act-of-resistance/
Hobson, Britanny. “‘They’re stealing our identity’
Métis National Council calls out eastern Métis Krotz, Larry. “A Canadian genocide? A new
groups.” APTN National News, November 26, museum in Winnipeg has become a flashpoint
2018. Accessed January 15, 2019. for how we interpret this country’s treatment of
https://aptnnews.ca/2018/11/26/theyre-stealing-our- First Nations.” The United Church Observer,
identity-metis-national-council-calls-out-eastern- March 2014. Accessed December 23, 2018.
metis-groups/ https://www.ucobserver.org/features/2014/03/cana-
dian_genocide/
Hyslop, Katie. “How poverty and underfunding land
Indigenous kids in care.” The Tyee, May 14, Krugel, Lauren. “Child welfare system is the new
2018. Accessed November 26, 2018. residential school ‘monster,’ senator says.” The
https://thetyee.ca/News/2018/05/14/Indigenous- Globe and Mail, Oct 26, 2018. Accessed
Kids-Poverty-Care/ October 27, 2018.
https://www.theglobeandmail.com/canada/article-res-
Johnson, Rhiannon. “13-year-old Anishinaabe girl to idential-school-monster-now-lives-in-child-welfare-
address the United Nations.” CBC News, system-2/
December 14, 2017. Accessed October 7, 2018.
https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/autumn-peltier- Leo, Geoff. “‘The Whole Investigative System of
anishinaabe-water-advocate-un-1.4448454 Regina City Police has Failed’: Lawyer of
Nadine Machiskinic’s family.” CBC News,
March 29, 2019. Accessed March 30, 2019.
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whole-investigative-system-of-regina-city-police-
has-failed-lawyer-of-nadine-machiskinic-s-family-
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318
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Lum, Zi-Ann. “A Canadian city once eliminated Meyer, Carl. “Feds ignoring data on Indigenous
poverty and nearly everyone forgot about it.” well-being, says Auditor General.” Canada’s
Huffpost, December 23, 2014. Accessed National Observer, May 20, 2018. Accessed
January 14, 2019. September 30, 2018. https://www.nationalob-
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MacKinnon, Catou. “SQ officers ignore repeated Monsebraaten, Laurie. “100 Canadian CEOs urge
calls to remove ‘solidarity’ symbol from vests.” Doug Ford to rescue Ontario’s basic income
CBC News, September 19, 2018. Accessed project.” Toronto Star, October 18, 2018.
December 18, 2018. Accessed January 14, 2019.
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cers-ignore-repeated-calls-to-remove-solidarity-sym- 8/canadian-ceos-unite-in-bid-to-save-basic-income-
bol-from-vests-1.4829833 project.html
Malone, Kelly G. “Change to Manitoba’s child Moore, Holly. “Precious ones: Eskasoni woman says
apprehension laws ensures kids can’t be taken it’s not safe to walk alone on maritime reserve.”
solely because of poverty.” CBC News Mani- APTN News, May 3, 2017. Accessed September
toba, November 6, 2018. Accessed November 28, 2018. https://aptnnews.ca/2017/05/03/precious-
17, 2018. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/mani- ones-eskasoni-woman-says-its-not-safe-to-walk-
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1.4894953
Nunatsiaq News. “Judge: Nunavut child protection
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means for Indigenous people.” Canada’s uary 22, 2019. Accessed February 6, 2019.
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heres-what-budget-2017-means-indigenous-people
319
In her written description of the quilt, Hermina writes,
Listening to the moving testimony at the Yellowknife hearings of the MMIWG Inquiry, I
was inspired to create a quilt celebrating both the resilience and courage of all those who
tell their stories and how their testimony makes it possible for the rest of us to hear and
bear witness.
In listening to testimony, she was

struck by the way in which the simple fact of the Inquiry’s existence and work has shone
light on this devastating situation for all of us in different ways…. While there has been
negative press about the challenges the Inquiry has faced, I believe it has achieved and is
achieving its primary purpose: to raise awareness in broader society of this important
issue … and to support those who have experienced or been impacted by this violence
first hand.44
Unspoken Words (Social Justice Day quilt), Mikhayla

Patterson in collaboration with the School of Social Work,
MacEwan University, AF A2017-42.1.
Similarly, a quilt donated by second-year students

(presented by student Mikhayla Patterson) of the so-
cial work program at MacEwan University honours
the memories of missing and murdered Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. To make
the quilt, each student wrote a letter to someone who
has been lost, telling her she was – and is – loved.
The quilt was smudged once it was assembled, so
that the letters would pass into the spirit world and
rejoin the people to whom they were addressed. For
students, the hope was also to let the families know that they are not fighting alone. As Mikhayla
explained, “Let us work together in the fight for justice.”45
A news article about missing Indigenous women along Highway 16, also known as the “High-
way of Tears,” about which some of the witnesses testified, also inspired a song called “The
Highway” by Chris Scott, who is non-Indigenous. He performed it in his home, recorded it, and
sent it to us. He wrote the song “to give the family members that are left behind some hope….
I hope [the song will] connect to them and to [the public] as well.”46
74
BIBLIOGRAPHY
The Canadian Press. “Six cities chosen as test sites Woodward, Laura. “Red Dress artist behind red
for National Anti-Poverty Strategy.” The Globe ribbons tied around Saskatoon to address
and Mail, September 2, 2016. Updated May 17, MMIWG.” CTV Saskatchewan, November 22,
2018. Accessed September 9, 2019. 2017. Accessed September 28, 2018.
https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/six- https://saskatoon.ctvnews.ca/red-dress-artist-behind-
cities-chosen-as-test-sites-for-national-anti-poverty- red-ribbons-tied-around-saskatoon-to-address-
strategy/article31694201/ mmiwg-1.3690164
Treaty Relations Commission of Manitoba. Zelniker, Rachel. “Northern researcher digs into
“Episode 2: The Spirit and Intent of Treaties history of Inuit special constables.” CBC News
with Elder Harry Bone.” Let’s Talk Treaty. North, April 10, 2016. Accessed November 14,
Radio series. Accessed August 15, 2018. 2018. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/north/
http://www.trcm.ca/multimedia/lets-talk-treaty/ inuit-special-constable-nunavut-deborah-webster-
1.3528764
UNB Newsroom. “Red Shawl Campaign at UNB
honours missing and murdered Indigenous
women.” October 5, 2017. Accessed November
24, 2018.
https://blogs.unb.ca/newsroom/2017/10/red-shawl-
Theses and Dissertations
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thesis, University of Calgary, 2005.
UM News Today. “Sewing the Beads of Change.”
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https://news.umanitoba.ca/sewing-the-beads-of- Haudenosaunee to Criminal Justice Jurisdiction
change/ in Canada: A Preliminary Inquiry.” Master’s
thesis, Simon Fraser University, 2004.
Von Scheel, Elise. “Feds to fund commemoration
events for missing and murdered Indigenous Gilchrist, Kristen. “Invisible Victims: Disparity in
women.” CBC News, February 2, 2019. Print – Media Coverage of Missing and
Accessed January 4, 2019. Murdered Aboriginal and White Women.”
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oration-fund-government-indigenous-1.5003562
Koperqualuk, Lisa. “Puvirniturmiut Religious and
White, Gillian B. “How Zoning Laws Exacerbate Political Dynamics.” Master’s thesis, Laval
Inequality.” The Atlantic, November 23, 2015. University, 2011.
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and-the-rise-of-economic-inequality/417360/ Role of Winnipeg Educators in Decolonization
and Reconciliation Between Indigenous and
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321
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Saskatchewan, 2005. Tomiak, Julie-Ann. “Indigenous Self-Determination,
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Sigouin, Élizabeth. “Les mécanismes de protection City: Rescaling Aboriginal Governance in
de la jeunesse autochtone au regard de la Ottawa and Winnipeg.” PhD diss., Carleton
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322
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Knowledge Keeper, Expert and

Institutional Hearings
List of Exhibits
The Knowledge Keeper, Expert and Institutional Hearings examined the systemic causes of violence against
Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA peoples and the policies and practices that are in place to keep women
and girls safe. These hearings were conducted differently than the Part 1 Community Hearings where families and
survivors shared their truths.
Part II – Institutional Hearings of our Truth-Gathering Process focused on the testimony of those who worked in
institutions, while Part III – Knowledge Keeper and Expert Hearings gathered testimony from a wide range of
experts including Elders, Knowledge Keepers, academics, legal experts, front-line workers, young people and
specialists.
In the Fall of 2018, Part II and Part III hearings were combined under a single theme to hear from a wide range of
expertise and personal testimony in the same hearing setting.
The evidence generated within these hearings included exhibits tendered by witnesses that directly contributed to the
content of the Final Report. This list includes all of those exhibits, with the exception of those exhibits that featured
participants’ biographies or curriculum vitaes.
Winnipeg, Manitoba, August 22-24, 2017: Indigenous Laws & Decolonizing Perspectives
Exhibit 2: Prof Tuma Young, “L’nuwita’simk: A Foundational Worldview for a L’nuwey Justice System,”
Indigenous Law Journal, Volume 13, Issue 1 (2016)
Exhibit 3: Prof Tuma Young, “L’nuwita’simk: A Foundational Worldview for L’nuwey Justice System”
(PowerPoint)
Exhibit 3: Val Napoleon and Hadley Friedland, “Indigenous Legal Traditions Core Workshop Materials,”
including text and original artwork by Dr. Napoleon
Exhibit 4: Val Napoleon, “What is Indigenous Law? A Small Discussion”
Exhibit 5: “Accessing Justice and Reconciliation, Cree Legal Summary, Cree Legal Traditions Report”
(Community partner Aseniwuche Winewak Nation)
Exhibit 6: PowerPoint presentation of Drs. Friedland and Napoleon “Indigenous Law, National inquiry
into MMIWG,” August 22, 2017
Quebec City, Quebec, May 14-17, 2018: Human Rights Framework

Exhibit A2: AnânauKatiget Tumingit Regional Inuit Women’s Association, “Labrador Inuit Women’s
Realities: Voices of Women in Nain and Hopedale,” September 17, 2013
Exhibit A3: AnânauKatiget Tumingit Regional Inuit Women’s Association, “Nain and Hopedale Needs
Assessment: Increasing Women’s Economic Security,” Yearly Report NL 11084
323
were here, why we were gathering, we are here to remember. Not only to remember the
pain but also to remember our power, our agency as women, our strong connection to
this land.
We worked with red clay, with earth, not only knowing that connection to the land in our
minds but really feeling it, working with it, working with the hands, a mutual healing.
We formed human figures, figures of women and girls, goddess figures, calling in the
strength, courage, and power of all the circles of women that have gathered at this place.
My son is there, Josef. He is serious about fire keeping and in awe of this special and
important gathering that his mama is holding. I can tell he feels the weight of it.
I can tell it will change him.
Later we lay our clay figures as gifts at the MMIWG memorial and sing ourselves down
to the water, leaving our offerings to the river, to its slow power, to its mysteries.
My boy ties a piece of red cloth to a stick and, in our silence, all the others do the same
and we become warriors, women walking together with staffs tied with red.
Someone suggests that we cross the bridge to Spirit Island, a place where ceremony has
been held for centuries, that we plant the sticks in the ground there; a promise that we
will continue to stand and to fight for justice for women and girls.
A tour boat goes by as we are placing our sticks along the bank of the river, strips of
bright red cloth against the grey of the day. They watch us and I think, for a moment they
actually see us, they see us standing together.
Clay figures are placed on the land in

ceremony during a ReClaim event in
Thunder Bay, Ontario.
77
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit B6: “Concluding observations on the combined twenty-first to twenty-third periodic reports of
Canada,” United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination
CERD/C/CAN/CO/21-23
Exhibit B7: PowerPoint presentation of Brenda L. Gunn, dated May 16, 2018
Exhibit B9: United Nations Convention of the Rights of the Child
Exhibit B10: “Consideration of reports submitted by States parties under article 44 of the Convention,”
Convention on the Rights of the Child CRC/C/CAN/CO/3-4
Exhibit B11: Saskatchewan Advocate for Children and Youth, “Shhh…Listen!! We have something to say!
Youth Voices from the North”
Exhibit B12: Corey O’Soup’s Recommendations, for consideration by the National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls”
Exhibit B13: Canadian Council of Provincial Child and Youth Advocates, “Aboriginal Children and Youth
in Canada: Canada Must Do Better,” June 23, 2010
Exhibit B16: Emily Snyder, Val Napoleon and John Borrows, “Gender and Violence: Drawing on
Indigenous Legal Resources,” UBC Law Review Volume 48:2
Exhibit B17: Jean Leclair and Michel Morin, « Peuples autochtones et droit constitutionnel » in
JurisClasseur Québec
Exhibit B19: International Convention on Civil and Political Rights, adopted by the General Assembly of
the United Nations on 19 December 1966 (No. 14668, Vol. 999)
Exhibit B20: Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women
Exhibit B21: International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination
Exhibit B22: End of mission statement by Dubravka Šimonović, United Nations Special Rapporteur on
Violence against women, its causes and consequences – Official visit to Canada
Exhibit B23: Janet Mancini Billson, “Shifting gender regimes: The complexities of domestic violence
among Canada’s Inuit,” Études/Inuit/Studies, Volume 30, Issue 1 (2006)
Exhibit B24: World Health Organization and Pan American Health Organization, “Understanding and
addressing violence against women: Intimate partner violence”
Exhibit B25: Judy Sheperd, “Where Do You Go When It’s 40 Below? Domestic Violence Among Rural
Alaska Native Women,” Afilia, Volume 16, Issue 4 (2001)
Exhibit B26: Pertice Mofitt and Heather Fikowski, “Hearing about the Realities of Intimate Partner Violence
in the Northwest Territories from Frontline Service Providers,” Northwest Territories Research
Project Report for Territorial Stakeholders Final Report, 2017
Exhibit B27: American Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples – adopted at the third plenary
session, held on June 15, 2016
Exhibit B28: Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami Position Paper Implementing the UN Declaration on the Rights of
Indigenous Peoples in Canada
Exhibit B29: Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, “Implementing the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous
Peoples in Canada through comprehensive legislation,” April 2017
325
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit B30: “Brother of missing Inuk woman questions police investigation” CBC News article by Stu
Mills posted June 13, 2017 5:00 AM ET, last updated June 13, 2017
Exhibit B31: Maria Chow and Delise Pitman, “Truth and Reconciliation addressed in current curriculum,”
Ministry of Education Briefing Note, created June 17, 2015 revised May 16, 2018
Exhibit B32: “A Strategic Framework to End Violence against Aboriginal Women” prepared by the Ontario
Native Women’s Association and the Ontario Federation of Indian Friendship Centres,
September 2007
Exhibit B33: Ontario Federation of Indian Friendship Centres / Métis Nation of Ontario / Ontario Native
Women’s Association, “Aboriginal Sexual Violence Action Plan,” 2011
Exhibit B34: Principles relating to the Status of National Institutions, The Paris Principles, adopted by
General Assembly resolution 48/134 of 20, December 1993
Calgary, Alberta, May 28-June 1, 2018: Government Services

Exhibit 2: “Overview of the Public Prosecution of Canada Crown Witness Coordinator (CWC) Program
Exhibit 3: Canadian Victims Bill of Rights (CVBR) Common Checklist
Exhibit 4: Public Prosecution of Service Canada Deskbook Chapter 5.6, “Victims of Crime,” (January 15,
2017), Directive of the Attorney General Issued Under Section 10(2) of the Director of Public
Prosecutions Act
Exhibit 5: Memorandum of Understanding Between Royal Canadian Mounted Police “G” Division and
Government of the Northwest Territories on behalf of Victim Services Programs of the
Northwest Territories, signature date 2018-10-03
Exhibit 6: Northwest Territories Victim Services Program, “A Framework for Enhancing Victim Services
in the NWT: 2016-2021 – Interim report for the period April 1, 2016-March 31, 2017,” Federal
project # 8396493, dated June 15, 2015
Exhibit 7: Northwest Territories Department of Justice, Community Justice and Policing – Victim
Services, Victim Impact Statement (Form 34.2)
Services, Community Impact Statement (Form 34.3)
Services, Statement on Restitution (Form 34.1)
Exhibit 10: Victims Assistance Committee (VAC) of the Northwest Territories, Victims Assistance Fund
Application Guidelines (approved June 2000)
Exhibit 11: Government of the Northwest Territories, “Staying Safe” booklet (April 2017)
Exhibit 12: Government of Northwest Territories, “NWT Victim Services” pamphlet (April 2017)
Exhibit 14: Department of Justice Canada, Overview of Family Information Liaison Units
Exhibit 15(a): Department of Justice, Research and Statistics Division, Victim Services in Canada (2018)
326
During a ReClaim workshop,
participants work to create clay figures
to leave on the land as an offering.
The National Inquiry hopes that the ReClaim Project, which is being offered by Jaime Black in
other locations, will inspire other, similar actions that will persist beyond the life of the National
Inquiry itself. In this way, this kind of art action will represent a new way of asserting the impor-
tance of calling forth, and the importance of the power and place of the relatives who no longer
walk among us, and the sacred place they hold in community and in ceremony.
Conclusion: Art Actions for the Future

For those who donated artistic expressions to the Legacy Archive, or who participated in public art
action like the ReClaim Project or in creations of their own, their work is not only about commem-
oration, and it is not restricted to making change today. As Jaycee Gouchey, from Sturgeon Lake
Cree Nation, shared, “I’m doing this for all our lost and stolen sisters, and my daughter is a motiva-
tion…. I don’t want her to grow up scared. I don’t want her to grow up the way I did.”50 In a video
capturing her project, Jaycee made herself look like a victim of violence and sat in silence in a hall-
way for three hours to confront people with the violence that Indigenous women face. Jaycee
wanted to symbolize the silence that Indigenous women also often face when looking for help.
The National Inquiry hopes that the Legacy Archive, the student and youth engagement strategy,
the ReClaim Project, and all of the actions these projects inspire will have legacies of their own and
inspire more acts of commemoration, awareness, courage, healing, and justice. These acts are im-
portant in fulfilling a key pathway to safety, in restoring power and place to Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people everywhere they are.
80
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 37: Eric Latimer, François Bordeleau et Christian Méthot, Institut universitaire en santé mentale
Douglas du Centre intégré universitaire en santé et services sociaux de l’Ouest-de-l’Île de
Montréal, « Besoins exprimés et préférences en matière de logement des utilisateurs
autochtones de ressources communautaires sur l’île de Montréal » (février 2018)
Exhibit 38: Eric Latimer, François Bordeleau & Christian Méthot, Institut universitaire en santé mentale
Douglas du Centre intégré universitaire en santé et services sociaux de l’Ouest-de-l’Île de
Montréal, “Housing needs and preferences of Indigenous people using community resources in
Montreal,” (abridged version, February 2018)
Exhibit 39 (a): Montreal Urban Aboriginal Community Strategy Network, “Strategic Direction: 2018”
Exhibit 39 (b): Réseau pour la stratégie urbaine de la communauté autochtone à Montréal, Orientation
stratégique
Exhibit 40(a): “Collaborative Agreement Between the SPVM and the Montreal Urban Aboriginal Community
Strategy Network”
Exhibit 40(b): Accord de collaboration entre le SPVM et le Réseau pour la stratégie de la communauté
autochtone urbaine à Montréal
Exhibit 41(a): Elizabeth Fast, Stephen Puskas, Vicky Boldo and Rachel Deutsch for the Montreal Urban
Aboriginal Community Strategy Network, “Indigenous Cultural Awareness Guide for the
SPVM” (2016)
Exhibit 41(b): Elizabeth Fast, Stephen Puskas, Vicky Boldo et Rachel Deutsch pour le Réseau pour la
stratégie de la communauté autochtone urbaine à Montréal, Guide de sensibilisation à la
culture autochtone à l’intention du SPVM (2016)
Exhibit 42(a): Montreal Urban Aboriginal Community Strategy Network, “Cultural manual for foster and
adoptive parents of Aboriginal children”
Exhibit 42(b): Réseau pour la stratégie urbaine de la communauté autochtone à Montréal Manuel culturel
pour les parents d’accueil et adoptifs d’enfants autochtones
Exhibit 44: Awo Taan Healing Lodge Society – “Aboriginal Framework for Healing and Wellness
Manual” (May 30, 2007)
Exhibit 45: Danger Assessment Graphs
Exhibit 46: Josie Nepinak, Awo Taan Healing Lodge Society – “Roundtable – Missing and Murdered
Indigenous Women and Girls (February 27, 2015)
Exhibit 47: “Briefing note on Awo Taan Healing Lodge Society Women’s Emergency Shelter Evaluation”
Exhibit 48: Aboriginal Shelters of Ontario – “MMIWG Survey Report: National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls”
Exhibit 49: Aboriginal Shelters of Ontario – “Aboriginal Family Violence in Ontario Needs Assessment
(final version, December 2014)
Exhibit 50: Aboriginal Shelters of Ontario – “New Beginnings: Standards for Ontario Indigenous Shelters”
Exhibit 51: Ganohkwasra Family Assault Support Services Youth Lodge brochure: “My Home on Turtle
Island”
Exhibit 53: Reasons for Judgment (on voir dire), R v. Barton, 2015 ABQB 159, March 10, 2015, Docket
120294731Q1, Edmonton Registry
328
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 54: “Cindy Gladue case sends a chilling message to indigenous women,” by Sarah Hunt and
Naomi Sayers, Globe and Mail, published March 25, 2015, updated April 23, 2017
Exhibit 55: Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada – “Family Violence Prevention Program: off-reserve
call for proposals 2018-2019,” date modified May 3, 2018
Toronto, Ontario, June 11-13, 2018: Racism

Exhibit 2: “Pronouns” by Roger Roulette, Ojibwe language specialist dated September 7, 2017
Exhibit 3: Powerpoint slideshow entitled “Two-Spirits: A Lasting Legacy”
Exhibit 4: Clare C. Brant, M.D., “Native Ethics and Rules of Behaviour,” Canadian Journal of
Psychology Volume 35, August 1990.
Exhibit 5: Maddalena Genovese, Davina Rousell and The Two Spirit Circle of Edmonton Society, “Safe
and Caring Schools for Two Spirit Youth: A Guide for Teachers and Student” (2011)
ISBN: 978-0-9810494-0-3
Exhibit 6: First Nations Centre, National Aboriginal Health Organization, “Suicide Prevention and Two-
Spirited People,” (2012), ISBN: 978-1-926543-79-6
Exhibit 7: Two-Spirited People of Manitoba media release “Two-Spirit Human Rights Rally at AFN
Special Assembly,” Winnipeg Manitoba, December 8, 2014
Exhibit 9: Community List for LGBTTQQIA people
Exhibit 10: Report of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights “Discriminatory laws and
practices and acts of violence against individuals based on their sexual orientation and gender
identity,” November 17, 2011, A/HRC/19/41
Exhibit 11: United Nations Human Rights Council Resolution 27/32 “Human Rights, sexual orientation
and gender identity,” October 2, 2014, A/HRC/RES/27/32
Exhibit 12: Memoir “A Body Like a Home” by Gwen Benaway, May 30, 2018
Exhibit 13: Stephanie Jewel, “A Letter to Cisters” (2018)
Exhibit 14: Dana L. Wesley, Master’s thesis “Reimagining Two-Spirit Community: Critically Centering
Narratives of Urban Two-Spirit Youth” (April 2015)
Exhibit 15: Powerpoint entitled “Zaagidiwin Inakinogewin”
Exhibit 17: Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada – “Q & A with Indigenous health expert
Dr. Barry Lavallee,” September 4, 2013
Exhibit 18: Brian Sinclair Working Group – “Out of Sight: A summary of the events leading up to Brian
Sinclair’s death and the inquest that examined it and the Interim Recommendations of the
Brian Sinclair Working Group”
Exhibit 19: Opinion article “Racism in health system: Expert Working Group gets at factor sidelined at
Sinclair inquest” by Annette Browne, Winnipeg Free Press, posted at 1:00 a.m. June 13, 2014
Exhibit 20: “Ignored to death: Brian Sinclair’s death caused by racism, inquest inadequate, group says,”
CBC News, September 18, 2017
329
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 21: Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada, “Indigenous health values and principles
statement,” prepared by the Indigenous Health Advisory Committee and the Office of Health
Policy and Communications, July 4, 2013
Exhibit 22: Dr. Billie Allan and Dr. Janet Smylie – Executive Summary of “First Peoples, Second Class
Treatment: The role of racism in the health and well-being of Indigenous peoples in Canada,”
Well Living House/Wellesley Institute, 2015
Exhibit 23: Goodman et al., “‘They treated me like crap and I know it was because I was Native’: The
healthcare experiences of Aboriginal peoples living in Vancouver’s inner city,” Social Sciences
& Medicine Volume 178, 2017
Exhibit 24: Indigenous Health Working Group of the College of Family Physicians of Canada and
Indigenous Physicians Association of Canada, Fact sheet “Health and Health Care Implications
of Systemic Racism on Indigenous Peoples in Canada,” February 2016
Exhibit 26: Human Rights Watch – “Submission to the Government of Canada: Police Abuse of
Indigenous Women in Saskatchewan and Failures to Protect Indigenous Women from
Violence, June 2017
Exhibit 27: Summary of findings, “Human Rights Watch’s Research in Northern British Columbia and
Saskatchewan”
Exhibit 28: Human Rights Watch, Response # 1 to list of questions and answers entitled “Policing Policies
and Practices” re: Investigation into Police Treatment of Indigenous Women and Girls in
Saskatchewan, November 2016
Exhibit 29: Human Rights Watch, Response # 2 to Human Rights Watch list of questions and answers
entitled “Policing Policies and Practices”
Exhibit 30: Saskatchewan Police Service, Brief re: “Human Rights Watch Investigation into Police
Treatment of Indigenous Women and Girls in Saskatchewan,” addressed to Chief Clive
Weighill, dated January 3, 2017
Exhibit 31: Human Rights Watch, “Those Who Take Us Away: Abusive Policing and Failures in Protection
of Indigenous Women and Girls in Northern British Columbia, Canada,” 2013
Exhibit 33: Marie Battiste, “Nourishing the Learning Spirit,” Education Canada pp. 14-18
Exhibit 34: Urban Aboriginal Knowledge Network, Research Project Summary (UAKN Atlantic)
“Re-storying NunatuKavut: Making connections through multi-generational digital”
Exhibit 36: Powerpoint presentation of Amy Hudson, “Inuit Women and Racism in Labrador: The women
and girls of NunatuKavut and NunatuKavut Community Council’s rights and recognition
journey,” June 12, 2018
Exhibit 37: Amy Hudson (Researchers: Amy Hudson, Dr. Sylvia Moore, Dr. Andrea Proctor), “The
Culture Carriers: Reflections on Southern Inuit Women’s Stories” March 31, 2015
Exhibit 39: Vincent Shilling, “The True Story of Pocahontas: Historical Myths Versus Sad Reality,”
September 8, 2017
Exhibit 40: “Common Potrayals of Aboriginal People”
Exhibit 41: “An emotional Jesse Wente on the ‘remarkable arrogance’ of an appropriation prize” CBC
News, posted May 15, 2017 10:46 a.m. ET, last updated May 15, 2017
330
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 42: “Media’s Indigenous coverage has always been slanted. And it’s still scant, says writer Hayden
King,” by Hayden King, Toronto Star, July 31, 2017
Exhibit 43: “Indigenous filmmaking set to rise in Canada in 2018 and beyond,” The Canadian Press,
posted December 28, 2017 11:05 a.m. ET, last updated December 28, 2017
Exhibit 45: Verdict of Coroner’s Jury, Office of the Chief Coroner, names of the deceased: Jethro
Anderson, Curran Strang, Paul Panacheese, Robyn Harper, Reggie Bushie, Kyle Morrisseau,
Jordan Wasasse; Coroner for Ontario: Dr. David Eden, verdict received June 28, 2016, held at
Thunder Bay
Exhibit 46: Printout of Toronto Star webpage “Gone: Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women – Inquiry
Insider,” accessed and printed June 13, 2018 11:15 a.m. EDT
Exhibit 47: “Indigenous children are crying out for help in Canada. Will you hear them?” by Tanya Talaga,
Toronto Star, April 27, 2018
Exhibit 48: “Friends to the end: How the suicides of seven Indigenous girls revealed a community
undone,” by Tanya Talaga, Toronto Star, April 27, 2018
Exhibit 50: “Schools Aid White Plague: Startling Death Rolls Revealed,” The Evening Citizen, Ottawa,
November 15, 1907
Exhibit 51: P.H. Bryce, M.A., M.D., “The Story of a National Crime: An Appeal for Justice to the Indians
of Canada,” 1922
Exhibit 52: “Indian Residential Schools: A research study of the child care programs of nine residential
schools in Saskatchewan, prepared for the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern
Development, project director George Caldwell, January 31, 1967
Exhibit 53: R. Alex Sim, “The Education of Indians in Ontario: A Report to the Provincial Committee on
Aims and Objectives of Education in the Schools of Ontario,” April 1967
Exhibit 54: by Dr. Rose-Alma J. McDonald, Dr. Peter Ladd et al., First Nations Child and Family Services
Joint National Policy Review, Final Report, June 2000, ISBN: 0-919682-08-01
Exhibit 55 (a): “Wen-De The Journey Continues,” The National Policy Review on First Nations Child and
Family Services Research Project: Phase Three, First Edition, by J. Loxley, L. DeRiviere, T.
Prakash,
C. Blackstock, F. Wien & S. Thomas Prokop, 2005, ISBN: 0-9732858-3-4
Exhibit 55 (b): “Wen-De, We Are Coming to the Light of Day,” First Nations Child and Family Caring Society
of Canada, 2005
Exhibit 55 (c): John Loxley, Fred Wien and Cindy Blackstock, “Bridging Econometrics and First Nations
Child and Family Service Agency Funding: Phase One Report,” Report to the National Policy
Review National Advisory Committee, December 2004
Exhibit 56: 2008 Report of the Auditor General of Canada to the House of Commons, Chapter 4: First
Nations Child and Family Services Program – Indian and Northern Affairs Canada
Exhibit 57: 2011 June Status Report of the Auditor General of Canada, Chapter 4 – Programs for First
Nations on Reserves
331
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 58: Report of the Standing Committee on Public Accounts, Chapter 4: First Nations Child and
Family Services Program – Indian and Northern Affairs Canada of the May 2008 Report of the
Auditor General, March 2009, 40th Parliament, 2nd Session
Exhibit 59: “Consideration of reports submitted by States parties under article 44 of the Convention –
Concluding observations: Canada,” United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child,
October 5, 2012 advance unedited version, CRC/C/CAN/CO/3-4
Exhibit 60: “U.S. Statement at the UPR of Canada” as delivered by Ambassador Eileen C. Donahue, UPR
Intervention for Canada, 16th Session April 26, 2013
Exhibit 61: “Concluding observation on the twenty-first to twenty-third periodic reports of Canada,”
Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination, August 25, 2017 advance unedited
version, CERD/C/CAN/CO/21-23
Exhibit 62: “Draft report of the Working Group on the Universal Periodic Review - Canada,” United
National General Assembly Human Rights Council, May 15, 2018, A/HRC/WG.6/30/L.9
Exhibit 63: Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, Calls to Action, 2015
Exhibit 64: 2018 Spring Reports of the Auditor General of Canada to the Parliament of Canada,
Independent Auditor’s Report, Report 5 – Socio-economics Gaps on First Nations Reserves
Exhibit 65 (a): Canadian Human Rights Tribunal Ruling, Citation: 2017 CHRT 14, as amended on November
2, 2017 (see 2017 CHRT 35), May 26, 2017 (File # T1340/7008)
Exhibit 65 (b): Canadian Human Rights Tribunal Ruling, Citation: 2016 CHRT 10, April 26, 2016
(File # T1340/7008)
Exhibit 65 (c): Canadian Human Rights Tribunal Ruling, Citation: 2016 CHRT 16, September 14, 2016
(File # T1340/7008)
Exhibit 65 (d): Canadian Human Rights Tribunal Ruling, Citation: 2018 CHRT 4, February 1, 2018
(File # T1340/7008)
Exhibit 66: Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Canada, “Cost Drivers and Pressures – the Case
for New Escalators,” June 2013
Regina, Saskatchewan, June 25-29, 2019: Police Policies and Practices

Exhibit 2: Overview of the testimony of Commissioner Brenda Lucki
Exhibit 3: Commissioner Mandate Letter addressed to Brenda Lucki by The Honourable Ralph Goodale,
date modified 2018-05-07
Exhibit 4: RCMP Operational Manual, Chapter 38.2 “Bias-Free Policing,” amended 2011-09-28
Exhibit 5: RCMP Operational Manual, Chapter 38.1 “Aboriginal Policing Services” directive amended
2011-09-28
Exhibit 6: Relationship Building Protocol between the Assembly of First Nations and the Royal Canadian
Mounted Police signed July 12, 2016
Exhibit 7: “Working Together to End Violence against Indigenous Women and Girls – National Scan of
RCMP Initiatives,” May 2017, ISBN 978-0-660-06095-8
332
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 8: RCMP Members Employment Equity Annual Report, Fiscal Year 2016-2017, presented to the
Treasury Board of Canada September 2017
Exhibit 9: RCMP Facilitator Guide, Introductions to Modules 1-15, Version 9
Exhibit 10: RCMP training materials, “Facilitators’ Checklist” – Module 13 Sessions 1-7
Exhibit 11: RCMP Field Coaching Program Assessment Report, Form 3737e – 2011-07
Exhibit 12: RCMP “K” Division Aboriginal Perceptions Training Course materials
Exhibit 13: RCMP “V” Division Inuit Cultural Perceptions Training materials
Exhibit 14: “Missing Persons Investigations” Modules 1 & 5
Exhibit 15: “Presentation by the First Nations Police Governance Council of the Canadian Association of
Police Governance to the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and
Girls, June 4, 2018”
Exhibit 16: Jodi-Anne Brzozowski, Andrea Taylor-Butt and Sara Johnson, June 2006 Statistics Canada
Juristat report, “Victimization and offending among the Aboriginal population in Canada,”
Catalogue no. 85-002-XIE, Volume 26 no. 3
Exhibit 17: John Kiedrowski, Michael Petrunik and Rick Ruddell, Public Safety Canada Research
Report “Illustrative Case Studies of First Nations Policing Program Models,” 2016-R014,
ISBN: 978-0-660-06708-7
Exhibit 18: Andrew Graham, School of Policy Studies, Queens University, “The Concept of Governance
as Forward Oversight as Applied to Police Agencies in Canadian Municipalities,” April 2018
Exhibit 19: “Policing in Indigenous Communities: First Nations Policing Program”
Exhibit 20: Auditor General of Canada report, “Audit at a Glance” Chapter 5: First Nations Policing
Program – Public Safety Canada, tabling date May 6, 2014
Exhibit 21: News article “First Nations policing slammed by auditor general,” Canadian Press, posted
May 6, 2014 11:17 a.m. ET, last updated May 7, 2014
Exhibit 22: Nicholas A. Jones, Robert G. Mills, Rick Ruddell, Kaitlan Quinn, Collorative Centre for
Justice and Safety, “Policing First Nations: Community Perspectives,” January 26, 2016
Exhibit 23: John Kiedrowski, Michael Petrunik and Rick Ruddell in Police Practice and Research, “’Set
up to fail?’ An analysis of self-administered Indigenous police services in Canada,”
Exhibit 24: “Moving Forward to Safer Futures,” PowerPoint shown during the testimony of Mr. Daniel
Bellegarde
Exhibit 26(b) : Administration régionale Kativik, Offre d’emploi pour le poste de Directeur de service de la
sécurité publique et chef de police à Kuujjuaq
Exhibit 27 : Printout of PowerPoint titled «Réalité policière en communauté autochtone »
Exhibit 28: Map of Nunavik
Exhibit 29: Agreement between Kativik Regional Government and the Government of Quebec and Canada
title « Entente sur le financement complémentaire pour la prestation des services policiers
2014-2018 »
Exhibit 30: Document « Protocole de coordination du travail en enquête et de soutien opérationnel au
Nunavik » signed at Kuujjuaq August 28, 2013
333
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 31: Collective agreement between l’Administration régionale Kativik and l’Association des
policiers du Nunavik 2013-2017
Exhibit 32: Tripartite agreement between Kativik Regional Government, the Government of Quebec and
Canada titled « Entente sur la prestation des services policiers dans la région Kativik pour la
période du 1er avril 2014 au 31 mars 2018 »
Exhibit 34: Set of 28 tripartite agreements, entered as one exhibit
Exhibit 35: Mandate document, Bureau des relations avec les Autochtones de la Ministère de la Sécurité
publique du Québec
Exhibit 36: PowerPoint « Les services policiers autochtones au Québec – Présentation à l’Enquête
nationale sur les femmes et les filles autochtones disparues et assassinées » (2.14 MB)
Exhibit 37: Ministère de la Sécurité publique budget 2017-2018
Exhibit 38: Org chart, Ministère de la sécurité publique (Quebec), dated March 31, 2018
Exhibit 39 (a): « Infractions selon la catégorie d'infractions au Code criminel, aux autres lois fédérales et aux
lois provinciales, Québec, 2012 à 2016 » – Ensemble des corps de police autochtones au
Programme DUC 1 »
Exhibit 39 (b): « Nombre de policiers réels dans le Corps de police autochtones autogérés »
Exhibit 40: « Faire plus faire mieux – Plan d’action gouvernemental pour le développement social et culturel
des Premières nations et des Inuits : 2017-2002 », published June 2016, ISBN : 978-2-550-
78754-9
Exhibit 41: “Ontario First Nations Policing Agreement Agreement 1991-1996”
Exhibit 42: Document titled “Crime Statistics”
Exhibits 43: Agreement between Government of Quebec and Pekuakamiulnuatsh Takuhikan «Entente
relative au versement d’une aide financière à Pekuakamiulnuatsh Takuhikan dans le cadre de
sa participation au Programme de financement Prévention Jeunesse 2016-2019»
Exhibits 44: Agreement between Le conseil de la nation Huronne-Wendat and the Ministère de la sécurité
publique (Québec) titled « Entente relative au versement d’une aide financière dans le cadre du
Programme de soutien aux municipalités en prévention de la criminalité 2016-2019 », signed
November 22, 2017
Exhibits 45: Agreement between Ministère de la sécurité publique and Centre d’amitié autochtone la Tuque
titled « Entente relative au versement d’une aide financière dans le cadre du Programme de
prévention et d’intervention en matière d’exploitation sexuelle des jeunes 2016-2021 »
Exhibits 46: Agreement between the Government of Quebec and Le conseil de la nation Anishnabe de Lac-
Simon titled « Entente relative au versement d’une aide financière dans le cadre du Programme
de financement Prévention Jeunesse 2016-2019 », signed February 9, 2017
Exhibits 47: Agreement between Le conseil des Atikamekw d’Opitchiwan and Ministère de la sécurité
publique titled « Entente relative au versement d’une aide financière dans le cadre du
Programme de soutien aux municipalités en prévention de la criminalité 2016-2019 »
Exhibit 48: «Comité sur la formation des futurs policiers et policières autochtones ainsi que des policiers et
policières œuvrant dans les communautés autochtones, incluant la formation en enquête»,
Ministère de la sécurité publique (Québec), updated 2018-04-12
334
The primary intended outcomes were to:
• deepen knowledge of systemic institutional weaknesses, gaps, and problems that
marginalize and negatively impact the safety of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people;
• identify best practices and solutions for institutional and systemic change that would
increase safety, improve well-being, and uphold the rights of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people in terms of identity and culture, health and well-being,
human security, including housing and anti-poverty work, and issues regarding access
to justice; and
• make specific recommendations to increase the safety of diverse Indigenous groups and
individuals when they experience human and Indigenous rights violations within
experiences of encounter.
The secondary intended outcomes for the Dialogues were to:
• co-create a safe, culturally appropriate, and legitimate dialogue process;
• offer participants an opportunity to share knowledge with peers and to build on one
another’s ideas in “a focused conversation among equals” that appreciates differences
of perspective and experience; and
• convene gatherings of practitioners and professionals in a spirit of respect and
recognition.
Over the course of the Dialogues, data was gathered from multiple sources, including notes taken
at each Dialogue table, as well as flip charts, anonymous participant feedback forms, artwork,
and other documents submitted by participants.
Overwhelmingly, as participants shared in each of the four sessions, racism is at the heart of the
colonial structure and represents a core cause for the violence faced by Indigenous communities.
At the same time, participants highlighted intersecting experiences of discrimination based on
gender and sexual orientation, and discrimination against marginalized populations such as sex
workers, people engaged in substance use, people who are homeless, or based on their intersec-
tional identities as Indigenous groups with many distinctive experiences and perspectives.
This chapter conveys the emerging themes and recommendations from all four Guided
Dialogues. Many key recommendations were echoed across the country. However, this chapter
also aims to delineate, where possible, the issues, perspectives, and recommendations that are
specific to the experiences of 2SLGBTQQIA people, Inuit, Métis communities, and Quebec First
Nations. These groupings provide important regional and issue-specific focus, and, collectively,
emphasize the importance of a distinctions-based approach that acknowledges the issues that can
be addressed in common and those where approaches might differ.
84
The Manifesto of Two-Spirited People of Manitoba
Inc. speaks to many of the issues that participants
discussed at the 2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives Guided
Dialogue in Toronto, including the need to understand
Two-Spirit teachings, and the values associated with
safety that they imply. Used with permission.
Promoting Empowering Research and Representation

“Not about us, without us at the table.” (Inuit Perspectives)
The collection of data and research processes are often cast as neutral processes, but research has
often been engaged in the service of colonial ideas. One of the priorities for our approach to the
Guided Dialogues was in co-creating a process, with participants, that privileged decolonizing
research processes and applied them in data collection and interpretation. This kind of meaning-
ful engagement led to important discussions regarding the nature of research itself, and the need
to develop more structures that reflect a more equitable representation, particularly in the context
of Indigenous engagement, consultation, and participation in policy and program development.
For many women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, becoming meaningful participants in deci-
sion-making processes is key to unlocking the solutions that have been buried under patriarchy,
misogyny, and colonialism. This is necessary in order to bring about systemic change to support
the safety and well-being of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Participants particularly highlighted the need for more equitable representation of Indigenous
women and youth, Métis and Inuit communities, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and offered recom-
mendations for data collection, research, public engagement, and leadership models to effect
this change.
85
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 90: Verdict of Coroner’s Jury regarding Romeo Wesley, held from July 4-20, 2017 at Cat Lake
First Nation, Ontario
Exhibit 91: Survivor Assistance Support Program Overview and Mission Statement
Exhibit 93: Brochure “E” Division Aboriginal Policing Services
Exhibit 94: “Nicola Canoe Pull 2018”
Exhibit 95: RCMP “Ageless Wisdom” Brochure “Frauds Cons Schemes and Scams – Avoid Being a
Victim”
Exhibit 96: RCMP Aboriginal Pre-Cadet Training Program Overview,
Exhibit 97: RCMP recruitment pamphlet “A Career Nowhere Near Ordinary”
Exhibit 98: Nova Scotia RCMP Eagle Feather Protocol
Exhibit 100: “Overview of Testimony of Deputy Commissioner Brenda Butterworth-Carr,” June 28-29,
2018
Exhibit 101: RCMP Operational Manual, chapter 25.3 “Major Case Management,” directive amended
December 28, 2011
Exhibit 102: Excerpts of RCMP “E” Division Standards Investigative Guides (“Missing Person”; “Missing
Person – General Investigational Rules”; “Sudden Death”; “Sudden Death – Related
Offences”; “Sudden Death – General Investigational Rules”
Exhibit 103: RCMP Operational Manual Chapter 37.3 “Missing Persons” amended 2018-06-14; & Chapter
37.3.1 “Missing Person Information Checklist” amended 2014-09-05
Exhibit 104: RCMP Missing Persons Intake and Risk Assessment, Form 6473e 2016-08
Exhibit 105: RCMP Complainant/Family Communication Schedule, Form 6519e 2018-06
Exhibit 106: National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains (NCMPUR) Best Practices,
Version 2.0, June 14, 2017
Exhibit 107: Investigator’s Guide to the National Missing Persons DNA Program, 2018-04-12
Exhibit 108: “A Family’s Guide to the National Missing Persons DNA Program: Submitting DNA for the
investigations of missing people”
Exhibit 109: RCMP Operational Manual, Chapter 41.3 “Human Deaths” & Chapter 41.3.1 “Next of Kin
Death Notification Checklist” both amended June 14, 2018
Exhibit 110: “Family Guide: Support for Families of Homicide Victims or Missing Persons where Foul Play
is Suspected,” BC RCMP Major Crime Section, Integrated Homicide Investigation Team
Exhibit 111: RCMP Operational Manual, chapter 37.6 “Victim Assistance” amended January 5, 2016 &
Chapter 37.6.1 “Victim Services Referral Process” new chapter July 28, 2011
Exhibit 112: “RCMP’s National Missing Persons Strategy 2014”
Exhibit 115(a): Contract « Contrat de service de gré à gré » between Sûreté du Québec and Pierre Picard /
Groupe de recherche en intervention psychosociale en milieau autochtone (GRIPMA), project
number : 2015-00-7131-01;
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LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 115(b): Two different addenda, both named « Avenant 1 au contrat numéro 2015-00-7131-01 »
Exhibit 116: Printout of Powerpoint « Session de sensibilisation aux réalités autochtones » Sûreté du
Québec
Exhibit 117: « Enquête sur les femmes et les filles autochtones disparues et assassinées – Présentation de la
Sûreté du Québec »
Exhibit 118: Timeline « Interventions en milieau autochtone – Ligne du temps Annexe 2 » Sûreté du
Québec
Exhibit 119: Annual report/Rapport Annuel – Liaison Autochtone, État de situation du 1er avril 2016 au 31
mars 2017, Bureau des affaires autochtones, Grande fonction de la surveillance du territoire du
Sûreté du Québec
Exhibit 120: Sûreté du Québec Politique de gestion: « Fugue, disparition, enlèvement » last update
2017-06-21
Exhibit 121: Sûreté du Québec Politique de gestion: « Crime à caractère sexuel » last update 2016-08-31
Exhibit 122: Sûreté du Québec Politique de gestion: « Intervention en matière de violence familiale » last
update 2014-09-19
Exhibit 123: Org chart / Organigramme « Le Bureau des affaires autochtones »
Exhibit 124(a): « Directive concernant l’ensemble des conditions de travail des cadres »
Exhibit 124(b): « Directive concernant l’ensemble des conditions de travail des cadres »)
Exhibit 125: « Contrat de travail entre le Gouvernement du Québec et l’Association des policières et
policiers provinciaux du Québec »
Exhibit 126: « La rémunération et les conditions relatives à l’exercice des fonctions des officiers de la
Sûreté du Québec pour la période se terminant le 31 mars 2015 »
Exhibit 127: Ontario Provincial Police (O.P.P.) Orders, Chapter 2.18 “Missing Person”
Exhibit 128: O.P.P. Missing Person Manual, Missing Persons Unidentified Bodies (MPUB) Unit
Investigation & Support Bureau, February 2011
Exhibit 129: O.P.P. Lost or Missing Person(s) Questionnaire, Form ER035 2014/11
Exhibit 130: O.P.P. Evaluating Search Urgency, Form ER036 2014/10
Exhibit 131: Missing Person Checklist, June 2015
Exhibit 132: O.P.P. Orders, Chapter 2.7 “Criminal Investigation Management Procedures”
Exhibit 133: Ontario Major Case Management Manual, Ontario Ministry of Community Safety and
Correctional Services, December 1, 2017
Exhibit 134: Police Services Act Ontario Regulation 354/04, Major Case Management, last amendment
29/18
Exhibit 135: Project Journey video, MP4 format, 862 MB
Exhibit 136: Recommendations
338
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 137: Evidence Overview/Table of Contents of Chief Superintendent Mark Pritchard

Exhibit 138: Ontario Police Services Act, Regulation 3/99 “Adequacy and Effectiveness of Police Services”
last amendment O. Reg 185/16
Exhibit 139: “Missing and unsolved Murdered Indigenous People: The Ontario Provincial Police Provincial
Police Perspective”
Exhibit 140: Sûreté du Québec video «Mamowi (Ensemble)» MP4 format, 31.8 MB
Iqaluit, Nunavut, September 10-13, 2018 : Colonial Violence

Exhibit 2: Iqaluit Tukisigiarvik Centre brochure (Inuktitut version)
Exhibit 3: Iqaluit Tukisigiarvik Centre brochure (English version)
Exhibit 5: “Nuuntauniq: Moves in Inuit Life,” in Qikiqtani Truth Commission Thematic Reports and
Special Studies 1950-1975
Exhibit 6: “Paliisikkut: Policing in Qikiqtaaluk,” in Qikiqtani Truth Commission Thematic Reports and
Special Studies 1950-1975
Exhibit 7: “Qimmiliriniq: Inuit Sled Dogs in Qikiqtaaluk,” in Qikiqtani Truth Commission Thematic
Reports and Special Studies 1950-1975, published April 2014, ISBN: 978-1-927095-63-8
Exhibit 8: “QTC Final Report: Achieving Saimaqatiqiingniq,” in Qikiqtani Truth Commission Thematic
Reports and Special Studies 1950-1975, published April 2014, ISBN: 978-1-927095-63-8
Exhibit 9: Qikiqtani Truth Commission Thematic Reports and Special Studies 1950-1975, published
April 2014, ISBN: 978-1-927095-63-8
Exhibit 10: Qikiqtani Truth Commission Thematic Reports and Special Studies 1950-1975, published
April 2014, ISBN: 978-1-927095-65-1
Exhibit 11: Qikiqtani Truth Commission Community Histories 1950-1975, published in 2013,
ISBN: 978-1-927095-62-1
Exhibit 12: Qikiqtani Truth Commission Community Histories 1950-1975, published in 2013,
ISBN: 978-1-927095-62-1
Exhibit 13: Qikiqtani Truth Commission, Final Report – Recommendations 1-25
Exhibit 15: Dr. Billie Allan and Dr. Janet Smylie, Well Living House/Wellesley Institute, Executive
Summary of “First Peoples, Second Class Treatment, The role of racism in the health and well-
being of Indigenous peoples in Canada,” 2015
Exhibit 16: Brenda Macdougall, National Collaborating Centre for Indigenous Health, “Land, Family and
Identity: Contextualizing Metis health and Well-being,” 2017
Exhibit 17: Dr. Janet Smylie, Maritt Kirst, Kelly McShane, Michelle Firestone, Sara Wolfe, Patricia
O’Campo, “Understanding the role of Indigenous community participation in Indigenous
prenatal and infant-toddler health promotion programs in Canada: A realist review,” Social
Science & Medicine 150, 2016
Exhibit 18: Brad Anderson and Cheryl Ward, Power Point presentation “Operationalizing Quality:
Creating an Organizational Cultural Safety Framework,” March 1, 2017
339
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 19: Power Point presentation: “Strength-Based Approaches to Optimizing Indigenous Health and
Wellbeing: Expert Witness Testimony, National Inquiry MMIWG,” September 11 & 12, 2018
Exhibit 20: Dr. Janet Smylie’s Recommendations
Exhibit 23: “Violence on the Land, Violence on our Bodies: Building an Indigenous Response to
Environmental Violence”
Exhibit 24: Pauktuutit Inuit Women of Canada, “The Impact of Resource Extraction on Inuit Women and
Families in Qamani’tuaq, Nunavut Territory,” report prepared for the Canadian Women’s
Foundation, 2016
Exhibit 25: T.J. Lightfoot & Andrea Bear Nicholas, “Predators without Reprisal: Abuse of Native
Women,” December 8, 2008
Exhibit 26: Andrea Bear Nicholas, “Linguicide: Submersion education and the killing of languages in
Canada,” published in Briarpatch Magazine March 1, 2011/printed September 12, 2018
Exhibit 28: Alex Abramovich and Jama Shelton, Canadian Observatory on Homelessness, “Where am I
going to go? Intersectional approaches to ending LGBTQ2S Youth Homelessness in Canada
and the U.S.,” 2017
Exhibit 29: Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour, “Chapter 5 – Cross-Dancing as Culturally Restorative Practice,” in
Gender and sexual diversity: social work practice, policy, research and pedagogy, N.J. Mule,
J.O. O’Neill, J.O. & T.A. Swan (Eds.), 2015 (pp. 87-95)
Exhibit 30: Jeffrey McNeil-Seymour, “Chapter Eight: Indigenizing the Gay Agenda: Notes on Cultural
Relativism and Homonationalism from the Colonial Margins,” Counterpoints, Vol. 437, 2014
(pp. 139-154)
Exhibit 31: “Beyond at Risk: Indigenous Youth Speak to Service Providers” Research Project
Exhibit 32: Power Point presentation: “Decolonized Classrooms as places we come to learn and cry:
Evidence from Secwepemc Territory and the Power of Vulnerable, Authentic and Brave Spaces
of (un)Learning”
Exhibit 33: Rainbow Health Ontario Evidence Brief “Two-Spirit and LGBTQ Indigenous Health”
Quebec City, Quebec, September 17-21, 2018: Criminal Justice Oversight and Accountability
Exhibit 1: Will-say of Nishnawbe-Aski Police Board Chair Mike Metatawabin and Chief Terry
Armstrong
Exhibit 4: Set of ten Nishnawbe Aski Resolutions
Exhibit 5: Ipperwash Inquiry Recommendations (pp. 95-113)
Exhibit 6: Goodwin & Wesley Inquest, Verdict of Coroner’s Jury & Recommendations, both verdicts
received May 21, 2009
Exhibit 7: Anderson Inquest, Verdict of Coroner’s Jury & Recommendations, verdict received November
10, 2016
Exhibit 8: Report of the Auditor General of Canada: “Chapter 5: First Nations Policing Program – Public
Safety Canada,” spring 2014
Exhibit 9: Nishnawbe Aski Nation Public Safety Notice, dated February 19, 2013
340
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 10: Bill 175, Legislative Assembly of Ontario, 2nd Session, 41st Legislature, Ontario, 67 Elizabeth
II, 2018
Exhibit 11: Police Services Act, R.S.O. 1990, Chapter P.15, Consolidation Period: From May 8, 2018 to
the e-Laws currency date, last amendment: 2018, c. 8, Sched. 24.
Exhibit 12: PowerPoint presentation 1: “NAN / NAPS History: Overview,” dated September 16, 2018
Exhibit 13: PowerPoint presentation 2: “No Partner No Radio”
Exhibit 14: PowerPoint presentation 3: “NAN/NAPS Pursuit of Indigenous Policing Backed by the Rule of
Law”
Exhibit 17: “No More Stolen Sisters: The Need for a Comprehensive Response to Discrimination and
Violence Against Indigenous Women in Canada,” Amnesty International Publications, 2009,
Index: AMR 20/012/2009
Exhibit 18: “Canada Stolen Sisters: A Human Rights Response to Discrimination and Violence against
Indigenous Women in Canada,” Amnesty International Publications, October 2004, Index:
AMR 20/003/2004
Exhibit 19: “Out of Sight, Out of Mind: Gender, Indigenous Rights and Energy Development in Northeast
British Columbia, Canada,” Amnesty International Publications, 2016, Index: AMR
20/4872/2016
Exhibit 21: “STR8 Up – A History: From Despair to Hope
Exhibit 24: “Women and the Canadian Legal System: Examining Situations of Hyper-Responsibility,” in
Canadian Woman Studies/Les cahiers de la femme (pp. 94-104)
Exhibit 25: Annual Report 2016-2017, Office of the Correctional Investigator, ISBN: 0383-4379
Exhibit 26: “Marginalized: The Aboriginal Women’s Experience in Federal Corrections,” in Aboriginal
Peoples Collection, APC 33 CA, 2012, ISBN No.: 978-1-100-19947-4
Exhibit 27: “Commission of Inquiry into certain events at the Prison for Women in Kingston,” Public
Works and Government Services Canada, 1996, ISBN 0-662-24355-2
Exhibit 28: Final report “Spirit Matters: Aboriginal People and the Corrections and Conditional Release
Act,” Office of the Correctional Investigator, October 22, 2012, ISBN: 978-1-100-21908-0
Exhibit 29: “Protecting Their Rights: A Systemic Review of Human Rights in Correctional Services for
Federally Sentenced Women,” Canadian Human Rights Commission, December 2003
Exhibit 30: Letter to Okimaw Ohci Healing Lodge from Sue Delanoy, Canadian Association of Elizabeth
Fry Societies Regional Advocate, July 10, 2018
Exhibit 31: “Women-Centered Corrections: Creating Choices for Federally Sentenced Women or a
Continuation of Paternalistic Practices?” Master of Arts (Sociology) thesis of Jeanne Marie
Greenough, 1999
Exhibit 32: “Indigenous Women in Solitary Confinement: Policy Backgrounder,” Native Women’s
Association of Canada, August 2017
Exhibit 33: Statement by Commissioner Anne Kelly on Correctional Service of Canada mandate letter
Exhibit 34: Submission prepared by the Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies, February 2018
341
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit/Pièce 36: Powerpoint de Renée Brassard a) “Aboriginal Women and the Criminal Justice System”
version anglaise (19 slides) b) « Les femmes autochtones et le système de justice pénale »
French version
Exhibit/Pièce 37 : « L'expérience de l’enfermement carcéral des femmes autochtones au Quebec » Renée
Brassard, Revue femmes et droit/Canadian Journal of Women and the Law, Volume 17
(pp. 311-340)
Exhibit/Pièce 38: “Diversity of Roles Played by Aboriginal Men in Domestic Violence in Quebec,” Ellington,
Brassard & Montminy, International Journal of Men’s Health, Vol. 14, No. 3, Fall 2015,
(pp. 287-300)
Exhibit/Pièce 39: Montminy, Brassard, Jaccoud, Harper, Bousquet & Leroux, « Pour une meilleure
compréhension des particularités de la violence familiale vécue par les femmes autochtones
au Canada » Nouvelles pratiques sociales, Volume 23, numéro 1, automne 2010 (pp. 53-66)
Exhibit/Pièce 40: Brassard, Montminy, Bergeron & Sosa-Sanchez, “Application of Intersectional Analysis to
Data on Domestic Violence Against Aboriginal Women Living in Remote Communities in the
Province of Quebec,” Aboriginal Policy Studies Vol. 4, no. 1, 2015 (pp. 3-23)
Exhibit/Pièce 41: “Painting the Prison ‘Red’: Constructing and Experiencing Aboriginal Identities in Prison,”
Martel & Brassard, British Journal of Social Work (2006) advance access copy published
October 31, 2006 (pp. 1-22)
Exhibit/Pièce 42: Renée Brassard, Lise Giroux, Dave Lamoth-Gagnon « Profil correctionnel 2007-2008 : Les
Autochtones confiés aux Services correctionnels » Direction de la recherche des Services
correctionnels, Québec, Services correctionnels, Ministère de la Sécurité publique, 2008
Exhibit 43: Bernard Chéné, « Profil des Autochtones confiés aux services correctionnels en 2015-2016 »
Direction générale des services correctionnels, Québec, Ministère de la Sécurité publique,
2018
Exhibit 44: Renée Brassard, Myriam Spielvogel & Lyse Montminy, « Analyse de l’expérience de la
violence conjugale et familiale d’hommes autochtones au Québec » Centre de recherche
interdisciplinaire sur la violence familiale et la violence faite aux femmes, March 2017
Exhibit 45: Lyse Montminy et Renée Brassard, « La violence conjugale/familiale et les femmes
autochtones : un état des lieux et des interventions » Mai 2017
Exhibit 46: Mylène Jacqoud et Renée Brassard, « Savoirs criminologiques et autochtonie » Médicine et
Hygiène « Déviance et Société », 2008/4 Vol. 32 (pp. 395-409)
Exhibit 47: Catherine Flynn, Geneviève Lessard, Lyse Montmony et Renée Brassard, « Sortir la violence
de sa vie, sans sortir de l’autochtonie : l’importance de mieux comprendre les besoins des
femmes autochtones en milieu urbain », alterstice : Revue Internationale de la Recherche
Interculturelle, Vol. 3 no. 2, 2013 (pp. 38-50)
Exhibit 48: Thèse de doctorat de Renée Brassard « L’expérience et les effets de l’enfermement carcéral des
femmes autochtones au Québec » février 2005
Exhibit 49: Joane Martel, Renée Brassard et Mylène Jaccoud, « When Two Worlds Collide: Aboriginal
Risk Management in Canadian Corrections, » The British Journal of Criminology Vol. 51,
2011 (pp. 235-255)
Exhibit 50: “The Role of Languages and Culture in the Promotion and Protection of the Rights and
Identity of Indigenous Peoples: A Summary of UNESCO’s Key Instruments, Programmes and
Resources” 2012
342
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 51: United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women,
CEDAW/C/OP.8/CAN/1, general distribution March 30, 2015
Exhibit 52: Canada Stolen Sisters, “Discrimination and Violence Against Indigenous Women in Canada: A
Summary of Amnesty International’s Concerns,” October 2004
Winnipeg, Manitoba, October 1-5, 2018: Family and Child Welfare

Exhibit 2: Recommendations taken from the can-say of Cora Morgan
Exhibit 3: Joëlle Pastora Sala & Byron Williams / Public Interest Law Centre, “Families First: A
Manitoba Indigenous Approach to Addressing the Issue of Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women and Girls,” prepared for the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs, July 21, 2015
• Appendix A: “Questions for Families, MMIWG Coalition, One-on-One Interviews”
• Appendix B: “Acknowledging Past Research and Initiatives”
• Appendix C: “Who is Calling for What?”
• Appendix D: “Overview of Other Process Recommendations”
• Appendix H (sic): “Summary of Selected Processes”
• Appendix F: “Overview of Existing Processes”
• Appendix G: “Other Legal Tools”
• Appendix H: “Relevant International Law Sources”
• “Families First Foundation article of incorporation”
Exhibit 4: “Bringing Our Children Home: Report and Recommendations,” Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs,
June 2014
Exhibit 5: “Grandmothers Counsel Statement of Action on Child Welfare”
Exhibit 6: Final report “Keewaywin Engagement - Manitoba First Nations Child and Family Services
Reform,” prepared by the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs & First Nations Family Advocate
Office, September 2017
Exhibit 7: Report: “Lifting Up Children: Manitoba First Nations Open Forum on Child Welfare”
Exhibit 8: Final report “Keewaywin Engagement – Manitoba First Nations Jordan’s Principle
Implementation,” prepared by the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs & First Nations Family
Advocate Office, September 2017
Exhibit 9: First Nations Family Advocate Office report, 2017
Exhibit 10: Final report “Setting the Foundation for Change: A Strategy towards First Nations’ Jurisdiction
of Child Welfare in Manitoba,” Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs Women’s Council, March 2018
Exhibit 12: Umingmak Child and Youth Protection Centre needs assessment report, Arctic Children and
Youth Foundation, 2014-2015
Exhibit 13: “Umingmak Child & Youth Protection Centre – Feasibility Study Report,” June 2015
Exhibit 14: Sidney Horlick & Gwen Healey/Qaujigiartiit Health Research Centre, “Peer Victim Support
Training Program/Peer Leader Mental Health Training Program - Program Evaluation,”
December 2017
Exhibit 15: Umingmak Child and Youth Support Centre Working Group terms of reference, version 1.0,
March 15, 2018
Exhibit 16: PowerPoint presentation of Sarah Clark to the Commissioners on October 1, 2018
343
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 18: Powerpoint of Dr. Amy Bombay “Transgenerational Trauma and Resilience: Understanding
the Root Causes of Contemporary Health and Social Disparities Facing Indigenous Peoples in
Canada”
Exhibit 19: Bombay et al.,“Suicidal Thoughts and Attempts in First Nations Communities: Links to
Parental Indian Residential School Attendance across Development,” Journal of
Developmental Origins of Health and Disease, article accepted May 6, 2018
Exhibit 20: Amy Bombay, “Origins of Lateral Violence in First Nations Communities: A Preliminary
Study of Student-to-Student Abuse in Residential Schools” report for the Aboriginal Healing
Foundation, 2014
Exhibit 21: Bombay, Matheson & Anisman, “The intergenerational effects of Indian Residential Schools:
Implications for the concept of historical trauma,” Transcultural Psychiatry, Volume 51(3)
2014, online version published May 22, 2014 (pp. 320-338)
Exhibit 22: McQuaid, Bombay, Arilla McInnis, Humeny, Matheson & Anisman, “Suicide Ideation and
Attempts among First Nations Peoples Living On-Reserve in Canada: The Intergenerational
and Cumulative Effects of Indian Residential Schools,” The Canadian Journal of Psychiatry,
2017 (pp. 1-9)
Exhibit 23: Bombay, Matheson & Anisman, “The impact of stressors on second generation Indian
residential school survivors,” Transcultural Psychiatry 48(4), 2011 (pp. 367-391)
Exhibit 24: “Just Societies: Health Equity and Dignified Lives: Executive Summary of the Commission of
the Pan American Health Organization on Equity and Health Inequalities in the Americas,” Pan
American Health Organization 2018, ISBN: 978-92-75-12021-7
Exhibit 25: “Safe with Intervention: The Report of the Expert Panel on the Deaths of Children and Youth
in Residential Placements,” September 2018
Exhibit 26: Cindy Blackstock for the Northwest Territories Committee on Social Programs, Advisory
report “I Want to Grow Up in My Community: A Review of the Child and Family Services
Act,” April 27, 2010
Exhibit 27: Recommendations by Dr. Cindy Blackstock
Exhibit 28: Spirit Bear Plan
Exhibit 31(a): The Arctic Rose Foundation document
Exhibit 31(b): Powerpoint presentation – Susan Aglukark
Exhibit 32: Photograph displayed during the public testimony of Susan Aglukark
Exhibit 33: Susan Aglukark, “Inuit Cultural Transitioning: Re-setting a Transition Path”
Exhibit 35: “Overview of the Child Critical Injury and Death Investigation and Review Process in British
Columbia,” February 2008
Exhibit 36: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, “Final Progress Report on
the Implementation of the Recommendations of the BC Children and Youth Review (‘Hughes
Review’),” November 29, 2010
Exhibit 37: “Aboriginal Children and Youth in Canada: Canada Must Do Better,” Canadian Council of
Provincial Child and Youth Advocates, June 23, 2010
344
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 38: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, Special Report “When Talk
Trumped Service: A Decade of Lost Opportunity for Aboriginal Children and Youth in B.C.,”
November 2018
Exhibit 39: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, Aggregate Report “Too
Many Victims: Sexualized Violence in the Lives of Children and Youth in Care,” October 2016
Exhibit 40: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, “Paige’s Story: Abuse,
Indifference and a Young Life Discarded,” May 2015
Exhibit 41: by Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, Special report
“Approach With Caution: Why the Story of One Vulnerable B.C. Youth Can’t be Told,”
May 2016
Exhibit 42: British Columbia’s Provincial Domestic Violence Plan, second annual report, Provincial Office
of Domestic Violence, 2016
Exhibit 43: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, “On Their Own:
Examining the Needs of B.C. Youth as They Leave Government Care,” April 2014
Exhibit 44: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, Investigative Report “Lost
in the Shadows: How a Lack of Help Meant a Loss of Hope for One First Nations Girl,”
February 2014
Exhibit 45: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, Investigative Report
“Children at Risk: The Case for a Better Response to Parental Addiction” June 2014
Exhibit 46: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, Aggregate review “Trauma,
Turmoil and Tragedy: Understanding the Needs of Children and Youth at Risk of Suicide and
Self-Harm,” November 2012
Exhibit 47: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, “Fragile Lives, Fragmented
Systems: Strengthening Supports for Vulnerable Infants – Aggregate Review of 21 Infant
Deaths,” January 2011
Exhibit 48: Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond, Representative for Children and Youth, “Not Fully Invested: A
Follow-up Report on the Representative’s Past Recommendations to Help Vulnerable Children
in B.C.,” October 9, 2014
Exhibit 49: “A By-Law for the Care of Our Indian Children: Spallumcheen Indian Band By-Law # 3 –
1980”
Exhibit 51: Powerpoint “Justice on the Land: Violence, Resistance and the Power in Language”
Exhibit 52: Linda Coates & Allan Wade in Journal of Family Violence, “Language and Violence: Analysis
of Four Discursive Operations,” Volume 22, 2007 (pp. 511-522)
Exhibit 53: “Becoming Better Helpers”
Exhibit 54: Cathy Richardson, University of Victoria, “Indigenous Women, RCMP and Service Providers
Work Together for Justice: A Response-based Safety Collaboration in the Yukon,” April 2013
Exhibit 55: Catherine Richardson/Kinewesquao, “Creating Islands of Safety for Victims of Violence: A
Critical Systems Approach,” Systemic Therapy as Transformative Practice (pp. 250-268)
345
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 56: Linda Coates and Allan Wade, Centre for Response-Based Practice, “Analysis of Emergency
Protection Order Hearings in the NWT: An Analysis and Report Commissioned by the
GNWT,” submitted October 13, 2010
Exhibit 57: “Dignity Driven Practice,” print date September 5, 2018
St.-John’s, Newfoundland, October 15-18, 2018: Sexual Exploitation

Exhibit 2: House of Commons Standing Committee on Justice and Human Rights, Number 87, 1st
Session, 42nd Parliament, February 15, 2018
Exhibit 3: Overview of the Testimony of Assistant Commissioner Joanne Crampton, Royal Canadian
Mounted Police, October 15, 2018
Exhibit 4: RCMP National Strategy to Combat Human Trafficking (2012), ISBN 978-1-100-21584-6
Exhibit 5: “Domestic Human Trafficking for Sexual Exploitation in Canada,” prepared by The Human
Trafficking National Coordination Centre, dated October 2013
Exhibit 6: RCMP Law Enforcement Toolkit on Human Trafficking, comprising an introductory letter, a
DVD, two brochures, one operational police officer’s handbook, seven posters, fact sheets
# 3-6, an FAQ, a Canadian Border Services Agency one-page information sheet & a one-pager
from Immigration, Refugees & Citizenship Canada
Exhibit 7: Youth Toolkit on Human Trafficking, comprising an introductory letter, a DVD, two brochures,
two posters, fact sheets # 3-7, a user guide, an FAQ & a parent help sheet
Exhibit 8: General Public Toolkit on Human Trafficking, comprising an introductory letter, a DVD, two
brochures, seven posters, fact sheets # 3-7, a user guide, an information sheet, a one-pager
from Immigration, Refugees & Citizenship Canada & an FAQ
Exhibit 9: Five posters from RCMP “I’m Not For Sale” initiative
Exhibit 10: “Operation Love Bomb: Utilizing the Power of Art as a Crime Prevention Tool,” prepared by
Corporal Sue Harvey, High Level RCMP, updated version October 12, 2018
Exhibit 11: RCMP Operational Manuel Chapter 7.5. “Human Trafficking,” amended version dated
December 19, 2012
Exhibit 14: “Human Trafficking in 2018 – Current Policing Landscape”
Exhibit 15: Mnidoo Mnising Missing Person Awareness Day
Exhibit 16: OPP “Victim to Survivor” Conference Program – September 11, 12 Barrie, Ontario
Exhibit 17: OPP “Victim to Survivor” Conference Program – September 20, 21 Kenora, Ontario
Exhibit 18: Terms of Reference of Reclaiming Freedom Rebuilding Lives (RFRL) Anti-Human Trafficking
Coalition of Simcoe County
Exhibit 19: Recommendations proposed by the Ontario Provincial Police with respect to Human
Trafficking
Exhibit 21: “Organization of Victims Services in Ontario,” Ontario Ministry of the Attorney General,
Victims and Vulnerable Persons Division
346
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 22: Terms of Reference of the Executive Committee to End Violence Against Indigenous Women,
document updated March 21, 2017
Exhibit 23: Terms of Reference of the Provincial Committees to End Violence Against Indigenous Women,
updated March 21, 2017
Exhibit 24: Ontario’s Strategy to End Human Trafficking, Ministry of Community and Social Services, last
modified March 8, 2018
Exhibit 25: Victim Crisis Assistance Ontario (VCAO) Program Standards, Ontario Ministry of the
Attorney General, Victim and Vulnerable Persons Division, September 1, 2017
Exhibit 26: Victim Crisis Assistance Ontario list of agencies
Exhibit 27: Victim Quick Response Program Standards, Ontario Ministry of the Attorney General, Victim
and Vulnerable Persons Division, September 2016
Exhibit 28: Victim Quick Response Program Applicant Agreement
Exhibit 29: List entitled “Indigenous-specific Victim services – Direct Client Services Programs”
Exhibit 30: “Anti Human Trafficking Community Supports Fund – Call for Applications Guide,” Ontario
Ministry of Community and Social Services, Provincial Anti-Human Trafficking Coordination
Office, April
Exhibit 31: “Anti Human Trafficking Indigenous- Led Initiatives Fund – Call for Applications Guide,”
Ontario Ministry of Community and Social Services, Provincial Anti-Human Trafficking
Coordination Office, April 2017
Exhibit 32: Backgrounder “Ontario Funding Specialized Services for Human Trafficking Survivors,”
Ontario Ministry of Community and Social Services, September 28, 2017
Exhibit 33: “Ontario’s Strategy to End Human Trafficking – Indigenous Anti-Human Trafficking Liaison
Application Guidelines”
Exhibit 34: “Human Trafficking Restraining Orders – How to apply for a restraining order against a
trafficker,” Ontario Ministry of the Attorney General, 2018, ISBN 978-1-4435-1410-1
Exhibit 35: Form 1 Application for Restraining under the Prevention of and Remedies for Human
Trafficking Act (2017), Ontario Court of Justice, Form PRHTA-1-E 2018/01
Exhibit 36: Form 5 Affidavit under the Prevention of and Remedies for Human Trafficking Act (2017),
Ontario Court of Justice, Form PRHTA-5-E 2018/01
Exhibit 37: Form 9 Restraining Order under the Prevention of and Remedies for Human Trafficking Act
(2017), Ontario Court of Justice, Form PRHTA-9-E 2018/01
Exhibit 38: Free Legal Support for Survivors of Human Trafficking, Ontario Ministry of the Attorney
General
Exhibit 40: Royal Newfoundland Constabulary Corporate Plan 2018-2021
Exhibit 41: Royal Newfoundland Constabulary Activity Report 2016-2017
Exhibit 42: “Understanding the Needs of Urban Inuit Women – Final Report,” Pauktuutit Inuit Women of
Canada, April 2017
347
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 43: “Trafficking of Aboriginal Women and Girls,” report prepared for Research and Analysis
Division – Community Safety and Countering Crime Branch, Public Safety Canada, May
2014, ISBN 978-1-100-23756-5
Exhibit 45: Sexual Exploitation and Trafficking of Aboriginal Women and Girls: Literature Review and
Key Informant Interviews – Final Report, prepared by The Native Women’s Association of
Canada for the Canadian Women’s Foundation Task Force on Trafficking of Women and Girls
in Canada, October 2014
Exhibit 46: “Sex Trafficking of Indigenous Women in Ontario,” Ontario Native Women’s Association,
February 2016
Exhibit 47: “Inuit Vulnerabilities to Human Trafficking, prepared by Pauktuutit Inuit Women of Canada,
July 2013
Exhibit 48: “National Urban Inuit Community Dialogue: Supporting Local Champions – An Urban Inuit
Strategy,” Tungasuvvingat Inuit, March 31, 2016
Exhibit 49: “Human Trafficking on the Front Line: Concepts, Perspectives & Responses – Final Report,
June 11-15, 2018,” Ottawa Coalition to End Human Trafficking
Exhibit 50: Powerpoint presentation: “Urban Inuit-Specific Perspective on Sexual Exploitation & Human
Trafficking”
Exhibit 52: “Intimate Partner Violence in the Canadian Territorial North: Perspectives from a Literature
Review and a Media Watch,” Moffitt, Fikowski, Mauricio & Mackenzie, in International
Journal of Circumpolar Health, 72:1, published online August 5, 2013
Exhibit 53: Faller, Wuerch et al., “A Web of Disheartenment With Hope on the Horizon: Intimate Partner
Violence in Rural and Northern Communities,” Journal of Interpersonal Violence I-26,
Exhibit 54: Zorn, Wuerch, Faller & Rucklos Hampton, “Perspectives on Regional Differences and Intimate
Partner Violence in Canada: A Qualitative Examination,” Journal of Family Violence, Volume
32, published online February 15, 2017
Exhibit 56: PhD thesis “Warrior Women: Indigenous Women’s Anti-Violence Engagement with the
Canadian State, by Robyn Bourgeois, 2014
Exhibit 57: Robyn Bourgeois, “Perpetual State of Violence: An Indigenous Feminist Anti-Oppression
Inquiry in Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls,” Making Space for
Indigenous Feminism, 2nd Edition, Joyce Green (editor), Fernwood Publishing 2017,
ISBN 978-1-552266-833-2
Exhibit 58: Robyn Bourgeois, “Colonial Exploitation: The Canadian State and the Trafficking of
Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada,” UCLA Law Review, Volume 62, 2015
Exhibit 59: Dr. Robyn Bourgeois, “Recommendations: Sexual Exploitation – Human Trafficking and
Sexual Violence,” October 2018
Exhibit 61: Mary Fearon, “Overview of Blue Door,” October 13, 2018
Exhibit 62: Redacted version of “It’s Nobody’s Mandate and Everyone’s Responsibility: Sexual
Exploitation and the Sex Trade in Newfoundland and Labrador,” Community Youth
Network/Coalition Against the Sexual Exploitation of Youth
Exhibit 63: “Sexual Exploitation Is Here” poster
348
LIST OF EXHIBITS
Exhibit 64: “Are You Involved?” poster

Exhibit 67: “A Culture of Safety For All: Winnipeg Police Service Strategic Plan 2015-2019”
Exhibit 68: “City of Winnipeg Homicides 1980-2014,” Winnipeg Police Service Crime Analysis Unit,
April 13, 2015
Exhibit 69: S. Bell, “Indigenous Women – Safety and Protection Strategy: Summary of Police Board
Reports,” Winnipeg Police Service Crime Analysis Report
Exhibit 70: “Update Report to the Winnipeg Police Board” from Chief Danny Smyth to Chair and
Members of the Winnipeg Police Board, October 13, 2017
Exhibit 71: “Winnipeg Police Service 2018 Business Plan”
Exhibit 72: Sergeant Gene Bowers, “Winnipeg’s Visible Sex Trade,” 2013-06-04
Exhibit 73: “Vice Unit – Establishment of an Anti-Exploitation Team – Pilot Project Proposal,” Winnipeg
Police Service Division 41 Specialized Investigations Division, submitted by Inspector L.
Pilcher
Exhibit 74: Manitoba Highway Traffic Act, C.C.S.M. c. H60, Part VII sections 241(1)-242.2(9), print date
October 10, 2018, version current as of October 8, 2018
Exhibit 75: Project Return/Winnipeg Police Service media release, October 9, 2018
Exhibit 76: Winnipeg Outreach Network resource guide
Exhibit 77: Recommendations of Chief Danny Smyth
Exhibit 78: Powerpoint presentation “Counter Exploitation – Winnipeg Police Service (2018)”
Exhibit 81: “We Need to Find Our Voices and Say, ‘NO MORE,’” report of the National Experiential
Women’s Roundtable held December 5-6, 2013 organized by the Canadian Women’s
Foundation Task Force on Trafficking of Women and Girls in Canada
Exhibit 82: “We Are at a Critical Moment,” report of the September 18, 2013 National Roundtable for
Service Providers hosted by the Canadian Women’s Foundation’s Task Force on Trafficking of
Women and Girls in Canada
Exhibit 83: Nicole A. Barrett & Margaret J. Shaw, “Laws to Combat Sex Trafficking: An Overview of
International, National, Provincial and Municipal Laws and their Enforcement,” December
2013, commissioned by the Canadian Women’s Foundation’s Task Force on Trafficking
Exhibit 84: Nicole A. Barrett, “An Assessment of Sex Trafficking,” May 2013
Exhibit 85: Powerpoint presentation “Rachel’s Story of Survival: From the Streets to the Books”
349
RECLAIMING
POWER
AND PLACE
Volume 2
A S U P P L E M E N TA R Y
REPORT
O F T H E N AT I O N A L I N Q U I R Y I N T O
MISSING AND MURDERED
INDIGENOUS WOMEN AND GIRLS
KEPEK – QUEBEC
spaces, or are forced to take on roles in ceremonies that correspond with their biological sex
instead of their gender identity. Several participants described a sense of having to choose
between finding belonging in their home communities and Indigenous identities or “living
their truth.”
“His communities would not let him participate in the Pow-Wow, dance, or drum
because he was gay. [He] had to choose between being gay and [being] Indigenous.”
“This is one place where we truly should be ourselves, but what if we’re not even safe
there?” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
“The medicine man … tried to exorcise me. He didn’t see me as a transman but as
something that shouldn’t exist. But that really opened my eyes. I took it as a sign – that
this is coming from a cultural leader and is influencing so many people, and that
something is wrong.... Since then, I’ve been doing things. Putting up gender-neutral
sweats. Talking openly about the events that took place, the hurt that happens, but also
the transformational change.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
Participants proposed various recommendations to support 2SLGBTQQIA inclusion in

Indigenous communities and cultural spaces, including:
 dedicated 2SLGBTQQIA ceremonies and cultural spaces, such as gender-neutral

sweat lodges;
 visible indicators in 2SLGBTQQIA-inclusive spaces, such as flying rainbow flags at

Pow-Wows;
 protocols and advocacy for 2SLGBTQQIA inclusion in cultural spaces and

ceremonies; for instance, allowing individuals to choose roles in ceremony based on
their gender identity, or re-establishing traditional roles for Two-Spirit people. As one
participant noted, dedicated 2SLGBTQQIA ceremonies help create a safe space, but can
also perpetuate the marginalization and segregation of 2SLGBTQQIA individuals in
Indigenous communities if “mainstream” cultural spaces assume that they don’t need to
change. Participants spoke of the delicate balance between respecting Elders and cultural
leaders and honouring conventional protocols, on the one hand, and, on the other hand,
the need to “gently challenge and push” discriminatory teachings and practices that are
jeopardizing the safety, well-being, and access to culture of Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA
people. They described gradual shifts in some communities led by dedicated role models,
advocates, and allies, who determinedly participate in cultural spaces despite backlash,
and who open spaces for dialogue; and
“I do things like, I bring a pipe. And that means a lot to them. People have children
identifying as queer and they get to see that. Small steps – word is getting out
there.” (2SLGBTQQIA Perspectives)
121
TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S
A Message from Commissioner Audette 1

Foreword from Melanie Morrison 5
Foreword from Nancy Jourdain 7
Introduction 11
1. The National Inquiry’s Work in Quebec 17

1.1. The National Inquiry’s Mandate 17
1.2. Methodology 18
1.3. The Scope and Limitations of Our Work 19
1.4. Voices That Initiate Change 20
2. The Social Context of Indigenous Women, Girls, and

2SLGBTQQIA People in Quebec 23
2.1. The Indigenous Peoples of Quebec 23
2.2. The Colonial Experience of Indigenous Women, Girls, and
2.3. Being Born Female and Indigenous: the Intersectional Identity of
Indigenous Women, Girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA People in Quebec 33
2.4. A Contemporary Context Marked by Deep Inequalities 35
3. Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and

3.1. The Nature and Scope of the Problem 43
3.2. Potential Solutions with Indigenous Women, Girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA People 47
Reclaiming Power and Place: Kepek – Quebec

However, long wait times, restrictive policies, geographical distance, or financial barriers can
impede individuals from accessing substance use treatment programs when they are seeking help.
Wise practices for the delivery of substance use treatment programs included:
 treatment programs that support whole families, providing children with mental
health supports while parents receive substance use treatment;
 culturally grounded treatment programs, such as land-based programs and programs

engaging Elders;
 enhanced availability of local treatment programs, including in northern communities

and within urban centres. One participant noted that treatment programs in their province
were largely found in rural locations;
 timely access to treatment programs, in order to support individuals when they are
feeling ready for care; and
 follow-up care, including ongoing mental health supports for individuals recovering
from addictions, and engaging their families and communities to support them.
Participants noted that aftercare is particularly important when individuals have travelled
outside of their home communities for treatment.
“There is no aftercare to do follow-ups. People come back to the same home. No
follow-up. No immediate help within the family. So, they return to their previous
behaviours. [There is] no housing support. If you are living with extended family,
and you return, and the people you return to are not sober, people who are homeless
and undergoing treatment, need to be able to return to their own home, their own
space. [There is a] need for counselling services.” (Inuit Perspectives)
Prenatal and Maternity Care

In the Métis Perspectives and Inuit Perspectives Dialogues, several groups discussed the impor-
tance of prenatal and maternity care to support close relationships between mothers and their
children and improve the safety and well-being of pregnant women and new mothers. They
shared traditional teachings and practices for maternity care and birthing, which offered holistic
support for women’s physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, and helped prepare them for their
new roles.
“Traditionally when Inuit women birthed, they would have three support people. ‘The
maker,’ who would be behind her, she would speak blessings over the child, sing a
traditional lullaby. Each lullaby would be specific to each individual child. There would
be two women on either side of her to help offer her strength and support. The pregnant
woman would stand and use gravity to help the baby. The Elders could help the baby
shift if necessary.” (Inuit Perspectives)
138
5. The Lack of Safety for Indigenous Women, Girls and
2SLGBTQQIA People 91
5.1. Fundamental Rights 92
5.2. The Colonial Legacy 94
5.3. Living in a Context of Insecurity 96
5.3.1. Violence is Everywhere 96
5.3.2. Indifference and the Normalization of Violence in Communities 98
5.3.3. Police and Institutional Violence 100
5.4. The Indifference of Institutions 102
5.4.1. Health Services and Social Services 102
5.4.1.1. Inadequate Resources 102
5.4.1.2. Missing Children 107
5.4.2. Police Services 110
5.4.2.1. A Lack of Resources for Indigenous Police Forces 114
5.4.2.2. Jurisdictional Disputes 118
5.4.2.3. Lack of Communication 119
5.4.3. The Justice System 120
5.4.3.1. Transparency in the Justice System 120
5.4.3.2. The Impacts of the Gladue and Ipeelee Cases in Quebec 122
5.5. Lack of Training 126
5.6. Significant Unmet Needs 128
5.7. Beyond the Colonial Legacy: Identities and Cultures to Recognize 132
5.7.1. The Importance of Transmitting Culture and Legal Status 132
5.8. Path to Resilience 135
Conclusion 147
Calls for Justice 155
Bibliography 159
iii

A MESSAGE FROM COMMISSIONER AUDETTE
T
hroughout the ages, all societies have taken care to ensure
the safety of the members of their communities. And yet, still
today, the World Health Organization reports that 35% of
women worldwide will experience physical or sexual violence
in their lifetime, this figure reflecting only violence that is reported.
In Canada, statistics show that Indigenous they lose loved ones to such violence. The
women and girls are much more likely to concept of family means so much more than
experience violence than non-Indigenous biological lineage; the family is built with the
women. According to Statistics Canada, strengths and diversity found in the sum of its
between 2001 and 2015, homicide rates for parts. Each of them deserves to live in an
Indigenous women were nearly six times environment where all of its members can
higher than for non-Indigenous women. develop their full potential safely and
A risk of such magnitude requires us all to peacefully.
take responsibility, to clearly identify the
The National Inquiry into Missing and
issue and to take strong measures to address
Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls has
this situation, which is rooted in Canada’s
been an enriching learning experience, both
historical and political context.
personally and professionally, but it has also
Statistics alone cannot convey what families been trying. Fulfilling our mandate was a
and communities really go through when daunting task, and I often felt helpless when
Meeting with all

Commissioners during
the first week of our
mandate, Vancouver,
BC, September 2016.
Photo courtesy of
Michèle Audette.

hearing the testimony of every person who of whom are among this country’s most
generously contributed to the exercise we put vulnerable. Today, we have the opportunity
before them. to highlight the extraordinary resilience of
Indigenous women and girls, who remain
Our mission was to shed light on a social
dedicated to advocating for their rights and
crisis that affects Indigenous women and
charting a path forward—a path we must
girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people every day
all take together. We wish to honourably
of their lives. Although this crisis was
acknowledge victims and offer families the
identified long ago, we have collectively
opportunity to finally be able to give their
been slow to examine it in depth. The Inquiry
children a better future.
of which I have been part, investigated
into a situation that has affected all The present can only be understood in
Indigenous communities in Canada, as well relation to the past: we must know our past,
as all Canadians, throughout the course of understand it and accept it, if the future is to
500 years of our common history. have meaning. We now need to go further
and put forward a true social blueprint that
This unprecedented inquiry addresses
will enable the country to adequately address
violence against some of this country’s most
this major social issue and break through
vulnerable citizens and identifies its systemic
this impasse.
causes. Never has there been such an
opportunity for the truth about violence All our efforts will have led to identifying the
against Indigenous women and girls to be solutions, means and actions needed to bring
known, heard and acknowledged. Within about this movement. Every Canadian can
the organization, we pushed and constantly and must become involved at their own level
stretched the limits of our teams to meet if things are to change. Together, we have a
our goals. duty to take effective measures to prevent
and put an end to violence against Indigenous
Why go to such lengths? To bring about
women and girls and ensure their safety.
change. As my mandate comes to an end,
I note, with great humility, that this National This commission of National Inquiry does
Inquiry will have honoured the struggles not mark the end of a movement, but
taken up by the families and survivors over represents a step in a healthy process that
the past 40 years. The National Inquiry, is a source of hope, a social undertaking.
which was sought by 3,000 families, will Today is the first day of the Canada of
have shone light on facts that are all too tomorrow. We cannot change the past, but
often hidden. we can work together to shape a better future
built on the strengths of each and every
Violence against Indigenous women, girls,
community that welcomes it, thereby
and 2SLGBTQQIA people does not stem
committing to improving the safety of
from one isolated event. Sadly, it is the daily
Indigenous women and girls together.
reality of far too many human beings, many

CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Calls For Justice For All Governments

The National Inquiry heard many truths connected with the deliberate actions and inactions of all
levels of government. In addition, the evidence makes clear that changing the structures and the
systems that sustain violence in daily encounters is not only necessary to combat violence, but
is an essential legal obligation of all governments in Canada. We target many of our Calls for
Justice at governments for this reason, and identify how governments can work to honour
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and to protect their human and Indigenous
rights, in the thematic areas examined within this report.
Human and Indigenous Rights and Governmental Obligations
1.1 We call upon federal, provincial, territorial, municipal, and Indigenous govern-
ments (hereinafter “all governments”), in partnership with Indigenous Peoples, to
develop and implement a National Action Plan to address violence against Indigenous
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, as recommended in our Interim Report and in
support of existing recommendations by other bodies of inquiry and other reports.6 As
part of the National Action Plan, we call upon all governments to ensure that equitable
access to basic rights such as employment, housing, education, safety, and health care is
recognized as a fundamental means of protecting Indigenous and human rights, re-
sourced and supported as rights-based programs founded on substantive equality. All
programs must be no-barrier, and must apply regardless of Status or location.
Governments should:
i Table and implement a National Action Plan that is flexible and distinctions-based,
and that includes regionally specific plans with devoted funding and timetables for
implementation that are rooted in the local cultures and communities of diverse
Indigenous identities, with measurable goals and necessary resources dedicated to
capacity building, sustainability, and long-term solutions.
ii Make publicly available on an annual basis reports of ongoing actions and develop-
ments in measurable goals related to the National Action Plan.
1.2 We call upon all governments, with the full participation of Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people, to immediately implement and fully comply with all
relevant rights instruments, including but not limited to:
i ICCPR, ICESCR, UNCRC, CEDAW, and ICERD, as well as all optional protocols to
these instruments, including the 3rd Protocol to the United Nations Convention on the
Rights of the Child (UNCRC).
176
National Inquiry Grandmother Gul Kitt Jaad Bernie
Williams, Haida Nation, has been a frontline worker in
Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside for over thirty years.
She has been a guide to Commissioner Audette during the
mandate of the National Inquiry.
To my fellow Commissioners, thank you for

accepting me as I am and for supporting me
in the challenges and struggles that were
inherent in our duties. Marion, thank you for
your integrity and patience. Qajaq, thank
you for your intelligence, your ability to
analyze and synthesize and your courage.
Brian, thank you for your ability to listen,
To my mother Evelyne, my father Gilles, your keen sense of detail, your wisdom and
my brothers Benoit, Mishta-Shipu, Dina and your kindness.
Samuel, and Noëlle, thank you for your
constant support. Your empathy helped me And to anyone else whose name I may
through the more difficult phases. I am have omitted, my heartfelt thanks.
especially grateful to my spouse, Serge,
who supported me from beginning to end. #EndViolence #WomenAndGirlsAreSacred
He was patient and understanding and #ThankYouLife
shared my determination to complete this
inquiry successfully. Michèle Audette
Commissioner

FOREWORD FROM MELANIE MORRISON
Melanie's sister, Tiffany, disappeared on June 18, 2006. Since then, she has been fighting for
I
change and constantly working to raise awareness among non-Indigenous people about the plight
of families. Melanie has been a guide and mentor throughout the National Survey's mandate as a
member of the National Family Advisory Circle. Photo courtesy of Melanie Morrison.
have been fighting for change for years, and one of our objectives at the Native Women’s
Association of Canada was that an inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women and
girls be held. We wanted to highlight our concerns about what we had experienced and how
our cases were handled. It was important to our family that changes be made. Personally, I
viewed my participation in the National Inquiry as an opportunity to ensure that the heartfelt
appeal of our families, calling for changes in how police handle cases of missing and murdered
Indigenous women and girls, is heard.
My sister disappeared on June 18, 2006. the investigation until that time. Then, after
My mother started by looking for her among a follow up, the case was transferred to the
friends and other people who usually knew Sûreté du Québec, where it is still open.
where she was. It was unlike her to not come My niece grew up without her mother.
home, because she was a young mother. My daughter and I were very close to my
Also, she had told my mother that she would sister, and my youngest never knew her aunt.
be coming home early that evening. When My mother never got over it. My father died
my mother went to the police, they saw my in 2015. He died without knowing why. I
sister as a stereotype: a 24-year-old girl who want people to see my sister as a person, not
had likely gone out with friends and would just a statistic or simply another murdered
come home eventually. That was shocking, Indigenous woman. She was very articulate
because my sister’s remains were found four and full of energy. When her life was taken,
years later, less than a kilometre from her the light went out and everything changed.
home. The local police had been in charge of

CALLS FOR JUSTICE
Calls for Correctional Service Canada:

14.1 We call upon Correctional Service Canada to take urgent action to establish facilities
described under sections 81 and 84 of the Corrections and Conditional Release Act to
ensure that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people have options for
decarceration. Such facilities must be strategically located to allow for localized
placements and mother-and-child programming.
14.2 We call upon Correctional Service Canada to ensure that facilities established under
sections 81 and 84 of the Corrections and Conditional Release Act receive funding par-
ity with Correctional Service Canada-operated facilities. The agreements made under
these sections must transfer authority, capacity, resources, and support to the contracting
community organization.
14.3 We call upon Correctional Service Canada to immediately rescind the maximum secu-
rity classification that disproportionately limits federally sentenced Indigenous women
classified at that level from accessing services, supports, and programs required to
facilitate their safe and timely reintegration.
14.4 We call upon Correctional Service Canada to evaluate, update, and develop security
classification scales and tools that are sensitive to the nuances of Indigenous back-
grounds and realities.
14.5 We call upon Correctional Service Canada to apply Gladue factors in all decision
making concerning Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people and in a manner that
meets their needs and rehabilitation.
14.6 We call upon Correctional Service Canada and provincial and territorial services to
provide intensive and comprehensive mental health, addictions, and trauma services for
incarcerated Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, ensuring that the term
of care is needs-based and not tied to the duration of incarceration. These plans and
services must follow the individuals as they reintegrate into the community.
14.7 We call upon Correctional Service Canada to prohibit transfer of federally incarcerated
women in need of mental health care to all-male treatment centres.
14.8 We call upon Correctional Service Canada to ensure its correctional facilities and
programs recognize the distinct needs of Indigenous offenders when designing and
implementing programming for First Nations, Inuit, and Métis women. Correctional
Service Canada must use culturally safe, distinctions-based, and trauma-informed
models of care, adapted to the needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people.
14.9 We call upon Correctional Service Canada, in order to support reintegration, to increase
opportunities for meaningful vocational training, secondary school graduation, and post-
secondary education.
197
FOREWORD FROM NANCY JOURDAIN
For Nancy Jourdain, mother, life partner and lawyer, speaking out helps to restore dignity,
I
courage and healing. She has been a guide and mentor throughout the National Inquiry's mandate
as a member of the National Family Advisory Circle in Quebec. Photo courtesy of Nancy Jourdain.
am an Innu woman from the community of Mani-Utenam. I was raised by my grandparents,

my mother trying to survive after years of residential schools. My mushum and nukum were
among the last Innu people to have lived the traditional lifestyle. They taught me respect,
mutual aid, independence, work and kindness. In the traditional lifestyle, these elements were
essential. For them, the modern era meant that their way of life would no longer be what secured
my future, and I had to study and have a job in order to succeed.
I studied law and started my career as a violence took place, one comment at a time,
lawyer in a private practice. After 10 years, one criticism at a time, and went further; the
I went to work as a manager for my attacks were open, aggressive, and went as
community. To support myself in my new far as slander. They attacked my expertise,
role, I completed a Master’s degree in criticized my decisions, refused to sign the
Business Administration. resolutions I made, had angry outbursts in
my presence, claimed that I had to offer
The work is tough on the community, and
favours to get this job, etc. In the beginning, I
inadequate funding and proximity make the
tried not to worry, telling myself that they
situation more challenging, but I’ve found it
would stop, but it was the opposite. The
very rewarding to use my knowledge and
witnesses to this behaviour didn’t react; they
experience for the good of my community.
watched as if this were normal. Our minds
I have been subjected to violence in the are used to such violence that we no longer
workplace perpetrated by an elected official notice it. I didn’t understand why there was
and his allies for over four years. This so much violence when, as a people, we had

already suffered enough. I understood that I have worked long and hard to accept that
this is the essence of lateral violence, that is what I was going through was real; being
to say, the violence that oppressed people listened to and supported by helpers has
direct against their peers. This period was allowed me to rebuild myself as a human
very difficult. This regular violence made its being. This helped me discover the worthy
way into my mind and it created fear, so and courageous Innu woman I am today. It
much so that I no longer felt safe anywhere, allowed me to take a big step toward my
not even in the office where I kept my door recovery and no longer be a victim.
locked when I knew he was on site.
And for that, I am grateful to the team at the
National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered
Indigenous Women and Girls.
Tshinashkumitin,
Nin Nancy Jourdain

ACRONYMS
AFNQL Assembly of First Nations Quebec Labrador

CALACS Centre d’aide et de lutte contre les agressions à caractère sexuel
CAVAC Crime Victims Assistance Centre
CERP Commission d’enquête sur les relations entre les Autochtones
et certains services publics au Québec : écoute, réconciliation et progrès
JBNQA James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement
DYP Director of Youth Protection
ENPQ École nationale de police du Québec
FNQLHSSC First Nations of Quebec and Labrador Health and Social Services Commission
ICCPR International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights
ICESCR International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights
NIMMIWG National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls
QNW Quebec Native Women
RCMP Royal Canadian Mounted Police
SPVM Service de police de la ville de Montréal
SQ Sûreté du Québec
TRC Truth and Reconciliation Commission
UNDRIP United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples

INTRODUCTION
O
n August 3, 2016, the Government of Canada announced that it
was establishing the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered
Indigenous Women and Girls (NIMMIWG), including in Quebec.
On August 9, 2016, the Government of Quebec responded by announcing
the creation of a provincial commission of inquiry, the Commission
d’enquête sur les femmes et les filles autochtones disparues et assassinées
au Québec1 (the Commission) [Commission of Inquiry into Murdered
and Missing Indigenous Women and Girls in Quebec].
The Commission decided to produce this report in order to give particular
attention to the issue of violence against First Nations women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec. This report is a complement to the
National Inquiry’s Final Report, which includes a more thorough
treatment of the realities of Inuit in Canada, including Inuit in Québec.2
To start, the Commission is very critical of the limited statistics on missing
and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in
Quebec. Available data is often incomplete, which is a barrier to creating
an accurate picture of the situation in Quebec.3
The reports and studies on violence against Indigenous women produced
at the national level reveal little about regional characteristics, such as
those in Quebec. The reality of violence against Indigenous women in
Quebec is often overlooked. Because of language and cultural barriers,
these works rarely take into account the realities of women in Quebec or
publications in French about them. Moreover, in most cases, these reports
and studies show little interest in the strategies adopted by Indigenous
women and the resources they use.
Quebec's political and socio-historical context is different from the
Canadian context. The James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement
represent so-called "modern" treaties concluded between the Crown and

(JBNQA) in 1975 and the Northeastern Quebec Agreement in 1978
First Nations4 that are applicable in what is now called Quebec, for
example the 1760 Huron-British Treaty and the Treaty of Oswegatchie.4
The consequences of colonization and settlement5 took hold quickly after

the arrival of the Europeans, but other genocidal policies sometimes occur
11

in distinct time periods within the history of Quebec, even if they represent many of the same
consequences for Indigenous communities in the rest of Canada. One example is the “Indian”6
residential schools. The first school opened in 1931 in Fort George,7 and so at least two
generations of First Nations in Quebec who spent significant parts of their lives in Indian
residential schools are living together to this day.
Another major difference is the fact that a large proportion of First Nations in Quebec,
particularly those who are not signatories to the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement,
use French as a first or second language. This has a significant impact on building solidarity
between Indigenous Peoples. The language barrier makes communication more difficult among
Indigenous women in Quebec and between them and their sisters elsewhere in Canada. In
particular, this can prevent the sharing of culturally adapted practices and resources for
preventing violence and ensuring well-being in the communities.
Commemorative artistic expression created by students at Kanatamat Tshitipenitamunu School

in Schefferville, for Sisters of Spirit, September 2016. Photo courtesy of Michèle Audette.
12

The institutional context in Quebec is also unique. Until recently, religious congregations
managed health and social services and educational services. They played a major role in
education, in providing care to the sick and in ensuring child welfare until the 1960s. It was at
that time that the state gradually took control of the institutions that were providing these
services.8 For example, in 1960, religious congregations still operated 104 facilities, or 35% of
hospitals in Quebec, and were responsible for the internal governance of 23 secular hospitals.9
Similarly, up until the 1960s orphans, young offenders and children who were considered
“illegitimate” were put in the care of religious congregations, which favoured placements in
institutions.10 Elsewhere in Canada, child welfare has, for a long time, been under the
responsibility of secular agencies mandated by the state, with a preference for placing children in
foster homes or facilitating their adoption.11 This specific socio-historical context means that the
effects of colonization could have been experienced differently in Quebec.
In terms of public safety, Quebec has the highest number of independent Indigenous police
forces of any province. Thus, when Indigenous women experience violence in Quebec, the
Indigenous police forces are often the ones called to act as first responders.
The first chapter of this volume will explain the National Inquiry’s mandate in terms of how it
relates to Quebec’s realities, the methodology used for the work carried out in Quebec and the
limitations of the analysis that was completed. It will also outline the reasons why the National
Inquiry decided to focus on the voice of women who initiate change.
The second chapter of this report will look at the specific socio-historical and contemporary
context experienced by Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec.
The topics discussed in this chapter are also addressed throughout the report to support our
analysis and our recommendations. It provides the background for understanding the reality of
missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec. First, we
present an introduction of the various Indigenous peoples in Quebec and a historical summary of
several defining events in the testimonies received during the National Inquiry’s work in Quebec.
This will be followed by an overview of the colonial experience as lived by First Nations
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec, which involves discussing issues relating
to the intersectional identity of Indigenous women in Quebec and the profound inequality that
exists between them and the non-Indigenous population in Quebec and the rest of Canada.
This overview will also identify the contemporary socio-economic realities that affect the daily
lives of many Indigenous women in Quebec.
The third chapter will provide an overview of knowledge regarding the situation of missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec prior to the work of
the National Inquiry.
The fourth chapter will pay tribute to all the Indigenous survivors and the families who testified
during the two public hearings held in Quebec. This chapter will highlight stories from the
testimonies shared by the survivors and families. Each story includes a summary of the events
that impacted their journey and the most striking aspects of their testimony.
13

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Grant, Tavia. “Missing and murdered: The Khandaker, Tamara. “Canada adopts UN Declaration
trafficked.” The Globe and Mail, February 10, on Indigenous Peoples, but some are skeptical
2016. Accessed September 29, 2018. anything will change.” Vice News, May 10,
https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/the 2016. Accessed October 7, 2018.
-trafficked-sexual-exploitation-is-costing-canadian- https://news.vice.com/en_us/article/j5999k/canada-
women-their-lives/article28700849/ finally-endorses-un-declaration-on-indigenous-
people
Greer, Darrell. “Aglukark brings therapy through
art.” Nunavut News, January 25, 2018. Kirkup, Kristy. “Indigenous women coerced into
Accessed November 27, 2018. https://nunavut- sterilizations across Canada: Senator.” CBC
news.com/nunavut-news/aglukark-brings-therapy- News, November 12, 2018. Accessed October
art/ 18, 2018. https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/steril-
ization-indigenous-1.4902303
Harris, Michael. “The Unrepentant Whore: How
Jamie Lee Hamilton changed the way we look Kirkup, Kristy. “Trudeau announces new funding for
at Canada’s underclass.” The Walrus, June 26, Indigenous mental health services.” The Star,
2017. Accessed December 13, 2018. https://the- June 13, 2016. Accessed November 22, 2018.
walrus.ca/the-unrepentant-whore/ https://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2016/06/13/jus
tin-trudeau-to-meet-with-chief-of-troubled-at-
Hinchey, Garrett. “Iqaluit is one of the most tawapiskat-first-nation.html
expensive cities in Canada to rent, CMHC
says.” CBC News, June 22, 2017. Accessed Kirman, Paula E. “Beadwork is an act of resistance.”
January 5, 2019. Windspeaker, May 3, 2018. Accessed
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/north/cmhc-report- September 10, 2018.
northern-capitals-1.4173777 https://windspeaker.com/news/windspeaker-
news/beadwork-is-an-act-of-resistance/
Hobson, Britanny. “‘They’re stealing our identity’
Métis National Council calls out eastern Métis Krotz, Larry. “A Canadian genocide? A new
groups.” APTN National News, November 26, museum in Winnipeg has become a flashpoint
2018. Accessed January 15, 2019. for how we interpret this country’s treatment of
https://aptnnews.ca/2018/11/26/theyre-stealing-our- First Nations.” The United Church Observer,
identity-metis-national-council-calls-out-eastern- March 2014. Accessed December 23, 2018.
metis-groups/ https://www.ucobserver.org/features/2014/03/cana-
dian_genocide/
Hyslop, Katie. “How poverty and underfunding land
Indigenous kids in care.” The Tyee, May 14, Krugel, Lauren. “Child welfare system is the new
2018. Accessed November 26, 2018. residential school ‘monster,’ senator says.” The
https://thetyee.ca/News/2018/05/14/Indigenous- Globe and Mail, Oct 26, 2018. Accessed
Kids-Poverty-Care/ October 27, 2018.
https://www.theglobeandmail.com/canada/article-res-
Johnson, Rhiannon. “13-year-old Anishinaabe girl to idential-school-monster-now-lives-in-child-welfare-
address the United Nations.” CBC News, system-2/
December 14, 2017. Accessed October 7, 2018.
https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/autumn-peltier- Leo, Geoff. “‘The Whole Investigative System of
anishinaabe-water-advocate-un-1.4448454 Regina City Police has Failed’: Lawyer of
Nadine Machiskinic’s family.” CBC News,
March 29, 2019. Accessed March 30, 2019.
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/the-
whole-investigative-system-of-regina-city-police-
has-failed-lawyer-of-nadine-machiskinic-s-family-
1.5076425
318
NOTES
1. Order 711-2016, Gazette officielle du Québec, Part 2; 6. The National Inquiry considers that the use of the word
August 31, 2016, 148th year; No. 35, p. 4921. “Indian” is derogatory and although the name of the
system is the Indian Residential School system, we
2. The “Indigenous peoples” of Quebec consist of First
have placed the word “Indian” in quotation marks in
Nations members and Inuit, who are divided into
order to decolonize the use of this term.
fourteen northern villages. The Inuit are a distinct
ethnic group with their own unique reality, primarily 7. Bousquet, “L’histoire scolaire des autochtones du
due to their geographical location. Their reality is Québec,” pp. 117–123.
discussed in detail in Volumes 1a and 1b of the National
8. Québec Ombudsman, “The ‘Children of Duplessis:’”
Inquiry’s Final Report..
9. Charles, Guérard, and Rousseau, “L’église, les
3. Bourque et al., “Stratégies adaptées,” ; Dion,
assureurs et l’accès aux soins hospitaliers,” pp. 29-49.
Collin-Vézina, Lavoie, Cyr, and Corneau, “État des
connaissances en recherche sur la violence sexuelle.” 10. Also called internal placements (placement
intra-muraux).
4. Beaulieu, “An Equitable Right to be Compensated,”
p. 1-27. 11. Quesney, “‘Un foyer pour chaque enfant!’”
pp. 257-282.
5. Gentelet, Rocher and Bissonnette, La sédentarisation.
15

CHAPTER 1
The National Inquiry’s

Work in Quebec
This chapter provides an overview of known data regarding missing and
murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec.
It aims to explain the National Inquiry’s mandate, particularly in terms
of Quebec’s realities, the methodology used for the work carried out in
Quebec and the limitations of the analysis completed in this case.
1.1. The National Inquiry’s Mandate

The Government of Canada and the Government of Quebec entrusted a
very broad mandate to the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered
Indigenous Women and Girls, for Quebec.
First, according to Order 711-2016 that created the provincial commission
of inquiry, the National Inquiry had to “investigate” and “report on”
two main topics: the systemic causes of all forms of violence, and the
institutional policies and practices implemented in response to the
violence against Indigenous women and girls. To that end, the National
Inquiry’s mandate included reviewing the factors that could be associated
with the relationships between public services under Quebec’s
constitutional jurisdictions, including police forces, health facilities, social
and educational services, and Indigenous people more generally.
In addition, the National Inquiry had a mandate to “make
recommendations.” These recommendations had to focus on two
objectives: to propose concrete and sustainable actions to be implemented
to prevent situations of violence against Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and to significantly improve the quality of
relationships between Indigenous people and public services.
17

CHAPTER 1
These parameters, as well as those established by the federal government,1 gave the National
Inquiry almost free reign to act in all relevant areas. However, they did not define realistic limits
for fulfilling such a broad mandate—one that investigates the cumulative impacts of over
400 years of colonialism and finds appropriate solutions for each Indigenous community across
Canada—all within a time frame of 34 months. Therefore, the National Inquiry chose to adopt
an approach that primarily focuses on giving a voice to and honouring the perspectives of the
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people who challenged the silence around
violence and who came to testify about their reality before the National Inquiry.
1.2. Methodology
The analysis in this report is based primarily on the testimonies delivered by First Nations
members at two community hearings held in Quebec. There were 67 public testimonies,
18 private testimonies and 55 testimonies in the form of public statements. This report is also
based on the testimonies heard during the Institutional and Expert and Knowledge Keeper
Hearings held across the country, when they pertained to Quebec’s realities. The analysis
takes into account the submissions by Parties with Standing in Quebec.
The analysis is drawn from the work carried out by research team members, as well as by the
Quebec researchers who made up its own Forensic Document Review Project. These researchers
requested medical records, birth certificates, death certificates, adoption certificates, name
change documents, baptism records and burial certificates in order to investigate the
disappearances of 24 children that were reported in the testimonies during the community
hearings in Quebec.
It also reviewed the investigation files from the police forces and related institutional records.
Requests were made to obtain the police investigation files and related documents in relation
to 32 incidents. The records came from various police forces in Quebec including the
Sûreté du Québec, municipal police forces, and Indigenous police forces. Requests to produce
records were also made with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. However, it was not possible
to locate all the records that the team wanted to analyze. Excluding cases for which no records
were provided, 21 police investigations relating to deaths, suicides, suspicious deaths, forcible
confinement, sexual assault and assault were reviewed.
In addition to reviewing all of the evidence noted above, the National Inquiry carried out a
literature review of reports and analyses that seemed particularly relevant in light of the facts
put forward by the witnesses.
The research and analysis have enabled us to draw a parallel between the witnesses’ truths and
that of numerous other Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec.
The truths of survivors and families as heard during the hearings reveals an even more tangible
reality, as well as facts and perceptions that are still unknown or ignored by the general public.
18

CHAPTER 1
1.3. The Scope and Limitations of Our Work

Initially, all the work of the National Inquiry had to be completed within a time frame of
28 months. The Government of Canada agreed to extend the work of the National Inquiry for a
short period of six months, for a total of 34 months, which the Government of Quebec, for its
part, refused. As a result, the order granting investigative powers to the National Inquiry in
Quebec expired on October 31, 2018.
On December 21, 2016, the Government of Quebec, realizing the importance of undertaking an
in-depth reflection on the relationship between Indigenous Peoples and stakeholders of certain
public services in Quebec, created a parallel commission of inquiry called the “Commission
d’enquête sur les relations entre les Autochtones et certains services publics au Québec: écoute,
réconciliation et progress” (CERP)2 [Public Inquiry Commission on Relations between
Indigenous Peoples and Certain Public Services in Quebec: Listening, Reconciliation and
Progress], which is generally known as the “Viens Commission.”
In addition, the Act respecting public inquiry commissions, which is in effect in Quebec, requires
the presence of a majority of commissioners in order to receive evidence,3 which limited the
volume of testimonies gathered. A quorum established at three out of four commissioners
was required to receive evidence in Quebec. No such obstacle existed in the majority of other
provinces. Given the prescribed timelines, this obligation posed serious barriers to the
effectiveness of a pan-Canadian Inquiry such as the NIMMIWG.
There is hope that the work of the Viens Commission will shed more light on the issue of the
relationship between public services and Indigenous people in general. The Viens Commission
must pay particular attention to the perspective of Indigenous women in developing its analysis
and recommendations, recognizing that their reality may be different than what is expressed by
other members of Indigenous Nations.
Our research plan was circumscribed by two important realities: we were not to able access all the
medical and police records requested, and some of the ones we could access were incomplete.
This approach facilitates understanding of the reality of First Nations women in Quebec,
including the intergenerational complexity experienced by Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people that clearly defines the vulnerability they face every day. By adapting to
Aboriginal values and to the participants’ inherent and Aboriginal rights as well as their
spirituality and their sense of community, the National Inquiry was able to develop a significant
relationship of trust with the witnesses. This helped them to share their truths in a culturally
safe context that departed from formal and strict legal structures.4
Moreover, in terms of the research, it should be noted that there are too few works dealing with
the specific issue of violence against Indigenous women and the solutions to be implemented to
address this issue. We therefore had to rely significantly on PhD and Masters’ theses published
within the faculties and departments of law, anthropology, sociology and the environment
in Quebec. The proliferation of academic research in this respect over the past few years is a
positive indicator that there is increased focus on the situation of Indigenous women in Quebec.
19

CHAPTER 1
1.4. Voices That Initiate Change

The fact remains that the testimonies received uncover a truth that was previously concealed,
which, when combined with the National Inquiry’s research, helps to shed a new light on an
important that has been ignored for so long.
Through their testimony and their involvement in the National Inquiry’s work, our Indigenous
sisters and brothers were able to start a long-overdue grieving and healing process.
The National Inquiry is proud to have been able to support the witnesses in this journey, which is
an important step to a sustainable and lasting change.
The voices of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people will no longer be silenced.
It is now the responsibility of every one of us to add to their voices until they are fully heard.
Hearings in Maliotenam, an Innu community: after decades of silence, families open up and share their truths
before Commissioners, December 2017. Photo courtesy of Michèle Audette.
20

NOTES
1 Order 2016-0736 regarding the establishment and

nomination of the Chief Commissioner and five
Commissioners, National Inquiry into Missing and
Murdered Women and Girls (2016), Gazette officielle
du Québec, 150 C. 35, 2631.
2 Order 1095-2016, Gazette officielle du Québec,
Part 2, January 11, 2017, 149th year, No. 2,
December 21, 2016.
3 CQLR chapter C-37, section 7.
4 Government of Canada, Panel on Research Ethics,
TCPS-2 – Chapter 9, “Research Involving the
First Nations, Inuit and Métis Peoples of Canada”,
http://www.pre.ethics.gc.ca/eng/policy-
politique/initiatives/tcps2-eptc2/chapter9-chapitre9.
21

CHAPTER 2
The Social Context of Indigenous

Women, Girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
People in Quebec
T
his chapter provides a general overview of the realities of
First Nations women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec.
It looks mainly at the demographic, socio-historical and socio-
economic aspects and outlines the current research on violence and on the
issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Quebec.
While recognizing that 2SLGBTTQQIA people face distinct challenges
related to violence in Quebec, a lack of available research has made it
difficult to provide a fulsome discussion of these experiences. We include
reference to 2SLGBTQQIA people here in order to acknowledge their
experiences and the importance of addressing these distinct concerns
while at the same time recognizing the need for more in-depth
understanding of the experiences and challenges of 2SLGBTQQIA
people in Quebec.
2.1. The Indigenous Peoples of Quebec

There are ten First Nations in Quebec, spread among 41 communities
(reserves, settlements and category I lands).1 This includes eight
Algonquin Nations: the Abenaki, the Anishinaabe (Algonquins), the
Atikamekw, the Eeyou (Cree), the Maliseet, the Mi’kmaq (Micmac), the
Innu (Montagnais) and the Naskapi. It also includes two Iroquois Nations:
the Huron-Wendats and the Mohawks. The Inuit live in 14 northern
villages. There are a total of 55 Indigenous communities spread out
across Quebec.
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CHAPTER 2
Gathering at Houston, Schefferville, September 2016. Photo courtesy of Michèle Audette.
The demographics of Indigenous Peoples have been studied by various groups under different
perspectives. No single tool can reflect all the demographic realities specific to Indigenous
women. Statistics vary depending on whether they are compiled using the list of Registered
Indians or using the self-identification of respondents to a survey.
According to a 2016 report, there were 182,890 Indigenous people in Quebec.2 The 92,655
First Nations members represent approximately 1% of the population of Quebec and
approximately 10% of the Registered Indian population in Canada.3
With regard to Indigenous women, in 2011 in Quebec, 71,710 women identified as an Indigenous
person, which represents 10% of Indigenous women in Canada4 and approximately 1.8% of the
female population of Quebec.5 Indigenous women generally have 2.36 children compared to a
rate of 1.67 children among Canadian women overall.8 More than half of First Nations members
living in an Indigenous community are under the age of 25.9
Quebec has the highest percentage of First Nations members living in First Nations communities.
In 2011, 72% of First Nations members in Quebec lived in a First Nations community, whereas
this percentage drops to 49% for Canada as a whole.10
There is a strong First Nations presence in Quebec’s cities, whether temporarily or on a
permanent basis. According to the 2016 census, the greater Montreal area had more than 33,000
24

CHAPTER 2
First Nations members and the Quebec City region had more than 11,500. The Indigenous
presence is significant in many other cities, such as Chibougamau, Joliette, La Tuque,
Maniwaki, Roberval, Saguenay, Senneterre, Sept-Îles, Sherbrooke, Trois-Rivières and Val-d’Or.11
This migration can be explained by factors such as education, occupation, the lack of available
housing and First Nations identity.12
Something that is unique in the legal situation of First Nations in Quebec is that, until recently,
the provincial government has refused to acknowledge the existence of Aboriginal rights and,
as a result, to sign treaties.13 This situation has had significant consequences on the relationship
between First Nations and the federal and provincial governments.
The settlement of First Nations in Quebec occurred gradually, with the colonization and
assimilation process continuing with the creation of reserves,14 and the way of life of the
large majority of First Nations in Quebec underwent a drastic change. In 1955, in Abitibi-
Témiscamingue, the massive clearing of the territory and the creation of the Saint-Marc-
de-Figuery residential school significantly altered how First Nations people lived and led to
the permanent adoption of a sedentary way of life.15 The Innu community of Pakuashipi and
the Atikamekw community of Wemotaci were the last communities to make the transition
from tents to homes in 1972.
Public health issues affecting Quebec’s Indigenous peoples are also important to note. This is
the case, in particular, for the dramatic suicide rate among the Indigenous population. Quebec’s
coroner’s office was mandated to study five deaths that occurred at Uashat mak Mani-Utenam
over a period of only six months. The coroner’s office looked into the causes of a collective
ill-being and reported that Indigenous populations are experiencing a type of apartheid—that
is, a system of systemic racial discrimination and segregation—and recommended an end to
this apartheid.16
Moreover, health authorities recognize that there is a “highly concerning” incidence of violence
in Indigenous communities,17 including significant issues relating to domestic abuse.18 They
know that “Indigenous people are overrepresented as victims of sexual assault.”19
They also know that “some population groups, such as Aboriginal peoples, were shown, in
certain cases, to be affected to an alarming degree by social inequalities in health.”20
Despite significant improvement in recent decades, it is clear that a troubling, and, in
some cases, alarming gap continues to exist between the health status of Aboriginal
peoples and that of the non-Aboriginal population. In Quebec, 11 recognized Aboriginal
nations…differ from each other in cultural, linguistic and geographical terms, as well as
on the level of legal and political status.
This heterogeneity makes it difficult to sketch a general portrait of the health of these
populations. Nevertheless, certain trends emerge: the most pronounced differences are
generally observed for intentional and non-intentional injuries, chronic diseases (obesity,
diabetes and cardiovascular disease) and for certain communicable diseases (sexually
25

CHAPTER 2
transmitted infections and tuberculosis). Compared with the Canadian population, Quebec
First Nations people have a life expectancy that is 6 to 7 years shorter; a diabetes rate that
is two to three times higher; an obesity rate that is also two to three times higher; and a
likelihood of experiencing, beginning in childhood, poverty, abuse and out-of-home
placement that is 3 to 5 times higher.21
Lastly, health authorities know that Indigenous 2SLGBTQQIA people “deal with homophobia
in their home communities and with racism in urban settings” and that they have a “great
mistrust…toward health professionals.” Research demonstrates a common perception that the
“degree of knowledge among these professionals was inadequate, that the prevalence of
homophobic reactions in their experience was contrary to ethics, and that the willingness of the
health care system to adapt to their needs was minimal.”22
However, no concrete action has yet been taken to address these deficiencies.
Map of Indigenous sites in Quebec

(Source: Tourisme Autochtone
Québec, https://www.tourismeau-
tochtone.com/apprendre/carte/ ).
26

CHAPTER 2
2.2. The Colonial Experience of Indigenous Women, Girls, and

2SLGBTQQIA People in Quebec
Before the arrival of Europeans, First Nations had their own system of social functioning and
their own governance, which had been in place for thousands of years. Although each nation is
different and First Nations cultures and values do not form a homogeneous whole, there were
relatively egalitarian gender relationships.23 Even though distinct roles were traditionally given to
women and men, these roles were complementary. There was no hierarchy between these roles,
and each person had a duty and responsibility to contribute to a well-functioning society while
maintaining social cohesion.24
For example, Atikamekw women, who shared some of their experiences with Suzie Basile, told
her about a period of great transformation during the twentieth century. As she explains,
The women interviewed talked about “before” life and “now” life. The term “before”
refers to the time of the nomadic life of the Atikamekw, before the establishment of
reserves and the sending of children to boarding schools. Without wanting to project an
idyllic image of this period, because several women (12) mentioned the fact that life on
the territory was very difficult because of famine, disease and living conditions in the
tent, some women have mentioned that the Atikamekw were autonomous and free in the
territory and that the role of women was very important. One woman said: “They
(women) are essential for life on the territory, they are part of life on the territory.
Without them, men would have a lot of difficulty on the territory.”25
Above all, many women talk about their key role in the transmission of knowledge, as well as
the central role of women in maintaining community safety through their work, including meal
preparation, harvesting of wood and medicinal plants, hunting, and more.26
In addition, their responsibilities in the leadership field in the “before” time are important,
however:
Participants recalled that once Atikamekw women were self-reliant, they had the
necessary knowledge for survival in the forest and knew how to ensure the safety of
children and other members of the family clan (food, health care, adequate camp, etc.).
In addition, it was the women who took care to keep an oral record of births and deaths
and even to “organize” marriages respecting existing alliances and certain matrimonial
rules. They ensured a balance in all areas of forest life. Also, women had some authority;
they made decisions and speech (mainly with regard to the family and the camp). Some
respondents mentioned that some women, once widowed, managed their territory, made
the decisions they needed, and that these women were highly respected.27
This reality is reflected in other communities, too. Mohawk women, for example, have
traditionally played a key role in local governance, particularly in the stewardship of lands and
27

CHAPTER 2
community resources.28 Montagnais-Naskapi women, too, are responsible for deciding when to
change the camp from one place to another – a set of decisions that would have had a significant
impact on the health and safety of each community.29
Thus, the roles assigned to women were respected and valued. Their contribution from a
political30 and socio-economic perspective was essential: farming, hunting small game, gathering
plants and berries, making clothing, preparing furs, and so on.31 Moreover, Indigenous women
were generally considered to be the protectors and guardians of the land, water, culture, language
and family.32 In short, at the time, many First Nations women had more authority and autonomy
than European women.33
The relationship between women and men changed due in part to the influence of the settler
society’s norms. Patriarchy slowly infiltrated the mindset and social organization of Indigenous
societies. This model, based on male authority in all domains, had a major impact on the family
life of First Nations, in particular on the roles of men and women, which started to become less
and less complementary and egalitarian.34
Between 1763 and 1862, Indigenous women were treated as children, and their role changed
from that of allies to wards. Starting in 1818, the government sought to prevent Indigenous
women who married non-Indigenous men from sharing in the annual distribution of gifts.35
Other government policies contributed to reinforcing the hierarchy between First Nations women
and men. Moreover, imposing the concept of “status,” starting from the time the very first laws
relating to Indigenous peoples were adopted, created categories of Indigenous people that had
little to do with culture, education or identity.36
The discriminatory treatment of women was further entrenched in 1869 under An Act for the
Gradual Enfranchisement of Indians institutionalized gender discrimination against women by
giving certificates of possession only to male heads of families. For many years, women’s access
to reserve lands depended on their relationships with men, such that, in the event of a marital
breakdown, women could not claim possession of the family home.37 This situation prevailed
until 2013, when the Family Homes on Reserves and Matrimonial Interests or Rights Act38 was
adopted to try to address these issues, although many persist.39 The Indian Act, passed in 1876,
further reified structures of governance, inheritance and identity based on male lineage.
Furthermore, until 1985, Parliament stripped Indigenous women who married non Indigenous
men of their Indian status. Consequently, their children were also denied Indian status.40 Given
these circumstances, Indigenous women who married non-Indigenous men were essentially
forced to leave their home community, and this led to making them dependent on their husband.
This discrimination is all the more striking considering that Indigenous men who married
non-Indigenous women could not only retain their status but also transfer it to their spouse.
Sexism within the “reserves” was reinforced by another rule passed at the time by the
Canadian Parliament: only men had the right to vote in band council elections. In this way,
women’s decision making roles were completely ignored and women were excluded from band
councils, the body that now represented the community and had certain authority in local
matters. This rule was in force until 1951, but its repercussions were felt for many years.41
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Even today, Indigenous leadership is overwhelmingly male. In 1991, the community of

Ekuanishit (Mingan) established gender parity in the Band Council by amending the Electoral
Code, but it was not until 1992 that the first First Nations woman in Quebec was elected leader
of a band council. That year also marked an important change, when two women were elected
chiefs by vote: Grand Chief Jocelyne Gros-Louis was elected in Wendake, and Marcelline
Kanapé was elected Chief in Pessamit. In 2019, the lack of gender parity continues as there are
only six female chiefs in the province, including three among the Cree.42 Therefore, it should
come as no surprise that the current discourse on the rights of Indigenous Peoples and their land
claims is led primarily by men and that they ignore claims specific to Indigenous women. As
Van Woudenberg explains: “this erasure [of women] is implemented by placing value…on men’s
knowledge and how they use the land, excluding women and consequently creating an absence
of women where previously they had been present.”43
In all cases, the settlement and displacement of First Nations in Quebec was accompanied by a
dispossession of the areas where they lived. This situation should be understood as an invasion
of First Nations lands that were vital to their way of life.44 In practice, “the shrinking of their
traditional lands into tiny reserves dealt a devastating blow to the heart of the individual and
collective identity”45 of First Nations in Quebec.
As in elsewhere in Canada, this appropriation of land was conducted unilaterally and without the
consent of Indigenous peoples. Flooding and forestry operations devastated the physical and
psychological health of First Nations, and Indigenous women in particular.46 For Indigenous
women, actions to “protect their territory and the environment are actions that are connected to
the survival of their most profound identity.”47
Lateral violence is “generally understood as violence that oppressed groups experience among
themselves, similar to the abuses that they experienced through colonialism, intergenerational
trauma related to the residential schools and ongoing experiences with racism and discrimination.
It can include a variety of violent behaviours, such as intimidation, gossiping, finger-pointing,
bickering, and a lack of trust toward other members of the group.”48 This violence stems from all
forms of colonialism: uprooting, deportation, settlement, missionary work, forced marriages by
priests, sexual abuse, genocidal policies, and more.
Residential schools also contributed to diminishing and devaluing the role of women within
Indigenous societies. They also created challenging interpersonal relationships that increased the
mentality tending towards dehumanization and for lateral and intergenerational violence.
The fact that residential schools in Quebec were opened and closed more recently means that
there are at least two generations of former residential school students that are still alive today. In
2019, a significant proportion of Indigenous people in Quebec are still directly dealing with the
effects of their experience at residential schools.
Residential schools were introduced in Quebec much later than in the rest of Canada. With the
exception of the Fort George residential school, they opened their doors starting in the 1950s, at
a time when residential schools in other places in Canada began closing.49 One reason for this is
29

CHAPTER 2
the fact that, historically, Quebec had refused to sign treaties on its land, and so in Quebec there
was no equivalent to the clauses for federal funding for education that were part of the treaties
concluded elsewhere in Canada. In addition, Quebec had long ignored the federal law regarding
compulsory school attendance for Indigenous children.
This does not mean that there was no school system previously in place to make Indigenous
children fit into the Quebec context, even prior to Confederation.50 However, school attendance
did not become mandatory for children in Quebec until 1943.51 As a result, before the early
1950s, most Indigenous children still spent part of the year on the territory hunting with their
parents and, as a result, rarely attended school.
According to the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement, there were six Indian
residential schools for First Nations in Quebec, along with two non-denominational hostels.
The Pointe-Bleue Indian Residential School was the last to be shut down, in 1991.52 An
estimated 13,000 Indigenous children attended these institutions, although there is no consensus
on this number among authors who have written on this topic. Many Indigenous children also
attended residential schools outside Quebec, particularly in Ontario and Nova Scotia.53 In
addition to the impact Indian residential schools have had on generations of Indigenous people
across Canada, there are some aspects specific to Quebec that are worth noting.
As in the rest of Canada, the education received at residential schools played a significant role
in reproducing the patriarchal ideologies surrounding the role of men and women within the
family.54 We know that residential school officials were hard on Indigenous girls, giving them
few hours of instruction55 and preparing them only for limited or low-paying jobs in the work
force, or in the home.56 The testimony gathered by the First Nations of Quebec and Labrador
Health and Social Services Commission (2013)57 uncovered the abusive and destructive
treatment of Indigenous children by staff members of religious congregations.
The fact that residential schools in Quebec were opened and closed more recently means that
there are at least two generations of former residential school students that are still alive today.
In 2019, a significant proportion of Indigenous people in Quebec are still directly dealing with
the effects of their experience at residential schools.
The situation in Quebec is unique in other respects as well. We know that, in Quebec, religious
control over the health care and education systems continued until the 1960s. The creation of a
child welfare service also happened later than in other provinces; as such, services were once
again overseen by religious institutions.58
In fact, the secularization of child welfare and social services gradually occurred starting in
the mid-1960s. This process led to a change in mindset in the way in which child welfare was
approached in Quebec, which up until that time favoured the institutionalization of children.
The passing of the Youth Protection Act in 1979 is the culmination of a series of reforms that
started in the early 1970s. It consolidated an organized and secular child welfare network that
was similar to what is found in other provinces in Canada.59
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CHAPTER 2
Shortly after the Youth Protection Act came into effect in 1979, there was an overrepresentation
of Indigenous children in the care of the province.60 This overrepresentation increased over the
years. A 2007 report indicated that Indigenous children were five times more likely to be in
care.61 According to a 2016 report, they were nearly eight times more likely to be placed outside
their family than non-Indigenous children in Quebec.62
There are many reasons for this overrepresentation in the child welfare system: poverty; the
effects of colonization; underfunding of services; the cultural bias of non-Indigenous
caseworkers; and, the inadequacy of the law and child welfare systems.63
Child welfare systems have marginalized and continue to marginalize the role of Indigenous
women. Due to the fact that family and parenting practices specific to Indigenous societies are
often misunderstood or misconstrued by non Indigenous caseworkers, Indigenous mothers are
sometimes judged more harshly and are more frequently perceived as being unfit to take care of
their children.64 On this subject, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) concluded that
“Canada’s child-welfare system has simply continued the assimilation that the residential school
system started.”65
The involvement of Catholic Church representatives in the communities may have also had other
direct impacts on the violence against Indigenous women and girls. For example, as a result of
the TRC’s work, a class action was filed alleging that Father Alexis Joveneau and one or more
religious members of the religious congregation of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate
for allegedly sexually assaulted Indigenous girls who were living in the North Shore.66 This class
action was launched one week after the Oblates issued an apology to the alleged victims.67
Simply put, government laws and policies—be it the Indian Act, residential schools, rules
surrounding mixed marriages, or the creation of the band council and child welfare systems—
have devalued and continue to devalue the political and socio-economic contribution of
Indigenous women in Quebec. In fact, the erosion of gender roles, combined with the effects
of intergenerational trauma, gradually changed the relationships within the family structure as
inequality, particularly between men and women, has grown. These assaults, targeting
Indigenous women and children, have resulted in significant losses of culture and of identity.68
These genocidal policies thus played a part in creating an environment that allowed violence
against women and children to emerge and to grow.69
It is important to note that violence against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people
can manifest in different ways, depending on where they live. The social response also varies.
In communities, violence may take the form of domestic or lateral violence. Many women leave
for reasons of survival, primarily due to lack of resources, and go to the city. They then risk
being subjected to other forms of violence: racism, hate crimes, sexual assault, etc.
However, we must not assume that Indigenous women in Quebec remained passive in the face
of these various policies. Beginning in the 1960s, more and more Indigenous women in Quebec
were speaking out against the injustices they were facing. The efforts of Indigenous women in
Quebec contributed to addressing the discriminatory rules in the Indian Act that stripped women
31

CHAPTER 2
of their status when they married non-Indigenous men.70 Equal Rights for Indian Women was
founded in 1968 by Mary Two-Axe Early, a Mohawk woman from Kahnawake who was forced
out of her community for marrying a non-Indigenous man. In 1974, the association Quebec
Native Women (QNW) was created. Through the efforts of pioneers across Canada, Bill C-31
(An Act to Amend the Indian Act) was passed in 1985 and Indigenous women married to
non-Indians had their status restored.71
Bill C-31, which was passed in 1985, was a major victory, even though it did not eradicate
discrimination against women entirely. The reintegration of women who regained their status
proved challenging because of a lack of land, housing and financial resources to take in
reinstated women.72 Women who had their status reinstated were often treated with hostility by
their home community. It was at this time that the Mashteuiatsh community tried to adopt a
“moratorium” on reinstated women and excluded them from the debate on the adoption of a
membership code. The argument was set on the pretext that reinstated women would not be
“objective.”73 In 2018, members of the Mohawk Nation of Kahnawake obtained a judgement
from the Superior Court of Quebec acknowledging that the decision to suspend services to
people who had entered into a mixed marriage or to children born from such a marriage was
discriminatory and unconstitutional.74 However, the court noted that the custom of “marry out,
get out” could continue to be applied in the community if its decision was not accepted in the
heart of their community.
The shortcomings of Bill C-31 led to various rounds of court challenges and other bills to correct
discriminatory aspects of the Indian Act that Bill C-31 had not addressed.75 One such challenge,
the Descheneaux76 case, was initiated in Quebec and, in December 2017, resulted in a new
expansion of the rules governing Indian status that will benefit all Indigenous women in Canada
and their descendants.77
Indigenous women continue to rally together for various causes. In Quebec, the promotion of
non violence has been the focus of engagement and activism efforts by Indigenous women for
over 40 years, and Quebec Native Women (QNW) is unquestionably the backbone of this
action.78 It was through gatherings and workshops in the late 1980s that Indigenous women
began to talk more openly about the violence they were experiencing.79 In response to a
concerning reality within Indigenous communities that was rarely reported, QNW developed an
awareness campaign called Violence is Tearing Us Apart, Let’s Get Together! (1987),80 which
was aimed at getting Indigenous communities to recognize violence around them and then
mobilizing them to end the violence.81
QNW later produced various reports on the subject and organized three forums, in 1995, 1998
and 2001, bringing together more than 600 people on the topics of violence and healing in an
Indigenous context.82 QNW is also a partner in the Ishkuteu pilot project, which seeks to improve
domestic violence support services for Indigenous women.83
QNW continues to be very active in issues relating to domestic and sexual violence and is
carrying on its efforts to increase the visibility of Indigenous women and girls in Quebec and
ensure that they recover the place that is rightfully theirs within their community.
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CHAPTER 2
QNW also advocates for openness toward and respect for 2SLGBTQQIA individuals within
Indigenous communities, governments and workers who provide services to First Nations
people. For example, in 2016 QNW organized a conference entitled Turning towards our
Traditions: Valuing LGBTQ/Two-Spirited Aboriginals and Fighting against Sexual
Discrimination that looked at the effects of colonization on this group of people.84
Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec are often leading the charge for greater
social, environmental, territorial, political and community justice, and Indigenous female
leadership is becoming increasingly valued.85
Importantly, there are also all these other women who have been working hard for decades, in the
shadows, to make changes within their families and their communities.86 All of these women,
through their determination, managed to break down barriers in a system that is set up to push
them down, particularly the Indian Act, which, for a long time left Indigenous women powerless
and which continues to discriminate against them.
We are still far from achieving fairness and equality.
2.3. Being Born Female and Indigenous: the Intersectional

Identity of Indigenous Women, Girls, and
In studying the issue of violence against Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people, it is
important to take into consideration all the identities with which Indigenous women define
themselves and to be aware of all the factors that could act in combination to exacerbate their
discrimination.
While we recognize that Indigenous people are marginalized, Indigenous women find themselves
doubly marginalized because of their gender.87 There was a time when Indigenous women in
Quebec asked themselves whether it was in their interest to stand with QNW or whether doing
so would harm the political claims of men from Indigenous communities.
[Diane Morissette]: Some women belonging to Indigenous nations in Quebec that are
currently in negotiations believe that it is better to invest their energy into the land
claims process rather than joining QNW, which could cause some division between men
and women.
[Évelyne O’Bomsawin]: In my view, there is really no conflict. QNW is not concerned

with land claims. They simply want to get men and the government to be aware of social
problems that primarily affect the status of women and families and that men are not
concerned with because of their more political agenda. Moreover, we have proof that
associations made up primarily of men do a very poor job of representing the interests of
women. Women’s presence is still lacking here.88
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CHAPTER 2
2SLGBTQQIA people find themselves further marginalized.89 As many of the truths shared
within the context of the National Inquiry’s Truth-Gathering Process demonstrate, Indigenous
women and 2SLGBTQQIA people who speak a language other than the majority language, who
are young, who live in conditions of poverty or homelessness, who are struggling with substance
abuse, alcoholism or mental health issues, and who turn to prostitution or who have a criminal
history also experience greater social exclusion and discrimination each time that one of these
factors is added.
In Quebec, Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people are often forced to make choices about
their identity when they need to seek protection from the law, whether it is the Indian Act, the
Youth Protection Act or family law:
…in contexts of family violence, inadequate public policies force these women to
choose between their identity as women and as indigenous persons, between the right to
preserve one’s personal, sexual, and moral integrity; or the right to live in one’s culture
and language, and to transmit these to the next generation. This impossible choice-this
identity dilemma-is specific to the condition of indigenous women. It is not faced in
similar ways by indigenous men or by non-indigenous women in Quebec.90
Moreover, the specific needs of Indigenous women are often overlooked when it comes time to
look at major social projects. QNW criticized the fact that no jobs were planned for Indigenous
women in Plan Nord, the social development project for northern Quebec. However, mining
development in remote regions involves “an explosive cocktail” of potential violence for
Indigenous women in a precarious economic situation, who suddenly find themselves surrounded
by men who are only passing through the region.91
The series of adverse conditions affecting Indigenous women is unique to them. The voices
of Indigenous women are thus critical in describing the problems that they experience.
The Commission has heard them.
Considering the limits of current knowledge created in a non Indigenous context,
particularly in terms of the well being of groups and the health of individuals belonging
to these groups, it seems relevant to continue to be open to alternative methods in order
to come to a different understanding of the relationship between individuals and other
aspects of life and to continue to draw on these stories and histories that are not included
within the broad narratives and memories of the dominant society. It is no longer
possible to justify the status quo by referring to the fact that we do not know “what
Indigenous people want.”
…
It also seems essential to link their stories to the perspectives, rationalities and work put
forward by the new generation of Indigenous female intellectuals, artists, activists and
researchers. As stakeholders in the conversation on the future of First Peoples, they have
34

CHAPTER 2
a renewed vision of Indigenous identity that is still rooted in traditional culture and
knowledge. When all these voices speak, are heard and considered, the conditions are
created to ensure that Indigenous women, as a heterogeneous social group, have an
increasingly greater choice in terms of the dreams that they can realize throughout
their lives.92
2.4. A Contemporary Context Marked by Deep Inequalities
A few facts about Quebec:93

 In general, the income of Indigenous women in Quebec is 11%94 lower
than that of non-Indigenous women and 31.3% lower than that of
Quebeckers overall.95
 The employment rate for Indigenous men and women in Quebec is
63.9% and 62.8% respectively, compared to 78.6% and 72.9% for the
non-Indigenous population.96
 The unemployment rate is twice as high for Indigenous women as it is for
non-Indigenous women.97
 40% of First Nations adults in Quebec are part of a household living in
poverty, and more than one in five adults experiences food insecurity.98
 22% of First Nations people living in a First Nations community in Quebec
live in overcrowded housing.99
 36.2% of First Nations members living in a First Nations community in
Quebec live in housing that is in need of major repair, compared to 6.5%
among the non Indigenous population.100
The realities of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec are part of a
context marked by deep socio-economic inequalities. The socio-economic situation of
Indigenous people in Quebec is precarious. There are still significant disparities between the
Indigenous and non-Indigenous populations in employment, income, education and housing.
Poverty is also more prevalent among Indigenous women and girls than among Indigenous
men.101 In order to supplement their income, many Indigenous women have to undertake
activities that are profitable to varying degrees, such as making clothing or shoes, hunting,
fishing, trapping and gathering wild plants.102 Despite these efforts, research shows that poverty
affects a higher proportion of Indigenous women and girls than non-Indigenous women and
girls.103
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CHAPTER 2
One reason for this economic reality is the employment rate among Indigenous women, which is
well below that for non-Indigenous women. Although the employment rate increases with level
of education, it still remains lower than the provincial average: a diploma or degree does not
necessarily guarantee a job for First Nations people in Quebec, as employment prospects within
First Nations communities are often limited.104 Many Indigenous people must therefore leave
their communities in order to find work.
Young Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec also face significant
obstacles to education and graduation. In general, Indigenous people are less likely to have a
high school diploma than are non-Indigenous people.105 Although more young Indigenous
women than young Indigenous men pursue post-secondary education,106 many young mothers
drop out or delay their education because they are pregnant or to take care of their children.107
In Quebec, the average age of Indigenous women at the birth of their first child is 22,108 which
is considerably younger than the provincial average.109 In fact, over half of Indigenous mothers
have not completed secondary school. According to figures from 2008, that rate increases in
remote areas and could reach over 70%.110 However, it is important to note that Indigenous
women who complete a university degree appear to be slightly more likely to find employment
than non-Indigenous women with a degree (82%, compared to 79.5% of Canadian women).111
The socio-economic situation of Indigenous women in Quebec is also marked by difficult living
conditions, both in Indigenous communities and in urban centres. In Indigenous communities,
the scarcity of housing and the dismal state of much of the existing housing means that, on
average, one in four children lives in overcrowded conditions. In addition, the housing is often
in need of major repairs or contains traces of mould.112 In 2003, the Auditor General of Canada
stated, “Many First Nations are facing a housing crisis. Unless action is taken quickly, the
already unacceptable housing conditions are only going to get worse.”113 This housing crisis is
a threat to the health and well-being of First Nations.
In Quebec, cohabiting in accommodations that are often too small and in very poor condition
contributes to overcrowding, which in turn is a factor in the emergence of social problems such
as violence, over-use of alcohol and difficulties in school for Indigenous youth, all of which
increase the likelihood of intervention by youth protection services.114 One thing is clear: social
and health problems entail significant costs for First Nations and for society in general. In the
1990s, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples warned that if no effort was made to
improve socio-economic conditions for Indigenous people, those costs would skyrocket.115
Due to the chronic lack of housing in communities, many First Nations members have no choice
but to live outside their community. In 2015, 32% of First Nations members were living in urban
centres in Quebec.116 That said, in urban centres, trouble accessing “adequate housing that is safe,
stable and affordable is a huge challenge regardless of the income level, age or family situation”
of Indigenous people.117
This explains why many Indigenous people may experience periods of homelessness for varying
lengths of time after arriving in urban centres. For example, the results of a 2015 count suggested
that, although Indigenous people made up 0.6% of the population in the city of Montreal, they
36

CHAPTER 2
represented 10% of its homeless population, of whom a large proportion (41%) are Inuit.118
The level of homelessness among Indigenous women in Val-d’Or is also noteworthy.119
The majority of Indigenous women who are homeless are subjected to violence. These women,
who often live in urban centres to escape family violence, find themselves exposed to violence
when they move to a town or city. With nowhere to live and no support system, they are at risk
of becoming involved in abusive relationships, experiencing sexual violence or being forced
into prostitution.120
In short, even though the reality of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people may
vary considerably from one community or Nation to another, or depending on whether they live
in a community or in an urban centre, the evidence shows the extent to which Indigenous women
and girls are disadvantaged compared to non-Indigenous women and girls in Quebec.
37

NOTES
1. [Translation] “Reserves are federal lands reserved for 14. Gentelet, Rocher and Bissonnette, La sédentarisation.
the exclusive use and benefit of First Nations; a band
15. Loiselle, et al., “Les impacts de l’arrivée des
council can pass resolutions to control its use.
« wemitikojik » (colons blancs).”
Settlements are non-status parcels of land on which
First Nations bands are established, but a band council 16. Bureau du Coroner. “Report on Inquest.”
cannot pass resolutions to regulate their use, as these
17. Quebec, Institut national de santé publique du Québec
lands have never been officially reserved for their use.
(INSPQ), “Rapport québécois sur la violence,”
The federal government administers reserve lands and
pp. 281-315.
provides services to communities residing or living in
the settlements. In the case of Inuit, the system is more 18. Quebec, INSPQ, “Violence conjugale dans la région
of a municipal type and entirely under the jurisdiction de la Côte-Nord, ” p. 68.
of Quebec.” Quebec, Secrétariat aux affaires
autochtones, “Où vivent les Autochtones.” 19. Baril, “Les agressions sexuelles.”
2. Quebec, Secrétariat aux affaires autochtones, 20. Quebec, INSPQ, “Politiques publiques et santé,”
“Aboriginal population in Quebec 2015.” part III.
3. Ibid. 21. Quebec, INSPQ, “Politiques publiques et santé,” p. 9.
4. Canada, Statistics Canada (2011), “2011 National 22. Quebec, INSPQ, “Pour une nouvelle vision de
Household Survey.” l’homosexualité,” p. 133.
5. Québec, Conseil du statut de la femme, “Let’s Meet 23. Feminist Northern Network, “Répercussions du
Quebec’s Aboriginal Women.” colonialisme sur les femmes” ; Weaver, “The Colonial
Context of Violence,” Perreault, “La violence
6. Commission de la santé et des services sociaux des intersectionnelle dans la pensée féministe,” p. 33-52.
Premières Nations du Québec et du Labrador (2018).
Enquête régionale sur la santé des Premières Nations 24. Hicks, “Gender Relations and Self-Determination,”
du Québec (ERS-2015). [Online]: p. 1-17; Green, “Taking Account of Aboriginal
http://cssspnql.com/champs-intervention/secteur- Feminism,” p. 20-32.
recherche/enquetes-populationnelles/enquete-regionale- 25. Basile, “Le rôle et la place des femmes Atikamekw,”
sante p. 80
7. Institut de la statistique du Québec (2017). Le bilan 26. Basile, “Le rôle et la place des femmes Atikamekw,”
démographique du Québec. Édition 2017, [Online], p. 85
Québec, L’Institut, 176 p.
www.stat.gouv.qc.ca/statistiques/population- 27. Basile, “Le rôle et la place des femmes Atikamekw.”
demographie/bilan2017.pdf . 28. Brodribb cited in Basile, “Le rôle et la place des
8. Quebec, Conseil du statut de la femme, “Let’s Meet femmes Atikamekw,” p. 120.
Québec’s Aboriginal Women.” 29. LaFrombroise et al. cited in Basile, “Le rôle et la place
9. Canada, Statistics Canada, “2011 National Household des femmes Atikamekw,” p. 120.
Survey.” 30. For example, within the governance system of the
10. Here, we designate First Nations holding Indian Status. Haudenosaunee Confederacy, clan mothers held
Statistics Canada, “Enquête sur les ménages 2011”. important power, notably in the selection of chiefs in
times of war and times of peace; See Viau, “Femmes de
11. Regroupement des Centres d’amitié autochtones du personnes.”
Québec. (s.d.). Autochtonie urbaine : une population
mobile et en croissance. [Accessed January 23, 2018. 31. Quebec Native Women (QNW), “Les femmes
https://www.rcaaq.info/lautochtonie-urbaine/] autochtones et la violence”; Van Voudenberg, “Des
femmes et de la territorialité,” pp. 75-86.
12. Meloche-Turcot, “Vivre ou non dans les communautés
des Premières Nations québécoises?” 32. Basile et al. “Le territoire comme lieu privilégié de
transmission,” pp. 61-80.
13. Beaulieu, A. “An Equitable Right to be Compensated,”
p. 1-27. 33. Green, “Taking Account of Aboriginal Feminism,”
pp. 20-32.
38

NOTES
34. Brassard et al. “Analyse de l’expérience de la violence 55. LaFromboise et al., “Changing and Diverse Roles of
conjugale.” Women,” p. 455-476.
35. Since the beginning of colonization, colonial 56. LaFromboise et al., “Changing and Diverse Roles of
governments engaged in gift-giving protocols annually Women” ; Bousquet, “Le projet des pensionnats
in order to renew alliances. autochtones au Québec,” p. 21-30.
36. Grammond, Identity Captured by Law. 57. FNQLHSSC, “Collection of life stories.”
37. Van Voudenberg, “Des femmes et de la territorialité,” 58. D’Amours, “Survol historique de la protection de
pp. 75-86. l’enfance,” p. 386-415.
38. Family Homes on Reserves and Matrimonial Interests 59. The first lay child welfare agencies began in Ontario in
or Rights Act, (L.C. 2013, ch. 20) the late 19th century and other provinces followed suit
in the early 20th century. See Quesney, “Un foyer pour
39. Relations Couronne-Autochtones et Affaires du Nord
chaque enfant!” p. 257-282.
Canada, « Biens immobiliers matrimoniaux dans les
réserves ». 60. In fact, 2.6% of children placed in care by the province
are Indigenous, while they represent only 0.7% of
40. Grammond, Identity Captured by Law.
children in Quebec.
41. FemNorthNet, “Répercussions du colonialisme sur les
61. Tourigny, et al. “Les mauvais traitements envers les
femmes.”
enfants autochtones,” p. 84-102.
42. APNQL, “Nos nations.”
62. FNQLHSSC, “Trajectories of First Nations Youth.”
43. Van Voudenberg, “Des femmes et de la territorialité,”
63. Guay, Jacques and Grammond, “La protection des
p. 76.
enfants autochtones,” p. 195-209
44. Van Voudenberg, “Des femmes et de la territorialité.”
64. Guay, “Les familles autochtones,” p. 12-27.
45. Ibid., p. 79
65. CVR, “Sommaire,” p. 141.
46. Basile et al. “Le territoire comme lieu privilégié
66. Mark c. Missionnaires Oblats de Marie Immaculée,
de transmission,” p. 61-80.
[2018] CSM 500-06-00918-181.
47. Bourque, “La transmission ancrée dans le territoire,”
67. Radio-Canada, “Les Oblats présentent leurs excuses.”
p. 2; Basile, “Le rôle et la place des femmes
Atikamekw.” 68. CVR, “Sommaire.”
48. Bergeron, “Voix des femmes ilnu, ” p. 41. 69. Brassard, Spielvogel, and Montminy, “Analyse de
l’expérience de la violence” ; Weaver, “The Colonial
49. In comparison, most other provinces in Canada
Context of Violence,” p. 1552-1564.
introduced compulsory school attendance prior to 1910.
70. Arnaud, “Féminisme autochtone militant,” p. 211-222.
50. Bousquet, “L’histoire scolaire des autochtones,”
p. 117-123. 71. Ibid.
51. Bousquet, “ Êtres libres ou sauvages à civiliser ?” 72. QNW, “Les femmes autochtones et la violence.”
p. 162-192.
73. Raphaël c. Conseil des Montagnais du Lac Saint-Jean,
52. CVR, Final report, Vol 1, p. 46. TCDP, 9 juin 1995; Courtois c. Canada, [1991]
1 CNLR 40 (TCDP).
53. Bousquet, “L’histoire scolaire des autochtones,”
p. 117-123. 74. Miller c. Mohawk Council Of Kahnawà:ke, 2018
QCCS 1784.
54. St-Denis, “Feminism is for Everybody,” p. 33-52;
Bousquet, “Le projet des pensionnats autochtones au
Québec,” p. 21-30.
39

NOTES
75. One of the most significant of these court challenges is 89. Lambert, “Two-Spirits : colonisations et
no doubt the one instituted by Sharon Donna McIvor in décolonisations.”
British Columbia: McIvor v. Canada (Registrar of
90. Duhaime and Riverin, “Double Discrimination and
Indian and Northern Affairs), 2009 BCCA 153,
Equality Rights.”
application for leave to appeal to the Supreme Court of
Canada refused by 2009 CanLII 61383 (SCC). This 91. Arnaud, “Plan Nord,” p. 81–82.
case resulted in Bill C-3, the Gender Equity Act, in
92. Cunningham, “Étude de cas contextualisée des
relation to Indian registration. Unsatisfied, McIvor
trajectoires,” p. 289-290.
continued her fight with the Office of the United
Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights and was 93. Posca, “Portrait des inégalités socioéconomiques.”
successful on January 11, 2019, when it was determined
94. This is the median after-tax income.
that the rules relating to the transfer of Indian status by
maternal lineage contravene the International Covenant 95. Posca, “Portrait des inégalités socioéconomiques,” p. 6.
on Civil and Political Rights and the Optional Protocol
to the International Covenant on Civil and Political 96. Ibid., p. 4.
Rights. Canada must now respond to this decision and 97. Ibid., Table 2, p. 5.
indicate the corrective measures that will be taken to
remedy this situation and prevent such discrimination 98. CSSSPNQL, “Enquête régionale sur la santé.”
in the future. 99. Posca, “Portrait des inégalités socioéconomiques,”
76. Descheneaux c. Canada (Procureur général), 2015 graphique 11, p. 9.
QCCS 3555. 100. Ibid., p. 9.
77. The UN Human Rights Committee recently concluded 101. Gouvernement du Québec, 2016.
that discrimination against Aboriginal women in
Canada will persist until the provisions of Bill S-3 have 102. Posca, “Portrait des inégalités socioéconomiques.”
been fully implemented: Human Rights Committee, 103. Arriagada, “Femmes au Canada.”
“Views adopted by the Committee,” HRC, Doc. NU
CCPR/C/124/DR/2020/2010. 104. Gouvernement du Québec, “À la rencontre des femmes
autochtones.”
78. Arnaud, “Féminisme autochtone militant” ; Rouleau,
“Femmes autochtones du Québec : contrer la violence,” 105. Over one third (37%) of adults have not completed high
p. 73-80. school; CSSSPNQL, “Enquête régionale sur la santé.”
79. Desmarais, “Violence familiale,” p. 15-31 106. FNQLHSSC, “Quebec First Nations Regional Health
Survey.”
80. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind.”
107. Gouvernement du Québec, “À la rencontre des femmes
81. Desmarais, “Violence familiale.” autochtones” ; Boulet, “Maternité précoce.”
82. Sioui-Wawanoloath and Pelletier, “Faits saillants du 108. FNQLHSSC, “Quebec First Nations Regional Health
Colloque,” ; Savard, Thibodeau, and Femmes Survey.”
autochtones du Québec, “Voici la pointe du jour III. ”
109. Selon l’Institut de la statistique du Québec, 2017, il est
83. Pharand and Rousseau, “Ishkuteu. Des services d’aide de 29 ans pour les femmes québécoises.
en violence conjugale.”
110. FNQLHSSC, “Quebec First Nations Regional Health
84. QNW, “Turning towards our traditions.” Survey.”
85. Lajoie, “Le rôle des femmes.” 111. Gouvernement du Québec, “À la rencontre des femmes
86. Mailloux, “La position et l’engagement des femmes.” autochtones.”
87. Réseau continental des femmes autochtones et al., 112. FNQLHSSC, “Quebec First Nations Regional Health
“Femmes autochtones des Amériques” ; Belleville- Survey.”
Chénard, “Femmes autochtones et intersectionnalité.” 113. Sheila Fraser, Auditor General of Canada, 2003 report.
88. Morissette, “Les utopies nécessaires,” p. 273.
40

NOTES
114. FNQLHSSC, Un pas de plus vers l’autodétermination; 118. Latimer, McGregor, Méthot and Smith,
AFNQL and FNQLHSSC, “The homelessness “Dénombrement des personnes en situation
phenomenon among the First Nations.” d’itinérance.”
115. Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, “Report of 119. Cunningham, “Étude de cas contextualisée des
the Royal Commission.” trajectoires.”
116. Secrétariat aux affaires autochtones. “Statistiques des 120. Bonnefont, “Une itinérance systémique,” p. 9-11.
populations autochtones du Québec 2015. ”
117. RCAAQ, “Une nouvelle approche d’intervention en
habitation.”
41

CHAPTER 3
Missing and Murdered Indigenous

Women, Girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
People in Quebec
T
here are few studies in Quebec pertaining to the reality of
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people, and more
particularly the forms of violence they have experienced and
continue to experience. Only recently has the problem attracted serious
attention.1 Faced with a lack of quantitative data, researchers in Quebec
generally turn to national studies and reports, some of which touch on
some realities within Quebec.
3.1. The Nature and Scope of the Problem

In general, these studies indicate that Indigenous women and girls are
more likely to be victims of family violence, spousal homicide and more
severe violence with more pronounced impacts than are other groups of
women in Canada.2 Consequently, Indigenous women are more likely
than their non-Indigenous counterparts to have suffered physical or
psychological injury, received medical attention, taken time off from
daily activities as a consequence of the assaults, experienced 10 or more
separate episodes of violence perpetrated by the same assailant, and
feared for their lives.3
According to Montminy and her colleagues (2010), the various studies
conducted between 1989 and 20074 show that between 70% and over 95%
of Indigenous women in Canada are living in a situation of violence or
have experienced violence in the past. However, the scope of the data is
limited by various methodological restrictions of the studies.5
43

CHAPTER 3
Similarly, there are very few statistics on missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec. Moreover, this data is often incomplete owing to a lack of
time and resources, as well as language barriers, and therefore cannot be relied upon to provide
an accurate picture of the situation in Quebec.6
We can, however, rely on the 2010 report by the Native Women’s Association of Canada,
produced through its Sisters in Spirit initiative.7 This report identifies 22 Indigenous women in
Quebec who have gone missing or been murdered. In 2014, the RCMP reported that 46
Indigenous women were murdered in Quebec between 1980 and 2012.8
In short, the national reports and studies on violence against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people tell us little about regional situations, like that of Quebec, and in most
cases they do not look at the strategies adopted by Indigenous women nor to the resources
they use.
On the other hand, Quebec Native Women (QNW) conducted a qualitative study in 2015 with
88 Indigenous participants (caseworkers, police, families) to gain a better understanding of the
issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Quebec. That exploratory study was a
turning point because, for the first time, it gave a voice to the families of missing and murdered
Indigenous women, thereby raising awareness of their needs.
The study also highlights the need and urgency to open our eyes to the plight survivors of
violence and of their families. It states that the murders and disappearances of Indigenous
women and girls are “the end result of a long and troubling chain of disappearances, caused by
the structural, institutional and intimate violence these women have experienced throughout
history.”9 According to QNW, the disappearances of Indigenous women and girls in Quebec are
attributable to an ideology of erasure that has prevailed since the colonial period and which still
has repercussions in their lives today.10
Indigenous women themselves and the researchers working with them agree that the family
violence experienced by Indigenous women today is part of a context stemming from the
combination of colonial policies articulated throughout history, the erosion of traditional gender
roles, and the socio-economic conditions that engendered those policies.11 The colonialist
policies and the Indian Residential School system engendered historical and multigenerational
traumas that are still being deeply felt in communities.12 The study conducted by Brassard and
her colleagues–the only one we know of that focuses on Indigenous men’s experience with
violence–draws similar conclusions:
One of the important theoretical contributions of our research is the idea that, contrary
to the feminist hypothesis which dominates research on intimate partner violence,
intimate partner violence and family violence perpetrated by Indigenous men cannot
be interpreted within the parameters of a system of patriarchal domination as the
exacerbation of a gender status that is assumed to be dominant. The fact that a few
individuals have reproduced the patriarchal model seems consistent with the Euro-
Canadian influence inherent in colonization. However, what is most remarkable is how
44

CHAPTER 3
infrequently that model of masculinity appeared in our sample. In fact, the overall
analysis of our data tends to reinforce the thesis that intimate partner violence and family
violence among Indigenous people is not only quite equally distributed between men and
women, but, most significantly, it is much more likely to occur as a desperate expression
of suffering shared by actors, both men and women, who are dispossessed of their
power, or, more accurately, of the belief in their power, both individually and
collectively.13[Emphasis added.]
The problem of family violence and its ties to the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous
women and girls can certainly not be denied, but family violence is only part of the problem.14
Family violence, as well as the other forms of violence experienced by Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec, should always be examined in light of the socio-historical
context and the associated structural and institutional violence, as well as the precarious living
conditions in which they have been confined.15
Beyond the socio-historical factors, the difficulty accessing health and social services that truly
reflect the reality and needs of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLBTQQIA people,16 and the
chronic underfunding of existing services17 exacerbate their vulnerability and the socio-economic
inequalities they face18 and trap them in a cycle of violence.19 That is not surprising, given that
low-income individuals have a harder time obtaining the services they need.20
It is all the more difficult for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people because
services are seldom culturally sensitive and safe. For example, the public services in Quebec for
dealing with domestic violence focus on separating the spouses to end the violence, whereas
Indigenous women are instead seeking services that take a holistic approach to intervention
which includes all family members.21
Professor Renée Brassard, who testified as an Expert Witness, notes that it is important to
understand the family dynamic and the history of violence among Indigenous people. She also
believes that traditional services are misguided in their attempts to solve the problem by moving
the women into shelters, imprisoning the men and isolating the children. The well-being of
Indigenous women cannot be separated from that of their children, their family and their
community.
A breakup with an intimate partner is often seen as an event or a factor associated with
success…. But in the trajectories of family and intimate partner violence among
Indigenous women which I have seen to date, that does not change the dynamic of
violence; all they do is change partners [and] the same thing happens again…. So these
are people who are reluctant to break up intimate partner relationships or separate the
members of the family. It is also important to take a holistic approach to healing that
includes everyone…. There is no point in trying to heal one person, or to remove one
person from the dynamic of violence, as that does nothing to change the family dynamic
of violence.22
45

CHAPTER 3
Moreover, the approach of removing women from their homes is not always applicable in
Indigenous communities, where the chronic housing shortage means that there are few, if any,
safe alternative places to shelter them.23
In the communities, access to services that are both impartial and confidential remains a major
obstacle, given the close relationships between individuals in the community. For example, it is
not uncommon for a social worker to be related to the perpetrator or to the victim.24 In short,
providing services locally that are guaranteed to be objective and anonymous is often impossible.
That explains why many women living in the communities prefer to consult external resources.25
Unfortunately, the situation in urban centres also has its share of challenges. When women
try to access various services in urban centres, they encounter a number of obstacles and
constraints: not only discrimination and racism, but also caseworkers’ limited knowledge and
understanding of Indigenous realities and their attempts to impose ill-suited, non-Indigenous
intervention methods.26
Studies carried out in Quebec have revealed the fact that Indigenous women turn first to an
informal support network.27 They tend to choose healing activities or traditional practices,
such as sharing circles and sweat lodges, when those services are available.28 These studies
demonstrate that, in terms of formal resources, Indigenous women prefer services that take into
account their realities and their cultural and linguistic needs.29 In many cases, they tend to use a
variety of resources when trying to leave a violent situation.30
Unfortunately, as noted in all the reports and studies consulted, the number of organizations that
could offer this type of service is insufficient and they are chronically underfunded. For example,
the inadequate funding allocated to them. Women’s shelters located in the communities, which
are Native Friendship Centres in urban areas are unable to provide the services they would like
to, given that they are funded by the Department of Indigenous Services but receive almost
30% less than the other women’s shelters in Quebec.31 Lastly, there is a severe lack of services
for Indigenous men, which poses a major impediment to the process of collective healing.
In light of these findings, these studies identify four key solutions to reduce and ultimately
put a stop to the violence experienced by Indigenous women: (1) education and prevention
among Indigenous and non-Indigenous populations; (2) allocation of additional resources;
(3) development of a more complete and culturally safe network of services, leaving more room
for local initiatives; and, lastly, (4) active participation by First Nations in planning solutions
for problems that affect them.
In Chapter 4 of this volume, the stories of survivors and families heard during the community
hearings in Quebec illustrate this “historical chain of erasure” in which different forms of
violence accumulate and intersect. The stories also show how the combined impact of that
violence32 contributes to the weakening of the social fabric and community solidarity,33 the
erosion of traditional gender roles, and the devaluation of Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec.34 All of this creates an environment that makes Indigenous
46

CHAPTER 3
women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people more vulnerable and more likely to experience
violence, go missing or be murdered.
In addition to their stories, there are those of all the women who, for various reasons, were not
able to appear before the National Inquiry.
3.2. Potential Collaborative Solutions with Indigenous Women,

Girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA People
Intervention approaches must be adapted for dealing with cases of missing and murdered
Indigenous women: “[T]he loved ones of people who have been murdered are more likely to
need psychological and emotional support services, while the loved ones of people who have
disappeared will probably seek services that would meet more practical needs, to help them cope
with the crisis caused by the disappearance.”35
In the height of crisis, families say that they do not receive the support they need in order to
understand and act within the police and judicial system. They must attempt to navigate their
way through these systems without any knowledge of or control over the investigation process,
and they have difficulty obtaining supplementary resources to help them heal from the trauma.
A number of commissions of inquiry and research reports have been ordered at the national level
to try to shed light on the realities of Indigenous people’s lives in Canada.36
Meanwhile, in Quebec, public discourse has focused largely on issues of identity and the
integration of people referred to as “visible minorities” or “cultural communities,” in a series of
initiatives from which Indigenous peoples were essentially excluded. In the 1980s, 1990s and
2000s, the realities of Indigenous Peoples were touched on only slightly in studies commissioned
by the political authorities in Quebec on the subject of racial profiling.37 Indigenous Peoples were
also excluded from a consultation on discrimination in public services, and that exclusion was
rationalized as follows:
Aboriginals are not targeted by this future policy. Although they can be affected by
prejudice and discrimination, just like individuals from cultural communities and visible
minorities, and they can benefit from measures implemented under the policy, solutions
to the problems confronting them must be considered in a broader perspective that goes
beyond the scope of this public consultation.38
As this demonstrates, Indigenous Peoples have remained “invisible minorities” in Quebec for
too long. As noted by Jean-Jacques Simard in his discussion of the process of “reductionism”
imposed on Indigenous Peoples,
…the first inhabitants arouse in the consciousness of the majority uncomfortable feelings
of pity, fear of difference and nostalgia for the lost community, mixed with collective guilt.
47

CHAPTER 3
To rid ourselves of this discomfort, we will agree in advance to all the wishes of these
unfortunate victims of history, whether they want to assimilate or to live in their own
way, among themselves, apart. As a result, they will remain in the special place that has
been gradually been carved out for them over the course of more than 300 years in
Canadian society, which can be summed up, paradoxically, as having no place.39
When the Commission des droits de la personne et des droits de la jeunesse (CDPDJ) [Quebec
Human and Youth Rights Commission] proposed conducting a study focusing on racial profiling
of Indigenous people by police, it did not receive the necessary funding and the CDPDJ could
not complete its work.40 However, even if studies had been carried out, they probably would have
led nowhere, given that the representatives of the Quebec Ministry of Public Security often side
with the police in minimizing the seriousness of the problem of racial profiling.41
The first report commissioned by the Government of Quebec on an Indigenous issue examined
the justice system. The report, “Justice for and by the Aboriginals,” known as the Coutu Report,
was released on November 30, 1995. That report provided the stimulus for a number of changes
in the Quebec judicial system, including the implementation of forms of alternative justice for
sentencing of Indigenous offenders.
Only a few pages of the report were devoted specifically to the perspective of Indigenous
women, but they are revealing:
Women and children, in Aboriginal society as in any other society, constitute the
majority of the population. Moreover, we know that women and children are the ones
who generally suffer the most from violence and sexual abuse. This is why we believe it
is necessary to bring to the attention of the Ministère de la Justice and of the
Gouvernement du Québec the especially difficult conditions experienced by Aboriginal
women, children and families….
…during our visit [sic] to the various communities, we could often perceive signs of
distress in the faces of some Aboriginal women present at the meetings, despite their
efforts sometimes to mask their feelings.
… [O]ver the last few years, the voices of Aboriginal women have made themselves
heard throughout Canada and Québec in protest against the immediate transfer of
responsibilities related to the administration of justice to Aboriginal political authorities,
most often represented by men. This tendency is prompted by their concerns that their
individual rights, notwithstanding the protection afforded by the Charters, will be
sacrificed to the imperatives of collective rights.
48

CHAPTER 3
Following those comments, the Coutu Report made a recommendation that is still relevant today:
Recommendation 16
Those who will be responsible for the implementation of the aforementioned
recommendations should take into consideration the concerns expressed by Aboriginal
women’s associations and should ensure that Aboriginal women and men participate, on
as equal a footing as possible, in the operation of the proposed models.
Expressions of reciprocity and commemoration from families and survivors during

National Inquiry’s hearings in Quebec.
Then, on May 21, 1997, the Government of Quebec created a commission of inquiry into the
events surrounding the 1977 deaths of Achille Vollant and Moïse Régis, after the media raised
questions about the potential involvement of the Sûreté du Québec [Quebec provincial police] in
the drowning of the two Innu men.42
Since the early 2000s, the Government of Quebec has been working on an action plan for
improving the living conditions of women in general. Violence against women is always
discussed in terms of intimate partner violence. Other types of violence are ignored, including
family violence, institutional violence and police violence. Thus, the issue is studied from an
ethnocentric point of view, by examining the types of violence that are most likely to affect
non-Indigenous women.
49

CHAPTER 3
In its Government Action Plan 2004-2009 on Domestic Violence: Component on Native

Communities,43 the Government of Quebec proposes the following: “When renewing three-party
agreements, negotiate a requirement that native police forces adopt directives for intervention in
cases of domestic violence based on the relevant guidelines in the Guide des pratiques policières.”
In its Rapport sur la mise en œuvre du plan d’action gouvernemental en matière d’agressions
sexuelles de 2008-2013 [Report on the implementation of the 2008-2013 government action plan
on sexual assault],44 the Government of Quebec highlights “significant advances that have been
made in Indigenous communities.” Many people wonder how significant those advances really
are. According to the government, “[T]his action plan has laid a foundation enabling Indigenous
communities to discuss issues related to sexual assault.” Clearly, the issue is still in the
discussion stage and no action had been taken.
In April 2015, QNW decided to start work on the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous
women and held a meeting for that purpose.45
Shortly thereafter, on May 28, 2015, an order of initiative was issued to the Commission des
relations avec les citoyens [Quebec committee on citizen relations] to study Indigenous women’s
living conditions in relation to sexual assault and domestic violence. A draft report was produced
in May 2016.46 Rather than continue that work, the Government of Quebec established its role as
one of the jurisdictions included within this National Inquiry on August 9, 2016.
The Quebec Government Strategy to Prevent and Counteract Sexual Violence 2016-202147 states
that “the measures to satisfy the needs of Aboriginal populations with respect to sexual violence
will be elaborated separately within the framework of a specific government approach, which
will incorporate the government’s initiatives in response to an array of Aboriginal social issues.”
In 2017, the Secrétariat à la condition féminine [Quebec Secretariat for the Status of Women]
published an action plan, “Together for Equality: Government Strategy for Gender Equality
Toward 2021,”48 in which it announced once again that Indigenous social issues, including
gender equality, would be addressed in a separate plan.
In 2017, the Secrétariat aux affaires autochtones [Quebec Aboriginal Affairs Secretariat]
responded with an action plan, Do More, Do Better: Government Action Plan for the Social and
Cultural Development of the First Nations and Inuit.49 With this action plan, Quebec’s Premier
took a step toward reconciliation by recognizing the effects of colonialism on the Indigenous
People in Quebec:
In the 21st century, at a time when the world is changing and Québec must meet new
challenges, it is crucial to be able to rely on all of our society’s strengths. The Government
of Québec intends to work with all Quebecers to build a fairer, more prosperous, inclusive,
open Québec. The First Nations and Inuit were present in the territory long before the
arrival of the first Europeans and are at the root of our history. They have largely
contributed to building the Québec that we now know and must have the means to fully
contribute to the Québec of tomorrow.
50

CHAPTER 3
However, to contemplate the future optimistically, we must first lucidly examine the
past. The relationship with the Aboriginal peoples has also been marked by sustained
attempts spread over several generations to assimilate them. They have, unfortunately,
suffered numerous forms of discrimination before being recognized for what they are,
that is, full-fledged, living, resilient nations which are proud of their differences and
cultures, enriched by their identities and anxious to take their rightful place in society.
It is, therefore, incumbent upon us to ensure that this cohabitation is now based on
respect, mutual aid, collaboration and friendship.50
The action plan included what it called “essential consideration for Aboriginal women.”51
Among other elements, it includes a series of measures identified as being addressed specifically
to Indigenous women. Yet the vast majority of the proposed measures are crucial to improving
living conditions for Indigenous women. Therefore, it is important to ensure that, in categorizing
interventions in such a way, the government does not neglect other actions that are crucial,
necessary, and high priorities for women, simply because they also apply to other groups. That
would include issues related to policing, a major concern for the Indigenous women who
testified before the National Inquiry.
For example, measure 2.1.2, “Establish a permanent collaboration and consensus-building
mechanism in the realm of culture in the First Nations and Inuit communities,”52 is worthwhile.
However, it is not identified in the action plan as being aimed at women. The Government of
Quebec must therefore be reminded that it is important to build representative participation by
Indigenous women into such a mechanism, to ensure that their interests are protected at all stages
of development of social policies affecting the Indigenous communities. In addition, such a
mechanism should not be put in place only in relation to culture; it should be used for all areas of
activity that impact the rights of the Indigenous peoples of Quebec.
Lastly, in its Government Action Plan on Domestic Violence 2018-2023, the Government of
Quebec noted the “importance of integrating the family dimension when considering domestic
violence issues.”53 It announced that the recommendations made by the Commission d’enquête
sur les femmes et les filles autochtones disparues et assassinées au Québec (this Commission)
and by the Viens Commission would be integrated into the action plan for Indigenous peoples.
In keeping with the recommendations of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of
Canada (2015), the work of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women and Girls and the Public Inquiry Commission on Relations Between Indigenous
Peoples and Certain Public Services in Québec, the 2017-2022 Action Plan underlines
the importance of considering the issues specific to Indigenous women.
To this end, the recommendations resulting from these inquiry commissions will help to
identify the needs of First Nations and the Inuit with respect to domestic and family
violence. Measures specific to the Indigenous population will be developed in
collaboration with First Nations and Inuit stakeholders and integrated into the 2017-2022
Action Plan.54
51

CHAPTER 3
First Nations women have spoken their truths before the National Inquiry. Now, we must move
from words to action, while ensuring that all initiatives taken to address social issues affecting
Indigenous people are considered through a gender-based lens and with the full participation of
52

NOTES
1. Dion, Collin-Vézina, and Lavoie, “Les violences 21. QNW, “Indigenous women and violence”; Flynn et al.,
sexuelles chez les peuples autochtones, ” p. 159. “Sortir la violence.”
2. Chbat, Damant, and Flynn, “Analyse intersectionnelle 22. Professeure Renée Brassard, Parts 2 and 3, Public
de l’oppression” ; QNW, “Indigenous women and Volume 8, Québec, QC, pp. 75-76.
violence.”
3. QNW, “Indigenous women and violence.”
24. Ibid.
4. Montminy et al., “Pour une meilleure compréhension,”
25. Bourque et al., “Stratégies adaptées par les femmes
p. 53-66.
autochtones.”
5. Montminy et al. (2010) call for caution in interpreting
26. Flynn et al., “Sortir la violence.”
statistics on violence in Indigenous communities since:
(1) there is no universally accepted definition of 27. Bourque et al., “Stratégies adaptées par les femmes
violence; (2) no system for collecting such data has autochtones” ; Government of Canada, “Les Femmes
been developed at the national level; (3) reporting rates autochtones et violence familiale”; Bergeron, “Voix des
of violence are highly variable; (4) Statistics Canada femmes ilnu” ; QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind.”
recognizes that its methods of collecting data on
28. Bourque et al., “Stratégies adaptées.”
violence are not intended for minorities.
29. Montminy et al., “Pour une meilleure compréhension.”
6. Bourque et al., “Stratégies adaptées par les femmes
autochtones.” 30. Bourque et al., “Stratégies adaptées.”
7. AFAC, “Ce que leurs histoires nous disent,” p. 28. 31. QNW, “Indigenous women and violence.”
8. GRC, “Les femmes autochtones disparues et 32. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind” ; Flynn et al.,
assassinées.” “Sortir la violence.”
9. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind.” 33. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind.”
10. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind.” 34. Montminy et al., “Pour une meilleure compréhension” ;
Flynn and Brassard, “La maternité autochtone.”
35. Matte, “Les besoins des proches de personnes
12. Cunningham, “Étude de cas contextualisée des
assassinées.”
trajectoires.”
36. See Volumes 1a and 1b of the National Inquiry's Final
13. Brassard et al., “Analyse de l’expérience de la
Report, which explains the history of past inquiries and
violence” p. 145.
commissions.
37. Bellemare, “Enquête sur les relations.”
38. Government of Quebec, “Pour la pleine participation.”
16. QNW, “Indigenous women and violence”; Flynn et al.,
39. Simard, La réduction, p. 22. See also Trudel, “De la
“Sortir la violence.”
négation de l’autre,” p. 53; Hamelin, “Passer près d’une
17. Pharand and Rousseau, “Des services d’aide en perdrix.”
violence conjugale” ; QNW, “Indigenous women and
40. Journal of debates of the Committee on Institutions,
violence” ; QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind” ;
34th Legislature, 1st session, Friday June 1, 1990 –
Brassard et al., “Analyse de l’expérience de la
Vol. 31 N° 16.
violence.”
41. La flûte, “Les grandes orientations,” p. 17-18.
18. Government of Canada, “Les Femmes autochtones et
violence familiale.” 42. Commission of Inquiry into the Events Surrounding the
Deaths of Messrs. Achille Vollant and Moses Regis in
19. QNW, “Indigenous women and violence”; Flynn et al.,
1977.
“Sortir la violence.”
43. Government of Quebec, “Plan d’action gouvernemental
20. Hutchison, “Disparité dans l’accès,” p. 14-18.
2004-2009,” p. 10.
53

NOTES
44. Government of Quebec, “Rapport sur la mise en œuvre 50. Ibid.

du plan d’action.”
51. Ibid.
45. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind,” p. 6.
52. Ibid., p. 57.
46. Assemblée nationale, “Mandat d’initiative sur les
53. Government of Quebec, “Plan d’action
conditions de vie.”
gouvernementale en matière de violence conjugale,”
47. Secrétariat à la condition féminine, “Stratégie p. 14.
gouvernementale.”
54. Ibid.
48. Government of Quebec, “Ensemble pour l’égalité.”
49. Government of Quebec, “Plan d’action gouvernemental
pour le développement.”
54

CHAPTER 4
The Stories of Survivors

and Families
T
his chapter is devoted to the voices of First Nations women, girls
and their families in Quebec who testified publicly before the
National Inquiry at hearings held in Maliotenam in fall 2017 and
in Montreal in the winter of 2018. We wish to pay tribute to them in this
volume by recognizing the value of their testimony and acknowledging
their steadfast courage and resilience in spite of all the challenges they
face. The stories in the pages that follow are summaries of testimonies
prepared using National Inquiry transcripts.1 They describe situations and
events as presented by the women and families. These stories will help
readers to become familiar with the many facets of violence against
Indigenous women and girls in Quebec, from the point of view of women
and families affected by such violence, and help to gain also a better
understanding of the complexity of this issue. These accounts are therefore
intended to keep personal stories alive so that they are never forgotten.
The story of Gilberte V. and Andrée V.,

in relation to Adèle V.-B., Public Volume 32
Gilberte V. is an Innu woman from Pessamit. She is the mother of Andrée
and Adèle. Adèle was nicknamed Adèlous. Adèle died on July 1, 2011, at
age 17. She was born on October 12, 1993, into a blended family. She
was the only child of Gilberte and her spouse Patrick. “She was always
glued to me. I used to call her ‘my shadow’. We got along very well …
she confided in me. She was always smiling and teasing, too.”2 Andrée,
55

CHAPTER 4
the eldest of the family, remembers her younger sister as someone who had lots of plans and
dreams, a smiling, sociable and sincere girl, who loved to laugh and who loved life.
On July 1, 2011, Adèlous was getting ready to go out with two friends who were visiting from
Sept-Îles. She promised not to stay out too late. As she was walking out the door, she turned
around and told her parents, “I love you.” As Gilberte reflected, “That was the last time I heard
her voice.”3 At midnight, Gilberte was still awake. Her daughter had not yet come home. She
called her on her cellphone, and Adèlous reassured her that she would be home soon, but she
was not. Later that night, the phone rang. Gilberte was told that Adèlous was being resuscitated.
Gilberte woke up her spouse and, together, they went to the community hall, where they saw
Adèlous on the ground. They were still trying to resuscitate her, but it was already clear to
Gilberte that her daughter “was gone.”4
Gilberte and Patrick went to the hospital where Adèlous had been taken by ambulance; Andrée
came to join them. They knew at this moment that their daughter was dead. When she saw her,
Gilberte was surprised. “Her hair was wet on one side of her head, the left side. The other side
wasn’t. I also saw that her nose had bled. She had bruises on her forehead.”5Andrée noted that
there was a cut on her sister’s forehead and that she had bruises everywhere.
The next day, a Sept-Îles police officer went to the scene of the incident. According to Gilberte,
“nothing had been set up, there was no security perimeter, nothing.”6 Later, investigators asked
to meet with Gilberte and her spouse. They told them that Adèle had done drugs. Gilberte did not
believe them. “Based on what we heard, our daughter was kicked, several people were on her.
The Sept-Îles girls had been the target, but she was the one who was beaten, she must have
wanted to protect her friends.”7 There were all kinds of rumours in the community as to what
could have happened that night. The police chief went on the community radio station to try to
keep people who were angry about what had happened from retaliating.
There was a growing number of theories about Adèlous’s death, each one contradicting the
others. According to Gilberte, the coroner confirmed that Adèlous had died as a result of a head
trauma. At the hospital, the doctor told Gilberte that Adèlous had suffered heart arrhythmia.
Gilberte was also aware that her daughter had been hit with a beer bottle.
Over time, Andrée learned details about what had happened after her sister’s death. A community
firefighter, who had apparently been a first responder that night, admitted to her that, at the
scene, he was told to keep the incident confidential. Andrée also learned that her sisters’ friends,
who were present at the incident, were never called to testify before the court, despite their
having given their statements to the police officers. “One of them had even taken photos. When
he gave her back her cellphone, there was nothing in her cellphone anymore.”8Andrée also
pointed out that the police chief’s spouse was a friend of those who had beaten Adèlous.
Eventually, a teenage girl was charged in relation to the incident, but the charges were ultimately
dropped. During the court proceedings, limited information was shared with the family. The
family did not attend.
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CHAPTER 4
Adèlous’s death led to other tragedies within the community. Two weeks after Adèlous died, her
ex-boyfriend committed suicide, and that same summer, her best friend also took her own life.
On December 11 of the same year, a fire destroyed Gilberte’s house. She cannot take anymore.
She even thinks about taking her own life. In losing Adèlous, Gilberte lost part of her heart. “Me,
I still miss her terribly. She had often told me, ‘I love you lots, Mom. I love you lots, Dad.’ Now
those words are no longer.”9 The family was given no formal support. However, both Gilberte
and Andrée have sought psychological counselling, but it remains a long process.
Various commemorative events were organized in the community. A march was held in
Adèlous’s memory. Her photograph and flowers were laid in the community hall parking lot,
where the incident happened. A Facebook page was created in Adèlous’s honour.
Gilberte and Andrée still do not know what truly caused Adèlous’s death, but they are convinced
that her death is directly related to the injuries she suffered that night. They no longer trust the
police and they have no faith in the justice system.
The story of Mary-Annie B., Silas B., Kirby B.

and Bessie C. B., in relation to Rose-Ann B., Public Volume 60
Rose-Ann was a Cree woman. She was born on May 13, 1968, in Waskaganish, and was the
eldest of 10 children. Her body was found in Val d’Or on November 16, 1991, nine days after
she went missing. She had been beaten, abandoned and left in the cold.
Before she was found dead, Rose-Ann had twice been sexually assaulted by men in the com-
munity and had not been coping well in the aftermath of the assaults. Rose Ann’s community,
family and religious congregation were divided on the situation, which exacerbated her feelings of
humiliation and anger. Rose-Ann physically attacked her aggressor. Later, she threatened one of
the members of her religious congregation with a butter knife, demanding that he stop humiliating
her. Following those events, she was arrested and incarcerated. Later, Rose-Ann was banned from
the community.
Rose-Ann then went to live at the Val d’Or Native Friendship Centre. One day, her mother
became worried because she was unable to reach her daughter and didn’t know where she was.
Her parents quickly informed the Nemaska and Val d’Or police departments of their daughter’s
disappearance, but they received little help. The family conducted several searches themselves.
Nine days after her disappearance, on November 16, 1991, Rose-Ann’s body was finally found.
Rose-Ann’s parents asked the police to provide them with more information on their daughter’s
death. They were told that Rose-Ann had been attacked by two sisters; they were given the
names of the assailants. The parents were told that the two women had been banned from the
community, but that nothing further would be done. Rose-Ann’s tragic death had a major impact
on the entire family. At the time of Rose-Ann’s death, her two sons were only 1 and 4 years of
age. Silas, Rose-Ann’s eldest, explained that the months following his mother’s death had been
rough. The children went from foster home to foster home until their grandparents could finally
adopt them. Nevertheless, Silas’s childhood was marked by his mother’s absence.
57

CHAPTER 4
Growing up without a mother is really tough. I would see my friends hug their mothers,
and I would be jealous, envious. Sometimes when I would have good grades at school I
was really hoping to tell her about it. Like, when I catch a big fish, I wanted to tell her.
When I killed a moose, I thought about her. My first moose, I was there, “She would be
so proud.”10
Years passed and the family still had no conclusive answer as to the actual circumstances of
Rose-Ann’s death. During that period, they had only minimal contact with the police and were
offered few services. In 2016, Mary-Annie, Rose-Ann’s younger sister, came to Montreal to
share her sister’s story. She sadly realized that no one knows her story and that Rose-Ann is
not included in the statistics on missing and murdered Indigenous women. In January 2017,
Mary-Annie received support from the members of a Facebook page intended to assist the
families of missing and murdered Indigenous women. She then obtained information on what
may have happened at the time of the events that led to her sister’s death. With the help of a
community worker, the family finally received several documents they had never seen before.
In March of the same year, the SQ (Sûreté du Québec) decided to reopen Rose Ann’s case.
The family finally learned the details of the night of Rose-Ann’s death. The family learned where
Rose-Ann had been found and how much time she had been there; these details had not been
included in the little information Rose-Ann’s parents had been given at the time of the tragedy.
They were also given a photograph of the location where the assault took place. While it remains
difficult to understand the sequence of events, they now know that Rose-Ann was beaten by two
women from her community in a hotel room. She was then taken outside the hotel room and
beaten again. Not knowing the extent of her own injuries, Rose-Ann walked a bit before
collapsing a short distance from the hotel. The family indicated in their testimony that an initial
report indicates that the women had even heard her cry for help, but did not come to her aid.
In September 2017, upon completion of the new investigation, the family learned that no charges
would be laid and that the case would be definitively closed given the statute of limitations.
Rose-Ann’s family members are not satisfied and continue to have many unanswered questions
today. Today, her son Silas asks why a proper investigation was not conducted in 1991. He also
has the impression that the second investigation neglected several aspects. For his part, Kirby
believes that the members of the community are especially to blame.
I’m not angry at the police. I’m not angry anymore at these women. I’m angry at our
community because we are the ones who continue this and allow this to go through. We
see what we see, but we don’t choose to speak up during the times…. It is the silence
that has killed my sister because we chose, the many people who were there, who
witnessed certain things, in many other communities, it is the people who chose to
remain silent who actually helped kill my sister.11
58

CHAPTER 2
QNW also advocates for openness toward and respect for 2SLGBTQQIA individuals within
Indigenous communities, governments and workers who provide services to First Nations
people. For example, in 2016 QNW organized a conference entitled Turning towards our
Traditions: Valuing LGBTQ/Two-Spirited Aboriginals and Fighting against Sexual
Discrimination that looked at the effects of colonization on this group of people.84
Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec are often leading the charge for greater
social, environmental, territorial, political and community justice, and Indigenous female
leadership is becoming increasingly valued.85
Importantly, there are also all these other women who have been working hard for decades, in the
shadows, to make changes within their families and their communities.86 All of these women,
through their determination, managed to break down barriers in a system that is set up to push
them down, particularly the Indian Act, which, for a long time left Indigenous women powerless
and which continues to discriminate against them.
We are still far from achieving fairness and equality.
2.3. Being Born Female and Indigenous: the Intersectional

Identity of Indigenous Women, Girls, and
In studying the issue of violence against Indigenous women and 2SLGBTQQIA people, it is
important to take into consideration all the identities with which Indigenous women define
themselves and to be aware of all the factors that could act in combination to exacerbate their
discrimination.
While we recognize that Indigenous people are marginalized, Indigenous women find themselves
doubly marginalized because of their gender.87 There was a time when Indigenous women in
Quebec asked themselves whether it was in their interest to stand with QNW or whether doing
so would harm the political claims of men from Indigenous communities.
[Diane Morissette]: Some women belonging to Indigenous nations in Quebec that are
currently in negotiations believe that it is better to invest their energy into the land
claims process rather than joining QNW, which could cause some division between men
and women.
[Évelyne O’Bomsawin]: In my view, there is really no conflict. QNW is not concerned

with land claims. They simply want to get men and the government to be aware of social
problems that primarily affect the status of women and families and that men are not
concerned with because of their more political agenda. Moreover, we have proof that
associations made up primarily of men do a very poor job of representing the interests of
women. Women’s presence is still lacking here.88
33

CHAPTER 4
was initially unable to understand the reason why she panicked, but she later realized that the
sexual violence she had been subjected to in her childhood had happened in the bathroom most
of the time.
Nathalie had four children with a man who was unfaithful to her and whom she feared. “Just
seeing him furrow his brow made me afraid. His look scared me. His body scared me…I was
afraid to leave him then because it would have affected my children…He did not beat me, but
psychologically, verbally, he put me down.”14 Nathalie took care of her children as best she
could, but she continued to drink regularly; she admits with regret having neglected them.
“During those events, I also hurt people by bottling up my emotions. I hurt many with hate,
resentment, anger.”15
At 32 years of age, without telling anyone, Nathalie decided to seek help. She saw a
psychologist. She also took part in a 10-day therapy session, where she had to open up
emotionally and talk about the impact of the violence she suffered and the tragic death of her
father. The experience was difficult, but beneficial for Nathalie. Following the therapy, she
stopped consuming alcohol and continued her journey toward well-being. She went to a
treatment centre and had the support of female friends who respected her.
Nathalie also had a good relationship with her sister Éliane, who helped her with her children.
She was also godmother to her youngest daughter. Éliane lived in Abitibi with an Algonquin
man. Nathalie and Éliane called each other often, and Éliane visited her when she could. In
summer 2000, Nathalie had trouble getting in touch with her sister, and for a few months, she did
not know what was going on with her. On August 25, 2000, Nathalie learned from another one of
her sisters that Éliane had been killed by her husband. It was a living nightmare for Nathalie; she
was in shock. She took on the responsibility of repatriating her sister’s body to the North Shore
and planning the funeral. Éliane’s death was a turning point for Nathalie: “Today, I look at that
and I tell myself: No, I don’t want to live in violence anymore. I went to regain my strength.”16
In 2007, Nathalie decided to leave her community to settle in Quebec City. Since then, she has
been able to access various resources, support groups and therapies. She is learning a lot. “I am
55 years old and this year I turn 56. I have been truly living my life only for a short time. I have
reclaimed my life, I have taken back control over my life. It is thanks to treatments, treatment
centres, the people who helped me, who listened to me.”17 Today, Nathalie encourages women to
talk about the hardship which with they are confronted. She herself dreams of travelling to
Indigenous communities and giving talks about her experiences to help others.
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CHAPTER 4
The story of Theresa “Tess” L., Anthony G.

and Angela G., in relation to Jacqueline L., Public Volume 71
Jacqueline L., sister of Theresa “Tess” and mother of Anthony and Angela, ended her life six
years ago, after a life marked by violence. Tess was born in 1970 to a Francophone father and an
Indigenous mother. Tess and Jacqueline’s mother had a difficult start in life. As a child, she had
attended a residential school, where she was beaten by nuns and subjected to a great deal of
violence. These experiences stripped her of her pride, dignity and beliefs. As she explained, “I
feel it didn’t start right. Because our beginning is a mother who went to residential school; who
has been beaten by these nuns; and who only knew violence.”18
When she left the residential school in the late 1950s, Tess and Jacqueline’s mother married a
white man. The couple had seven children, five girls and two boys. Tess is the third child and her
sister Jacqueline is the fifth. The children grew up unaware that they were Indigenous. Their
mother, who had lost all sense of pride in her Indigenous identity, did not speak to them about it.
The women only learned that they were Indigenous in adulthood.
The children were subjected to a great deal of violence at home, at the hands of both their
parents. Their father sexually abused his children. “This pedophile abused us from diapers.
And, he stripped us of our dignity, and our knowledge to be a good person. And he took away –
he took away what I was supposed to know.”19 So, Tess, Jacqueline and their brothers and
sisters grew up in an environment marked by violence that was perpetuated from generation
to generation, within a cycle that is difficult to break.
So, when I think of my sister, Jacquie, I think of her as -- not knowing how to get out of
that wheel. Because it’s a wheel from generations to generations. It’s just handed down;
the feeling of not being complete. Knowing that there’s something missing, and that
something missing – is the basis of love, understanding, comprehension; being needed,
being wanted. We were stripped of that.20
For their part, Angela and Anthony, Jacqueline’s children, remember their mother as a wonderful
woman, but also deeply marked by the lack of love she received as a child. Jacqueline was funny
and highly intelligent, but also felt a deep sense of emptiness. Constantly seeking safety and
comfort, she could not stand being alone. To fill those voids, Jacqueline turned to alcohol,
drugs and unhealthy romantic relationships. Jacqueline lavished her children with the love and
affection she never received, constantly reminding them of their worth. For Anthony and Angela,
however loving their mother’s words were, they eventually lost their meaning. In the children’s
eyes, it was obvious that Jacqueline was trying to compensate for what she did not have as a
child.
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Tess, who had herself sought therapy, regularly reached out to her sister, who clearly needed
help. She offered to go to therapy with her, to go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings with her,
but her sister did not easily allow herself to be helped.
At that time, allegations are made against their father for the sexual abuse they had suffered in
childhood. It took four years before the children were given the opportunity to tell their story
before a judge. The delay had been difficult for Tess, who had prepared her account and relived
the trauma several times, only to have her testimony postponed. “Our court system needs
looking at, because our victims: they don’t feel safe, you know. And it’s too long. And it’s too
unbearable.”21 Ultimately, the father was sentenced to two years of imprisonment, but ended up
serving only half of his sentence.
For Jacqueline, it was very difficult to accept that her father had never admitted to committing
those crimes. After the trial, she moved to Manitoba. There, she experienced domestic violence
and, despite filing a complaint, the case never went any further. She was also stabbed by another
man, who spent only very little time in prison.
After much hardship, Jacqueline ended her life. Her loved ones continue to feel a deep sense of
injustice and emptiness. “Life was so hard on her. And it’s just – and, it’s not fair for us. It’s not
fair, because she was supposed to be there, you know? And now she’s gone.”22
In sharing their truth, Jacqueline’s loved ones suggested ways to improve the current situation.
Anthony and Angela believe it is important to educate the public so as to be able to move past
biases and stereotypes. People must be educated about the genocide of Indigenous peoples, but
also about their spirituality and beauty. Tess believes that we have to talk to our children and
make them aware of sexual assault so that they have what they need to identify and report
abusers. Lastly, she points out that Indigenous children need healthy relationship models. It was
to honour Jacqueline that Tess shared her family’s story and to give hope to women, who, like
her sister, see no way out. Tess is hopeful. Having once been a victim of her parents and
grandparents, today, she sees herself as a survivor. “I have two daughters. And my aim was
that they do not have to live this. And today, they don’t. They are not ashamed of themselves.
They are strong, beautiful women that stand tall in society. And I managed to do that.”23
The story of Adrienne A., Public Volume 67

Born in 1970 in Kitcisakik to a father who was a hunter and trapper and to a mother with a
painful past, Adrienne is an Anishinaabe woman, who grew up in a family of 12 children.
The family was poor and the father worked hard to support them. Her childhood memories of
a community where there was no electricity or running water are marked primarily by alcohol
consumption and sexual assault.
At the time, as there was no school in her community, she had to go to the community of
Lac-Simon, which was nearly 93 kilometres from her own. During those years, she saw her
62

CHAPTER 4
family only when school was out. History repeated itself for her own children, who had to go to
Val d’Or. “Every fall, I bawled when my children left … I didn’t even really see my children
grow up.”24
Adrienne completed high school and began a CEGEP accounting program, but put her studies
on hold when her uncle, who, at the time, was Chief of the community, asked her to serve as
secretary on the Band Council. Over time, Adrienne acquired knowledge and became interested
in holding a leadership position. In 2009, Adrienne was elected Chief of her community and
quickly realized that she would not be treated the same way as her male predecessors. While a
ceremony is usually held to usher in new chiefs, no ceremony was held for Adrienne.
Adrienne worked tirelessly. She successfully put together the Kitcisakik Village Projectto
improve life in the community, which was still without electricity, running water and modern
housing. She wanted to pull her community out of poverty.
The future of the children was, for me, something…too important not to offer something
more decent to our children, because every day when I am at home, I look at my children
… I look at parents, families living in poverty, without water, without electricity for
them to be nice and warm in their homes, because, for the people of my community,
winter is not easy…25
Although the Village Project received the community’s support in a referendum, the support of
Elders and government financial support, the project never materialized. Some Council members
opposed the project, and Adrienne never obtained a Council resolution to proceed and lost the
commitment of the federal government, which had been prepared to fully fund the project.
Adrienne served on a Council of four councillors, a number she finds impractical. She had
the clear support of one colleague, but most of the time, the others were insubordinate or
stonewalled her efforts. Throughout both of her terms, Adrienne was bullied and insulted
by managers and Council members. Lies were also spread about her. At one point, people
protested in front of her home, threatening to burn her house down. However, Adrienne
refused to retaliate:
“I never took action because I don’t want to live with having done something bad to
someone, even if it is only a slap. No, I would never forgive myself for that or for yelling
at someone who was already in pain.” 26
When she thought of resigning, she would turn to her grandmother, who reminded her that she
had been chosen and that she could not give up. Adrienne found comfort in activities she loves,
trapping and hunting, and in her Christian faith. She also had her husband’s unconditional love,
despite her long hours at work and the travelling she was required to do.
Adrienne continued to be subjected to so much psychological abuse that it seriously affected her
health. Adrienne suffered migraines, had suicidal thoughts and had three heart attacks. Her
children were terribly concerned about her. In 2017, Adrienne ran in the Council elections, but
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CHAPTER 4
she was not re-elected. That saddened her deeply. Many community members lost hope and
moved to Val d’Or in search of better living conditions. Today, Adrienne and her children are
paying the price for her political involvement. Despite all of their skills, they are all struggling to
find work in the community. Adrienne deplores people’s reticence in standing up to and reporting
violence. She believes that, in order to move forward, trust needs to be placed in women and
their solidarity. Adrienne continues to believe that change is possible and that, one day, young
people will rise up and say enough is enough. “A community cannot pull itself up with only a
part of its members. It’s together, for our children’s future.”27
The story of Viviane and Armand E.,

in relation to Lauréanna, Public Volume 32
Lauréanna was a little Atikamekw girl who was born in Manawan, on July 20, 1973. She was
the second-to-last child in a family of 11 children. Lauréanna went missing on October 27, 1973,
when she was three months old.
At the age of one and a half months, Lauréanna was transported by plane to a hospital in Joliette,
without being accompanied by one of her parents, which was common practice at the time.
She had pneumonia. Approximately one month after her hospitalization, Lauréanna’s parents
received a call from the Manawan dispensary, informing them that their infant child had died.
Only her father received authorisation to travel to Joliette. Lauréanna’s mother had to make
arrangements with the mother-in-law of the Chief at the time so she could travel to Joliette.
Viviane explained that upon her arrival at the funeral home, her mother noted that the baby in the
coffin looked more like a big 9- or 10-month-old baby, while Lauréanna was only 3 months old
at the time and had been rather small when she was taken to hospital. Armand remembered the
same thing, and although he has never known whether the baby in the coffin was a little girl or a
little boy, deep inside, he knows that the child was not his daughter.
At the time, the parents wanted to bring their baby back to Manawan to bury her in accordance
with their rites and customs, but their request was denied. Lauréanna was given an informal
burial outside of the cemetery, without a cross or commemorative plaque, under the pretext that
the baby had not been baptized. However, Viviane, who had been 12 years of age at the time of
the events, remembered that her sister had been baptized on August 4, 1973. Today, buildings
stand where Lauréanna is buried.
In the six years that followed the events, the parents continued to receive Lauréanna’s health
insurance cards, causing them to begin to question whether their daughter had actually died.
To be sure, the father took steps to obtain Lauréanna’s death certificate, to little avail. At the
presbytery, the parish priest said he had not received a death certificate. The Atikamekw Council
of Manawan and the Department of Aboriginal and Northern Affairs Canada provided them with
documents confirming that Lauréanna’s Indian registration was still active. The Régie de
l’assurance maladie du Québec [Quebec health insurance board] told them: “Listen, Sir, she’s
44 years old…She should be calling us herself.”28
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Around four years ago, Viviane contacted a social worker who claimed to have worked in
Joliette at the time of Lauréanna’s disappearance. The social worker told her that after initially
receiving information that Lauréanna was doing well and that she had been discharged from
the hospital, the next day he was told that the child had died. He decided to go to the hospital.
Upon his arrival, he saw the man responsible for patients talking with another man he had never
seen before and would never see again. Although he had not been privy to the conversation, the
exchange between the two men raised suspicions.
After taking steps to obtain the death certificate from the registrar of civil status, the parents
were finally able to access Lauréanna’s medical records, which were archived at the hospital
in Joliette. Upon reading the file, the parents were very surprised to learn that an autopsy had
been performed on Lauréanna’s body. Her medical records included a post-mortem examination
that revealed irregularities. According to the examination, the baby had died before arriving at
the hospital.
To this day, the parents have still not been able to obtain their daughter’s death certificate. All of
these elements lead the family to seriously doubt what actually happened to Lauréanna.
The story of Déborah E., Public Volume 32

One evening in February over 37 years ago, Déborah, an Innu woman from Matimekush–Lac
John who was 4 months pregnant at the time, walked from her community to Schefferville.
When she arrived there, she went into a discotheque, but she stayed there for only a few minutes.
As she was leaving, Déborah witnessed a fight. Officers from the Schefferville police force were
at the scene. When they saw Déborah, one of them grabbed her and arrested her.
The police officer handcuffed me with my hands behind my back, then he put me in the
back of the police car. I was yelling. I yelled, “Why are you arresting me? What did I
do? In the car, I was yelling loudly, “What did I do?” There were two police officers,
white officers. I knew those guys, those officers.29
At the police station, Déborah was placed in a concrete cell with a lot of leather around it. The
lights were off. Despite her screams and protests, no one explained to her why she had been put
in the cell. At some point, a police officer opened the door. He brought her a cup and some pills.
All she remembers after that is waking up with her pants halfway down her legs and realizing
that she had been sexually assaulted. After that, a police officer released her from the cell and
took her back to her community. At the time, Déborah did not tell anyone what had happened to
her. She kept it a secret for 37 years; she did not feel ready to tell her story. She never understood
why she had been arrested. Even though she knew the police officer, she never filed a complaint.
However, she remembers that she was furious and that she even broke the windows in her house.
She still has the scars on her hands.
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A year ago, following a report on Radio-Canada about the situation of Indigenous women in
Val-d’Or, Déborah decided to break her silence about her own story of assault. She contacted
the program host directly. She also decided to file a complaint with the SPVM (Montréal Police
Department), but she had to wait for another year before a Crown prosecutor met with her.
Accompanied by a psychologist from the community, Déborah told her story. Unfortunately,
because of a lack of evidence, nothing came of the complaint. Today, it seems to Déborah that
no one ever listens to women, and she feels a great deal of anger toward the police:
“I’m furious with the police because they didn’t listen to me. They all – they ruined my
life. They also raped my daughter, while I was pregnant, when she was inside me.
That’s why it hurts me. They raped my little baby too.”30
Since her disclosure of this rape, Déborah has been receiving help from a psychologist and
support from a friend. No other assistance was offered to her during the process of disclosing the
assault and filing her complaint.
The story of Alma and Elizabeth M., Public Volume 36

Alma and Elizabeth M. are two Naskapi sisters from Kawawachikamach. Alma’s daughter,
Charlotte, died at the age of 5 in the mid-1980s. She was Alma’s first child.
At the time, Alma, who was in her early 20s, was regularly using alcohol and drugs. One day,
when she returned home after doing her shopping, she discovered that social services had taken
her children. Distraught, she managed to get the children back that day, but police soon removed
them again. “I told her [Charlotte], ‘I’ll see you at Easter.’ And that was the last time I saw her.”31
Alma lost custody of her children and had to complete therapy to get them back. Charlotte lived
with a foster family in Schefferville for about a year. Alma went to their house many times in the
hope of seeing her children, but the family would call the police.
One day, Alma and her sister Elizabeth went to the house to try to see Charlotte. They called
her name, begged to see her, and shouted that they would try to get her back soon. The family
refused to let the women see Charlotte and called the police. That night, Charlotte died. She was
raped and murdered by the son of the foster family. Elizabeth believes that their visit may have
angered him. He served only two years in prison. Alma and her family had a difficult time coping
with the little girl’s death. They wonder how the foster family could have obtained the right to
take in children. Alma thinks about Charlotte every day. “And still, today, I still feel it. I feel that
she’s present. She’s here, I know it.”32 At first, Elizabeth blamed herself for going to the foster
family’s house the night of the little girl’s death, but she hopes that hearing their voices brought
Charlotte some comfort.
Alma also experienced a disturbing incident of harassment by a non-Indigenous police officer in
Schefferville. One night, when she was walking along the street with a friend who was very
inebriated, a police car pulled up beside them. The police turned on their revolving roof lights
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and told the women to dance. They asked why, and one of the officers answered that they had
“beautiful bodies.”33 They continued on their way, walking quickly and passing by a recreation
centre. A little later, the same police officers, driving fast, pulled up alongside them again and
accused the women of stealing cakes at the recreation centre. They then shoved the women
roughly into the patrol car. First, they told Alma and her friend that they would take them home,
but instead they took them to the police station.
And then the police officer was talking to me and he was touching my hair. “You have
beautiful hair”, he said. I said: “Don’t touch me!” And then he started looking at my
breasts. And I told him not to look at me. And he told me not to look at his penis…
Then he took me somewhere private. And he pushed me. I was so scared.34
Finally, another police officer Alma knew, who was an ally to Indigenous people, arrived and let
the girls go home.
The first police officer continued to harass them: accusations of theft, racist insults, etc.
Alma was shaken by his actions: “When I think about it, what I went through, what I
experienced with that police officer, I was raped. I felt really bad when he touched me or tried
to touch me.”35 She would have liked to receive help, and she knows that other women have had
similar experiences. Elizabeth was also upset by the sudden loss of her niece, who had been
placed in a foster home a few years earlier without her family knowing where she was or what
had become of her. The child was completely cut off from her culture and family. They would
like to know what happened to her and get back in touch with her.
Today, Alma and Elizabeth refuse to give up.
Now, I’ll never stop. I’m going to work hard. What I went through, with my daughter
and me, and what’s happening today, it makes me so sad when I think about it. But I’m
following my path, and I still have strength in me, and I’ll never give up because of what
I went through, and I’ll never abandon the cause for my daughter.36
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The story of Françoise R., in relation to the disappearances of

Tony and Emily Germaine R., Public Volume 61
Emily Germaine and Tony are the children of Alfred R. and Hélène W. The Algonquin couple
had 17 children: 11 girls and six boys. Two of them, Emily and Tony, disappeared a few months
apart after being hospitalized.
In the late 1950s, the family was still living in the woods. One day, Tony, who was less than
2 years old at the time, was airlifted to the hospital in Amos after being diagnosed with
pneumonia. His mother was later told that little Tony had died. No documents attesting or
confirming his death were given to them, and the parents never saw their child’s body.
A few months later, four-year-old Emily had to be evacuated after being stung by a bee. Since
her parents spoke only Algonquin, they had difficulty understanding what was happening to their
daughter. They learned that she had been transferred to another healthcare institution, but they
never knew where or why. They received no further news about Emily after that, and they
believed she was dead, like Tony.
The disappearances of Tony and Emily, together with being forced to send their other children to
residential schools, had a profound impact on the parents, who gradually became dependent on
alcohol. The other children in the family were also impacted by the disappearances. After that,
their parents did not want to take them to the hospital. Françoise, one of Tony and Emily’s
sisters, also felt a lack of love in the home.
In the 1980s, at her father’s urging, Françoise asked an employee of the Native Friendship Centre
in Quebec City to help her find her sister. Françoise learned that Emily was in the Saint-Anne
hospital in Baie-Saint-Paul,37 which people referred to at the time as “the hospital for monsters.”
She discovered that her sister was severely handicapped, but the reason for her condition was
unknown. At the time, Françoise did not feel able to visit her. When her father became very ill,
he begged her, “Bring back your sister. Try to bring your sister home. Work hard to get her
back.”38 Then, one day, the family received a call from the hospital informing them that Emily
was dying.
The hospital in Baie-Saint-Paul had kept my sister for more than 30 years. They had
never once called us in Abitibi. They never gave my parents any information, never said,
“Your daughter is doing well, your daughter is like this” or “She’s here in this hospital.”
They never did that. But when she got sick, they managed to call Abitibi to say “Your
sister is dying.”39
The family was told that Emily was unconscious and that she did not recognize anyone. With
financial support from the Centre de santé de Pikogan (Pikogan health centre), the family
travelled to Baie-Saint-Paul to see her. “The first thing my sister did when she woke up was look
at us… She recognized my mother right away, and the first word she said was ‘Mommy!’ We all
cried. My mother was in so much pain.”40
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A few months later, the family was finally able to take Emily back to Amos, where a place had
been found for her near the house. She died in 2010, but she spent the last years of her life close
to her family. “We lived for ten years with Emily…[S]he doesn’t know it, but it’s thanks to her
that I was able…to deal with all the challenges in my life.”41
In 2016, with help from a journalist, the family obtained various documents that provided more
information about Tony’s death. At the age of a year and a half, Tony was diagnosed with
bronchopneumonia. The document also confirmed that he had recovered. Later, he was
diagnosed as an “idiot,” a diagnosis that would be known today as an intellectual disability.
Although Tony’s mother had been told that her son had died a few months after being
hospitalized in Amos, the little boy was actually moved to the same hospital in Baie Saint-Paul
as his sister Emily. He was there for more than five years and died at the age of 7. He was buried
in a common grave. As they asked, “What did they do with our brother? Why did they hide him?
Those are the questions my mother is asking today. What did they do with my brother all those
years when he was in the hospital?”42
Even though she does not speak French, Hélène watched the news reports about Indigenous
children who had disappeared and understood that other families had also lost children. Hélène
has been deeply impacted by the loss of her children. Françoise and her brothers and sisters
suspect that medical experiments were conducted on Tony and Emily.
Françoise stresses the importance of finding answers to their questions. Who authorized the
transfer of the children to Baie-St-Paul? Why were the parents not informed? What happened
during all those years? Many details of the story remain unclear to the family. Françoise would
also like the government to apologize to the many families whose children disappeared while
hospitalized. She is calling for more justice and humanity for the families.
And my parents, the fact that they experienced that,…they were treated like animals.
That’s how they treated my parents: “We have the right to take your children as we wish.
Take them to the residential school, then take them to the hospital.” You know, they’re
the ones who decided. It isn’t up to them to decide. We have lives. My parents have
feelings, and they have emotions, and I want justice for that.43
The story of Cheryl M., in relation to Carleen M., Public Volume 59

Cheryl is a Mohawk grandmother, a matriarch of the Kanesatake Wolf clan and is the youngest
of four daughters. Cheryl’s sister, Carleen, went missing in the early hours of September 4, 1988;
her skeletal remains were found in the nearby forest two kilometers from where she was last
seen alive.
Cheryl and Carleen’s parents are Mohawk; their father was born at Akwesasne and their mother
at Kanesatake. Cheryl and Carleen were both born in Malone, New York. When Cheryl was
one-year old, the family moved from the McDonald farm at Akwesasne and the sisters were
raised in the Onondaga Nation, in the heart of the Iroquois Confederacy south of Syracuse.
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The children participated in the longhouse ceremonies, but went to public school where they
graduated. They lived in two worlds and visited their parent’s families at Akwesasne and
Kanesatake during holidays and summer vacations.
Carleen was 14 months older than Cheryl. As Cheryl described her, Carleen “was a rambunctious
little spirit; oh God, she used to drive my parents crazy. She was defiant.”44 At age 16, Carleen
got pregnant and dropped out of school. The baby’s father was in the military and was 10 years
older than Carleen. He was the love of her life. She had three children with him. Carleen’s
relationship with her partner became complicated. He was psychologically and physically violent
with her and the children, and he drank. “[H]e controlled her, emotionally and physically.”45
Their home gradually became an unhealthy environment for the children. Over time, Carleen’s
parents took two of her children into their home. Cheryl’s relationship with Carleen also had
many ups and downs. Cheryl never knew what to expect from her sister. She gradually distanced
herself from her.
In July 1988, Carleen and her partner separated. Carleen and the youngest child who was still
in her custody moved back in with Carleen’s parents. In the weeks that followed, Carleen’s ex-
partner told her he had fallen in love with another woman. Devastated and heartbroken, Carleen
confided in her three sisters that losing her first love hurt so much, that she felt like killing
herself. At that time, her sisters did not worry too much about what she said; they advised her to
move on, telling her that she could find someone better.
Cheryl knew Carleen had spoken on the telephone with her ex-partner before she went to bed the
day before her disappearance. Their mother reported that after the phone call, Carleen had been
crying, and told her parents he was not coming back for three weeks. The family never knew
what they talked about, but Cheryl thinks that Carleen must have begged him to take her back
and he rejected her.
The following morning, Carleen’s mother asked her youngest granddaughter to go and wake her
mother up for breakfast. It was then they realized Carleen wasn’t there. She had left a brief
handwritten message saying that she was going out and would be back around noon. The family
initially thought she went out with her cousins or friends from Akwesasne to try to forget about
the breakup. All that seemed to be missing a was bottle of rum she purchased previously. She left
behind her jewelry, purse and clothing, but she never came back. No one seemed to know where
she was. Her disappearance was reported to the police after 48 hours had passed.
The family had the impression that the police did not make much of an effort to search for her.
They told the family that they had searched the woods and found nothing. The family looked
everywhere else walking through private and common lands in the cornfields, swamps, fields
and wooded areas crossing the international border between Snye, Quebec and New York State.
They spoke with individuals who might know Carleen’s whereabouts. Soon, everyone was
devastated and mistrusted the Mohawk police. The family began to question the police’s
competence in handling the missing person investigation. They started to fear everyone around
them, and they became isolated as a family.
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Carleen’s body was found seven weeks later, in the woods where the police said they had already
searched. Cheryl always believed says that the investigation should have been carried out by the
Sûreté du Québec and the New York State Troopers or County Sheriff’s police forces to access
more experienced investigators. The Mohawk police seemed to believe Carleen’s ex-partner’s
character and his alibi in the first days of her disappearance. Cheryl watched his actions and
behaviors and she felt that he was hiding some details and did not seem to help in the foot
searches. After Carleen’s skeletal remains were taken from the forest floor by the Akwesasne
Police and emergency medical responders, members of Cheryl’s family were surprised to find all
of some of Carleen’s scalp hair on a blue blanket near at the spot where her decayed remains
body had were found. No photos were ever shared with the family, and the family never saw the
missing person’s file.
The Akwasasne Mohawk police quickly concluded that the death was a suicide based on the
coroner’s reported cause of death due to “hypothermia”. This fact was difficult for the family to
accept, because many of them were suspicious of Carleen’s ex-partner. The family always
believed he knew more than he was telling about the state of Carleen’s mental health at the time
of her disappearance and the history and extent of domestic violence she had experienced.
Following Carleen’s death, the grieving process was difficult. Cheryl and other family members
did not reach out for professional supports; instead, they focused on their own families,
marriages and work, which kept them occupied and busy. They only spoke privately about
Carleen, but never cried and grieved. They each buried this pain from each other only to share in
private their own individual theories and conclusions. After 31 years, since Carleen’s suspicious
death, there are still too many unanswered questions: “Losing a sister, not knowing where she is,
what happened to her; finding her body by chance and then grieving and not knowing for sure
what happened to her. So we didn’t grieve.”46 Carleen’s ex-partner died ten years after Carleen
without giving her family any satisfactory answers. Cheryl still believes he held back important
details, and they will never know the truth.
In her life-affirming testimony, Cheryl emphasized the importance of talking about our missing
or murdered sisters: “So we have to talk about this; I know it’s painful to hear about, you know,
what’s happening to our sisters. But we have to; we have to feel to heal, and I tell you: I cried, a
lot.”47 She also spoke about the problems that affect communities and the importance of
regaining pride in their culture as a way toward healing. Cheryl ended her testimony by
honouring her sister’s memory.
And I have to honour her, honour her for showing me how life ends or life begins; and
she was my greatest teacher. And in our traditional Iroquois beliefs, when someone dies,
they say, “They came in our lives for a reason, to teach us.” And so, she was my teacher;
she showed me how to be strong; how to communicate if someone’s mistreating me.
How to love my kids when I didn’t feel like it because I was grieving or feeling angry.
The family just shut down the painful memories and tried to carry on, while their parents
became parents to their grandchildren and they struggled to make a life despite
the anguish.48
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The story of Anastasia N., in relation to Kimberley N.-N., Public Volume 35(a)
Anastasia, whose real name is Natah Nuna, is an Innu woman who was born in Natashquan and
grew up in Mingan, in the woods, with her mother and two of her brothers, in a family that was
very affectionate and trusting.
When she was only seven years old, Anastasia was sexually assaulted by a man they knew. She
did not dare tell her mother what had happened to her, afraid that she would face consequences
for her revelation. She kept the secret to herself, and the assault marked her forever.
Anastasia married at the age of 16 and had several children. When the couple moved onto the
reserve, her husband began to be violent toward her on a regular basis. She stayed with him for
many years for the well-being of her children. After being married for 34 years and raising her
children and grandchildren practically on her own, she left her husband.
She obtained custody of her great-granddaughter, Kimberley, when Kimberley was two years
old. She had been growing up surrounded by substance abuse. Anastasia took care of her and
showed her love and attention. Together, they moved to Quebec City. One day, Kimberley asked
her grandmother’s permission to go swimming at a friend’s house. She was 16 years old. They
agreed that she would come home by bus around 8:00 p.m. But she did not return at the agreed-
upon time. Anastasia waited for a few buses to pass. She was worried, and so she called all of
Kimberley’s contacts. They did not know where she was and confirmed that she had left the
friend’s house. Anastasia decided to go back to the bus terminal to wait for her, hoping to see her.
Police officers on patrol questioned her, and she told them her concerns and explained why she
was waiting there. In spite of everything, the police officers gave Anastasia a ticket for loitering.
As she recalled, “He said to me, “Ma’am, two hours late is nothing.” I said, “But I’m worried.”
… They ended up giving me a ticket for waiting there. I said to him, “Because I’m Innu? Is that
why you’re doing this?”49
The same police officers did not think that the disappearance was concerning and told Anastasia
to wait at least 48 hours before reporting it. While she waited, Anastasia continued to actively
look for Kimberley, and then she made her statement concerning Kimberley’s disappearance.
She inquired about the file daily by calling the police station, but she got the impression that she
was bothering the investigators: “They didn’t help me. They were not always very kind to me
when I went to find out if they had any news about my daughter’s file.”50 They always believed
Kimberley had run away and never considered it a missing person case.
Anastasia was extremely worried and could not sleep. She took various steps on her own and
contacted organizations. She was afraid, but she felt deep in her heart that Kimberley was alive.
More than six weeks after Kimberley went missing, Anastasia finally received a call from the
police telling her that she had been found. Kimberley had been forcibly confined in an apartment
where she was sexually abused, injured, tortured and humiliated.
A few months later, Kimberley filed a complaint against her abuser. The man got four months in
jail. Kimberley felt terrible injustice at such a disappointing sentence. Anastasia believes that the
justice system protects the perpetrators rather than the victims. Kimberley decided to contest the
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sentence imposed on her abuser. It was a long and emotionally difficult process, and Kimberley
had to recount her story to three investigators. Anastasia gave Kimberley her full support. The
abuser finally pleaded guilty just before trial and received a sentence of five years. Anastasia still
considers this sentence too lenient. She believes that the justice system is unfair and is not
compatible with Innu values.
Kimberley is 22 years old now. She still suffers after-effects from her assault, including frequent
blackouts because of a blow to the head. Since she left the youth centre, she no longer receives
counselling, even though the need is still there. She has never received compensation from the
Program of compensation for victims of crimes (IVAC).
Today, Anastasia enjoys life and takes pride in her role as a mother, grandmother and great-
grandmother. She advises people to love their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren
and to never hesitate to look for them if they are worried.
The story of Denise F., Edmond J. and

Jeanne d’Arc V., in relation to Anne-Marie J.
Anne-Marie J. was an Innu woman who disappeared in late November 1958 and was never
found. Anne-Marie was born in approximately 1935, in the forest. She grew up in Uashat,
although her family spent a lot of time on the territory hunting and trapping. Anne-Marie had
three children: Roger, born in 1953; Denise, born in 1955; and Jeanne d’Arc, born in 1957.
At the time she went missing, Anne-Marie was 23 or 24 years old. Her children were still very
young. Denise was told how strong her mother was, how she was sociable and always said things
like they were: “My mother was very tall, very pretty, very well built. She was a very hard
working woman. My grandfather said that my mother was very strong.”51 She also enjoyed going
into the city, and that is probably where she met Denise’s father.
The National Inquiry also heard details of her mother’s disappearance. On that day, Anne-Marie
was at Sainte-Anne lake, not far from the community’s territory. She had gone to check the
beaver traps and to trap, and she was accompanied by a friend’s 12-year-old son. It was a
beautiful, sunny day, but near the end of the day, a storm moved in suddenly. By dinner time,
Anne-Marie and the boy had not returned to camp as expected. The young boy’s parents were
worried. He was not dressed for a big storm. When the storm died down, a group of people left to
search for them. Denise noted the community solidarity that existed then.
Edmond, Anne-Marie’s younger brother, remembers his sister’s disappearance. He was with his
father in the forest removing traps. They learned that Anne-Marie was missing when they got on
the train. Edmond was not worried at first, thinking that she would be found quickly. However,
by the time they got off the train, she still had not been found. They went out again into the
forest, him and his father, to help search for her. Anne-Marie’s father found her tracks in the
snow. He followed her tracks for a long time, and then the path stopped all of a sudden, right
next to long logs. There were horse tracks around. Since the tracks stopped suddenly, the father
deduced that someone had picked up Anne-Marie in a sled with horses.
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Two days after the search began, the young boy was found dead, frozen, under a tree. There were
indications at the scene suggesting that his body had been dragged using logs. When the young
boy was found, he was apparently wearing Anne-Marie’s clothing.
In the forest where Anne-Marie went missing, non-Indigenous loggers worked the land. The
loggers worked, cutting wood, and had equipment and horses. Some Innu wanted to search the
loggers’ camp, to ask for help, and to look around and in the house. The loggers were never
willing to let the Innu in or to help them and did not let them look around. Afraid of reprisals and
conflict, Anne-Marie’s father did not insist.
A police officer supposedly went once to the loggers’ camp. It is not known what came of that
visit. The family was never met with by the police and did not have access to any documents.
They had the impression that the police had no interest in getting to the bottom of this
disappearance.
Anne-Marie’s body was never found. Her family believes she was assaulted and killed: “[M]e,
I’m convinced that my mother was murdered.”52 Denise believes that her body could have been
burned in one of the enormous wood stoves the loggers had. The truth about what happened will
never be known. The family finds it unjust that nothing was done and that Indigenous people
were considered less important:“Our story in our family, there is a void, and it’s that void that’s
painful.… We imagine what our mother went through before she died.”53
After her disappearance, Anne-Marie’s children were adopted by different families. Her two
eldest children were adopted in Maliotenam, and the youngest, Jeanne d’Arc, was placed in a
foster home in Pessamit. Jeanne d’Arc was unable to track down her biological family until
1985, when she was researching her mother’s death. Although she did not know it, her sister
Denise lived a few houses away from her.
Today, Anne-Marie’s children are marked by their mother’s story. “The story of my mother, she
is in my blood. I even look like her too, like two peas in a pod. I really searched for her. Who is
she? What was she like?”54 Denise and Jeanne d’Arc are activists, each in their own way, and
believe that they carry their mother with them in that spiritedness.
The story of Maurice K. and Beatrice R.T.,

in relation to Kathleen K.R., Public Volume 70
Kathleen was a Cree woman, the mother of Maurice and the sister of Beatrice. Kathleen’s
children always thought their mother had drowned in 1967. Recently, their aunt Beatrice told
them that she was murdered.
Kathleen and Beatrice’s parents had seven children. The family lived in a tent on the territory and
spoke Cree. Beatrice remembers her sister as someone who respected her parents. She was kind,
responsible, and always ready to help others. She helped Beatrice a lot, by providing her with
clothes so that she could go to school when she was a child and later on. “It wasn’t her nature to
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get angry; she laughed all the time. And that’s what I remember about her, her smile, her laugh,
and I miss it so much.”55
Kathleen was also a devoted, loving and protective mother. She had eight children: six boys and
two girls. Her son Maurice, the second child, was separated from his mother at a residential
school until he was 16 years old “[T]he seven years I spent at the Indian residential school took
from me my mother’s presence.”56 Nevertheless, the tenderness he feels for his mother remains
intact: “What I remember, however, the love of a mother for her children. That, I felt it, I saw it.
She took care of all of us despite what few financial resources, what few resources there were.”57
At the time of her death, Kathleen was 43 years old. Her sister Beatrice was 27 and her son
Maurice was 19. On that day, the police came to see Kathleen’s parents. The parents only spoke
Cree, and so Beatrice and her husband had to translate what the police said. Kathleen’s body had
been found in the river. The police told them that two sets of footprints had been seen and that a
third track in the middle appeared to belong to a person who was dragged or who someone had
tried to make walk. The coroner found no trace of water in her lungs, indicating that she had not
drowned. She had a hole in her skull and had probably been struck violently on the head. This
evidence at the scene suggested that she had been violently attacked and then thrown in the river.
At the time, Kathleen’s parents supposedly did not want to initiate an investigation.
Kathleen’s sudden death was a shock and was extremely painful for her entire family. Following
the tragedy, Kathleen’s children were placed in different families in the community. The two
youngest have no memory of their mother. Maurice left his community for a time because he felt
like his life no longer made sense without a mother. He returned later, however, and started a
family there.
Beatrice kept the circumstances of Kathleen’s death a secret for many years, afraid of hurting her
children. She suffered a great deal from keeping all that pain to herself. Then, in 2016, Beatrice
decided to reveal the truth about their mother’s death to her nephews. Maurice had a very hard
time learning the truth and immediately thought of his own children and grandchildren. “But me,
for me, my children did not have the joy of knowing their grandmother or their great-
grandmother. That is what’s hard. What’s hard, too, is the way she died. She was murdered, she
was killed.”58
Today, despite their grief, Beatrice and Maurice want to honour Kathleen’s memory and share
her truth. They are making the most of the fact that they are alive.
I tell myself: Life is too beautiful and too short not to enjoy it. The joy of being a parent,
the joy of being a grandfather, the joy of being a great-grandfather, and the joy you see
in your children having fun, when you watch your children talking amongst themselves,
laughing amongst themselves, it’s that joy that keeps me going. It’s that joy that keeps
me standing, because I want to live another 30 years, let me tell you.59
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The story of Lise J., Public Volume 32

Lise is an Innu woman from Uashat. She is the youngest of ten children. After her father died,
her mother raised the children on her own.
Lise experienced sexual touching for the first time when she was four years old, at a cousin’s
home, where she had gone to look for food. At that house, she also witnessed her abuser being
violent toward his spouse. She was afraid to talk to her mother about it because, one day, one of
her brothers had come home from the residential school and told his mother that he had been
assaulted by a priest. When her mother tried to protest, Lise remembers her mother being taken
away by the police. Her mother only spoke Innu. Despite everything, her brother was forced to
return to the school. Afterwards, she did not dare report her abuse, out of fear that her mother
would be punished again. She felt a lot of guilt and shame.
When she was around 14 years old, Lise was the victim of intimidation and she decided to leave
Sept-Îles to live in Schefferville. It was a new life for her, and she felt loved and welcomed in her
new community. She stayed there until the day she was raped by a police officer. “You could say
that my life I wanted to leave behind in Sept-Îles caught up with me.… I felt like I had no net
under me, and at each ordeal, every time something happened to me, I withdrew into myself a
little.”60 After that incident, Lise began drinking and using drugs. She sang, she danced, she
laughed, she had a large circle of friends, and she continued that lifestyle for many years. But she
could not escape the pain inside that was eating away at her. She attempted suicide three times
during her years of substance use. The last attempt left her in a coma for two days. When she got
out of the hospital, her sister had arranged a spot for her in therapy. She stayed there for 30 days.
After that stay, she continued her journey and left to live in the woods for three months. She
believes that the people who supported her saved her life. She also discovered spirituality.
“Through it all, I followed the Red Road and I was healing. I was walking the spiritual way of
life and I would see the hurt I had experienced.”61 She has been sober for over 20 years.
One day, Lise heard a report on the program Enquête about the allegations made by Indigenous
women in Val d’Or against police officers. She realized then that she had buried deep within
herself the memories of her sexual assault by a police officer. “And there’s a drawer that opened
inside me…I re-lived the rape I had experienced for a second time, and the shame as well…I
burned sage and I prayed and I started to cry and scream.”62 She knew that the Creator was
sending her a message and that it was time for her to heal.
She decided to speak publicly about her assault. She thought about her daughters and her
granddaughters. She did not want to turn a blind eye any longer. “I wrote on Facebook. I wrote,
today I am speaking out about sexual abuse. My door is open 24/7. Anyone who wants to speak
out, who wants support or who wants someone to listen.”63 Her phone did not stop ringing after
that, with many women and girls asking for her support. Instead of filing a police complaint for
her case, she decided to devote her energy to helping those who came to her. She received
negative messages as well, accusing her of taking a side against the Chief of the community,
who, at the time, had sexual assault charges against him. The community was divided over the
charges, and Lise felt ostracized and under attack.
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During this time, she had a heart attack. She was transferred to Quebec City. But even from afar,
she continued to be concerned for the victims. She knew that many suicides in her community
were due to sexual assaults. When she returned to Sept-Îles, she continued to provide assistance to
victims. She said that the women who came to see her did not feel as though the caseworkers in
the community were listening to them and did not feel respected by non-Indigenous responsible
for allocating resources. Lise feels angry and she lacks resources. Despite everything, she
continues to stand up for victims. Lise is strong in public, but she often cries. Some people try to
make her feel guilty by saying that alleged abusers are committing suicide. The guilt she had as a
little girl resurfaces. “What am I going to do? Do I leave the police officer alone because I’m
afraid he’ll commit suicide?”64 She realized that she had a tendency to believe she was not
important enough to take action. So she has this message: “Today I am giving myself the right to
be important.”65 Ultimately, Lise reiterates that Indigenous women and girls who experience
sexual assault need help and that we need to break the silence. She also wants to see more men
involved in standing up for them and taking part in community healing.
The story of Jérôme M., Agnès P., Charles M.,

Christine L., Mary M., Thérèse L. and Alice L.T., Public Volume 33
A small group from the Innu community of Pakua Shipi spoke about the events that took place
between 1950 and 1970 that left an indelible mark on the members of this community.
In 1961, Father Alexis Joveneau organized for a group of Innu from Pakua Shipi to be deported
to La Romaine, promising them various services, opportunities and new houses. “He promised us
so many wonderful things when [we would] arrive in La Romaine.”66 However, after a year, the
group had received no resources and no services. So the father of Jérôme M. decided it was time
for the family to go back to Pakua Shipi. Four families made the journey on foot, a trip that took
about two weeks. When he found out, Father Joveneau was furious and banned any type of
assistance, local or governmental, from being given to the families returning to Pakua Shipi. For
many years they got by on jobs provided by the local general merchant and small jobs in the
neighbouring village, as well as income from “our selling pelts.”67
At the time, Father Alexis Joveneau had a very strong hold over the community. Mary and
Thérèse came to testify about the sexual abuse to which he subjected them. Mary M. was
touched sexually by Father Joveneau during confession when she was 7 or 8 years old. “Then
later, I was scarred by that bad thing that happened. I had very low self-esteem and I didn’t love
myself. I didn’t like my body. I had relationship problems.”68 Thérèse also experienced sexual
abuse by Father Joveneau at the age of 7, and she described an incident that suggests that her
mother was a victim of Father Joveneau as well. She explained how it was almost impossible to
speak out about the touching at the time, since Father Joveneau was seen as a god in the
community: “I couldn’t even speak out against him because people thought he was a very
important person. And people thought he was God. And me too, that’s how I thought of him.”69
For the witnesses, there is no doubt that many other people were abused by Father Joveneau.
Mary described how these events had an impact on her entire community: “There are people
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who have been affected by those events. There are people who suffer from alcoholism, drugs,
low self-esteem, a difficult life, and more. It’s due to those events that have been handed down
from generation to generation.”70
Lastly, Elders spoke about another tragedy that occurred in the community, the disappearance of
eight young children between 1970 and 1972. These children were transferred by helicopter to
the hospital in Blanc-Sablon. Parents were not allowed to go with them and were given no news
during the entire time they were in hospital. These children were declared dead, without the
parents being able to have access to the medical records or know the location where they were
buried. Agnès lost two children that way: “So every time I go to Blanc-Sablon, when I go to the
cemetery, I don’t even know where my children are. I’m still looking for my two children.…
Where did they die? Where are they buried?”71 Christine also lost three of her nine children in
similar circumstances, when they were four months old, seven months old, and two years old.
“I was told my child would be buried in Blanc-Sablon, and then I asked to attend the burial, and
they flatly forbade me from attending my child’s burial.”72 She does not know where her children
who were declared dead are buried either. As she explained, “We still wonder today. We still
constantly feel that we are searching for our children. This is what the doctor did. He could
hospitalize them for one month, two months, one year, two years even, our children, without
telling us anything. Then nobody told us about the health of our children when they were
hospitalized in Blanc Sablon.”73 The families managed to obtain the medical records for their
children when a journalist, Anne Panasuk, took an interest in their story in 2014. Lastly, Alice
shared the story of a 16 year old teenage girl, hospitalized in Quebec City in 1952, whose parents
were told she was dead but never received any proof. One woman even allegedly saw her get
into a car with two men. The loss of these children and the circumstances surrounding their
disappearance makes it almost impossible to grieve. The impacts are still very real: “That’s when
I noticed, after these sad events, that I saw my father drink, drink a lot. Every time he drank,
he would get in a very bad way, he would talk about his children and he would cry.”74 These
disappearances and the mistreatment experienced in hospital settings also seriously eroded
their trust in these services, and many are now reluctant to seek treatment at hospital.
Today, the families hope that these tragic events are heard and acknowledged and that assistance
and services are provided for survivors in the community.
The story of Ambroise M., Noëlla M.,

Simone B. and Rachel M., Public Volume 34
A group from the Innu Nation of Unamen Shipi (La Romaine) recounted the events that occurred
in their community, related to their deportation from Pakua Shipi and the accusations against
Father Alexis Joveneau.
Ambroise M. is from Pakua Shipi but has lived in Unamen Shipu (La Romaine) for more than
60 years. He arrived with a group of Innu by boat with Father Joveneau, after Father Joveneau
had organized for them to be deported from Pakua Shipi to Unamen Shipu.
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We arrived in La Romaine, there wasn’t even a camp for us to take shelter, the night,
there was nothing…The reason we were the first groups to leave Pakua Shipi for La
Romaine is because the priest married off my big sister to a man from La Romaine…It
was the beginning of the deportation of Innu from Pakua Shipi to La Romaine because
of the arranged marriage of my big sister.75
The deportation was very difficult for Ambroise and his family, but he could not disobey the
priest, who was very important in the community. “I was extremely sad when we were deported,
when we left our village. Why was I sad then, because it’s there that I was born, it’s there that I
lived, I had good times. I learned to hunt there.”76 Ambroise then described the authorities’ harsh
treatment of Innu, including how the priest interfered with Innu education, how the police killed
many dogs, and how the government refused to provide assistance to a group of Innu who
returned to Pakua Shipi. Moreover, when they finally received the first houses they were
promised, there was not enough of them and the families had to cram in: “The first house we
were given, me and my parents, we weren’t the only ones in that house. There were three, four
families in there, in the first house we received in La Romaine. I started to find it sick, Father
Joveneau’s actions.”77
Simone B. was born in Unamen Shipu. She spoke about how she was exposed to violence for the
first time, during her schooling by the nuns, at the age of 7. “I never saw my parents be violent
toward any of us. I never experienced that. The first time I saw violence, it was from the nuns
and the priest.”78 The nuns often struck her on her hands or locked her in an office alone, in the
dark. When she was around 9 or 10 years old, her mother became ill and Simone often missed
school because she had to take care of her during the night.“Every time I missed school or I was
absent, the sister cut my hair.”79 Simone also spoke about having been touched sexually by
Father Joveneau, from age 9 until she was 19, when she got married: “What he made us go
through, the priest, I have always carried around anger.”80 She explained how the priest’s actions
in the community undermined respect for traditional Innu teachings, denigrated their cultural
values, and eroded their self-esteem. These days, she rarely goes to church. Instead, she has
reconnected with the beliefs of her ancestors. As she explains,“And now, I move forward with
those beliefs, Indigenous beliefs in my life. It’s been about a decade that I’ve been on the
spiritual journey. And I’m glad to have discovered the strength that was inside me.”81
Noëlla M. is also from Unamen Shipu. She also experienced sexual touching by Father
Joveneau, from the age of 8 until adolescence. “It began to break me inside. I was torn apart and,
at school, it affected me a lot academically.”82 As an adult, she went to therapy to move past the
consequences that the priest’s abuse had on her and to avoid passing on her burden to her
children and grandchildren. In her community, not everyone was able to work on their trauma,
and she notes the intergenerational impacts of the priest’s actions: “You could say, when I look,
I analyze my community, it’s very heavy, the atmosphere. And then when I look also at the
situation of my children, my grandchildren. I’m ready to listen to the other women, and I have
many women who call me to listen to them.”83
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Finally, Rachel M. came to tell the story of her niece, an identical twin, who went missing when
she was very young. The twins were born in the 1970s.
I must have been 10 years old, the story I’m telling you…When I arrived at the health
centre, they had already evacuated both of them…the twins and Madeleine [the mother].
Madeleine, they evacuated her to Blanc-Sablon. As for the twins, they were transferred
to the St. Anthony hospital in St. John’s, Newfoundland.84
Madeleine returned to La Romaine, along with Nitia, one of the twins. Father Joveneau told
the family that the other twin had died. The parents wanted the body to be brought back to the
community, but the priest said that it would be too costly to transport a casket and that the little
girl was already buried in Quebec City. Today, Rachel and her family simply want answers.
“If she’s alive, I’m really happy, she would see my mother, my father, before my parents leave
this world. If she’s dead, I would at least like to know where she is buried.”85
These stories illustrate the impact of the trauma experienced in the Innu community of Unamen
Shipu. Today, the families want to be heard, and they want assistance and answers.
The stories of Jacqueline F.O., Manon O., Lucie Q.,

Marie-Louise A., Jeannie C., Marie-Jeanne B., Florence D.,
Annette D., Delima F. and Carol D., in relation to Baby Maxime,
Baby Pierrette, Baby Alice, Baby Boivin, Public Volume 63
In the 1950s and 1960s, a number of Atikamekw families had their babies go missing at a very
young age while they were staying at hospital. For the majority of these families, it was
impossible to recover the body of their child, obtain the death certificate, hold their child in their
arms following their death, and bury their child with family. The fate of these children, and what
really happened to them, remains a mystery.
• Baby Maxime was born on January 30, 1954. When he was around six months old, he
was moved to the region of La Tuque, because of facial sores likely caused by severe
eczema. It was the village priest who requested that he be hospitalized. He was then
allegedly transferred to a hospital in Quebec City to see specialists. After two long
years, the family was told that Maxime had died. The family was never able to recover
the body and never obtained a death certificate. They never even recovered the tikanigan
(traditional baby carrier) in which he had been transported during his transfer by plane.
• Baby Pierrette was born on July 1, 1964, with the umbilical cord wrapped around her
neck at birth. She lived, but she had trouble feeding after that and had to undergo an
operation. Pierrette stayed at hospital in La Tuque for about a year. Her parents went to
visit her regularly. Without her parents signing any documents, the baby was transferred
to Sainte Justine Hospital in Montreal. Pierrette was two years old at the time; she was
eating, walking and running. One day, her parents, who were with her, went back to We-
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montaci to take care of their other children. They kissed Pierrette and promised they
would come back soon to get her. When they got off the train in Wemontaci, the priest
and the Chief of the community were waiting for them. They told the parents that Pier-
rette had died. The parents refused to believe it, as she had been in good health when
they left, and they wanted to take the train back to Montreal to see her. The priest told
them that there was no point and that they would not be able to see Pierrette. They were
unable to bring her body back to the community to bury her with her family, and they
never obtained a death certificate. Pierrette’s family wonders what really happened:
“me, I personally think – I think she was sold because the priest, he really liked money,
Father Houle.”86
• Baby Alice was born in the early 1950s. Her mother gave birth to her child, heard her
first cries, and saw that the baby was alive and well. The staff quickly took the child to
another room, and then the mother was told that her baby had died. Shortly after, the
family received a sealed casket with the top screwed shut and was told not to open it.
The family is convinced that Alice is still alive.
• Baby Boivin was born on April 4, 1952. His mother was ill and was hospitalized.
When he was born, the baby cried, but the mother was quickly told that the child had
died. The only document the family obtained was a birth certificate in English on which
it was written that the baby was stillborn. The same mother lost another child in similar
circumstances, a little girl Anne-Marie. One day she was breastfeeding her, and the
next day she was told her child had died.
• Baby Pierrette87 was born in July 1956 at the sanatorium in Macamic. Her mother had
been admitted to the sanatorium because she had pneumonia. Right after the delivery,
Baby Pierrette was transferred to the hospital in Amos. Her mother was not even
allowed to hold the child for a few seconds and the parents could not see her before her
transfer. The parents never saw their child again after that. One month after her birth, a
nun came to tell them that Pierrette had died from measles. The parents never saw any
documentation concerning her death or her hospitalization. They could not be present at
their daughter’s burial because they were prohibited from leaving the sanatorium at the
time. As they explain, “That’s what we think now: her child was kidnapped from her.
That, we call that – it’s a kidnapping. There is no other word for it, a kidnapping pure
and simple.”88
These stories are not unique and represent several truths shared by families who, today, continue
to wonder what really happened to their children. They cannot know for certain whether their
child is really dead or was taken away by the state and placed with a new family. They have
never been able to fully grieve. The impact on the families is tremendous: depression, suffering,
constant questioning, guilt, addiction, and more. The families want answers and assistance.
Today, the families feel a deep sense of injustice and want their stories to be heard. They do
not want what happened to these children to be ignored. They would like the government to
accept responsibility.
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It’s not just us. There are many in the community. We need to act. We need to stop being
afraid. We’re all human beings. That’s what I would say to the government. Everything
they did to Indigenous people –it’s like they tried to wipe out Indigenous people. No, but
it didn’t work. We have a lot of hope, courage.89
The story of Jenny R., Public Volume 35(a)

Jenny R. is an Innu woman from Uashat. She was around 5 years old when her parents divorced
and her mother’s drinking became a problem. She was placed in foster care in the community.
During that placement, at the age of 6, Jenny was sexually assaulted. Every night, the man
assaulted her with a screwdriver, and Jenny grew up in fear and shame. The violence continued
until Jenny, at the age of 13, asked a judge to place her back in the care of her alcoholic mother.
One day, Jenny’s mother announced that she was starting therapy to stop drinking. Jenny decided
to accompany her mother to her Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. One night at a meeting, Jenny,
who was 16 years old at the time, was reluctant to share her story. When there was a sudden
power outage, Jenny, who could no longer make out the others, managed to tell her story in the
candlelight. She considered it a sign, and sharing her story was beneficial: “I think that this
helped me to keep on going for a little longer.”90 Jenny described the years that followed as her
period of revolt. She completed four sessions of therapy, the last of which helped her understand
what had happened to her. However, shortly afterward, Jenny suffered another blow when her
then-spouse committed suicide. Her life unraveled again.
A while later, another troubling event tormented her. One night, Jenny was at a bar with her cousin
when an off-duty police officer from the community started to put them down, calling them
“whore” and “slut.” They laughed at him but quickly called a taxi and left the establishment.
After that, …we went home, to my mother’s, he [the policeman from the bar] comes into
our house, [he entered by] the back door, …and he goes straight into one of the
bedrooms, he gets undressed, he says “Come on my bitches, you can do it, you can do it.
Everyone is talking about it. You can do it. I mean that’s all you do.”…I called the
police. It’s the police who came to get him dressed, pick him up, take him back.91
Jenny did not want to make a big deal of it and did not file a complaint. However, one or two
months later, she was raped by someone close to the police officer involved. This time, Jenny
made a complaint against both men. The process took almost a year. During that time, she
continued to cross paths with the police officer and her assailant. They made fun of her and
ridiculed her in public. Rumours about Jenny circulated in the community. Given her therapy
sessions and her fragile healing, Jenny did not feel able to move forward with the complaint
process. She buried the incident to avoid re-living the darkness she had already gone through,
but Jenny felt judged and singled out for many years, and she believes that event shattered her
life. Jenny attempted suicide four times.
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Then, Jenny’s son, who had a rare illness, had to be hospitalized at Sainte-Justine Hospital in
Montreal. As a result, she had to travel a great deal between Montreal and her community, finally
moving to Montreal for eight months. During that time, social services provided assistance at
home for Jenny’s other children. “Me, my job was to take care of my sick boy and the worker
who was coming to help me, well, [she] was supposed to take care of the other children.”92
Jenny heard rumours that this caregiver was from a family of sexual abusers. Nevertheless, social
services refused to assign her another caregiver, stating that no one else was available. With no
other choice, Jenny reluctantly agreed. In 2010, when Jenny was 36 years old, her son died.
She returned to Uashat to bury her son and begin the most painful grieving of her life.
It was not until she came back to live in Uashat that her other son, 6 years old at the time, told
her that he had been sexually assaulted by the caregiver’s son. Jenny and her son immediately
filed a complaint against the abuser. Jenny thought that was the end of it, but she did not receive
any information from the police for a long time, and in spite of the complaint, the abuser
continued to have contact with her son. In total, the mother filed complaints 3 times. Despite this,
the young man was never prohibited from being in contact with her son. It was not until the third
complaint that the DPJ (Director of Youth Protection) accompanied Jenny and her son to the
hospital to do a sexual assault evidence kit, but the kit was later lost by the authorities. In the
end, there were never any charges laid against the abuser because of his intellectual disability.
Today, she wonders whether a non-Indigenous child would have received better services.
Jenny’s son changed significantly in the years following the assault. Jenny would like for him to
have the same opportunity she did to talk about what happened to him, and to receive assistance.
For her child’s well-being, so that he could obtain counselling, Jenny agreed for him to be placed
at the youth centre in the North Shore.
At the time she testified, her son had just been placed in another foster home following a report
of negligence. Jenny is in disbelief and points to all the support she has provided her son over the
past eight years. According to Jenny, she is the one her son needs. She wants social services to
place her child so that he receives assistance. “Open your eyes, you’re the ones neglecting him.
It’s the system that neglects us, come on!”93
Jenny is calling for access to the same services that the non-Indigenous population receives and
for easy, sustainable access to psychological support. She would like to be able to heal with her
son, for there to be therapy for children who have been assaulted.
Me, I say that we’re all alike, you know. We’re human beings, us too. It’s all good being
Innu [but] we’re alike…. Our children are alike. They have a heart, feelings. Wake up!
We are here, us too. We need help. We’ve been crying for help for ages. Damn it! It
needs to stop!94
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The stories of Érica B., Daniel P., Jean-Marc Q., Antoinette F., Francine F.,
Francine D., Lucie D., Angèle P. and Desneiges P., in relation to Marie-Paul
P., Thérèse F. and Julie-Anna Q., Public Volume 69
Gathered in a sharing circle, members of the Atikamekw Nation told the story of five Indigenous
people, including three women, who died close to the Manawan community on June 26, 1977.
The victims were Marie-Paul, 15 years old; her aunt Julie-Anna, the mother of a 2 year old baby;
and Thérèse, the mother of 11 children, Denis and Lionel. The non-Indigenous driver and his
passenger were the only ones to come out of the accident uninjured. According to the findings
of the police investigation, the five victims died from drowning after the car inadvertently
plunged into a river. However, the families reject that theory and maintain that their loved ones
were murdered.
In June 1977, two young, non-Indigenous men were driving around in Manawan. They were
picking up Indigenous people to supposedly take them to St-Michel to go fishing. According to
the driver’s version, he took a wrong turn and the car plunged into the river. According to him,
the five Indigenous people seated in the back allegedly drowned. Daniel P., who lost his sister
and his aunt that day, went to the scene of the accident to identify the bodies. He saw a bottle of
alcohol, knives and a firearm in the car. Jean-Marc Q., who also went to the scene, noticed that
the tracks in the ground indicated that the car had been pushed into the river. The families are
critical of the investigation, which did not appear to give any attention to those details. They
believe that the Indigenous people were targeted and then murdered before the car was pushed
into the river. According to witnesses, there were a number of signs at the scene indicating that
they were murdered. “I can’t say it was an accident. They were murdered. It’s a lot. It’s very
heavy, because they came to get Indigenous people.”95
The exact circumstances of the accident remain unclear for the families, and there are still many
questions. The police investigation did not appear to have been conducted properly, and the
families did not feel respected or listened to. The police officers never met with the families after
the accident, not to give them the news or to question them. “The SQ (Sûreté du Québec) did not
do its job properly. It did not do its job professionally.”96
Losing loved ones in such tragic and suspicious circumstances, and feeling as though no one was
listening, had many impacts on the families of the victims. Many suffer from depression, illness,
post-traumatic shock, and drug and alcohol abuse; conflicts arose within families. “Even 40
years later it’s hard. It weighs on you. It weighs heavy when we talk about it. It’s hard.”97
Grieving seems impossible because the families still do not know the truth about the day of the
accident and have the impression that they are being hindered when they try to learn more.
The families were always disappointed with the investigation report, since it did not appear to
have been conducted with the appropriate seriousness. “We know there wasn’t a proper
investigation done. We were scorned. There was no respect, respect for the investigation.”98
The families long called for the investigation to be re-conducted, to no avail. “The police
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ignored us until there was a report on television. It was then that they called us to reopen the
investigation.”99 The investigation was recently reopened. Unfortunately, it did not provide new
understanding for the families or lead to new charges against the driver of the vehicle.
The families would like to know the truth and to be able to get justice, so that they are able to
grieve peacefully and find closure. Even after all these years, the victims are not forgotten. A
commemoration was held last year to honour their memory. The families would now like more
assistance to the families of murdered and missing Indigenous people and for a justice system for
Indigenous people to be put in place.
The story of Vivianne C., in relation to Pauline C., Public Statement 291
Vivianne C. was the seventh child of ten belonging to Pierre C. and Julie-Anne Q. Vivianne’s
parents experienced the loss of their first child, Pauline C.
Julie-Anne and Pierre were married in December 1956 and were expecting the birth of their first
child a few months later. At that time, it was common for late-term mothers to go to hospital
several weeks before delivery. Julie-Anne thus left her residence, located about fifty kilometers
from La Tuque during the winter to go to the hospital and wait for the birth of their first child.
Between January and February 1957, Julie-Anne gave birth to their daughter Pauline.
Following the birth of Pauline, the mother and her daughter stayed in the hospital for a month.
Pauline was baptized while she was in the hospital. Julie-Anne was discharged but the doctor
told her that her daughter had to stay at the hospital because she was ill and had heart problems.
Julie-Anne never found that her daughter was sick; on the contrary, she was well and in
good health.
In the meantime, one of Pierre’s brother’s children, Joseph C., was at the same hospital and
the child died when Pauline was receiving her treatment. Joseph’s family went to the hospital
to attest to the death of their child and saw Pauline in good health. One or two months after
Julie-Anne left the hospital and as a result of this information, Pierre and Julie-Anne returned to
La Tuque to pick up their child, Pauline: “My dad and my mom, they returned to the hospital to
find out where she was, when she would be released.”100
When they arrived at the hospital, they were told that Pauline had died. The parents were never
informed of the death or where their daughter had been buried. Vivianne’s father was never able
to see his daughter and the parents could not see the death of their daughter or see her body.
Vivianne’s aunt, who was working at the hospital as an interpreter, tried to take steps to obtain
documents and understand what had happened to Pauline, between the time Julie-Anne left the
hospital and the death of Pauline, but in vain.
Julie-Anne believes that her daughter is not dead: “She [is] not dead, my daughter, my baby. I
was stolen…She is somewhere, she is somewhere. She is alive, she must be alive.”101 Following
the loss of her daughter, Julie-Anne experienced many personal difficulties; she suffered the rest
85

CHAPTER 4
of her life and “calmed her pain, her suffering, in the consumption of alcohol”.102 Julie-Anne died
in 2002 without ever knowing the fate of her daughter Pauline. Vivianne took over the torch of
her mother's efforts to gain access to official documents that could provide them with
information about Pauline’s fate.
The sadness and suffering of Julie-Anne had an impact on their entire family. Pauline’s father
wants her children to continue their research to understand what happened to Pauline “and that
there is justice.”103
86

NOTES
1. The stories summarized here are those of witnesses 23. Tess L., Part 1, Public Volume 71, Montreal, QC, p. 12.
who could be reached and who have consented to a
24. Adrienne A., Part 1, Public Volume 67, Montreal, QC,
summary of their testimony being included in this
p. 23.
volume.
2. Gilberte V., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC,
pp. 20-21.
p. 58.
p. 32.
p. 60.
p. 52.
p. 61.
28. Viviane E., Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 16.
p. 61. 29. Deborah E., Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 44.
6. Gilberte V., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, 30. Deborah E., Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 48.
p. 66.
31. Alma M., Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC,
7. Gilberte V., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 32.
p. 63.
8. Andrée V., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 53.
p. 70.
9. Gilberte V., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 36.
p. 89.
10. Silas B., Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC, p. 12. p. 36.
11. Kirby B., Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC, 35. Alma M., Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 38 and p. 40. p. 40.
12. Mary-Annie B., Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, 36. Alma M., Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC,
QC, pp. 7-8. p. 52.
13. Nathalie H., Part 1, Public Volume 68, Montreal, QC, 37. At the time, the institution was considered a psychiatric
p. 4. hospital, primarily dedicated to children with
intellectual disabilities.
14. Nathalie H., Part 1, Public Volume 68, Montreal, QC,
p. 9-10. 38. Françoise R., Part 1, Public Volume 61, Montreal, QC,
p. 18.
p.5. 39. Françoise R., Part 1, Public Volume 61, Montreal, QC,
p. 19.
p. 20. 40. Françoise R., Part 1, Public Volume 61, Montreal, QC,
p. 20.
p. 32. 41. Françoise R., Part 1, Public Volume 61, Montreal, QC,
p. 22.
18. Tess L., Part 1, Public Volume 71, Montreal, QC, p. 4.
42. Françoise R., Part 1, Public Volume 61, Montreal, QC,
p. 14.
21. Tess L., Part 1, Public Volume 71, Montreal, QC, p. 16. p. 49.
22. Angela G., Part 1, Public Volume 71, Montreal, QC, 44. Cheryl M., Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC,
p. 27. p. 3.
87

NOTES
45. Cheryl M., Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC, 66. Jérôme M., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 34. p. 63.
46. Cheryl M., Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC, 67. Charles M., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 7. p. 70.
47. Cheryl M., Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC, 68. Mary M., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 9. p. 96.
48. Cheryl M., Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC, 69. Thérèse L., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 51. p. 102.
49. Anastasia N., Part 1, Public Volume 35(a), Maliotenam, 70. Mary M., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
QC, p. 40. p. 98.
50. Anastasia N., Part 1, Public Volume 35(a), Maliotenam, 71. Agnès P., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
QC, p. 41. p. 76.
51. Denise F., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC, 72. Christine L., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam,
p. 26. QC, p. 84.
52. Denise F., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC, 73. Agnès P., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 38. p. 79.
53. Jeanne-D’Arc V., Part 1, Public Volume 33, 74. Mary M., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
Maliotenam, QC, p. 44. p. 94.
54. Jeanne-D’Arc V., Part 1, Public Volume 33, 75. Ambroise M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam,
Maliotenam, QC, p. 31. QC, p. 14.
55. Beatrice R-T., Part 1, Public Volume 70, Montreal, QC, 76. Ambroise M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam,
p. 11. QC, p. 18.
56. Maurice K., Part 1, Public Volume 70, Montreal, QC, 77. Ambroise M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam,
p. 13. QC, p. 22.
57. Maurice K., Part 1, Public Volume 70, Montreal, QC, 78. Simone B., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 13. p. 42.
p. 16. p. 39.
pp. 23-24. p. 46.
60. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, 81. Simone B., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 100. p. 45.
61. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, 82. Noëlla M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 103. p. 61.
62. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, 83. Noëlla M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 104. p. 65.
63. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, 84. Rachel M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 104. p. 52.
64. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, 85. Rachel M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 114. p. 55.
65. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, 86. Marie-Louise A., Part 1, Public Volume 63, Montreal,
p. 114. QC, p. 22.
88

NOTES
87. Name given by parents upon the birth of the child. 96. Francine D., Part 1, Public Volume 69, Montreal, QC,
p. 19.
88. Annette D., Part 1, Public Volume 63, Montreal, QC,
p. 43. 97. Francine D., Part 1, Public Volume 69, Montreal, QC,
p. 19.
89. Marie-Louise A., Part 1, Public Volume 63, Montreal,
QC, p. 26. 98. Francine D., Part 1, Public Volume 69, Montreal, QC,
p. 20.
90. Jenny R., Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 151. 99. Angèle P., Part 1, Public Volume 69, Montreal, QC,
p. 57.
p. 155. 100. Vivianne C., Part 1, Statement Volume 291, Montreal,
QC, p. 8.
QC, p. 10.
QC, p. 11 and 17.
QC, p. 23.
95. Daniel P., Part 1, Public Volume 69, Montreal, QC, p. 6.
89

CHAPTER 5
The Lack of Safety for Indigenous

Women, Girls and 2SLGBTQQIA
People
T
his section of the report focuses on the National Inquiry’s analysis
in light of the truths of the survivors of violence and the families of
missing and murdered Indigenous women in Quebec who testified
at the community hearings. This section will review the submissions made
by parties with standing and the experts, from the perspective of the
women and families. It will also review the various contexts in which
violence against First Nations women and girls in Quebec is perpetrated,
based on the National Inquiry’s research work, and will summarize the
numerous aspects.
Each of these truths heard by the National Inquiry bears witness to a
unique and personal experience. By telling their story, the survivors and
families also described the broader reality experienced by many other
Indigenous women and families who, like them, have experienced
violence in their lives. These stories demonstrate that racism, prejudice
and oppressive systems are still affecting Indigenous peoples and are
creating situations that increase the vulnerability of Indigenous women,
girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people. At the same time, we witnessed the
strength and courage that is a driving force for the survivors and the
families. We can also confirm what many earlier reports have stated:
Indigenous women and girls have been living with or witnessing violence
for centuries.
.
The root causes of this violence must be examined using an analysis that
has been modified to reflect culture and gender and one that is based on
human rights and the rights of Indigenous peoples. This perspective
highlights how socio-economic, political and historical factors overlap and
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CHAPTER 5
influence one another to create living conditions1 that are specific to Indigenous women and girls
and how these conditions negatively affect their fundamental rights. Specifically, this section
looks at violations of the right to culture and identity, security, justice and health. Underlying all
these violations is a violation of the right to equality that makes it very clear that Indigenous
women and girls do not enjoy these rights to the same degree.
5.1. Fundamental Rights

There is a set of standards that apply in Quebec and Canada to protect the fundamental rights of
individuals, whether they are Indigenous or not. This includes treaties and other international
instruments, the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms2 (the Canadian Charter),
Quebec’s Charter of human rights and freedoms3 (the Quebec Charter) and various other laws
and principles.
Of course, some of the instruments for protecting rights on which this analysis is based were not
in force at the time that certain events occurred, particularly the abuses committed by religious
authorities or the disappearances of Innu, Atikamekw and Algonquin children. Nevertheless, they
provide useful benchmarks for assessing the actions of the government, religious institutions and
other stakeholders and are a reliable foundation for supporting public policy recommendations.
Indigenous people are also granted specific protections under international and Canadian law,
such as article 27 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR),4 the
United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples5 (UNDRIP) and section 35 of
Canada is committed to complying with broader international treaties and conventions, which
should also have significant impacts on protection for Indigenous women. These include the
Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against
Women,6 the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial
Discrimination,7 and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights
(ICESCR).8
It should be noted that economic and social rights are protected by the ICESCR, which recognizes
the right to an adequate standard of living (article 11) that includes the right to housing, the right
to physical and mental health (article 12) and the right to education (article 13). These rights are
also protected under article 21 of the UNDRIP, which states that “Indigenous peoples have the
right, without discrimination, to the improvement of their economic and social conditions,
including, inter alia, in the areas of education, employment, vocational training and retraining,
housing, sanitation, health and social security.” The Quebec Charter also recognizes the right to
financial assistance measures and the right to social measures to ensure an “acceptable standard
of living.” (section 45).
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CHAPTER 5
The Canadian Charter relates to the relationship between the public and the State. In particular, it
states that “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of the person” in respecting the
principles of fundamental justice (section 7 of the Canadian Charter).
In Quebec, the Quebec Charter adds to existing documents and offers quasi-constitutional
protection in relation to certain rights. The Canadian Charter applies to relationships between the
State and the individual. The Quebec Charter also applies to relationships between individuals.
The right to life and security is guaranteed by section 1 of the Quebec Charter, which states that
“Every human being has a right to life, and to personal security, inviolability and freedom.”
Given the application of the Quebec Charter, the right to security is compromised not only when
violence is carried out by the State or its agents, but also when the immediate perpetrator of the
violence is another individual. Thus, threats to life or security of the person against Indigenous
women and girls contravene section 1 of the Quebec Charter, regardless of the source. As a
result, even in situations where the State is not the direct perpetrator of the acts of violence in
question, it has the duty to intervene to prevent them and punish them.
The fundamental right to equality in exercising all these rights is protected by section 15 of the
Canadian Charter and section 10 of the Quebec Charter, which states that all rights and freedoms
must be exercised “without distinction, exclusion or preference based on race, colour, sex,
gender identity or expression…,” as well as by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and
the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination.
These constitutional or quasi-constitutional provisions reflect Canada’s international
commitments. In fact, articles 6 and 9 of the ICESCR guarantee, respectively, the right to life and
the right to security of the person. The same is true for article 3 of the Universal Declaration of
Human Rights and article 7 of the UNDRIP, as well as the Declaration on the Elimination of
Violence against Women.9
The United Nations Human Rights Committee emphasized that “[t]he right to personal security
also obliges States parties...to protect individuals from foreseeable threats to life or bodily integrity
proceeding from any governmental or private actors,” (General Comment No. 35 on the ICCPR). A
similar guarantee is set out in article 22 of the UNDRIP, which indicates that States “shall take
measures, in conjunction with indigenous peoples, to ensure that indigenous women and children
enjoy the full protection and guarantees against all forms of violence and discrimination.”
More specifically, the United Nations Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against
Women, which was adopted in 1993 and which Canada supported, indicates that States have an
obligation to “pursue by all appropriate means and without delay a policy of eliminating violence
against women and, to this end, should … exercise due diligence to prevent, investigate and, in
accordance with national legislation, punish acts of violence against women, whether those acts
are perpetrated by the State or by private persons.” This is what is known as the “principle of due
diligence.”
Until now, nothing has been done in Quebec to implement the treaties and conventions that
enshrine the fundamental rights of Indigenous women.
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CHAPTER 5
On August 21, 2017, the City of Montreal endorsed the UNDRIP and provided a grant of
$100,000 to organize a commemorative event (conferences and a festive event, on September 12
and 13, 2017).10 In the spring of 2017, the City of Montreal started a reconciliation process with
Indigenous peoples, with a budget of $340,000. 11
In February 2018, the City appointed a Commissioner for relations with Indigenous peoples,
whose mandate contains four components:
To guide and advise the city and the mayor on any issues affecting the relationship
between the city and Indigenous communities.
To promote the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.
To develop training for city employees.
To develop a reconciliation strategy for the City of Montreal with various internal
partners to implement a paradigm shift and to include an “Indigenous perspective” in the
city’s policies and action plans.12
Although this openness has not gone unnoticed, the pressing needs of Montreal’s Indigenous
women, including those who are homeless, will not be able to be addressed until concrete
solutions are developed and implemented in the short term.13
5.2. The Colonial Legacy

In the past, governments and religious communities attempted to assimilate Indigenous peoples
through the residential school policy. Since the work of the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission (TRC), this dark chapter of Canadian history has become better known and the
“cultural genocide” experienced by Indigenous people has thus come to light.14 The Indian
residential schools were part of a plan with the stated purpose of “killing the Indian in the
child.”15 It is not surprising to note that many witnesses referred to the repercussions of the
residential schools on their lives and those of their family members. From these testimonies, we
note that the residential schools are associated with the loss of language, culture and family,16
a feeling of fear, substance abuse, and trauma, including sexual abuse, experienced by the
witnesses or members of their family:
[My parents] they had no life within them.17
[It] took my mother’s dignity.18
You carry some of the trauma with you…. So, this is part of what they carried with
them19
The government shattered our way of life, our lives.20
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CHAPTER 5
The consequences of Indian residential schools on individual and intergenerational trauma have
been documented.21 Having attended residential schools is linked to a number of issues among
former residential school students and their children: addiction to alcohol, drugs and gambling,
psychological distress, and a greater likelihood of having experienced other trauma such as
sexual and physical assault and domestic violence.22 These consequences are so significant and
are still felt today because the residential schools are one of the factors that contributed to the
break down of the political, social and economic institutions of Quebec First Nations and
because they directly attacked human dignity.
Forcing Quebec’s First Nations people to go to Indian residential schools was one of the factors
that was the most damaging to their way of life and to the transmission of their culture. Studies
have shown that mandatory attendance at residential schools was seen as a “rupture” or “break”
in the life of Indigenous people23 and that the poor socio-economic conditions in which First
Nations people live only exacerbates the trauma.24
Even beyond the residential schools, religious authorities were very present in Quebec’s
First Nations communities. On the North Shore in particular, a number of witnesses spoke of
Father Alexis Joveneau, whose actions recently received media attention. He organized the
deportation25 of a number of Innu families from Pakuashipi to Unamen Shipu (La Romaine)
and restricted access to resources and food for those who dared disobey him. He also assaulted
Innu children.26
A number of women and families stated that they were sexually abused by other religious
figures.27 At the time that most of this abuse occurred, the Church’s hold over many First Nations
communities made it extremely difficult to report the abuse. A number of Innu witnesses stated
the following:
[A]t that time, [the priest] was God … a powerful figure.28
We could not disobey because the father, the priest was very, very important. We had to
do what he asked.29
Reporting their actions, as abject as they were, was sometimes considered a sin, if not something
shameful by parents, who often refused to believe their children or admit that such behaviour
was possible. In this context, silence was the only response possible, leaving victims deeply
scarred. This repeated abuse had lasting effects on the communities, specifically inter-
generational trauma.30 This was explained by the witnesses as follows:
There were people affected by these events [abuse by Father Joveneau]. They include people
who suffered from alcoholism, drug abuse, low self-esteem, depression. It is due to the events
that were passed on from generation to generation.31
[M]y husband … the priest used to abuse him.… That’s what his parents, his father was
subjected to when they deported them from Pakuashipi to La Romaine. And I think that
the violence was passed on from father to son.… That is why he experienced a lot of
violence and inflicted it too.32
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CHAPTER 5
This intergenerational trauma was described as a cycle of violence that is extremely difficult to
break collectively, as it affects all those who are caught up in the cycle.33 Jean Vicaire, police
chief of the community of Lac-Simon, who has extensive police experience in Indigenous
communities in Quebec, also noted the daily impact of intergenerational trauma associated with
the residential schools and abuse by religious authorities:
We must also be aware of the history of the community, which has been shared by so
many Elders, individuals, women, and so on. They were hard hit by the Indian
residential schools…. What I was told, it’s that the abuse both physical and mental, the
loss of language, prevented them from pursuing their identity and social recognition
within society and even the community … there were also abuses in particular at the
community level, directly with people from the religious community.… This greatly
affected both women and men, as well as children, and has a negative impact on the
behaviour of certain people and people who are victims of this.34
It is also troubling to note that being born into a caring family that is free of violence does not
safeguard Indigenous women and girls from this historical trauma. For instance, one woman
stated that, despite growing up in a healthy family, she could not escape violence. She stated that
she was sexually assaulted at the age of seven by a man from the community and later faced a
violent spouse.35 In fact, no First Nations community was spared from the years of assimilation
policies, and the result is that Indigenous women and girls are almost guaranteed to be exposed
to one form of violence or another in their lifetime. This is true for both Indigenous women
and men.
5.3. Living in a Context of Insecurity

In Quebec, many testimonies revealed the nature and scope of violence against Indigenous
women and girls. It is clear that an Indigenous woman or girl in Quebec faces potential danger,
regardless of her age or where she lives.
Violence can take various forms: incest or sexual assault during childhood;36 sexual assault as an
adult;37 physical, psychological and financial abuse;38 lateral violence;39 attempted murder and
murder;40 and more. This violence can originate from individuals both inside and outside
Indigenous communities. It can also originate from the very people who have a duty to protect
them, such as justice system caseworkers,41 foster families42 and religious figures.43
5.3.1. Violence Is Everywhere
The following stories from three survivors illustrate the diversity and severity of the violent
incidents that have been experienced by most Indigenous women and girls who testified at the
community hearings. The stories separate the reality of Indigenous women and girls from a
single violent incident that can characterize the journey of other members of society and
underscore how violence is a constant factor in the lives of many Indigenous women and girls.
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CHAPTER 4
The story of Françoise R., in relation to the disappearances of

Tony and Emily Germaine R., Public Volume 61
Emily Germaine and Tony are the children of Alfred R. and Hélène W. The Algonquin couple
had 17 children: 11 girls and six boys. Two of them, Emily and Tony, disappeared a few months
apart after being hospitalized.
In the late 1950s, the family was still living in the woods. One day, Tony, who was less than
2 years old at the time, was airlifted to the hospital in Amos after being diagnosed with
pneumonia. His mother was later told that little Tony had died. No documents attesting or
confirming his death were given to them, and the parents never saw their child’s body.
A few months later, four-year-old Emily had to be evacuated after being stung by a bee. Since
her parents spoke only Algonquin, they had difficulty understanding what was happening to their
daughter. They learned that she had been transferred to another healthcare institution, but they
never knew where or why. They received no further news about Emily after that, and they
believed she was dead, like Tony.
The disappearances of Tony and Emily, together with being forced to send their other children to
residential schools, had a profound impact on the parents, who gradually became dependent on
alcohol. The other children in the family were also impacted by the disappearances. After that,
their parents did not want to take them to the hospital. Françoise, one of Tony and Emily’s
sisters, also felt a lack of love in the home.
In the 1980s, at her father’s urging, Françoise asked an employee of the Native Friendship Centre
in Quebec City to help her find her sister. Françoise learned that Emily was in the Saint-Anne
hospital in Baie-Saint-Paul,37 which people referred to at the time as “the hospital for monsters.”
She discovered that her sister was severely handicapped, but the reason for her condition was
unknown. At the time, Françoise did not feel able to visit her. When her father became very ill,
he begged her, “Bring back your sister. Try to bring your sister home. Work hard to get her
back.”38 Then, one day, the family received a call from the hospital informing them that Emily
was dying.
The hospital in Baie-Saint-Paul had kept my sister for more than 30 years. They had
never once called us in Abitibi. They never gave my parents any information, never said,
“Your daughter is doing well, your daughter is like this” or “She’s here in this hospital.”
They never did that. But when she got sick, they managed to call Abitibi to say “Your
sister is dying.”39
The family was told that Emily was unconscious and that she did not recognize anyone. With
financial support from the Centre de santé de Pikogan (Pikogan health centre), the family
travelled to Baie-Saint-Paul to see her. “The first thing my sister did when she woke up was look
at us… She recognized my mother right away, and the first word she said was ‘Mommy!’ We all
cried. My mother was in so much pain.”40
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CHAPTER 5
the effects of capitalism and patriarchy to the point where women and girls are increasingly
subjected to racism, sexism (including homophobia), ageism, and many other forms of
discrimination related to their identity. By failing to make sweeping changes, the State is
perpetuating violence and injustice against Indigenous women.51
5.3.2. Indifference and the Normalization of Violence in Communities
The security of Indigenous women and girls is also compromised by the close ties among
community members that can interfere with or undermine an investigation. Women spoke about
the social pressure that encourages individuals to stay silent rather than speak out.52 As one
participant explained, “It is the silence that has killed my sister…, it is the people who chose to
remain silent who actually helped kill my sister.”53
It is difficult to speak out against violent behaviours within the communities. Sexual violence in
particular is considered to be taboo.54 The individuals who want to or dare to speak out against
their aggressors often face strong social pressure.
In Quebec, this issue was highlighted by Indigenous organizations and researchers. According to
QNW, it is “difficult to denounce an act of violence in a context where everyone in the
community knows the perpetrator, and where inevitably, that perpetrator is somebody’s family
member, acquaintance, friend or neighbour.”55 Moreover, within Indigenous communities, many
people believe that reporting violence by a spouse, for example, will lead to breaking up the
family. Women who dare to break the silence can be ostracized for having in some way violated
community cohesion.56 The fear of being the next victim means that many people stay silent
rather than speak out publicly.57
This specific context means that individuals have developed a high tolerance toward violence.
In fact, violent behaviour is often so frequent that women admit that they have come to consider
it a normal event, a part of daily life.58
Moreover, the testimonies heard indicate that violence is sometimes the result of a lack of effective
and credible mechanisms for resolving conflicts, whether it be conflicts between clans, family
conflicts, conflicts between neighbours or workplace conflicts. In this respect, the testimonies
suggest that Indigenous women and girls have few concrete recourse mechanisms to challenge
decisions made by band councils59 or to respond to lateral violence within the community.60
In the workplace, favouritism, a lack of protocols for hiring and promotions, and a lax attitude
toward the application of laws and rules of professional ethics can contribute to creating a
climate of mistrust and violence. As one witness explained, “When people are abused in the
workplace, they go and tell – and nothing is done.”61
Such conflicts could be resolved peacefully, but they tend to deteriorate into violent conflicts and
cause impacts at a personal level, as was the case for some women.62 For example, somebody
threatened to burn down the home of one woman involved in politics63 and one woman was
murdered after she was banished from her community because she physically went after her
aggressor.64 These stories speak volumes.
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CHAPTER 5
The lack of a conflict resolution mechanism violates the right to justice, but it is also a reality
that reinforces the feeling of impunity. Aggressors believe that they can act with impunity
whereas victims feel that society relies on laws but not on justice.
In short, it is clear from the stories heard at the National Inquiry’s community hearings that
Indigenous women and girls in Quebec are faced with systemic violence that undermines their
right to life and security. Both the Quebec government and the Canadian government have failed
in their duty to protect these rights. However, the right to life and security of the person is
considered to be one of the most fundamental rights, and the Government of Quebec has a duty
to implement mechanisms to ensure better protection of Indigenous women and girls in Quebec.
Other situations revealed during the community hearings, particularly the disappearance of
children following a hospital stay, can be considered a violation of the right to security of the
person. The disappearances of these children are one of the effects of the policies in place at the
time. The circumstances in which these children were raised would today constitute a serious
violation to the psychological security of the parents and an infringement of the principles of
fundamental justice.
The removal of Indigenous children constitutes a violation of the right to security guaranteed by
section 7 of the Canadian Charter. This right has been interpreted by the courts as encompassing
serious violations against the psychological security of the person.65 For example, this type of
violation can occur when the State removes a child from its parents in a child welfare context.
According to the Supreme Court, the potential removal of a child constitutes a serious violation
to the psychological security of the parent.66 This violation is justified only if it complies with the
principles of fundamental justice.67 This means that situations where the State removed children
from Indigenous parents without their consent and without the court’s approval are violations
under section 7 of the Canadian Charter. This same interpretation could also be applied to
section 1 of the Quebec Charter, whether the person in charge of removing the child was an
agent of the State or not.
Moreover, as stipulated in article 7 of the UNDRIP, “Indigenous individuals have the rights to
life, physical and mental integrity, liberty and security of person,” and, more specifically, they
have a “collective right to live in freedom, peace and security as distinct peoples and shall not
be subjected to any act of genocide or any other act of violence, including forcibly removing
children of the group to another group.”
In some cases that were brought to the National Inquiry’s attention, it was noted that the children
disappeared after they were hospitalized or following birth. They were declared dead without any
formalities, and the parents were not allowed to see their child, see the death for themselves or
repatriate the body so that the child could be buried within their community. Lastly, many parents
never received a death certificate, and others received it only years later, without knowing what
happened to their child during that time.
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The disappearance of a child leaves lasting psychological effects and marks on all members of
the family. For the parents and the family members, grieving and healing cannot be completed
until the truth is known.
Similarly, the forced relocation of Innu68 on the North Shore in 1961 would also constitute a
violation of the right to security of the person, both at a physical and psychological level, in
addition to violating articles 8(c) and 1069 of the UNDRIP. In fact, article 8(c) indicates that
states must implement “effective mechanisms for prevention of, and redress for (c) any form of
forced population transfer which has the aim or effect of violating or undermining any of their
rights.”
The testimonies and documents submitted into evidence70 describe the pressures applied by
Father Joveneau to force families to leave Pakuashipi and move to Unamen Shipu (La Romaine).
They also describe his determination to punish the families who chose to return.
Laurent Jérôme talked about the pressure described by the Innu of Pakuashipi:
…the relentless pressure by the authorities, a strategy devised for the long term, the use
of a supply ship and a mass voyage made in the bottom of the hold, the collective
relocation (an entire community), illness, a new life in cramped and confined spaces
(houses) into which the newcomers were sometimes crammed with those who had
arrived long before, the feeling of being disconnected and rejected, the desire to break
and weaken that confidence (telegraphs, the elimination of assistance), harassment,
threats and strategies to keep them trapped, preventing any return.71
This deportation attempt has taken its toll on members of the community of Pakuashipi still to
this day, as described by the witnesses.72
5.3.3. Police and Institutional Violence
The right to justice and security is completely subverted when employees of public institutions
jeopardize the lives and the physical and psychological safety of Indigenous women and girls.
Numerous testimonies have made it clear that our institutions–particularly the justice system–
which are supposed to protect people and prevent or punish any form of physical or sexual
aggression toward individuals, are not fulfilling their mission and sometimes themselves become
places where physical and sexual assaults are committed against Indigenous women and girls,
often with impunity.
It was disturbing to hear survivors’ testimonies about the abuses committed by police officers or
justice or health-care professionals.73
For example, one survivor74 described being arrested, handcuffed and taken to a police station,
for no apparent reason. She was four months pregnant at the time. She was placed in a cell and
given pills and a cup. When she woke up, she realized that she had been sexually assaulted by
the policemen. Afterwards, they drove her back to her village. Due to lack of evidence, the
prosecutor did not lay charges and the case was not referred to the court.
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Another woman75 testified that she had been mistreated and assaulted by a policeman. One night
while she was out walking with a friend, they were stopped by police. One of the policemen
asked the women to dance for them. A little later, the women were stopped again and arrested for
a robbery committed at the local recreation centre. They were taken to a garage, where they were
mistreated, locked in and left there, until another police officer came to let them out and told
them they could go home. Although that officer seemed to be “defending Indigenous people,” as
the woman stated in her testimony, he showed solidarity with his colleagues and did not report
their behaviour.
A third survivor76 told the National Inquiry that, one night when she was in a bar with a friend, a
policeman from the community–who was not on duty that night–started insulting them, calling
them “whores” and “sluts.” Instead of reacting, she and her friend decided to leave the bar. That
night, he entered the house where she was. He went into the bedroom, got undressed, and said,
“Come on, my bitches, you can do it, you can do it. Everyone is talking about it. You can do
it. I mean, that’s all you do.”77 She called the police station. Some officers came and got their
colleague dressed and made him leave. At that time, the woman did not report the incident.
Later, she was raped by someone close to the police officer. After that, she reported both
incidents.
Certain other cases of assaults against Indigenous women, some by Indigenous and some by
non-Indigenous officers, were prosecuted. They include a policeman who assaulted five
Indigenous women,78 another who assaulted his daughter-in-law,79 and another who assaulted
his spouse.80
In its report on the events in Val-d’Or, broadcast on the TV program Enquête in October 2015,
the independent civilian observer appointed by the Government of Quebec, Fannie Lafontaine,
stated,
The events in Val-d’Or and elsewhere bring to the forefront the issue of discriminatory
police practices and more specifically, the existence of systemic racism against
Indigenous people in police forces. … While one individual’s racism can be condemned
through the criminal process, socially organized systemic racism can never be
recognized in this framework, and its adverse effects on individuals and communities
cannot be examined. Without such recognition of systemic racism, legal systems practice
a type of objectivity that perpetuates an unequal social order that police departments are
trained to maintain.81
Fannie Lafontaine’s conclusion is gaining support: the problem of violence against Indigenous
women and girls is systemic. One thing that emerges from the testimonies of survivors and their
families is that the actions of many stakeholders within our institutions contribute to maintaining
a culture that normalizes violence against Indigenous women and children, to the point that our
institutions are unable to meet their needs. The institutions are, quite simply, failing in their
mission to protect Indigenous women and girls.
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5.4. The Indifference of Institutions

All too often, Indigenous women sense and experience discrimination when they use public
services. They mistrust the representatives of the institutions which are supposed to ensure their
safety, due in part to their fraught relationships with the justice system. Numerous witnesses
expressed mistrust of police forces and the justice system:
As I’ve said, I don’t trust the justice system at all. That’s true. I don’t trust it. No. Human
beings have no value in the context of the justice system. There’s a lot of injustice in it.
I know that because I’ve seen it.82
Now, I don’t trust the police anymore because there’ve been so many – there were cases
where they didn’t believe it.83
I no longer really believe in this, the police and all of that.84
In short, many witnesses had come to the conclusion that the justice system works harder to
solve cases when the victim is Caucasian. Testimony after testimony showed that those who
work in the justice system may stigmatize Indigenous women and families or treat them with
contempt. As a result, the women and families view themselves as victims of systemic
discrimination in the way they are treated by the justice system in Quebec, from the moment they
enter the system until the moment they leave it.
5.4.1. Health and Social Services
5.4.1.1. Inadequate Resources
Nakuset, a Cree woman originally from Lac La Ronge, Saskatchewan, testified at the
institutional hearings as the director of the Native Women’s Shelter of Montreal. She described a
number of situations in which Indigenous women staying at the Shelter were subjected to
discrimination and racism in their interactions with workers from social services, health care,
youth protection, and the justice system. In some cases, they were even denied services:
[T]he thing is that our women, when they try to go and get services from either the
hospital or from the addictions centres, they are turned away. And they are turned away
in such a devastating manner that the counsellor that escorts them comes back
traumatized. And I look at [the counsellor], and I’m like, “How do you think the woman
feels?”85
In Nakuset’s view, such situations can only be explained in terms of the power dynamics
that disadvantage Indigenous women and of Quebeckers’ lack of knowledge about
Indigenous realities:
You have to share more about the struggles because people in Montreal don’t really
know about the struggles of Indigenous women. What they do is they will see
Indigenous women on the streets, and, you know, they will kind of, like, walk by them
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and think, “Well, why don’t you get over it?” But if they truly understood the history
of everything we have been through, then that would change. And in Montreal, the
education in elementary and high school, there is barely anything about Indigenous
histories. People don’t know that in, you know, Quebec, there’s 11 nations.86
This behaviour is the result of attitudes and prejudices that are still firmly rooted in Quebec
society and still have a major impact on relations between Indigenous and non-Indigenous
people in Quebec.
As Salée notes,
…a social relationship of domination/subordination can inexorably become established
as a system, worm its way irremediably into the collective imagination and the minds of
individuals, persisting over time and becoming practically immutable, and thus continue
to determine the dynamic of a society even when that society thinks it is free of it.87
The Institut national de la santé publique du Québec [INSPQ; Quebec public health institute]
published a document that acknowledges the inadequacy of the services provided to Indigenous
peoples and the discrimination described by the women who testified before the National
Inquiry:
In some cases, especially in small and isolated communities, the search for help, whether
by the victims of violence or their loved ones, may be impeded by shame, fear of
reprisals, confidentiality issues or the desire to keep the family together. Inadequate
training of some workers in dealing with violence and a lack of cultural skills on the part
of others may hinder access to the available services. Some workers may take
approaches that perpetuate victim-blaming or judgmental attitudes regarding certain
behaviours, such as alcohol consumption. There are also language barriers, mistrust
exacerbated by high turnover of personnel, lack of information about the services
available, lack of continuity between the services provided in the communities and those
provided by the Quebec social and health services network, and many other factors.
The mismatch between the services offered and the needs of Indigenous peoples is felt
not only in their communities. Many Indigenous people living in urban centres are also
confronted with racist behaviour because of their ethnic origin. That experience is
probably more frequent for those who live outside their communities than among those
who have never left them. A needs assessment carried out among Indigenous people
living in Montreal reveals that many of them have apparently received poor-quality
health-care services because of their ethnic origin. Those perceptions are widely
corroborated by health-care providers. In addition, one of the authors reported that a
number of Inuit living on the street avoided shelters because of the racism they
experienced on the part of other clients and shelter workers. Yet, because of the isolation
and cultural shock experienced by many Indigenous people living in cities, some of them
have a pressing need for health care, especially mental health services.88
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These observations echo the testimony of the women and expert witnesses and the submissions
of the parties with standing who were heard by the National Inquiry regarding the ineffectiveness
of the programs in place for solving the problem of violence in Indigenous communities and the
importance of establishing culturally appropriate programs and resources:
Also, the fact is that there are still very few studies that rigorously assess the
effectiveness of services for preventing violence in Indigenous communities. Yet it is
known that, too often, those programs and services were not developed in collaboration
with the partners, and that they are typically implemented using a “top-down” approach.
Those programs and strategies may also adopt a “wall to wall” approach modelled on
Western views of health that do not take Indigenous approaches into account. In
addition, unstable and insufficient funding makes it difficult for people working in the
field to undertake actions that would have lasting impact. This means that programs and
services are often based on an inadequate or fragmented understanding of the problems;
it is therefore not surprising that the responses are limited and that the results are mixed.
Given the limited information available, any decision about what constitutes a “best
practice” becomes a pragmatic choice based on a consensus among experts and on a
careful examination of the specific context of Indigenous communities. It is generally
acknowledged that programs and services that are designed for and by the target
populations, taking into consideration the norms, the values, the experiences in their
family and community context, and Indigenous ways of doing things, are more likely to
have beneficial effects in preventing violence than the programs of general application
that are developed to meet government standards. In addition to reducing risk factors,
specifically targeted programs help promote recognition of Indigenous cultures and
empower individuals, families and communities.
In addition to training for non-Indigenous health-care professionals, cultural safety also

depends on the availability of Indigenous workers. That is all the more fundamental in
mental health care and violence prevention, given the crucial importance of linguistic and
cultural knowledge in assessing and treating psychosocial problems. The engagement of
these workers not only makes it possible to develop culturally adapted counselling and
support methods, but it also contributes to promoting and reinforcing a feeling of
collective identity.
To facilitate recruitment and retention of local workers, healers and helpers, it is

important to make high-quality training programs accessible. It is also crucial to ensure
adequate emotional support. In small communities, the workers are often related in some
way or another to the people they are called upon to help; thus, it can be difficult for
them to take a break from their helper role. In addition, that situation can cause conflicts
of interest, become untenable, and lead to exhaustion or emotional stress.89
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Another INSPQ document notes that

Indigenous people who face inequities related to social determinants of health must not
only cope with a heavier burden of health problems, but also often have more limited
access to resources for solving those problems. There is an urgent need to take those
social disparities in health into account…
The implementation of measures targeting the inequities requires adaptation to local

specificities such as language spoken, geographic isolation and recognition of the
historical and cultural context. Interventions with Indigenous populations must take into
account the various decision-making authorities at the national, provincial and local
levels, as well as the specific legislative context governing the issues that affect these
populations. That complexity often limits the impact on Indigenous people of universal
measures implemented for the entire population of Quebec, thereby reinforcing the
inequity of those measures.90
Adaptation of intervention approaches is all the more crucial when dealing with cases of missing
and murdered Indigenous women: “[T]he loved ones of people who have been murdered are
more likely to need psychological and emotional support services, while the loved ones of people
who have disappeared will probably seek services that would meet more practical needs, to help
them cope with the crisis caused by the disappearance.”91
As Dion, Collin-Vézina and Lavoie point out,
Resilience may facilitate healing by mobilizing a number of individual and environmental
factors that favour positive adaptation in traumatic circumstances. Although value systems
vary between communities and between individuals within the same community (Hamby,
2000), in order to fully understand resilience and healing among Indigenous peoples, what
is needed is a holistic approach that takes into consideration individuals’ emotional,
physical, mental and spiritual dimensions and involves family members, the community
and the environment (Lafrance, Bodor and Bastien, 2008; Lavallée and Clearsky, 2006;
MacDonald, Glode and Wien, 2005). This holistic approach to healing must involve the
family and the entire community, including women, men and children (Quebec Native
Women, 2011). In addition, according to a number of shelter workers, “[t]he well-being of
Indigenous women cannot be separated from that of their children, their partners, their
families and their communities” (Quebec Native Women, 2011, p. 5).92
Some concrete actions have been undertaken in Indigenous communities. For example, in 1994,
the First Nations of Quebec and Labrador Health and Social Services Commission (FNQLHSSC)
was established in order to “promote and monitor the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual
well-being of First Nations and Inuit people, families and communities while improving access
to comprehensive and culturally-sensitive health and social services programs designed by First
Nations organizations that are recognized and sanctioned by local authorities, all the while
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This photograph was taken during the visit to Library and Archives Canada in Ottawa in January 2019.
Front row, from left to right: Martine Dubé, Armand Echaquan, Madelaine Dube Echaquan,
Dominique Dube, Delima Flamand Dubé and Thérèse Dubé Flamand.
Second row, from left to right: Viviane Echaquan Niquay, Guylaine Dube Flamand, Carole Dube,
Joan Dube, Rogatien Flamand, Gregoire Quitich and Valerie Flamand Quitich.
Third row, from left to right: Algonquin, Sipi Flamand, Frederic Flamand,
staff member of the National Library and Archives, Annabel Dubé and Denise Dubé.
respecting their respective cultures and local autonomy. The FNQLHSSC also assists
communities that so desire, to set up, develop and promote global health and social services and
programs that are adapted and conceived by First Nations organizations.”
Given that the Government of Quebec is well aware of the problem, one has to wonder why we
are still at the stage of publishing well-intentioned action plans, rather than taking concrete
measures and allocating long-term funding that would make it possible to fully implement them.
Indigenous women’s groups and Indigenous leaders have recommended a multitude of concrete
and culturally adapted solutions, both as part of the work they did to inform the National
Inquiry93 and independently of it,94 despite the limited time and resources at their disposal. The
public authorities must consider each and every one of the recommendations formulated by
these stakeholders.
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5.4.1.2. Missing Children

The testimonies heard by the National Inquiry revealed additional events which support the
conclusion that there were other attempts at assimilation and oppression, in particular through
various forms of abduction and disappearances of children.
From 1971 to 1972, eight children from Pakuashipi, an Innu community on Quebec’s North
Shore, disappeared after being admitted to the hospital in Blanc-Sablon, according to a report by
journalist Anne Panasuk.95 Blanc-Sablon is 110 kilometres northeast of Pakuashipi, and travel
between the two communities is possible only by boat or by air.
The National Inquiry was able to obtain access to the medical records of six of the eight children
and heard testimonies concerning their disappearances.
An Innu mother testified96 that three of her children had disappeared. After making repeated
requests for information, she was finally told that her children were dead. The family had access
to parts of the children’s medical records, but four decades later they still do not understand how
the children could have died under those circumstances.
During the 1950s and 1960s, six Atikamekw babies97 were evacuated for medical reasons. In
1973, another Atikamekw baby98 was evacuated to the hospital in Joliette to be treated for
pneumonia. The parents were not allowed to accompany their baby. One month later, they were
informed that their daughter had died. They were allowed to bury her, but during the funeral they
noticed that the child in the casket looked much older than their baby. The parents never received
the death certificate. They continued to receive their daughter’s health insurance card until 1979.
In addition, her “Status Indian” record is still active at Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern
Affairs Canada (CIRNAC). In 1977, an Innu baby99 was evacuated at birth for medical reasons.
At the time, the community’s priest told the parents that their daughter had died and that she
would be buried in Quebec City; her father’s request that her body be returned to their
community was disregarded.
These are not isolated cases. Other witnesses told of the disappearances of eight Atikamekw
babies100 in the 1960s and 1970s and one Innu child.101 As in the previous stories, the parents
reported that they were kept in the dark by the medical authorities. In one case, all they received
was a photograph of a closed casket.102 They were not able to recover their child’s body or obtain
the death certificate.
In the fall of 1958 and the summer of 1959, respectively, a one-year-old boy and his five-year-
old sister disappeared under similar circumstances at the Hôtel-Dieu hospital in Amos.103
Decades later, in 1996, the members of the family traced her to a hospital in Baie-Saint-Paul.104
They learned that the boy had died in 1965, not in 1958 as they had been told at the time. His
sister was still alive and was 37 years old. She had been kept in the same hospital in Baie-Saint-
Paul and was unable to walk or talk. This shocking story raises doubts as to the fate of a number
of children whose parents were told they were dead. Some witnesses are convinced that the
babies were kidnapped to be used in medical experiments or sold to non-Indigenous families.105
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The testimonies concerning these disappearances of First Nations children in Quebec are a
reminder that the actions of governments and churches at that time were aimed primarily at
assimilating Indigenous peoples into Canadian society.
The National Inquiry tried to shed additional light on that situation by requesting that the public
institutions involved submit the files they had kept on the children. The information obtained by
the NIMMIWG must be analyzed in the context of the period. It is known that in Quebec, from
the 1930s to the 1960s, children who later came to be called “the Duplessis orphans” were placed
in psychiatric hospitals or similar institutions on the basis of false diagnoses. In six cases for
which the National Inquiry requested documents, no death certificate could even be found,106
which raises doubts about the fate of those children and whether they might still be alive today.
It is possible that children were transported outside Quebec or that their identities were changed.
Of the 11 other files,107 5 concerned children from Pakuashipi. Those children were part of a
wave of at least eight deaths of children in that community in 1972.108 Anthropologist Rémi
Savard, who was present in the community at that time, has written that all the newborns in the
community died that year.109 There were several specific circumstances surrounding those deaths:
• The community had been ostracized by the civil and religious authorities because of its
refusal to remain at Unamen Shipu. Until 1971, about 80 people were living there in
canvas tents that were not properly ventilated to remove dampness and that lacked
sanitary facilities. During that period, the infant mortality rate was high. In the spring
of 1971, 16 houses were built. The Innu moved into them in January 1972.
• All the children apparently died of respiratory-tract infections.
• The majority of children had been hospitalized multiple times. The situations of those
children were well known to the personnel of the hospital in Blanc-Sablon at the time.
Given those circumstances, the following questions arise:
• Is it likely that all the newborns in the community died during such a brief period?
• If there was an epidemic or an outbreak of a notifiable disease, why was there no
notification? Why were no measures taken? Wouldn’t a wave of similar infant deaths
in a non-Indigenous village in Quebec have triggered a special response?
One hypothesis mentioned by Savard (1975) is that “[the] infant mortality is related to the social
disorganization aggravated by the construction of the houses.” Savard even states, “Because the
individuals and their space are one, such a sudden and radical change in their spatial
arrangements is likely to cut into the living flesh of a group … The move from tents to houses
at [Pakuashipi] is therefore one episode in a larger process. The forms it takes are sometimes
more brutal, sometimes more subtle. Its name is genocide.”110
After receiving medical treatment and being released, six children were not returned to their
families, but were instead transferred to another establishment–in most cases, an institution
for people with physical handicaps or mental health problems–without their families’ knowledge.
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Section 281 of the Criminal Code states that detaining a child under the age of 14 years is a form
of abduction. Of those six children, two had no medical record that could explain the reason for
their transfer or the cause of death. For three of the four other children, the information in their
medical records is incomplete and reveals little about why the children were transferred.
The evidence demonstrates that the parents were not informed of the state of their children’s
health, that they were not consulted about the care provided to their children, and that they were
denied the power to consent or to withhold consent regarding their children’s transfer to
specialized centres or long-term care facilities. When their children died, the parents were not
told the truth about the circumstances of the deaths or where their children were buried. In
almost all of the situations examined, the bodies were never returned to the parents after death.
The children’s bodies were buried, but the family was not told where, or what funeral rite, if any,
was performed. One of the children was found in a common grave years later.111
The parents were deprived of the rights inherent to parental authority, including the right to have
custody of their children and take care of them, to ensure that they were safe and healthy, to
decide where their children would live, and, specifically, to accept or refuse medical treatment
for them. The health-care and religious authorities acted paternalistically, appropriating those
rights and exercising them arbitrarily to the detriment of Indigenous parents, and made decisions
they had no right to make.
The analysis of the evidence reveals a procedure that was common to the majority of the
situations examined. When the state of a child’s health required it, the child was taken into care
by the health-care system, either by the nursing station or by the Church representatives or
government workers present in the community. They would then coordinate the transportation of
the child, usually by plane, to the hospital that was nearest to the community or most easily
accessible by air.112 That may explain, for example, why the Atikamekw children were evacuated
to Amos.
Marie-Pierre Bousquet113 has noted that the governments of the period infantilized Indigenous
people. The colonialist impetus toward assimilation was still strong in organizations managed by
the State or the religious communities.
At this point, the National Inquiry can only recommend that the institutions apologize to the
families for usurping the rights related to parental authority, for not seeking the parents’ consent
for the care to be provided to the children, for not keeping them informed about their children’s
condition, and for not informing the parents immediately of a child’s death or the place where the
child was buried, nor allowing them to decide what kind of funeral service should be held. Many
families have been waiting for more than 35 years for confirmation of their child’s death or
information about the state of their child’s health. The families have the right to be informed
about their child’s life, from the time he or she disappeared until the present.
If such practices were to occur today, they would contravene article 30 of the Convention on the
Rights of the Child, which states that Indigenous children have the right to enjoy their own
culture and use their own language with members of their group. They also contravene article 8
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of the UNDRIP, which prohibits forced assimilation and the destruction of Indigenous culture,
and the Declaration of the Rights of First Nations Children, adopted in 2015 by the Assembly
of the First Nations of Quebec and Labrador, which states that First Nations children have the
right to be free of physical and emotional abuse and to know their extended family, community
and Nation.
Currently, the major issue which explains the disappearance of children in Indigenous
communities is interventions by the Direction de la protection de la jeunesse (DPJ) [Quebec
youth protection service].114
[T]he difficult living conditions associated with the poverty of the parents’ environment
may result in the child being removed from the home. In its 2010 annual report, the
Direction de la protection de la jeunesse du Québec states that, in the vast majority of the
situations which it is responsible for managing, poverty can be identified as a factor
compromising the development or the security of the children (Association des centres
jeunesse du Québec, 2010). It is recognized that the vast majority of children reported to
the Direction de la protection de la jeunesse are from the poorest families (Tessier,
2006). Young mothers, single mothers, members of ethnic minorities and Indigenous
people are overrepresented (Tessier, 2006).115
In 2016, Quebec’s National Assembly adopted Bill 99, which proposes rules intended to promote
the involvement of Indigenous communities and the preservation of the cultural identity of
children who are members of those communities.116 It is imperative that concrete measures be
taken immediately to ensure that that legislative intent becomes more than just wishful thinking
and is carried out effectively. It is time to begin rectifying the damage done by colonialist child
protection policies, without further delay.
As part of that process, there is an issue that must not be overlooked. It was raised during the
consultations on Bill 99, but it has still not been addressed and was brought to the National
Inquiry’s attention. It is “the issue of Indigenous foster families who do not have the same
resources as other foster families” and the need to “treat Indigenous foster families equitably.”117
5.4.2. Police Services
Police services play a crucial role in protecting Indigenous women and girls. In fact, in any
society, the mission of the police is to prevent crime and to conduct an investigation when there
appears to have been a violation of the law so that the guilty parties can be punished and there is
effective deterrence.
However, the indifference of justice officials is reflected in how investigations into
disappearances and violent deaths are handled. Families who lost a loved one encountered police
officers who were slow to believe them or slow to act.
Many of these families have doubts as to the quality of the investigation conducted and
are critical of the quality of the follow-up provided and information received from the
police authorities.118
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One example is the case of the family of a woman whose lifeless body was found in the early
1990s,119 nine days after her disappearance. According to the family, she was reportedly beaten
by two women before collapsing and dying. Despite repeated requests, the family never received
any answers from police authorities. According to family members, they were not contacted by
either the local police or the Sûreté du Québec (SQ). In fact, the family only learned the details
of what really happened in 2016, including where her body was found and how long it took to
find her body. The SQ reopened the case in 2017 but no charges were laid. According to the
family, the police officers explained to them that prosecution was not possible because of the
limitation periods. “Losing a loved one the way we lost our sister is wrong. It’s not right. Most
of all, it is painful living with these whys, what, not knowing, not having anything at all.”120
In many cases of suicide, the families questioned the findings indicating that their family
member had committed suicide and also criticized the lack of thoroughness and seriousness
with which the investigations were conducted.121 There are many reasons for the families’
doubts: the police failed to question certain important witnesses,122 the police did not search
the scene for evidence,123 the police did not run tests to determine whether the victim had been
sexually assaulted,124 the circumstances of the death were not verified when they seemed
inconsistent with a suicide theory,125 and nobody ensured that families received the autopsy
report.126 Moreover, some families received documents in a language they did not understand.127
In addition, most of the Indigenous women and families who testified before the National
Inquiry felt that they were not taken seriously, or even that they were treated differently or
treated with contempt or indifference by the police authorities because they are Indigenous.128
In other words, these women and girls reported that they were not treated equally by the
Quebec justice system. These witnesses explain it as follows:
We, Indigenous people, we’re like a minority. We’re treated like second class citizens;
what happens to an Indian, oh well … that’s one less. … It would appear that, when this
happens, these things, if it had been a non-Indigenous person, there would have been
more services. That’s what we experience; that’s the reality.129
…but what’s happening to us today, and well, I think that if this had happened to another
child, to another child, I don’t know, a white child. I’m sure that there’d be help for him.
I’m sure that there’d be charges laid against the abuser. I’m sure that something would
have happened.130
…where I get the impression that an Indigenous woman who signs a complaint or speaks
out, right away she’ll be judged. She’s seen as an alcoholic, a drug addict, a bit of a
nobody. I look forward to the day when they’ll treat us like human beings. I look
forward to having the same services as another human being.131
I think it was all hidden because she was an Indigenous person. If it was about a non
native woman, there would have been a more thorough investigation. They would have
tried to understand what really happened.132
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These observations are not new. In 2011, a report by the Commission des droits de la personne
et des droits de la jeunesse du Québec133 (CDPDJQ) [Quebec human rights and youth rights
commission] noted that Indigenous women and girls feel less protected by police authorities
and believe that they receive less attention from them when they are the victims of a crime.
The CDPDJQ also noted that Indigenous women and girls are the most at risk, from among
the various racialized groups, of being victims of systemic discrimination because they are still
affected by colonial policies.
Moreover, the NIMMIWG did not sense that there was a willingness on the part of Quebec
institutions to acknowledge the existence of racist and discriminatory attitudes within them.
As an example, we know that over 2,000 SQ police officers wore a red band (the 144 band) for
two years in support of the eight police officers who were suspended following allegations of
sexual assault in Val-d’Or. The institution’s management did not think it was a good idea to rein
in its members, despite repeated requests from Indigenous leaders to do so. An SQ representative
who testified before the National Inquiry in Regina acknowledged that the wearing of the band
undermined Indigenous people’s trust toward the police and had trouble explaining why the
wearing of this symbol was tolerated. When asked about it, he said that the SQ tried to
“convince” police officers not to wear it but did not “prohibit it or ban them” from doing so.134
Martin Prud’homme, head of the SQ at the time, rejected the request by Indigenous women’s
organizations to apologize in his appearance before the Viens Commission. In contrast, RCMP
Commissioner Brenda Lucki apologized on behalf of her organization to Indigenous women
and to the families of missing and murdered Indigenous women during her testimony before the
NIMMIWG. She acknowledged that the RCMP had fallen short and could have done better.
She committed to doing better in the future.135
A review of police investigation files by the National Inquiry’s FDRTQ team helped to verify
whether there was compliance with police protocols in the files reviewed. This type of analysis
provides a limited overview of the work of the police as a whole and the relationships they
maintain with survivors and family members of the victims, and as a result, it does not allow
for a finding regarding prejudice, ethnocentric bias or racism.
The independent civilian observer appointed by Quebec, Fannie Lafontaine, arrived at similar
findings in her report on the events that occurred in Val-d’Or. She noted that, although the
SPVM’s investigation complied with the standards of practice, “there is little or no room for
identifying patterns of behaviour or explaining the underlying causes of a phenomenon that is
documented in a piecemeal manner based on individual complaints.”136
However, it is not insignificant to note that, during his testimony before the Comité de
déontologie policière [police ethics committee], a police officer with three months’ experience
who was assigned to an Indigenous police force indicated the following before the court:
[52] The officer … testified that he learned, during a training session on how to work in
an Indigenous community, that Indian reserves could be a hostile workplace for police,
given the social problems sometimes encountered, such as addiction, poverty and crime.
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[53] The officer … also learned, during this training, that there could be more long guns
in these communities because many people hunt. The presence of long guns could be a
danger to police officers because these weapons are accurate and allow people to shoot
from greater distances.137
In this context, it certainly bears noting that prejudices toward Indigenous people do exist. The
following remarks, from the administrative judge, Ms. Lysane Cree, should be taken into
consideration not only by police officers but also by all first responders, professionals and
government officials, and by Quebec citizens:
[120] …in spite of the tensions that may exist in Indigenous communities (or Indian
reserves) between their residents and the police officers who work there, the police
officers need to be aware of the experiences of the members of this community, of their
daily life and any potential cultural differences. It is essential that police officers avoid
interacting with the community with a “hostile” bias and in a way that keeps them at a
distance.
These remarks make sense when we understand the concept of “spatial variations of police
behaviour,” studied in criminology, according to which the strength of police action will vary
based on various factors, including their perception of the community.138
As a front line representative of authority and the law, police officers must act in an
impartial manner, without personal involvement and without seeking vengeance.
Although their behaviour is dictated by rules of law, administrative directives, orders and
hierarchical structures, police officers have a great deal of flexibility in how they enforce
the law, provide services and obey orders.…
For some authors, the high degree of autonomy that police officers enjoy leads them to
develop their own “style” and to create their own code of conduct.139
Until these observations are adopted, there is reason to fear that the force used in the
communities might be excessive, given the training received in this respect and the need for
police officers to make quick decisions in stressful conditions while they are in the heat of the
moment.140 This is why de-escalation training is important. Training on police intervention
methods should also focus on the unique characteristics that come with working in a small
community where police officers know the people they are interacting with, in order to prevent
this reality from affecting the quality of the services rendered.141 In order to ensure that this
training is adapted early on, there should be appropriate Indigenous representation within the
Commission de formation et de recherche [training and research commission] of the École
nationale de police du Québec (ÉNPQ) [Quebec police academy], which is the organization
responsible for advising the ÉNPQ board of directors on matters relating to police training.142
Moreover, we note that certain public services are inadequate when it comes to delivering
services in an Indigenous context. For example, at the time of writing of this report, the Bureau
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des enquêtes indépendantes (BEI) [independent investigations office], which is responsible for
ensuring civilian oversight of police activities that could have a criminal impact, reported
opening 119 independent investigation files, 15.12% of which involved Indigenous police
forces.143 In August 2018, the BEI received a mandate to investigate criminal allegations against
police officers in cases where the suspected victim or complainant is a member of a First Nation
or the Inuit nation. However, to date, there is no Indigenous officer at BEI and only one liaison
officer. Moreover, this police body is headquartered in Longueuil, which means that there can be
significant delays before police officers from this independent police force can get to remote
Indigenous communities, participate in the actions required to conserve evidence and start their
investigation within a reasonable time frame.144
It may be beneficial to consider holding meetings between the police and citizens in order to
clarify expectations, put in place the necessary actions to address them, explain the work of
police officers in layman’s terms and improve relations with citizens.
Citizens have very little information about the reality of police work, which makes an
objective evaluation of the quality of services rendered very difficult. Moreover, the
“users” of police services do not evaluate quality using the same criteria, depending on
whether they are a victim or an offender. In fact, it should be kept in mind that the police
are dispensing a non voluntary and enforced service for certain users, whose satisfaction
is not their primary concern. The evaluation of the quality of service is subjective and
strongly influenced by expectations and the situations, since various perceptions of the
same situation are possible. In addition, there may be discrepancies between what
citizens believe is good service and the standards dictated by police professional
culture.145
The measures put in place by the Indigenous police force of Lac Simon, following the tragic
events that occurred in 2009, could be held up as an example:
We also put in place a police officer responsible for awareness who did a great job from
2010 to 2013 in the work following the events of the person who was fatally injured in
2009 by a police officer, to try to build strong ties, strong at the community level, and
people got on board with that, including the elders, the police officers; we worked with
schools, we created a basketball team... .146
5.4.2.1. A Lack of Resources for Indigenous Police Forces

Police services are one of the rare areas for which legislators have started to acknowledge self
government and provide funding for it.
An Act respecting the police force of Cree villages and of the Naskapi village, S.Q. 1979, c. 35,
was passed on June 22, 1979. The goal of this legislation was to implement the James Bay and
Northern Quebec Agreement by allowing for the creation of Indigenous police forces within the
communities that were part of the agreement.
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Starting in the mid-1980s, the federal government began to review police services within
Indigenous communities. It found that the quality of these services was not comparable to that
offered in similar non-Indigenous communities. It was clear that the services at the time did not
succeed in reducing crime within Indigenous communities or reducing the overrepresentation of
Indigenous people in the justice and correctional systems.
As a result, the federal government adopted the First Nations Policing Policy (FNPP) in the early
1990s. The purpose of this policy is to encourage First Nations communities to take over
policing services. It is a type of self-governance. The policy provides for the creation of tripartite
agreements involving a First Nation, the federal government and the provincial government in
question. The federal and provincial governments provide funding for 52% and 48% of the costs,
respectively.147
In Quebec, following the Oka Crisis, the possibility of implementing Indigenous police services
on a broader basis was considered.148 On December 20, 1994, Bill 57, An Act to amend the
Police Act and the Act respecting police organization as regards Native police, was tabled.
The minister in charge at the time stated the following:
Mr. Ménard: … this Bill amends the Police Act to include a new section dealing with the
creation and continuation, by agreement, of an Indigenous police force within a reserve
in accordance with the Indian Act.
This Bill stipulates that the agreement must include provisions on the hiring and
swearing in of police officers, as well as the independence of the police force’s
management. It also states that the hiring standards for members of this police force
may be different from the government’s regulatory provisions that apply to municipal
police officers.
In Quebec, 44 of the 55 Indigenous communities have entered into this type of agreement and
manage their own police service.149 These services were created under provincial legislation,
the Police Act,150 of which sections 90 to 102 specifically pertain to Indigenous police forces.
The council of each First Nation in question sets the working conditions of the police officers
and appoints the head of the service, who then hires police officers and has some autonomy in
managing the service.151 In 2018, a total of 22 Indigenous police forces in Quebec were self-
managed.152
The SQ provides police services in the 11 communities that do not have a tripartite agreement in
effect.153 It also provides all Indigenous communities with complementary services, such as
investigations in the event of murder, attempted murder or kidnapping with a risk to life, as well
as support services such as crime scene examiners, forensic identification technicians, computer-
generated composite sketches, or surveillance. Moreover, police services for Indigenous people
who do not live in the communities are provided by the SQ or by municipal police forces,
depending on the case. The RCMP may also be called upon to intervene in certain specialized
areas, primarily regarding organized crime.
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The purpose behind the creation of Indigenous police forces is to ensure that First Nations
values, culture and reality are taken into account. To achieve this goal, it is clearly desirable to
encourage the hiring of Indigenous police officers. Since the early 1990s, measures have been
implemented to train a greater number of Indigenous police officers. Adapted programs were
created at the college level and cohorts of Indigenous police cadets are now admitted to the
ÉNPQ. However, these efforts are not sufficient to meet the needs, and so it is necessary to hire
many non-Indigenous police officers to patrol communities.154
In 2017, there were approximately 400 police officers working in Indigenous police forces in
Quebec.155 However, no statistics are available on the proportion of the workforce that is of
Indigenous origin.
Jean-Pierre Larose is the chief of police of the Kativik Regional Police Force, which serves a
community of 13,000 people spread out over a territory of more than 500,000 km2 with 59 police
officers.156 However, he indicated that only three of the police officers are Inuit.
Some communities, which are suffering from chronic underfunding, have had to shut down their
police force and call upon the SQ for services.
The National Inquiry has also noted that Indigenous police forces have a chronic shortage of
human resources and training.157 The current funding model makes it difficult, and sometimes
impossible, to implement plans and strategies beyond a three-year time frame, which
corresponds to the time frame for the negotiated tripartite agreements. Because the Indigenous
police forces are unable to plan for activities in the long term, they are reduced to simply reacting
instead of taking a strategic and preventive approach.158
Chronic underfunding related to the specific work context also makes it difficult to retain officers.
Patrol officers within Indigenous communities regularly deal with emergency situations in a
complex context159 characterized by factors such as remoteness and isolation. These particularly
difficult conditions result in significant staff turnover, which means that the communities are often
served by young and inexperienced police officers.160 This could lead to preventable mistakes that
have significant and permanent consequences for the members of the communities that they
serve.161
In some cases, Indigenous police forces have even had to retain the services of civilians to carry
out tasks that were normally the responsibility of police officers162 or hire a police officer who
was removed from another police force after committing serious actions.163
Moreover, there are no female officers available on site to search Indigenous women when they
are arrested,164 even though this ethical obligation is essential to respecting the dignity of women
and has been specifically mandated by the legislator.165
In one case, a woman filed a complaint with the Commissaire à la déontologie policière [police
ethics commissioner] regarding how her sexual assault report was handled. The police officer
appears to have closed her file after simply sending a warning to the police force in question
indicating that he was concerned to note the following: 1) police officers had not completed their
activity reports; 2) there was no recording or monitoring system for the cells in the police station;
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3) there was no policy in place within the police force to prevent police officers who were
acquainted with the individuals in question from handling the files, which could represent a
conflict of interest; 4) the police officers on duty had not received training to investigate sexual
assault cases.166
This does nothing to reassure Indigenous communities in terms of the controls in place to
monitor the conduct of police activities, since it seems that there were no consequences for all
the shortcomings that were reported, other than a letter being sent in which the police ethics
commissioner left it up to the discretion of the police force to address the reported shortcomings:
“if you feel you need to implement [certain measures]”.167
Ongoing and specialized training is also a major issue for police officers who work within
Indigenous police forces. It is difficult for them to access specialized training, other than the
training offered by the ÉNPQ. Thus, specialized training dealing with issues such as tactical
response, strategic foundations for the use of force, investigations, de-escalation techniques for
people who are suffering from mental health issues and applied ethics remain out of reach for
Indigenous police forces. This situation is directly related to the inadequate and insufficient
funding they receive.
The National Inquiry has also noted that the financial conditions for admission to the ÉNPQ are
discriminatory against Indigenous candidates. Amounts paid by the SQ and by municipal police
forces significantly reduce the tuition fees required from non Indigenous candidates. Indigenous
candidates do not benefit from this system. Before registering with the ÉNPQ, Indigenous
candidates have to obtain a promise of employment along with a financial contribution for the
tuition fees that they must personally pay for their training. However, the financial burden is still
discriminatory, and that can explain, in part, the low number of Indigenous candidates who
graduate from the ÉNPQ year after year.
Access to police training is also more difficult for police cadets from Anglophone Indigenous
communities. The program to obtain a certificate of college studies is offered in French at
college-level public education institutions, but training in English can only be received at a
private college. Moreover, cohorts of Indigenous patrol officers are not offered every year at the
ÉNPQ and the program is only given in English once every two years. Lastly, specialized or
ongoing training courses exist in French only, which means that Indigenous police officers who
are not proficient in French cannot access this specialized training.
The certificate of college studies in police foundations for First Nations has been offered to
Indigenous police cadets since 1991. Successful completion of this training is a condition of
admission to the ÉNPQ. In Quebec, successful completion of the ÉNPQ program is a mandatory
requirement to obtain the title of police officer. Currently, three institutions offer this training:
Collège d’Alma, the Abitibi-Témiscamingue CEGEP (since 2019) and Collège Ellis, which
provides this training in English. Collège d’Alma updated its entire academic program in police
foundations for First Nations in 2016. The program has less stringent admission requirements
than the “regular” training program and includes 400 fewer hours of technical training than for
cadets in the “regular” police foundations program.
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The lack of qualified staff and inadequate funding could help explain some of the police
blunders that were reported by the women and families who testified before the National Inquiry,
such as the loss of a sexual assault evidence kit168 or moving a body prior to the arrival of the
crime scene technicians.169
The Court of Quebec noted the following in a case concerning an improvised tactical response
that occurred in Kahnawake:
[148] [Police officers] emphasize that behaviour that could be completely unacceptable
anywhere else may be perfectly normal or tolerated in an Indigenous environment…
[149] [Police officers] cannot deny that all peace officers and Indigenous special
constables working within Quebec are subject to the Quebec code of ethics…
[150] Even though everything needs to be looked at in light of the specific context of an
Indigenous community, the fact remains that this community has a right to expect that its
police officers, especially its experienced officers, respect certain standards of behaviour.
These police officers receive training, they carry weapons, and they are trained to assess
the degree of danger in various situations and to respond accordingly. The unique
Indigenous context does not entitle them to bypass the principle of exemplarity.170
5.4.2.2 Jurisdictional Disputes

From a legal perspective, Indigenous police forces deal with challenges that are not experienced
by other police forces in the province.
First, there are often debates to establish the jurisdiction that governs them (federal or
provincial), particularly when it comes to organizing work and enforcing decisions within the
communities.171
Moreover, a court concluded that the provisions of sections 87 to 89 of the Police Act regarding
the procedures for dismissing the director of a police force do not apply to an Indigenous police
force,172 although the Ministère de la Sécurité publique (MSP) [Quebec ministry of public
security] continues to claim that the law applies to them.173 There is thus some ambiguity to be
clarified in order to resolve this jurisdictional issue and determine whether the head of an
Indigenous police force may be removed other than by a resolution adopted by an absolute
majority of band council members, as is the case for heads of municipal police forces
(municipal council).
Similarly, Indigenous police forces do not seem to be subject to the obligations set out in sections
73 to 73.2 of the Police Act regarding the consultations required with the MSP and the public
when considering reducing the workforce set out in a tripartite agreement (for example, when the
budget no longer covers all costs or if there is a shortage of staff).
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In the field, jurisdictional issues can manifest as soon as a complaint is filed regarding an event
that occurred in an Indigenous community which requires specialized services to be provided by
the SQ under the Police Act and for which police officers of Indigenous police forces are not
trained to intervene.
Jurisdictional issues may also arise when an event requiring police intervention occurs on the
edges of the territory of a reserve or when an Indigenous person chooses to live off the reserve
but continues to visit institutions on the reserve. A process for communication and co-operation
between the various police forces that are able to provide assistance should then be employed in
order to prevent problematic situations from being ignored due to jurisdictional reasons that
jeopardize the protection of public safety.
The case of Tracey Brenda Polson illustrates this jurisdictional issue. Ms. Polson experienced an
incident of domestic violence in February 2002 that resulted in a fire at her residence, which had
been deliberately started by her spouse. She was not able to receive police assistance in a timely
manner because her home was technically outside a reserve. In fact, her home was 1.4 kilometres
from the nearest Indigenous police station and 32 kilometres from the closest SQ police station.
Police officers from both police forces tried to pass on responsibility to the other jurisdiction
before deciding to send assistance.
After years of court action, Ms. Polson was unable to have the police blunder recognized in her
case. The Comité de déontologie policière concluded that “the Indigenous police officers could
have intervened, after receiving an official request for assistance from the SQ”174 but did not
identify any ethical misconduct in this case. As for the SQ police officers, they were suspended
for seven days and reprimanded, but the decision as to their guilt was overturned before the
Court of Quebec.
5.4.2.3. Lack of Communication
Following a review of a number of police investigation files, the lack of communication between
members of the police force and survivors or family members of the victims has been identified
as a significant contributing factor to the generalized mistrust toward public safety services.
This lack of communication was reported at all stages of the police investigation. When follow
up is carried out, it seems that the survivors and family members are not informed in a manner
that allows them to properly understand the information provided. In several cases for which a
follow up was carried out, a lack of understanding persisted, in spite of explanations and the
meetings held between the victims and family members and members of the police forces in
question.
A notable example of this is found in the testimony of a police officer who was mandated, ten
years after a woman’s suspicious death, to take steps to arrange a meeting between the SQ and
the woman’s family so that the family could be informed of the circumstances surrounding the
death of their mother and the investigation that was conducted, during which the family was
never consulted.175
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Another example in which there was a considerable misunderstanding between the victims and
the legal system is the case of Kimberley, whose story was summarized above. Kimberley’s
mother testified about their outrage regarding the four-month jail sentence that was handed down
to the man who had forcibly confined and sexually assaulted Kimberley. Checks carried out by
the National Inquiry revealed that this sentence was for another offence that was committed by
this individual. The trial relating to the forcible confinement and sexual assault took place later.
The police and other caseworkers responsible for explaining the trial to Kimberley and her
mother therefore failed in their task.
The way in which important—and often tragic—information is announced was discussed by
several witnesses, who did not feel that they were considered or supported. In fact, other than
one situation where it is indicated that a police officer in charge of the investigation met with the
victim accompanied by a CAVAC worker, witnesses noted that few efforts were made to support
victims and families. However, in Quebec, certain police forces have an automatic referral
service to resources such as CAVAC and CALACS. Moreover, municipal police forces and the
SQ have an obligation to refer victims to CAVAC in the case of crimes against the person.
Yet Indigenous police forces are seemingly not subject to this rule.
In its investigation report, the coroner concluded that Alicia S. did not receive the help and
support that could have prevented her death.176 CAVAC is a significant resource for both victims
and police officers, who are then released from having to provide complex legal explanations
and emotional support to the survivors and family members of the victims. Clearly, there is a
shortage of key players and liaison mechanisms in order to better ensure the protection of
Indigenous women and girls.
5.4.3. The Justice System
Many things account for the lack of faith in and mistrust of the justice system. First, many
Indigenous women and families testified that the system is foreign and incomprehensible to them
and that it is difficult to navigate.177 In addition, many women and families emphasized the
indifference, prejudices and racism that they have experienced.
5.4.3.1. Transparency in the Justice System
For example, at the community hearings, the Indigenous women and girls who had reported
family violence and sexual assault were critical of the scarcity of support services, and especially
of the slowness and indifference with which their complaints were handled.178 In many cases,
that increased the women’s mistrust of the Quebec justice system and dissuaded them from
breaking their silence.179 Some of them said that they were not taken seriously when they
reported incidents.180 In some cases, the assailants were released the same day or the next day
without any charges being laid. Similarly, other women’s complaints were dismissed without any
explanation. Lastly, one woman was told that the evidence kit used after her sexual assault had
been misplaced.181
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In numerous cases, women were told that there was insufficient evidence, particularly if they did
not have visible marks of violence.182 Following the recent reports made by Indigenous women
in Quebec, one survivor decided to report a rape that she had kept secret for years. She was told
that, even though her story was credible, no charges could be laid if there were no other
witnesses. That was the outcome for every woman who decided to tell her story in 2015, after the
revelation of the events in Val-d’Or, where, even though their testimony was found to be
credible, there was insufficient evidence to take the matter to trial, according to the Directeur des
poursuites criminelles et pénales [Quebec director of criminal and penal prosecutions] (DPCP).183
The women said that, in that type of situation, they were devastated and felt as if they had been
left to fend for themselves.184
Other testimony illustrated the carelessness and indifference of those who work in the justice
system. For example, one woman was worried when her granddaughter had not returned home,
so she went to the bus station, which her granddaughter would have to pass through to get home.
While she was waiting there, two police officers confronted her and, despite her explanations,
gave her a ticket for loitering.185
It is clear that the indifference, and even contempt, with which Indigenous women and families
say they are treated by people within the justice system is a real violation of the right to justice.
The right to justice presupposes that victims can understand the way the justice system works
and are able to trust it. For survivors and families who have lost a loved one, the right to justice
also means that the state has an obligation to find the perpetrators of those crimes and punish
them. Therefore, the right to justice includes the right to effective police and judicial systems.
This aspect of the right to justice is closely connected to the right to life and security of the
person. In other words, if those who attack Indigenous women and girls are not punished, that is
another violation of the right to security of the person and the right to justice.
In order to ensure those rights, women who decide to report their assailants must be taken
seriously. Unfortunately, the fact is that prejudices, racism and discrimination against Indigenous
women and families inevitably lead to those rights being violated.
In addition, dealing with these cases through the criminal justice system is not always consistent
with the values of Indigenous communities, as some communities believe that it interferes with
healing. It is important to use processes that hold perpetrators accountable and that are part of a
holistic approach which empowers the victims and leads to real rehabilitation for the
perpetrators.
The rupture of family and cultural connections during the period of incarceration would
impede the path to healing and be counter-productive. Managing the abuser by
separating him from the family is generally not the approach preferred by Indigenous
people. The ineffectiveness of correctional treatment programs for Indigenous offenders
is therefore likely attributable to the institutions themselves. Indigenous men are critical
of the effects of incarceration, which, according to them, is not the solution to family
violence. Many Indigenous people consider imprisonment as an extension of the
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assimilationist policies of past governments: like the residential schools and the child
protection system, the penal system is used to separate families. In addition, contrary to
what would be preferred by the members of the communities who were interviewed,
detention prevents the individual from taking action to make reparation for the harm
done to the victim and the victim’s family, which would enable him to take responsibility
for his actions.
Buzawa and Buzawa characterize the way in which family violence cases are handled by
the penal system as a coercive response to social problems. They add that there is too
much focus on formal controls, which are inadequate for dealing with intimate partner
violence. Jaccoud argues that structural discrimination in Canada, at all levels of
government, past and present, has eroded Indigenous peoples’ capacity for social
regulation. Violence and the numerous social problems present in the communities,
which are the expression of the suffering and trauma created by the policies of
colonization, are then taken charge of by the institutional authorities. From this
perspective, it is clear not only that penal control is ineffective, but also that it harms the
communities.186
Quebec Native Women expresses this idea as follows:

Conflicts that are tearing apart our communities are rarely submitted to judicial
proceedings. We can intervene with youngsters and adults grappling with difficulties.
We can hold them responsible for the human suffering and social disorder caused by
their behaviour. We can also support them and help them resolve these conflicts and
regain control of their life.
The kind of justice we choose should further long-lasting human development instead of
delinquency and re-offending. It should allow us to prepare a better life for future
generations.…187
5.4.3.2. The Impacts of the Gladue and Ipeelee Cases in Quebec

As the Supreme Court stated in R. v. Gladue,188 the purpose of section 718.2(e) of the
Criminal Code is “to ameliorate the serious problem of overrepresentation of aboriginal people
in prisons.” It constitutes “Parliament’s direction to members of the judiciary to inquire into the
causes of the problem and to endeavour to remedy it, to the extent that a remedy is possible
through the sentencing process.”
Recognizing the causes of violence in the communities should not mean excusing that violence.
Victims and community members must be protected when sentencing. This important factor is
provided for in sections 718.2(a) (iii.1) and (e) of the Criminal Code. However, since Gladue,
the “correctional” purpose has too frequently been forgotten.189
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Courts are understandably more cautious about imposing custodial sentences on

Indigenous offenders because of the over-incarceration of Indigenous persons in Canada.
However, with a few notable exceptions, s 718.2(a) (ii) tends to fade in significance in
these cases and courts only occasionally recognize the serious problem of violence
against Indigenous women. Second, the sexual assault cases stand out as continuing to
perpetuate the idea that the intimate relationship is mitigating and that being sexually
assaulted by an intimate partner is less harmful to women than being sexually assaulted
by a stranger. In these cases, we see remnants of the view that a man cannot rape his
wife and that, if a woman had really been sexually assaulted, she would have left the
relationship immediately. This is particularly striking when one remembers that, in all of
these cases, non-consent will already have been proven beyond a reasonable doubt by
the Crown or admitted by the accused through a guilty plea. … [R]emnants of the idea
that sexual assault in an intimate relationship is somehow less damaging to women are
still evident in some appellate sentencing decisions.
…Judges often assume a causal relationship between alcohol consumption and violence
such that if one could only stop the offender from drinking, the violence would stop.
In fact, the relationship between alcohol and MIPVW [male intimate partner violence
against women] is more complex and may not be a causal one. Canadian research by
Holly Johnson suggests that the relationship is mediated by other factors such as male
attitudes towards women. In her study, Johnson found that “[t]he acting-out of negative
attitudes towards women, especially men’s rights to degrade and devalue their female
partners through name-calling and putdowns, was an especially important predictor [of
violence] and ... reduced the effects of alcohol abuse to nonsignificance.”190
The fact that Indigenous offenders reproduce patterns of violence learned through past
colonial violence which they themselves experienced is clearly a relevant factor to take into
consideration at the time of sentencing, as established by the Supreme Court of Canada in
Gladue and Ipeelee.191
However, by attributing predominant weight to that reality, the courts are, in practice,
normalizing violence in Indigenous communities. In doing so, they deprive Indigenous victims
of the protection mechanisms that are offered to other victims, particularly those aimed at
preventing contact between the woman and her assailant during the period of incarceration.192
An Indigenous victim whose assailant is spared a prison term in response to the problem of
overrepresentation of Indigenous people in the penal system encounters the assailant in daily life,
with all the traumatizing effects inherent to this situation.
The people see each other every day; that is not easy for the victims and witnesses of a
criminal act. Our judicial system, with the length of the delays before a trial is held, is
not suited to remote communities. Whatever sentence is imposed, the offender will
return to live in the community.
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The Court is aware that custodial sentences must be imposed in some cases to protect the
members of the community against individuals who are a threat to its safety.
The Court must also take into account violence against women and children and must
ensure that the offenders who cause serious harm are punished, in order to prevent them
from re-offending and also to deter others from committing the same type of crime.193
Consider the example of a young girl who was assaulted by her great-uncle, who was acting as a
foster family, six times over a period of four years beginning at age 7.194 A sexological
assessment submitted to the Court stated that the accused’s “thoughts of a sexual nature” about
his victim had “escalated” and took into consideration “the fact that the girl had been sexually
abused in the past.” The girl finally reported her assailant. He was ultimately sentenced to just
one year in prison; the reasons given included the fact that he had offered to use his hunting
skills for the community’s benefit. Until the sentence was handed down, the young girl was
forced into contact with her assailant when he frequented the restaurant where she worked. The
Court finally ordered the accused not to approach his victim or enter her workplace, but only
during a short period of two years following his release.
Another young girl was sexually assaulted by her mother’s partner over a period of seven years,
from age 5 to age 12.195 In the end, the Court sentenced the accused to 52 months in prison. It
ordered the accused not to communicate with his victim during his incarceration, but refused to
issue an injunction prohibiting the accused from being within two kilometres of the place where
the victim lived, as that injunction would have forced the accused to leave his community.
In the case of Kimberley, whose story was reported in Chapter 4, her family asserts that
the 36-month sentence received by the man who forcibly confined and assaulted her is
insufficient.196
However, the courts find themselves faced with a dilemma: they can under-sentence a criminal,
citing the colonial history as a mitigating factor in the accused’s guilt, or ignore the principles of
interpretation issued by the Supreme Court of Canada in Gladue and Ipeelee and run the risk of
an appeal.
The solutions for avoiding this problem were already set out in Gladue, where the
Supreme Court of Canada had stated that it:
is also unreasonable to assume that aboriginal peoples do not believe in the importance
of traditional sentencing goals such as deterrence, denunciation, and separation, where
warranted. In this context, generally, the more serious and violent the crime, the more
likely it will be as a practical matter that the terms of imprisonment will be the same for
similar offences and offenders, whether the offender is aboriginal or non-aboriginal.
The seriousness of the offences of sexual assault and domestic violence must be recognized in
order to ensure that the sentence does not normalize the violence suffered by Indigenous
offenders’ victims, who are often Indigenous women.
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The consequences of Indian residential schools on individual and intergenerational trauma have
been documented.21 Having attended residential schools is linked to a number of issues among
former residential school students and their children: addiction to alcohol, drugs and gambling,
psychological distress, and a greater likelihood of having experienced other trauma such as
sexual and physical assault and domestic violence.22 These consequences are so significant and
are still felt today because the residential schools are one of the factors that contributed to the
break down of the political, social and economic institutions of Quebec First Nations and
because they directly attacked human dignity.
Forcing Quebec’s First Nations people to go to Indian residential schools was one of the factors
that was the most damaging to their way of life and to the transmission of their culture. Studies
have shown that mandatory attendance at residential schools was seen as a “rupture” or “break”
in the life of Indigenous people23 and that the poor socio-economic conditions in which First
Nations people live only exacerbates the trauma.24
Even beyond the residential schools, religious authorities were very present in Quebec’s
First Nations communities. On the North Shore in particular, a number of witnesses spoke of
Father Alexis Joveneau, whose actions recently received media attention. He organized the
deportation25 of a number of Innu families from Pakuashipi to Unamen Shipu (La Romaine)
and restricted access to resources and food for those who dared disobey him. He also assaulted
Innu children.26
A number of women and families stated that they were sexually abused by other religious
figures.27 At the time that most of this abuse occurred, the Church’s hold over many First Nations
communities made it extremely difficult to report the abuse. A number of Innu witnesses stated
the following:
[A]t that time, [the priest] was God … a powerful figure.28
We could not disobey because the father, the priest was very, very important. We had to
do what he asked.29
Reporting their actions, as abject as they were, was sometimes considered a sin, if not something
shameful by parents, who often refused to believe their children or admit that such behaviour
was possible. In this context, silence was the only response possible, leaving victims deeply
scarred. This repeated abuse had lasting effects on the communities, specifically inter-
generational trauma.30 This was explained by the witnesses as follows:
There were people affected by these events [abuse by Father Joveneau]. They include people
who suffered from alcoholism, drug abuse, low self-esteem, depression. It is due to the events
that were passed on from generation to generation.31
[M]y husband … the priest used to abuse him.… That’s what his parents, his father was
subjected to when they deported them from Pakuashipi to La Romaine. And I think that
the violence was passed on from father to son.… That is why he experienced a lot of
violence and inflicted it too.32
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5.5. Lack of Training

There are many myths concerning violence alleged and experienced by Indigenous women
among physical and mental health professionals and public security employees, but also among
citizens in general and government representatives (both Indigenous and non-Indigenous).
Some training tools have been created,200 but they do not address the subject in depth and are not
widely available. Furthermore, the school programs offered are insufficient.A massive school
curriculum reform is required immediately. The cumulative effects of past errors are so drastic
that we cannot continue to move forward at a snail’s pace.
In addition, succinct courses intended to raise awareness of Indigenous realities, such as those
offered in some government organizations,201 do not adequately prepare front-line workers to
intervene with Indigenous people, whether men, women or 2SLGBTQQIA people. Overview
courses based on only one historical or sociological perspective are no more useful in achieving
the desired effects, as they do not help responders decide on a specific course of action. To
prevent any potential problems, it is vital that non-Indigenous representatives of public services
and professionals be taught to adapt their actions to Indigenous communities. These types
of training are appreciated by Indigenous and non-Indigenous people and significantly
improve knowledge.202
For example, when the Service de police de la Ville de Montréal [Montreal police department]
wanted to sensitize the officers assigned to the Montreal subway system to the realities of
Indigenous people’s lives, participants said that they did not find training about the historical
context useful. They were interested in learning more about the day-to-day reality of Indigenous
people: “[It is] unfortunate that the session focused more on the realities of the past rather than
the day-to-day realities of Indigenous people in Montreal.”203 Participants also expressed the
need to learn “the [best] ways of doing things, the best practices, the problems encountered in
their work, etc.”204 that is, to acquire the tools and resources that could help them intervene more
effectively in Indigenous communities.
Furthermore, openness toward different cultures is so important, in practising a profession or in
providing a public service, that this requirement for cultural plurality was codified in a number of
legal instruments in Quebec.205
That being said, there is no single model for providing services to Indigenous people:
It is important to start with people’s needs and to see the Indigenous models as guides
that express values which emerge from a common identity, but which can still be
adapted based on individual characteristics, personalities and aspirations. Therefore,
there are essential elements that must be taken into account when intervening with
Indigenous people, but acting and being in the same way with all the participants based
on their common identity is poor practice. Each of them also has a gender, a personality
and specific experiences.206
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However, while appointing people in various government departments or public services to act
as “liaison officers” with Indigenous people can be a useful transitional measure, it does not
solve the problem of discrimination experienced by Indigenous people. They should be able to
communicate with any member of the public service or elected government representative, in the
knowledge that those organizations are able and equipped to interact effectively with them.
One of the major limitations of the government liaison officer concept is the fact that there is
often only one person who is given all the responsibility as the designated resource for all of the
Indigenous communities, including those whose specific characteristics they know nothing
about. Such an officer can serve as an intermediary, but that does not satisfy the state’s
responsibility to provide public services.
For example, regarding the Comité de déontologie policière [police ethics board], the National
Assembly of Quebec decided that the administrative judge in charge of a case involving police
officers from an Indigenous police force must be “Indigenous.” According to the Court of
Quebec, “evidence of a particular specialization would be required, connected to a specific
context,”207 even though no other parameter except “Indigenous” origin is identified that would
qualify a person as a specialist on the community in question. For example, a member of a First
Nation could be in charge of a case involving an Inuit police force, regardless of that person’s
actual level of expertise, and even if that person requires an interpreter to translate the
testimonies to be heard,208 the person could still be considered a “specialist.”
As for the police officers themselves, progress has been made but there is still an urgent need for
practical training.
In its 2015-2016 annual management report, the École national de police du Québec [national
police school of Quebec] (ÉNPQ) reported that 88% of the training measures from the
Government Action Plan on Sexual Assault 2008-2013 had been implemented, for example, by
developing practical tools and selecting qualified investigators.209 Regarding the Comité sur la
formation en matière d’interaction avec les membres des communautés autochtones [committee
on training in interactions with members of Indigenous communities], barely 50% of the
measures had been implemented. According to this report, the actions taken consisted in meeting
with representatives of Quebec Native Women and collaborating with the colleges to take stock
of their practices in terms of training on Indigenous diversity.
The following year, in its 2016-2017 management report, the ÉNPQ stated:
The main themes that have impacted the School’s activities and training are Indigenous
realities, including kidnapping and disappearances in relation to the inquiries on missing
and murdered Indigenous women and girls; de-escalation in cases involving mental health
and homelessness; the fight against radicalization; and intimate partner violence.210
In that report, the ÉNPQ also noted that it had held an “Indigenous culture awareness week,”
involving activities focused on Indigenous history, a traditional ceremony held in the tipi set up
on the School grounds and a themed exhibit, with a view to “better knowledge and understanding
of Indigenous culture.”211
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In its 2017-2018 report, the ÉNPQ stated that it had achieved 82% of its objectives regarding
training on matters related to social realities. It specifically mentioned the implementation of the
following processes:
• Sexual violence: The research project in collaboration with the Centre Marie-Vincent
(follow-up of the training on sexual assaults against 0- to 12-year-olds) is on schedule;
• Indigenous peoples: the project to develop capability for giving the initial training on
investigations in English is going well. An agreement is about to be signed with the
Ontario Police College (OPC) that would allow the School to use the OPC’s program
for teaching investigation;
• Diversity: the seminar on prevention of racial and social profiling planned for this year
has been postponed until 2019-2020.212
Regarding training of Indigenous police officers, the ÉNPQ had this to say:
After a year without Indigenous training, the School provided training for the initial
training cohorts. In addition, the training team was active in professional development,
in training Indigenous police officers as first responders, on active shooter situations and
on use of the Taser. 213
However, no action was taken to adapt police officers’ response policies in Indigenous
communities in order to avoid stereotyping and ethnocentrism and prevent discriminatory, racist
behaviour against Indigenous people.
To give just one example, the police response policy for individuals in crisis still identifies
“looking to the side or looking downward”214 as signs of “imminent assault,” even though that
behaviour is widespread in many Indigenous communities where the values and culture differ
from those that prevail in non-Indigenous society.215
5.6. Significant and Unmet Needs

The legacy of historical trauma—associated with forced settlement, deportations, residential
schools, removal of children, control exerted by religious authorities, and specifically with the
physical, psychological and sexual abuse committed by certain representatives of the State—
largely explains the reality facing Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people today.
We have demonstrated that the prejudices, racism and indifference displayed by agents of the
State are the direct result of that colonial legacy and are an inherent part of the daily reality of
Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec.
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In addition, the picture would be incomplete without a discussion of the difficult living
conditions in which Indigenous communities in Quebec have been, and continue to be,
maintained. Those living conditions, which are also part of the colonial legacy, are contributing
factors in systemic violence against Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people
in Quebec.216
Many of the Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people who came to testify before
the National Inquiry spoke of poverty, housing shortages, lack of resources and of qualified
personnel, low levels of education, lack of jobs and poor economic prospects.217 A number of
witnesses said that they had grown up in severe poverty.218 In fact, the Indigenous women, girls
and SLGBTQQIA people who testified before the National Inquiry described realities that are
already well known and extensively documented in the literature.219
All of this means that Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people are confronted with
significant barriers to education, graduation and employability. For example, not all communities
have the same resources to provide them with education that will help them fulfill their potential.
One witness explained that the primary school in her community was not built until 2010. Before
then, the nearest school was 130 kilometres from her home, which meant that the children had to
spend the entire school year away from the community. The same witness also noted that, even
with a diploma, young people have difficulty finding a job.
That situation discourages young people from staying in school and leads to major social
problems. For example, another witness, talking about her son, said, “He had finished his
program, all that. But since there weren’t even any jobs for him, he fell into alcohol, drugs.”220
She is not the only one to make the connection between difficult living conditions, alcohol and
drug use in the communities, violent situations, and impacts on mental health.221
Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people did not choose to be among the poorest
people in Quebec or to live in such precarious conditions. Article 21 of UNDRIP states that
Indigenous peoples have the right, without discrimination, to the improvement of their
economic and social conditions, including, inter alia, in the areas of education,
employment, vocational training and retraining, housing, sanitation, health and
social security.
These economic and social rights are also protected by the International Covenant on Economic,
Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR)222 and the Quebec Charter.
It is important to understand that fundamental rights are interdependent and indissociable. That
means that the right to life and the right to security, which we discussed previously, depend on
respect for economic and social rights.223 Clearly, in the majority of Indigenous communities in
Quebec, all these fundamental rights are not being respected. Yet the failure to respect economic
and social rights, including the right to health, may create conditions conducive to violence. That
link was recognized by the Supreme Court of Canada in Gladue:
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The background factors which figure prominently in the causation of crime by aboriginal
offenders are by now well known. Years of dislocation and economic development have
translated, for many aboriginal peoples, into low incomes, high unemployment, lack of
opportunities and options, lack or irrelevance of education, substance abuse, loneliness,
and community fragmentation.224
More recently, Justice LeBel, writing on behalf of the Supreme Court of Canada, reiterated those
principles and stated that “[t]he overwhelming message emanating from the various reports and
commissions on Aboriginal peoples’ involvement in the criminal justice system is that current
levels of criminality are intimately tied to the legacy of colonialism.”225
What is certain is that alcohol and drug use is an element in the stories of most of the survivors
of sexual assault, family violence or lateral violence.226
During the National Inquiry hearings, survivors explained why they began using substances: to
ease their fears or to forget that they had been sexually abused.227 The majority of those women
have also been diagnosed with major depression, and many women have attempted suicide.228
For example, a witness clearly made the link between violence, depression, suicide and the
increased vulnerability of Indigenous women: “It was at the start of my acute depression.…
Okay, violence also pushes you to want to take your life. I tried three times.”229 Another woman
said, “The suicides we’ve had – the many suicides we’ve had in the community – most were
people who had been sexually assaulted.”230 Similarly, women survivors of lateral violence
within their communities described similar situations, notably the impacts of that violence on
their mental health.231
The majority of families who lost a loved one also highlighted the links between violence,
substance abuse issues and the impacts on physical and mental health.232
One woman saw her father start drinking after her two brothers disappeared from the hospital in
Blanc Sablon: “Every time he drank, he would get in a very bad way, he would talk about his
children and he would cry. I was still expecting my brothers to come home.”233 For one family
member, his sister’s death was a trigger: “It was the beginning on a part of my destructive
patterns in life, my destructive behaviour, my addictions that consumed me. I have managed to
live life to the best I could, to try and help and support my mom, but I also was an addict in the
process.”234 This witness spoke of her own alcohol and drug problems, as well as her suicidal
thoughts triggered by her sister’s death: “That was my whole life. I had no interest in anything,
in going to school or work. There was nothing I wanted to do anymore.”235
Although some women and families benefitted from support services and assistance, the
testimonies of several others revealed a widespread lack of useful, functional services. In some
cases, the distrust of those services and the institutions that provide them discourage women,
girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people from using them.236
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That is yet another factor which dissuades women from using the justice system and government
services, particularly in the field of health care. First Nations and Inuit women, girls and families
in Quebec experience many more social and health problems than the majority of Quebecers.
Nevertheless, they have access to fewer resources that can help them.
In its submission to the National Inquiry, the organization237 notes that, in Quebec:
[t]here is a shortage of shelters for Indigenous people. Currently, there are only 13
shelters for the 55 First Nations and Inuit communities in Quebec. QNW believes that
every community should have a shelter in order to make it possible for women who are
victims of violence to remain in their community, if they want to do so, and thereby
avoid uprooting their children from their schools and social networks. Otherwise, a
woman may decide to remain with her abuser if she feels that the distance from her
home to the shelter is too great. In addition, the Indigenous shelters lack personnel and
financial resources, even though they must meet multiple needs in the communities. The
shelter workers are confronted with various forms of violence. They are overworked
providing all the necessary services to the women and their children, as well as the
external services they offer to the entire community. For example, health and public
security institutions tend to refer Indigenous women in crisis to the Indigenous shelters,
since no other resource can manage those situations.
The truths of the women, girls and families heard by the National Inquiry echo those of other
First Nations women in Quebec.
In fact, QNW has amply demonstrated that violence has multiple consequences and impacts,
including moral, economic, social, physical and psychological.238
Recent studies have shown that Indigenous women who are or have been subjected to violence,
whether in childhood or adulthood, generally have trouble reclaiming their lives and fulfilling
their dreams. They also struggle with feelings of anguish and generalized anxiety, and suffer
from a lack of self confidence and trust in others that affects their ability to build and maintain
healthy family and social relationships.
These women may have phobias or feel anger, guilt, shame, loss of identity, and sometimes
loneliness. They are more likely to develop addiction problems, have suicidal thoughts or exhibit
violent behaviour, not to mention the physical consequences of experiencing violence. Lastly,
Indigenous women who are or have been subjected to violence are more likely to drop out of
school or flee their community, even the province, with the socio economic consequences that
this implies.239
To summarize, violence against Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec
is part of a socio-historical context that stems from the combination of colonialist policies
pursued throughout history, the effects of which are still felt today.
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As QNW demonstrated, “[w]hat emerges … is a historical chain of erasures. The women who
lost their Indian status, the children who died or went missing from residential school, those who
were adopted out of their communities.…”240
In addition to that chain of erasures, there are the deportations of families and the disappearances
of children from hospitals, as well as Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people
remaining in bleak socio-economic conditions. The life trajectories of missing or murdered
Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people and of all those who survived violence must
be understood in light of that chain of erasures.
5.7. Beyond the Colonial Legacy: Identities and

Cultures to Recognize
5.7.1. The Importance of Transmitting Culture and Legal Status
The establishment and maintenance of genocidal colonial policies and structures have had
significant impacts on the ability of First Nations to keep their cultures alive and to deal in their
own way with the many social issues.
In the area of international law, the right to identity and culture is protected by article 27 of the
International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). It protects the right of members
of ethnic minorities “in community with the other members of their group, to enjoy their own
culture.” The concept of an “ethnic minority” is probably not the best way to describe Indigenous
peoples, but the United Nations Human Rights Committee has always affirmed that Indigenous
peoples can invoke article 27. In fact, section 43 of the Quebec Charter incorporates the
substance of article 27 of the ICCPR. In addition, the basic premise of the UNDRIP is the
recognition of the right to identity and culture: the second paragraph of the annex affirms
“the right of all peoples to be different,” while article 5 states that Indigenous peoples have
the right “to maintain and strengthen their distinct political, legal, economic, social and
cultural institutions.”
In Canadian law, protection of the right to identity and culture stems from section 35 of the
Constitution Act, 1982, which recognizes and affirms the existing Aboriginal and Treaty rights of
Indigenous peoples in Canada.
The physical and sexual assaults to which Indigenous women and girls were and are subjected,
as well as forced settlement, deportation and the abolition of traditional governance, have been
deeply and inevitably detrimental to maintaining and developing Indigenous identities.
During the National Inquiry's community hearings, an Innu woman explained how the loss of
connection to the land had contributed to creating a social climate that enabled violence to
occur.241 The relationship with the land and traditional governance not only maintained solidarity,
but also ensured that there were social regulation processes in place consistent with Indigenous
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values and beliefs. The loss of those cultural markers has caused many social problems that
could otherwise have been solved, as well as a major identity crisis that especially affects the
younger generations.
Given this history, a number of witnesses emphasized the importance of returning to their roots,
traditions and culture as a way of ensuring healing.242 For many, healing must come through
discovering their own identity and developing pride in it, including by promoting traditions and
culture with traditional ceremonies such as sweat lodges243 and a return to traditional activities,
such as visits to the land,244 the implementation of “Out on the Land” programs involving the
Elders,245 and a spiritual path based on the beliefs of the ancestors.246
It is also important that culture be transmitted in populations with mixed identities.247
Lastly, help must be provided to Indigenous men who are caught in a cycle of violent behaviour
given that the well-being of each individual in the community affects the safety of Indigenous
women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
Mohawk activist Ellen Gabriel, who testified as a knowledge keeper, emphasized the importance
of restoring Indigenous women’s traditional roles of decision making, leadership and
transmission of culture: “You know, raising women back up to the places that they had and hold
today, in today’s society, that we shouldn’t be just relegated with domestic affairs.”248 She also
added that every level of government should be capable of listening to and understanding the
solutions proposed by women:
That they be solutions, that Indigenous women be the leader for those solutions. And, all
the women that you have heard, not just the ones that are organizations, but Indigenous
women. And, for a real understanding of our human rights, be they social, economic,
cultural, linguistic, spiritual, health, traditional governance, et cetera, that those be
understood by all levels of government, federal, provincial, municipal and Indigenous.
That that is part of the education component.249
The right to maintain a distinct identity and culture is at the heart of Indigenous peoples’ rights.
It encompasses everything that encourages and keeps alive people’s link to their culture, free
from discrimination or prejudice. The right to culture and identity requires the State to support
Indigenous people in developing such community initiatives.
According to several participants, the historical traumas cannot be healed solely by having the
violent men criminally prosecuted. Nor can the healing just be individual; the social fabric must
be healed. Given that this type of healing is collective and culturally specific, it can be achieved
only at the community level, through their own knowledge and abilities. In order to do that, self-
government is the most promising option for ensuring the right to culture and identity, in part
because it ensures cultural safety.
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Self-government is related to the peoples’ right to self-determination, as guaranteed by article 1

of the ICCPR and the ICESCR. Article 4 of the UNDRIP states that “Indigenous peoples, in
exercising their right to self-determination, have the right to autonomy or self-government in
matters relating to their internal and local affairs, as well as ways and means for financing their
autonomous functions.” Although the courts have not yet ruled in this matter, in the Principles
respecting the Government of Canada’s relationship with Indigenous peoples250 the Canadian
government recently recognized the right to self-government as one of the rights protected by
section 35 of the Constitution Act, 1982.
According to the FNQLHSSC, cultural safety “occurs when Aboriginal people feel they can trust
their health care providers.”251 In order to establish this trust, Indigenous people must actively
participate in seeking solutions that are right for them.
Non-Indigenous stakeholders working with Indigenous people must know and recognize the
effects of socio economic conditions and oppressive policies on the health of Indigenous people,
the abuse of power over them and the institutional discrimination they face.
Establishing a relationship of trust requires a willingness to correct these inequities. It requires
showing respect for the beliefs, behaviours and values of Indigenous people.252
Elle a un nom - She has a name, a collective embroidery project carried out during the mandate of the
National Inquiry in tribute to missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
In projects like this one, embroidery can be a tool for social and collective mobilization. Photo by Michèle Audette, 2018.
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The FNQLHSSC also states:

When applied within First Nations communities, cultural safety requires that the
different parties involved, from government authorities to service providers—which
include counsellors and police officers—acknowledge the effects of colonization and
ensuing intergenerational trauma. Such awareness opens the way to decolonization,
self-determination and cultural revitalization, and facilitates the full application of the
principle of cultural safety.253
Indigenous women were patently denied cultural safety by the Canadian legislation under
subsection 6(2) of the Indian Act, which prevented them from passing on Indian status to a
second generation. That provision deprived status from children after two successive mixed
marriages,254 meaning that Indigenous women could pass on Indian status to their children
only if their Indigenous ancestor was male.
5.8. Pathways to Resilience

Throughout the community hearings held in Quebec, the Indigenous women and families heard
by the National Inquiry demonstrated not only their courage and strength, but especially their
resilience in the face of tragic, unjust and traumatic situations. Their truths illustrate the range
of strategies adopted by survivors and families to cope with their trauma.
Thus, survivors do not remain passive in response to situations of domestic violence. To the
contrary, they are astute and adept in seeking solutions to ensure their safety, their survival and
that of their family, including when choosing to stay with an abusive partner. In many cases, the
decision to deal with domestic violence is rooted in the desire to protect their children or keep
their family together. As one participant explained during her testimony, “I stayed for the love of
my kids. I didn’t want to deprive my children of their father’s presence…”255
Although there are various reasons why women stay in unhealthy relationships—fear, love, the
fact of having grown up with violence, logistical or financial barriers—ultimately, all of the
family violence survivors who testified at the hearings left their abusive partners.
Some women were prompted to make changes in their lives following a serious incident.
For example, one woman decided to “[clean] up” her life after attempting suicide for a third
time and suffering a burnout.256 Another survivor chose to stand up to violence following the
death of her sister, who was murdered by her partner: “I didn’t know she was experiencing so
much violence. Today, when I look back, I think, no, I don’t want to live with violence
anymore.”257 Others found the strength to escape and seek help when faced with situations
threatening their safety and that of their children.258
These stories reflect the courage and determination of survivors. However, they also speak to the
lack of formal recourse to keep these women safe in the longer term. Efforts to pull themselves
out of violent situations are sometimes hindered by a lack of resources and services.
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What is most striking in all the findings so far is the resilience displayed by the women and
families who testified before the National Inquiry. Despite the effects of historical trauma,
difficult lives and unimaginable hardships, many First Nations women and families in Quebec
manage, at one point or another, to recover and rebuild their lives.259 As one witness explained:
Now I’m never going to give up, I’m going to work hard. What I have experienced,
with me and my daughter, and what we have done today, I am so sad when I think
about it. But I will continue my journey and I still have strength in me and I will never
give up because of what I have experienced and I will never abandon the cause for
my daughter.260
Families and survivors are certainly very honest in admitting that they have felt discouraged and
hopeless and that they have had suicidal thoughts, but they were also able to pick themselves up,
regroup and start the healing process. To do so, they adopted a set of strategies to better manage
and ease their pain and trauma. For example, some women noted the importance of physical
activity,261 prayer and religious beliefs262 as means to achieving well-being and inner peace.
Although some women acknowledge that they came out of it on their own, most of them say that
they sought counselling or therapy to support them in their journey.263 The women and families
also find strength and courage in solidarity and in family and community support. The journeys
to healing are made easier by the collective support of the people around them. Many women,
like this participant, spoke about the support they received from their partners or their family
members.264
I can never tell my family enough that—family is something important in political life.
Anyway, for me, that was the case because they are the ones who supported me, who
held me in their arms when I needed to cry.265
Some women also emphasized the role that women play in the healing process, be it as friends
or role models:266
I was all on my own…. At least I had … my good friend who was helping me, who was
supporting me.267
I was blessed to have many women, whether they were related to me or not, they were
aunties. They showed us a way of life: to be independent, to be strong, and to have a
voice.268
It is also clear from the testimony that culture plays a key role in the well-being and healing of
women and families. To a certain extent, identity affirmation and the reclamation of Indigenous
cultures are essential for enhancing the well-being and safety of Indigenous women. In fact, the
resilience of families and survivors is often an extension of a rediscovered or enhanced cultural
pride that pushes them to demand better for themselves and their children.269
136

CHAPTER 5
Similarly, spirituality is also part of the healing process for many women. Traditional healing
practices, medicines and Indigenous spirituality help strengthen pride in identity. Some women
therefore found what they needed to continue their journey in ceremonies, Indigenous languages
and traditional foods:270 “It’s been about ten years now that I’ve been on the spiritual journey.
And I am happy to have discovered the strength that was buried inside me.”271
Lastly, one feeling much stronger than fear was at the heart of the many testimonies heard at the
community hearings: love.
This love can be viewed as the driving force of resilience, the feeling underlying the belief in
and hope for better lives for future generations.272 Despite the anger expressed in some accounts,
what motivates women, first and foremost, is their love for their children and their hope for
future generations.
Everything I’ve spoken out about, the people I’ve denounced, the people I’ve
confronted, the protests I’ve done, I did it for our children. I did it for the little girls I’m
raising, for my grandchildren, for your children too. I did it for the whole community,
without any exceptions, for all children.273
So you know, I dedicate this to my kids, who are also parents now. And I know, as a
mother, I tell them, “Yes, it’s hard, but just don’t worry about the world; just love your
kids. Just play with your kids.” That’s all life is about, teach them…274
I’m a survivor of abuse; of physical, sexual, mental abuse. And I am so proud of myself
because my aim was that my daughter—I have two daughters. And my aim was that they
do not have to live with this. And today, they don’t. They are not ashamed of themselves.
They are strong, beautiful women that stand tall in society. And I managed to do that.275
The National Inquiry also witnessed and felt this love through the comfort that families brought
to one another before and after testimony, in the songs offered up to grieving women, in how the
space was prepared by the Elders who provided assistance at the public events, in the concern of
local caseworkers who never failed to offer support to members of their community, and in the
tea, bannock and jams that were prepared with care to sustain participants during the long
hearing days.
It is also in love that some women find the strength to forgive themselves and to forgive those
who caused them suffering.276 As one participant explained:
I have forgiven this man. I almost died when I was young, because of what he had done
to me – I thought he was going to kill me....My grandfathers listened to me and I have
forgiven him. I know his behaviour. If it can get into his head and his heart, my
forgiving him. 277
The healing observed on the path to resilience was, in most cases, individual healing.
Many women manage to recover from their trauma, but they sometimes feel powerless in
137

CHAPTER 5
the face of the trauma experienced by their loved ones and their communities.
Yet, to break the cycle of intergenerational violence, there must be community healing. Some
women emerge as leaders and actively advocate for measures that need to be implemented to
promote community healing.
These women speak out publicly against the injustices, the multitude of shortcomings, the
violence and anything that is undermining the well-being of their people. They hope for and
expect large-scale and long-lasting societal changes to address the social issues facing First
Nations in Quebec.278 Other women work tirelessly to help members of their community by
serving in decision making positions or by being positive role models in society.279 Most women
want their testimony to bring hope to all the women and families who, like them, have
experienced similar tragedies:
I still have a lot of hope. I’m not giving up, even though the Crown said [the case is]
closed. And, I have put my faith in the National Inquiry to make this happen for all the
families, not just our family, because it’s not easy living life not knowing what
happened, not getting justice for your loved one.280
So, I feel I am honouring my sister, Jacquie. But I am also honouring all these women
who just had no window of light, of hope, of wanting a better life. Of knowing there is a
better life somewhere; there is a way out. But I think this is where we need to make
people know that there is a way out.281
I think that’s the cure, listening, reaching out your hand. For me, it’s giving the most
love that I can, and hope.282
138

NOTES
1. Lessard et al, “Les violences conjugales.” 20. Simone B., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 80.
2. Adopted in 1982.
21. Dion et al., “Pensionnats autochtones.”
3. Adopted in 1975.
22. Dion et al., “Pensionnats autochtones.”
4. Ratified by Canada in 1976.
23. Basile, “Le rôle et la place des femmes Atikamekw” ;
5. Adopted in 2007. Even though Canada voted against
Loiselle et al., “Les impacts de l’arrivée des wemitikojik
the Declaration when it was adopted in 2007, it later
(colons blancs).”
expressed its support for the principles it contains, first
in 2010 with some reservations, then in 2016 with no 24. Dion et al., “Pensionnats autochtones.”
reservations.
25. Jérôme, “Ka atanakanith.”
6. The Declaration was adopted in 1993 by the UN
26. Simone B., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC;
General Assembly. Canada supports this declaration.
Mary M., Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC.
7. Canada ratified the Convention on October 14, 1970.
27. Part 1, Statement Volume 156, Maliotenam, QC.
8. Canada ratified the Covenant in 1976.
28. Yvette B., Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC,
9. The Declaration was adopted in 1993 by the UN p. 103.
General Assembly. Canada supports this declaration.
29. Ambroise M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam,
10. Ville de Montréal, “Procès-verbal de l’assemblée QC, p. 15.
ordinaire du conseil municipal du 21 août 2017,” p. 60
30. Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1,
and 112.
Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public
11. Ville de Montréal, “Séance ordinaire du comité exécutif Volume 68, Montreal, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 71,
du mercredi 26 avril 2017,” p. 8. Montreal, QC.
12. Ville de Montréal, “La Commissaire.” 31. Mary M., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 97.
13. This general grant given to “cultural” activities seems
disproportionate, particularly in relation to the $31,150 32. Simone B., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC,
($9,000 for 2017, $18,000 for 2018 and $4,150 for p. 42.
2019) provided to support the Iskweu project geared
33. Part 1, Public Volume 71, Montreal, QC.
specifically to addressing the issue of missing and
murdered Indigenous women and girls and establishing 34. Jean Vicaire, Part 2, Volume 8, Regina, SK, pp.111-112.
a climate of trust, “in a context where relations between
35. Anastasia N., Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam,
police services and Indigenous women are strained and
QC.
many of them fear asking for help when they feel their
security is threatened.” See, to this effect: Ville de 36. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1,
Montréal, “Séance ordinaire du comité exécutif du 22 Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC.
novembre 2017.”
37. Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC.
14. TRC, 2015, summary, p. 1.
15. TRC, 2015, summary, p. 135.
40. Part 1, Public Volume 65, Montreal, QC; Part 1, Public
Volume 70, Montreal, QC.
Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 60,
Montreal, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 71, Montreal, QC. 41. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1,
Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC.
p. 49.
Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC.
19. Kirby B., Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC,
p. 25.
139

NOTES
43. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, 65. Concerning the interpretation of article 7 of the Charter,
Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public see notably New Brunswick (Minister of Health and
Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 35, Social Services) v. G. (J.), [1999] 3 RCS 46, par. 58 à
Maliotenam, QC. 61; Rodriguez v. British Columbia (Attorney General),
1993 CanLII 75 (CSC), [1993] 3 R.C.S. 519, at pp. 587
44. Jenny R., Part 1, Public Volume. 35, Maliotenam, QC.
et 588; Art. 193 and Art 195.1(1)c) of the Criminal
45. Nathalie H., Part 1, Public Volume 68, Maliotenam, Code, [1990] 1 R.C.S. 1123, at p. 1177; R. v.
QC. Morgentaler, [1988] 1 R.C.S. 30, par. 243. Concerning
the interpreation of Article 1 de la Quebec Charter, see
46. For security reasons, the testimonies are not cited.
Chaoulli c. Québec (Procureur général), [2005] 1 RCS
47. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, 791, 2005 CSC 35, par. 41; 3 R.C.S. 211, par. 95;
Public Volume 71, Montreal, QC. Dupuis c. Directeur de l'état civil, 2010 QCCS 1526,
par. 13; Québec (Curateur public) c. Syndicat national
48. Perreault, “Femmes autochtones,” p. 19. des employés de l'hôpital St-Ferdinand, [1996].
49. Flynn et al., “Sortir la violence,” p. 38. 66. New Brunswick (Minister of Health and Community
50. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind.” Services) v. G. (J.), [1999] 3 S.C.R 46.
51. Green, “Taking Account of Aboriginal Feminism,” p. 67. For example, in this case, whether legal aid is available
20-32. to parents.
52. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, 68. Part 1, Public Volume No. 33, Maliotenam, QC;
Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Jérôme, “Ka atanakaniht.”
Volume 60, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 59, 69. Art. 10 states as follows: Indigenous peoples shall not
Montreal, QC. be forcibly removed from their lands or territories. No
53. Kirby B., Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC, pp. relocation shall take place without the free, prior and
40-41. informed consent of the indigenous peoples concerned
and after agreement on just and fair compensation and,
54. Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC. where possible, with the option of return.
55. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind,” p. 25. 70. As presented in the testimony of Jérôme Mesténapeo et
56. QNW, “Indigenous women and violence” ; QNW, al., Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC.
“Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind” ; Flynn et al., “Sortir la 71. Jérôme, “Ka atanakaniht,” p. 184.
violence.”
57. Bergeron, “Voix des femmes ilnu.” Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC.
58. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC. 73. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1,
59. Part 1, Public Volume 59; Part 1, In Camera 66, QC. Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public
Volume 35; Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 34,
60. Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC; Part 1, Public Malitoenam, QC.
Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume
35(b), Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 67, 74. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC.
Montreal, QC. 75. Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC.
61. Cheryl M., Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC, 76. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC.
pp. 57-58.
62. Part 1, Public Volume 67, Montreal, QC; Part 1, Public p. 155.
Volume 35(b), Maliotenam, QC.
78. R. v. Neashish, 2016 QCCQ 10775, 2016 QCCA 1915.
79. R. v. W.G.R., 2017 QCCQ 16076.
80. R. v. Auclair, 2006 QCCQ 7093.
140

NOTES
81. Lafontaine, “Rapport de l’observatrice civile 107. In one of these cases, the death had not been reported to
indépendante,” p. 65. the Registrar of Civil Status. In that case, the Director,
following the National Inquiry’s requests for
information, launched a summary investigation and
QC, p. 58.
issued a death certificate based on the information
83. Germaine M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, available, as provided for in section 130 of the Civil
QC, p. 115. Code of Québec.
84. Gilberte V., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, 108. These are situations for which we obtained medical
p. 74. information and a death certificate.
85. Nakuset, Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 99. 109. Anne Panasuk’s report mentions eight children.
https://ici.radio-canada.ca/nouvelle/748777/pakuashipi-
86. Nakuset, Part 2, Public Volume 4, Calgary, AB, p. 101.
enfants-disparus-cote-nord-quebec-innus.
87. Salée, “Peuples autochtones, racisme.”
110. Savard, “Des tentes aux maisons.”
88. INSPQ, “Rapport québécois sur la violence,” p. 296.
111. Savard, “Des tentes aux maisons,” p. 26.
89. INSPQ, “Rapport québécois sur la violence,” p. 300,
112. The hospitals that admitted and treated those children,
303 and 304.
according to the testimonies and documents received by
90. INSPQ, “Politiques publiques et santé,” pp. 10-11; See the Commission, are the Hôtel-Dieu hospital in Amos,
also Morin, “Pratique sociale des intervenants inuits.” the St-Eusèbe hospital in Joliette, the hospital in La
Tuque and the hospital in Blanc-Sablon.
91. Matte, “Les besoins des proches de personnes
assassinées,” p. ii. 113. M.-P. Bousquet, Director of the Indigenous studies
program, Université de Montréal, telephone interview,
92. Dion, Collin-Vézina, and Lavoie, “Les violences
December 12, 2018.
sexuelles chez les peuples autochtones,” p. 174.
114. FAQ, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind,” ; FAQ,
93. CSSSPNQL, “Charte.”
“Dans le passé, il y a eu les pensionnats indiens”.
94. FAQ, “Celles dont on a pris la vie” ; APNQL, “Honorer
115. Ringuette, “Le sens du placement,” p. 8.
les victimes.”
116. Bill no. 99: An Act to amend the Youth Protection Act
95. Groupe de recherche et d’interventions psychosociales
and other provisions.
en milieu autochtone, “Étude sur l’abus sexuel” ;
Capone, “Résistances des Innues.” 117. Assemblée nationale, “Journal des débats de la
Commission” p. 3.
96. Radio-Canada, “Où sont passés 8 enfants.”
98. Part 1, Public Volume 63, Montreal, QC. Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 59,
Montreal, QC; Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC; Part 1,
99. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC. Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC.
100. Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC. 119. Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC.
101. Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC. 120. Kirby B., Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC, p. 6.
103. Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC. Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC.
104. Part 1, Public Volume 61, Montreal, QC. 122. Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1,
Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC.
105. La Presse, “La mystérieuse disparition.”
106. Part 1, Public Volume 63, Montreal, QC; Part 1,
Public Volume 61, Montreal, QC. 124. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC.
141

NOTES
125. Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC. 148. Journal des débats (Hansard) of the Committee on
Institutions, May 7, 1992; Journal des débats (Hansard)
of the Committee on Institutions, April 22, 1993, p. CI-
127. Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC. 1608 and CI-1609; Journal des débats (Hansard) of the
Committee on Institutions, April 29, 1993, p. CI-1718.
Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC; Part 1, Public 149. Document submitted as evidence by the Ministère de la
Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 32, Sécurité publique, Presentation before the National
Maliotenam, QC. Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women
and Girls, “Les services policiers autochtones au
129. Maurice K., Part 1, Public Volume 70, Montreal, QC, p.
Québec,” Richard Coleman, Part 2, Regina, SK, p. 11.
25.
150. Police Act, RSQ, c. P-13.1.
p. 169. 151. Aubert and Jaccoud, “Genèse et développement.”
131. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC, p. 152. Document submitted as evidence by the Ministère de la
123. Sécurité publique, Presentation before the National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women
132. Gloria S., Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC,
and Girls, “Les services policiers autochtones au
p. 66.
Québec,” Richard Coleman, Part 2, Regina, SK.
133. CDPDJ, “Racial Profiling and Systemic
153. Of the 11 communities, 7 have been served in the past
Discrimination.”
by an Indigenous police force: Kanesatake, Unamen
134. Paul Charbonneau, Part 2, Volume 10, Regina, SK. Shipu, Lac Barrière, Matimekush-Lac John,
Ekuanitshit, Natashquan and Winneway. The remaining
135. Brenda Lucki, Part 2, Volume 6, Regina, SK. 4 communities have never been served by an
136. Lafontaine, “Independent Civilian Observer’s Report,” Indigenous police force: Cacouna, Gespeg, Hunter’s
p. 10. Point and Kitcisakik.
137. Commissaire à la déontologie policière c. Boulianne, 154. Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Volume 6, Regina, SK,
2018 QCCDP 11. p. 171.
138. Gagnon-Fontaine, “Les variations spatiales du 155. Document submitted as evidence by the Ministère de la
comportement.” Sécurité publique, Presentation before the National
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women
139. Boutet, “Pression policière et actes de défiances.” and Girls, “Les services policiers autochtones au
140. CIS, “National use of force model. ” Québec,” Richard Coleman, document submitted as
evidence no. 36, p. 13.
141. ÉNPQ, “Vulnérable,” 3.1.2.
156. Jean-Pierre Larose, Part 2, Public Volume 6, Regina,
142. Police Act, ss. 28-29. SK, p. 156.
143. BEI, “Statistiques.” 157. Jean Vicaire, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK.
144. Sometimes, the BEI does not even know when its 158. Jean Vicaire, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK.
investigators will be able to arrive on site when it opens
an investigation (BEI-2017-026, Inukjuak) or it states 159. Jean Vicaire, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK.
that they will get there “in the next few days” 160. The same is true for the Sûreté du Québec in remote
(BEI-2018-014, Umiujaq). areas: see Gauvin, “Les mouvements du personnel,”
145. Demers, “Ce que nous devons savoir,” p. 35. pp. 137 and 139.
146. Jean Vicaire, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, pp. 161. Commissaire à la déontologie policière c. Boulianne,
105-106. 2018 QCCDP 11.
147. Document submitted as evidence by the Ministère de 162. Commissaire à la déontologie policière c. Grondin,
la Sécurité publique, Presentation before the National 2012 CanLII 37105 (QC CDP), aff’d Larochelle c.
Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women Grondin, 2015 QCCQ 510; Commissaire à la
and Girls, “Les services policiers autochtones au déontologie policière c. Ross, 2003 CanLII 57332
Québec,” Richard Coleman, Part 2, Regina, SK. (QC CDP).
142

NOTES
163. Commissaire à la déontologie policière c. Beaudin, 177. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC.
2013 QCCDP 17, aff’d Beaudin c. Simard, 2014 QCCQ
4544; Commissaire à la déontologie policière c. Coon-
Come, 2012 CanLII 5089 (QC CDP). 179. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC.
164. Police Ethics Commissioner v. McDougall, 2008 180. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC.
CanLII 41346 (QC CDP).
165. Code of ethics of Québec police officers, RSQ, c. P-
13.1, r. 1, subs. 10(4).
166. Public Inquiry Commission on relations between
183. In 2015, Indigenous women interviewed for a report on
Indigenous Peoples and certain public services,
the television program Enquête, broadcast on Radio
Commissaire à la déontologie policière, “Engagement
Canada, revealed that they had suffered abuse at the
recommandations,” pp. 32-33.
hands of police. In this regard, see Lafontaine, “Rapport
167. Ibid. de l’observatrice civile indépendante. ”
168. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC. 184. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC.
169. Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC. 185. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC.
170. Isaac c. Commissaire à la déontologie policière, 2005 186. Barbeau-Le Duc, “La judiciarisation de la violence
CanLII 26460 (QC CQ). familiale.”
171. Picard v. Canada (Attorney General), 2018 FC 747 (in 187. Pelletier, “Pour le respect de notre dignité humaine, ”
appeal); Morin v. Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg Band p. 7.
Council, 2015 QCCS 965; Pitawanakwat v.
188. R v. Gladue [1999] 1 SCR 688, paras. 64 and 93.
Wikwemikong Tribal Police Service, 2010 FC 917, para.
20, citing “Report on the Ipperwash Inquiry (Ontario: 189. Grammond, “Les Autochtones et la justice pénale,”
Ministry of the Attorney General, 2007), at 261 of Vol. pp. 99-101.
2”; L. (D.) v. Listuguj Police Service, 1999 CanLII
190. Isabel Grant, “The Role of Section 718.2(a)(ii),”
10820 (QC CS), aff’d I. (A.M.) v. L. (D.T.), 2001
pp. 160 and 168.
CanLII 39648 (QC CA).
191. R. v. Gladue, [1999] 1 SCR 688, paras. 69 and 93;
172. Cross c. Conseil Mohawk de Kanesatake, 2004 CanLII
R v. Ipeelee, [2012] 1 SCR 433, paras. 60 and 77.
49186 (QC CQ).
192. R. c. Gunn, 2018 QCCQ 1846, paras. 47 and 50.
173. Public Inquiry Commission on relations between
Indigenous Peoples and certain public services, 193. R. c. A.B., 2016 QCCQ 2362, paras. 69-71.
Ministère de la Sécurité publique, “Pouvoir de révision
dans le cas d'un directeur de poste de police,” p. 493. 194. R. c. V.B., 2018 QCCQ 3870.
174. King c. Québec (Comité de déontologie policière), 2004 195. R. c. M.C., 2017 QCCQ 1586.
CanLII 10779 (QC CS); Commissaire à la déontologie 196. Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC, p. 52.
policière c. Bonneau, 2004 CanLII 59936 (QC CDP);
Commissaire à la déontologie policière c. Bonneau, 197. R. v. Ipeelee, [2012] 1 SCR 433, 2012 SCC 13.
2004 CanLII 72770 (QC CDP); Montour c. King, 2005 198. R. c. Neashish, 2016 QCCQ 10775.
QCCA 706; Bonneau c. Monty, 2006 QCCQ 1765;
Commissaire à la déontologie policière c. King, 2007 199. Police Ethics Commissioner v. Ross, para. 24;
CanLII 54105 (QC CDP). Commissaire à la déontologie policière c. Ross, para.
330.
175. Jean Vicaire, Part 2, Public Volume 8, Regina, SK, pp.
87-88. 200. INSPQ, “Contexte de vulnérabilité.”
176. Bureau du coroner, “Rapport d’enquête.”
143

NOTES
201. Dufour, “Les racines éducationnelles.” In the 220. Adrienne A., Part 1, Public Volume 67, Maliotenam,
meantime, to try to fill the educational void, local and QC, p. 24.
other initiatives are being created, such as the “Sous le
Shaputuan” project by the Commission des droits de la
personne et des droits de la jeunesse (CDPDJ) and the 222. Canada ratified the Covenant in 1976.
Institut culturel et éducatif montagnais (ICEM), and the
223. Although Canadian courts have generally resisted the
sensitization workshops by Nicole O’Bomsawin or by
justiciability of economic, social and cultural rights,
Wapikoni mobile, which are given at schools and
those rights are nevertheless fundamental human rights
elsewhere in Quebec with the aim of demystifying
and are therefore inseparable, interdependent and
Indigenous cultural realities for non-Indigenous young
closely linked to civil and political rights, including the
people.
right to life and the right to security.
202. Barsalou Verger, “Évaluation d’un programme de
224. R v Gladue, [1999] 1 SCR 688, para. 67
formation.”
225. R v. Ipeelee, [2012] 1 SCR 433, para. 77.
203. Rosa, Viens Commission, “Session de sensibilisation”
4-5; SPVM, Viens, “Réalisations du SPVM,” p. 8. 226. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1,
204. Ibid., pp. 13-17.
205. See for example: Code des professions, CQLR c. C-26, Montreal, QC.
s. 57; Code de déontologie des policiers du Québec,
CQLR c. P-13.1, r. 1, s. 5(4); Code de déontologie des
avocats, CQLR c. B-1, r 3.1, preamble, paras. (3) and 228. Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1,
(9). Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public
Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC.
206. Carufel, “Les théories d’expérience,” p. 128; Carufel
and Thomas, “Les représentations sociales,” p. 99. 229. Yvette B., Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 118.
207. Isaac v. Commissaire à la déontologie policière.
230. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC.
208. Commissaire à la déontologie policière v. Eremina.
209. ÉNPQ, “Rapport annuel de gestion 2015-2016.”
Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC; Part 1, Public Volume
211. ÉNPQ, “Rapport annuel de gestion 2016-2017.” 32, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 36,
Maliotenam, QC.
212. ÉNPQ, “Rapport annuel de gestion 2017-2018,” p. 50.
233. Mary M., Part 1, Public Volume 33, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 233.
214. ÉNPQ, “Vulnérable,” 3.4.
234. Kirby B., Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC, p.
215. Davis v. Canada Border Services Agency, paras. 287- 28.
291.
235. Andrée V., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC,
216. Part 1, Statement Volume 142, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, p. 89.
Statement Volume 148, Maliotenam, QC.
237. QNW, “Ka utshinikanat utinniunnuau.”
Volume 61, Montreal, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 67,
Montreal, QC. 238. QNW, “Les femmes autochtones et la violence”; QNW,
“Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind.”
Volume 59, Montreal, QC. 239. Bourque, “La violence familiale chez les femmes
autochtones”; Flynn et al., “Sortir la violence de sa
219. Canadian Human Right Commission, “Report on
vie.”
Equality Rights of Aboriginal People”; Anaya, “Report
of the Special Rapporteur.” 240. QNW, “Nānīawig Māmawe Nīnawind,” p. 18.
144

NOTES
242. Part 1, Statement Volume 142, Maliotenam, QC.
243. Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal, QC. Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, Public Volume 67, Montreal,
QC; Part 1, Public Volume 68, Montreal, QC; Part 1,
265. Adrienne A., Part 1, Public Volume 67, Montreal, QC.
247. Chow, “Who Do You Think You Are.”
248. Ellen Gabriel, Mixed Parts 2 and 3, Volume 9, Quebec Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC.
City, QC, pp. 42-43.
249. Ellen Gabriel, Mixed Parts 2 and 3, Volume 9, Quebec QC, p. 45.
City, QC. p. 51.
268. Cheryl M., Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC,
250. Department of Justice Canada, “Principles respecting p. 5
the Government of Canada’s relationship.”
269. Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, Quebec.
251. FNQLHSSC, “Another step toward self-
determination,” p. 24.
252. Health Council of Canada, “Empathy, dignity, and
271. Sylvanne B., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam,
respect.”
QC, p. 45.
253. FNQLHSSC, “Another step toward self-
determination.”
273. Lise J., Part 1, Public Volume 32, Maliotenam, QC,
254. Grammond, “L’Identity autochtone saisie,” p. 328.
p. 106.
274. Cheryl M., Part 1, Public Volume 59, Montreal, QC,
QC, p. 30.
p. 52.
256. Yvette B., Part 1, Public Volume 35, Maliotenam, QC,
p. 121.
p. 19. 277. Germaine M., Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam,
QC, p. 107.
278. Part 1, Public Volume 34, Maliotenam, QC; Part 1, In
259. Alma M., Part 1, Public Volume 36, Maliotenam, QC.
Camera Volume 66, Maliotenam, QC.
p. 51.
280. Mary-Annie B., Part 1, Public Volume 60, Montreal,
QC, p. 9.
p. 40.
145

CONCLUSION
T
he truths spoken by the survivors and families revealed that the
disappearances, violent deaths and murders are the product of
accumulated violence that Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people have experienced for generations, and which has
often been met with indifference and even contempt.
The violence perpetrated against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people is set against a complex backdrop. That violence
may be physical, psychological, financial, sexual or spiritual. It may occur
between individuals, within families or in communities, or be perpetrated
by institutions. Frequently, it falls into all of those categories. It is
important to remember that this violence is, above all, structural: it is
rooted in the system and the genocidal policies that were put in place long
before these women and girls were born. Colonial policies and the control
exercised by the Church have ruptured family and community ties
including ties to the land, and have significantly altered the way of life of
First Nations families in Quebec.
The truths shared by survivors and families also revealed that the
prejudices and racism which drove colonialist policies have persisted over
time and have infiltrated public institutions, so much so that they have
created a social climate which disadvantages Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec.
What the survivors and the women who have gone missing or been
murdered all have in common is the fact that they were born into a world
where being both female and Indigenous places them in a position of
inequality in both the socio-economic and the legal senses and in terms of
health care. It is clear that Indigenous women in Quebec do not have the
same opportunities as non-Indigenous women to fulfill their potential and
realize their dreams. Many of them have had their childhoods stolen and
have been traumatized repeatedly throughout their lives. Yet they have the
right to live safely in a country where justice of the same quality is
available to all citizens.
147

Petite perle, raconte-moi ta vérité. Photo by Michèle Audette, 2019.
Analysis of the testimonies heard by the National Inquiry reveals numerous violations of the
rights of Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people in Quebec.
From a very early age, their right to life and security is threatened by the cycle of violence that
has been perpetuated for generations. Colonial policies of oppression, including the forced
relocation of the community of Pakuashipi and the disappearance of Indigenous children in
Quebec hospitals in the 1960s and 1970s, have compromised Indigenous Peoples’ right to
security. This right is still largely compromised today, notably due to ongoing acts of oppression
that are perpetuated by police toward Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
The testimonies also revealed that shortcomings in implementing the right to health, in all its
dimensions, are major factors in the violence perpetrated against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. In all cases, those shortcomings make Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people more vulnerable and therefore more likely to be exposed to violence.
These violations of fundamental rights and freedoms described in the testimony are also
violations of the right to equality, since they are discriminatory toward Indigenous women, girls,
and 2SLGBTQQIA people. Yet the right to equality and non- discrimination are protected by the
148

Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms and the Charte des droits et libertés de la personne
[Quebec’s Charter of Human Rights and Freedoms), as well as by international law.1
The most obvious violations of the right to equality occur when agents of the state demonstrate
racist or sexist behaviour, show contempt for Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people, or are negligent or make errors in the conduct of their duties in cases involving
Indigenous women,girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people.
The State must put into place a system for justice that protects Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people from violence. As the truths shared have revealed, the Quebec justice
system fails in this task, particularly because of the indifference and contempt of many actors
within the system and the institutions themselves. The absence of conflict resolution mechanisms
within communities is also a contributing factor. Survivors and family membesr also insisted on
the need to respect rights to culture and to identity, notably through a recognition of self-
determination, as a necessary precursor for healing.
It is essential to state clearly that these violations are the consequences of genocidal colonial
structures that are both racist and oppressive, and that have been maintained for centuries.
We must be honest in naming and acknowledging this reality.
For years, attempts have been made to sum up that complex socio historical backdrop by using
words like “assimilation,” “oppression” and, most recently, “cultural genocide.”2 Yet, in light of
the National Inquiry’s work and of the truths it heard from family members, survivors, Expert
Witnesses and Knowledge Keepers, the most appropriate term is “genocide.”3 Considering the
importance of this conclusion, the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women and Girls is preparing a supplementary report on the Canadian genocide of Indigenous
peoples according to the legal definition of “genocide,” which will be publicly available on our
website. Here, we include a few observations relevant to this conclusion.
In international law, genocide is defined as follows:
[G]enocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole
or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such: a) Killing members
of the group; b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its
physical destruction in whole or in part; d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births
within the group; e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.4
For the National Inquiry, the term “genocide” is more appropriate than “cultural genocide.” It is
worth noting that, although the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) chose to use the
term “cultural genocide” rather than “genocide,” it did not dismiss the latter.
149

In fact, in its report, the TRC notes that, even if the courts have not ruled on this point,
articles 2(d) and 2(e) [of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime
of Genocide] do not require that the victims themselves be “destroyed” but that the
measures taken against them be intended to result in the destruction of the “national,
ethnical, racial or religious group, as such …”. It seems logical to conclude that
Canada’s actions in forcibly transferring Aboriginal children from their racial group to
another in order to eliminate or destroy their cultures and languages – and therefore their
racial group – could at least amount to a legal wrong cognizable in Canadian law
because of Canada’s acceptance of it as a legal wrong in international law.5
One of the debates that exist over the international use of the term genocide is centred on whether
the intention to destroy, in whole or in part, a group, is in fact restricted to an intention to destroy
a group physically or biologically, or if article 2 of the Convention on the Prevention and
Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (CPPCG) provides a basis for international recognition of
a cultural form of genocide that is not limited to an intention to destroy a group physically or
biologically, referring, for instance, to some of its other aspects, such as subsection (e), which
discusses the forced transfer of children from one group to another.
It is useful to recall that, at the time when the term “genocide” was adopted, the original draft of
the CPPCG (Resolution 96[1]) included a reference to a cultural form of destruction.
R. Lemkin, the originator of the concept of genocide, defined it more broadly. In his view,
genocide
does not necessarily mean the immediate destruction of a nation, except when it is
carried out through mass murder of all the members of a nation. Rather, it means a
coordinated plan involving different actions aimed at the destruction of the essential
foundations of the life of national groups, for the purpose of exterminating the groups
themselves. Such a plan would have as its objectives the destruction of the political and
social institutions, the culture, the language, the national identity, the religion and the
economic life of national groups, as well as the suppression of the personal security,
freedom, health, dignity and even the lives of the people belonging to those groups.6
Other countries have had the courage to name what they have done to Indigenous Peoples. In 1997,
an Australian inquiry into the practice of separating Indigenous children from their parents
concluded that those practices, the purpose of which was, at least in part, to destroy Indigenous
culture, identity and social organization, constituted genocide within the meaning of the
CPPCG.7 An obvious parallel exists between the policies concerning residential schools, which
aimed at destroying Indigenous Peoples through the forcible transfer of children.
Beyond these debates on the recognition of a form of “cultural genocide” in Article 2 with regard
to its intentional aspect, it is indisputable that the definition adopted by international law is not
limited to massacres aimed at the physical destruction of a group in a relatively short period of
150

time, such as the genocide of the Holocaust or the genocide perpetrated against the Tutsis of
Rwanda, who immediately come to mind as recent and indisputable examples. Genocide may
also include “serious injury to the physical or mental integrity of members of the group” or
“intentional surrender of the group to conditions of life that would result in total or partial
physical destruction”; acts of slow destruction which are no less genocidal, if accompanied by
the requisite intent.
The evidence gathered in the context of the National Inquiry, particularly the elements that stand
out in this report concerning Quebec, contains many past and contemporary practices that could
be described as: sexual, physical and psychological abuse; enforced disappearance of children;
forced relocation and its impacts, such as the deportation of the Pakuashipi Innu, which the
National Inquiry has heard about at length; targeted and chronic underfunding of essential
services; and the inability to protect Indigenous women, girls and 2SLGBTQQIA people from
exploitation and violence, among others.
This evidence points to the existence of genocide within the meaning of the CPRCG, whether or
not it includes the intent of cultural destruction that is the subject of debate, which we will
elaborate in the context of the supplementary report dedicated to the question. Colonial structures
that have allowed this genocide and the intergenerational effects that continue today must be
understood in both Quebec and Canadian contexts.
Recognition of the existence of genocide perpetrated against Indigenous Peoples in Canada helps
to explain the high rates of acts of violence committed against Indigenous women, girls, and
2SLGBTQQIA people. In fact, these disappearances and these murders are simply the most
recent iteration of this genocide.
The colonial and genocidal structures maintained for centuries in Canada, as well as in Quebec,
provide an environment where racism and indifference towards Indigenous people continues.
The normalization of violence, or in other words, the normalization of a lack of safety and
security, becomes another way through which Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people are targets of new acts of violence, or at risk for increased violence. The inaction and the
maintenance of discriminatory policies and institutional practices by governments exposes their
complicity in the violence perpetrated against Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA
people. This violence is the consequence of genocidal structures that persist today.
Despite that dark reality, many survivors and families are walking the path toward healing.
The survivors and the families have shown their determination to tell their truths truthsand work
to prevent the violence from affecting future generations or from being inflicted, once again,
upon them. Many participants concluded their testimony by expressing their hope for a better
future for their children and grandchildren.
151

The truths of everyone who came to testify as a survivor or as the mother, sister, father or
grandmother of a missing or murdered woman,girl, or 2SLGBTQQIA person remind us of all the
work that remains to be done so that Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people can
live safely and with dignity.
Honouring their lives, as the National Inquiry has sought to do throughout its work, means
giving a voice to their loved ones and listening to their truth. However, we cannot stop there.
Honouring the lives of these Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people is the
responsibility of the state. It is also the responsibility of all members of society, without
exception.
Honouring the lives of these Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people means starting
to make structural changes right now that will ensure a safe, healthy environment for them in
Quebec.
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CHAPTER 5
In numerous cases, women were told that there was insufficient evidence, particularly if they did
not have visible marks of violence.182 Following the recent reports made by Indigenous women
in Quebec, one survivor decided to report a rape that she had kept secret for years. She was told
that, even though her story was credible, no charges could be laid if there were no other
witnesses. That was the outcome for every woman who decided to tell her story in 2015, after the
revelation of the events in Val-d’Or, where, even though their testimony was found to be
credible, there was insufficient evidence to take the matter to trial, according to the Directeur des
poursuites criminelles et pénales [Quebec director of criminal and penal prosecutions] (DPCP).183
The women said that, in that type of situation, they were devastated and felt as if they had been
left to fend for themselves.184
Other testimony illustrated the carelessness and indifference of those who work in the justice
system. For example, one woman was worried when her granddaughter had not returned home,
so she went to the bus station, which her granddaughter would have to pass through to get home.
While she was waiting there, two police officers confronted her and, despite her explanations,
gave her a ticket for loitering.185
It is clear that the indifference, and even contempt, with which Indigenous women and families
say they are treated by people within the justice system is a real violation of the right to justice.
The right to justice presupposes that victims can understand the way the justice system works
and are able to trust it. For survivors and families who have lost a loved one, the right to justice
also means that the state has an obligation to find the perpetrators of those crimes and punish
them. Therefore, the right to justice includes the right to effective police and judicial systems.
This aspect of the right to justice is closely connected to the right to life and security of the
person. In other words, if those who attack Indigenous women and girls are not punished, that is
another violation of the right to security of the person and the right to justice.
In order to ensure those rights, women who decide to report their assailants must be taken
seriously. Unfortunately, the fact is that prejudices, racism and discrimination against Indigenous
women and families inevitably lead to those rights being violated.
In addition, dealing with these cases through the criminal justice system is not always consistent
with the values of Indigenous communities, as some communities believe that it interferes with
healing. It is important to use processes that hold perpetrators accountable and that are part of a
holistic approach which empowers the victims and leads to real rehabilitation for the
perpetrators.
The rupture of family and cultural connections during the period of incarceration would
impede the path to healing and be counter-productive. Managing the abuser by
separating him from the family is generally not the approach preferred by Indigenous
people. The ineffectiveness of correctional treatment programs for Indigenous offenders
is therefore likely attributable to the institutions themselves. Indigenous men are critical
of the effects of incarceration, which, according to them, is not the solution to family
violence. Many Indigenous people consider imprisonment as an extension of the
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CHAPTER 5
assimilationist policies of past governments: like the residential schools and the child
protection system, the penal system is used to separate families. In addition, contrary to
what would be preferred by the members of the communities who were interviewed,
detention prevents the individual from taking action to make reparation for the harm
done to the victim and the victim’s family, which would enable him to take responsibility
for his actions.
Buzawa and Buzawa characterize the way in which family violence cases are handled by
the penal system as a coercive response to social problems. They add that there is too
much focus on formal controls, which are inadequate for dealing with intimate partner
violence. Jaccoud argues that structural discrimination in Canada, at all levels of
government, past and present, has eroded Indigenous peoples’ capacity for social
regulation. Violence and the numerous social problems present in the communities,
which are the expression of the suffering and trauma created by the policies of
colonization, are then taken charge of by the institutional authorities. From this
perspective, it is clear not only that penal control is ineffective, but also that it harms the
communities.186
Quebec Native Women expresses this idea as follows:

Conflicts that are tearing apart our communities are rarely submitted to judicial
proceedings. We can intervene with youngsters and adults grappling with difficulties.
We can hold them responsible for the human suffering and social disorder caused by
their behaviour. We can also support them and help them resolve these conflicts and
regain control of their life.
The kind of justice we choose should further long-lasting human development instead of
delinquency and re-offending. It should allow us to prepare a better life for future
generations.…187
5.4.3.2. The Impacts of the Gladue and Ipeelee Cases in Quebec

As the Supreme Court stated in R. v. Gladue,188 the purpose of section 718.2(e) of the
Criminal Code is “to ameliorate the serious problem of overrepresentation of aboriginal people
in prisons.” It constitutes “Parliament’s direction to members of the judiciary to inquire into the
causes of the problem and to endeavour to remedy it, to the extent that a remedy is possible
through the sentencing process.”
Recognizing the causes of violence in the communities should not mean excusing that violence.
Victims and community members must be protected when sentencing. This important factor is
provided for in sections 718.2(a) (iii.1) and (e) of the Criminal Code. However, since Gladue,
the “correctional” purpose has too frequently been forgotten.189
122

CALLS FOR JUSTICE
1. WE CALL UPON the Government of Quebec to establish an independent mechanism to

report annually to the Quebec National Assembly on the implementation of the Calls for
Justice included in this and other volumes of the Final Report;
2. WE CALL UPON the Government of Quebec and Indigenous governments to work with
Indigenous women and girls in Quebec, including members of 2SLGBTQQIA communities,
immediately to prepare an action plan to prevent and eradicate all forms of violence against
Indigenous women, girls, and 2SLGBTQQIA people; we call upon the Quebec Government
to further participate in the development and implementation of a National Action plan as
outlined in Call for Justice 1.1 in the National report.
3. WE CALL UPON the Government of Quebec to realize and prioritize the implementation of
the Government Action Plan for the Social and Cultural Development of the First Nations
and Inuit;
4. WE CALL UPON the Government of Canada and the Government of Quebec to establish
an independent, multi-jurisdictional civilian entity to protect Indigenous citizens, with the
mission to safeguard rights, receive complaints, investigate, and report on the quality of public
services provided to the members of Indigenous communities as is proposed in Call for Justice
1.7 of the National Report. We call upon the Government of Quebec to ensure this body has
jurisdiction and authority within the province of Quebec;
5. WE CALL UPON the Ministère de la Sécurité publique [Ministry of Public Security] to
establish a multi-disciplinary crisis team for cases of missing Indigenous women and girls,
including members of 2SLGBTQQIA communities, in Quebec;
6. WE CALL UPON the Government of Canada and the Government of Quebec to fund the
establishment and long-term operation of culturally appropriate resources, such as healing
lodges, culturally appropriate shelters and halfway houses, for Indigenous women and girls,
including members of 2SLGBTQQIA communities, in urban areas and in all Indigenous
communities throughout Quebec;
7. WE CALL UPON the Government of Canada and the Government of Quebec to fund and
disseminate the awareness campaigns developed by Indigenous organizations, to prevent,
denounce, de-normalize and address violence against Indigenous women and girls, including
members of 2SLGBTQQIA communities throughout Quebec;
8. WE CALL UPON the Government of Canada, the Government of Quebec and municipal
governments to fully train Quebec based public service workers so that they can adapt their
interventions to the socio-cultural realities of Indigenous people and the particular challenges
faced by them;
156

CALLS FOR JUSTICE
9. WE CALL UPON the Ministère de l’Éducation et Enseignement supérieur [Ministry of

Education and Higher Education] and all educational institutions in Quebec to incorporate in
the mandatory curriculum training developed together with Indigenous organizations on the
socio-cultural, historical and contemporary realities of Indigenous Peoples;
10. WE CALL UPON the Government of Quebec to guarantee the permanent provision and
availability of victim services in all Indigenous communities and in urban areas;
11. WE CALL UPON all police forces with jurisdiction in Quebec to systematically compile
statistics on the number of reported disappearances and offences against the person
committed against Indigenous women and girls, including members of 2SLGBTQQIA
communities, and that the Ministère de la Sécurité publique [Ministry of Public Security]
publish these statistics on an annual basis;
12. WE CALL UPON the Government of Canada and the Government of Quebec to ensure the
continuity of tripartite agreements with Quebec’s Indigenous police forces by granting
increased, long-term funding to cover all needs, specifically with respect to staff, training
and equipment;
13. WE CALL UPON the Ministère de la Sécurité publique [Ministry of Public Security] to
coordinate between the various police forces to provide Indigenous people with access to
effective public safety services regardless of jurisdictional barriers;
14. WE CALL UPON the Government of Quebec to amend all laws governing the institutions
responsible for training police officers and monitoring police work so as to impose the
appointment of Indigenous representatives, including at the Commission de formation et de
recherche [training and research commission] of the École nationale de police du Québec
[Quebec National Police School] and at the Bureau des enquêtes indépendantes [Independent
Investigation Bureau];
15. WE CALL UPON Quebec’s police forces and the École nationale de police du Québec
[Quebec National Police School] to train all active police officers and police cadets on the
socio-cultural realities of Indigenous people and the particular challenges faced by them,
the issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls, including members of
2SLGBTQQIA communities, and the importance of being familiar with the particular reality
of each community to which they are assigned;
16. WE CALL UPON the École nationale de police du Québec [Quebec National Police
School] to hold specialized English training sessions every year and offer specialized training
sessions to Indigenous police forces, specifically on investigating;
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CHAPTER 5
On the other hand, in Ipeelee,197 the Supreme Court of Canada took a step backwards in terms of
protecting victims when it required that the principles of sentencing set out in Gladue apply to all
types of offences, even serious or violent crimes. Ipeelee is very clear on that point and reaffirms
the judge’s obligation to apply section 718.2(e) of the Criminal Code to Indigenous people,
regardless of the criminal charges.
Furthermore, it is crucial that all courts impose denunciatory sentences that have a deterrent
effect in order to put an end to the cycle of violence, rather than perpetuating it and thereby
involving new generations of Indigenous people. Thus, all courts should keep the following in
mind:
While the Gladue report considers the accused’s Aboriginal background in detail, the
specific situation of the victims, who are also Aboriginal, must also be taken into
account.
They too have been subject to historical forces and the years of upheaval and economic
development in this community. In addition to being victims of the accused’s actions,
they suffer from direct or systemic discrimination. They are equally likely to suffer the
negative after-effects of resettlement and, according to the Gladue report, some of them
are economically and socially disadvantaged, unlike the accused. In addition, three of
them are now unable to live permanently in the community.198
Given the uncertainty of the case law, it is time for Parliament to intervene clearly to enforce the
laws of Quebec, as well as in the other provinces and territories of Canada, to ensure that the
judicial process advances victims’ safety.
The most effective way to achieve that would be to amend section 718.2(e) of the Criminal Code
to ensure that the principles of sentencing which were considered in the application of Gladue do
not violate Indigenous women’s right to security,
718.2 (e) … all available sanctions, other than imprisonment, that are reasonable in the
circumstances and consistent with the harm done to victims or to the community should
be considered for all offenders, with particular attention to the circumstances of
Aboriginal offenders, while giving predominant weight to the aggravating circumstances
set out in subparagraphs 718.2(a)(ii), (ii.1) and (iii) [Underlining added]
It is also imperative that the principles of sentencing in Gladue be used only for their intended
purposes. It is shocking that the Comité de déontologie policière [police ethics committee] used
Gladue to determine the framework to apply when imposing a penalty for an ethical breach by an
Indigenous police officer,199 even though imposing a penalty for an ethical breach committed by
an officer on duty has nothing to do with the objective of reducing the overrepresentation of
Indigenous people in prison.
125

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RECLAIMING

Cette publication est également disponible en français :

Dee-Jay Monika Rumbolt (Snowbird), for Motherly Love

Introduction to Section 1: Establishing a New Framework 89

CHAPTER 3: Emphasizing Accountability through Human Rights Tools 181

CHAPTER 4: Colonization as Gendered Oppression 229

CHAPTER 6: Confronting Oppression – Right to Health 413

CHAPTER 8: Confronting Oppression – Right to Justice 621

We acknowledge the survivors of violence who shared their experiences

Chief Commissioner Marion Buller

Commissioner Michèle Audette

Commissioner Qajaq Robinson

Martha Kyak designed and sewed this amauti. Sewing this

Commissioner Brian Eyolfson

Messages from the Directors

- Jennifer Moore Rattray, Executive Director

- Alexandre Desharnais, Director, Logistics

- Dr. Karine Duhamel, Director, Research

- Nicholas Obomsawin, Director, Operations

- Bryan Zandberg, Registrar

- Christa Big Canoe, Lead Commission Counsel

- Catherine Kloczkowski, Director, Communications

- Terrellyn Fearn, Director, Outreach and Support Services

Reflections from the

Our Values and Principles

Adenidao shra: Compassion and Kindness

I woke this morning to a soft but inviting snow covered mountain,

Photo submitted by Lorraine Clements; no copyright

Our Women and Girls Are Sacred:

Members of the Elders and

Introduction to the Final Report:

Interpreting the Mandate

ii. Institutional policies and practices implemented in response to violence experienced by

CHAPTER 8: Confronting Oppression – Right to Justice 621

Reclaiming Power and Place

Evaluation of the Federal Government’s Response to the

The National Inquiry’s 10 Calls for Immediate Action from the

Successes and Challenges of the National Inquiry

Response to the Denial of a Two-Year Extension

Foundational Concepts in Understanding Violence

“She’s not just a picture on a wall”: Privileging the

Sharing Our Findings from the Truth-Gathering Process

Overview of the Final Report

Section 2 – Encountering Oppression

Summary of the Forensic Document Review Project

We acknowledge the survivors of violence who shared their experiences

This wooden star blanket is a collaborative community art

This framework also provides insight into how

Commissioner Audette hugs a participant

Martha Kyak designed and sewed this amauti. Sewing this

Why Start with Relationships?

Elder Rebecca Veevee lights the qulliq at a hearing in

Like Percy P. and the many others who shared

Encounters That Make a Difference

Commissioner Eyolfson shares a hug with

“I WAS NOT IMPORTANT OR WHAT I NEEDED WAS NOT IMPORTANT.… I FELT

An Intersectional Approach to Encounters

• Colonization • Racism • Indigeneity and

I Cindy H. (Métis), Part 1, Statement Volume 53, Winnipeg, MB, p. 12.