Volume 49, Issue 4

The Independent Student Newspaper of the University of Toronto Mississauga since 1974

Issue 4 Volume 49

September 26 2022

themedium.ca

Embracing Indigenous Cultures

WORK BY TANIA WILLARD, LIBERATION OF THE CHINOOK WIND. Commissioned by the Blackwood for The Work of Wind: Air, Land, Sea. Presented at the University of Toronto Mississauga campus, 2021-2024. Photo by Toni Hafkenscheid.

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ania Willard, of Secwépemc and settler heritage, works within the shifting ideas around contemporary and traditional, often working with bodies of knowledge and skills that are conceptually linked to her interest in intersections between Aboriginal and other cultures. Her curatorial work includes Beat Nation: Art Hip Hop and Aboriginal Culture (2012-2014), co-curated with Kathleen Ritter. In 2016 Willard received the Award for Curatorial Excellence in Contemporary Art from the Hnatyshyn Foundation and a City of Vancouver Book Award for

the catalogue Unceded Territories: Lawrence Paul Yuxweluptun. Willard’s ongoing collaborative project, BUSH Gallery, is a conceptual land-based gallery grounded in Indigenous knowledges and relational art practices. Willard is an MFA candidate at UBCO Kelowna, and her current research constructs a land rights aesthetic through intuitive archival acts. >> WILLARD continues on page 02

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NEWS

Editor | Larry Lau news@themedium.ca

Liberation of the Chinook Wind Tania Willard Custom-made, windsocks, flatscreen TV, weather data and poetry software, 2018-2021 >> Willard continued from page 01 In Secwépemc territory, Tania Willard’s nation, the Chinook Wind is an animate being that brings news of ancestors, weather, migration, and trade. In this project, Willard evokes the wind’s agency using live wind speed and direction data to generate poems, which update regularly on a screen at the entryway to the Davis Meeting Place, and can be accessed online.

The poems use source material reflecting the entangled histories of Chinook Wind, Chinook salmon, and Chinook language (a hybrid of Indigenous and settler languages in the Pacific Northwest which mediated trade and livelihoods in that region) Willard uses stories of Chinook Wind, salmon, and language to connect to the local territories of the Mississaugas of the Credit. Chinook salmon were introduced to Lake Ontario by settlers in the 1960s for sport fishing, and to prey on other invasive species. Chinook were preferred for sport fishing because they “fight” and “thrash” on the line; on windsocks custom-made windsocks, Willard has emblazoned these words alongside “water” and “claim,” to connect these stories with ongoing Indigenous presence and claims to the water.

Willard’s windsocks affirm Indigenous ways of life and continuing sacred responsibilities in the area, and gesture to ongoing land claims and land defense, including the current water claim by the Mississaugas of the Credit which asserts their rights to waterways that were not surrendered in treaty.

UTM’s tipi to embrace Indigenous traditions UTM’s Indigenous Centre’s Tipi Raising and Indigenous Student Meet and Greet celebrate Indigenous culture in the student body.

Elizabeth Provost Editor-in-Chief

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n September 13, 2022, the University of Toronto Mississauga’s (UTM) Indigenous Centre hosted their Tipi Raising event in conjunction with the UTM Indigenous Student Meet and Greet. Both events were held on the lawn in front of the Maanjiwe nendamowinan building from 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m.

The program allowed UTM students to experience the traditional practice of tipi raising and connect with members of the Indigenous Centre. In an email to participants,

Jessica Tabak, Indigenous Student Support Specialist at the Indigenous Centre, stated that the tipi raising was “done traditionally and lead by the Director of U of T’s First Nations House, Michael White.”

“The tipi raising is another step forward in space-making for Indigenous Peoples and traditions on the UTM campus.”

“The tipi raising is another step forward in space-making for Indigenous Peoples and traditions on the UTM campus,” UTM’s In-

digenous Centre said in an email interview with The Medium. “The tipi, which will be in place until April 2023, will be bookable, and will be used for ceremonies, teaching, and programming.”

The practice of raising tipis is an important process. Building the tipi begins by placing wooden poles into the ground. Then, the canvas is attached to the poles by pulling the fabric tight around the wooden structure.

According to Indigenous traditions, the floor of the tipi represents our earth, the walls the sky, and the wooden poles our connection from the earth to the spirit world. Tipis provide refuge, sanctuary, and a space for communities to forge connections through ceremonies and teachings.

“Tipis provide refuge, sanctuary, and a space for communities to forge connections through ceremonies and teachings.”

SAMIRA KARIMOVA/THE MEDIUM

The Tipi Raising event is one of many initiatives at UTM that assists Indigenous students in maintaining their cultural ties.

Students can learn more about Indigenous cultures through the Indigenous Centre, which offers many resources for students, faculty, and staff, as well as both Indigenous and non-Indigenous community members.

Likewise, the centre is actively collaborating with faculty and staff, as well as with tri-

campus organizations such as the Indigenous Creation Studio and the Centre for Student Engagement to represent Indigenous culture at UTM and to facilitate guest lectures and other educational programs.

Tabak highlights the Indigenous Centre’s relationship with the Wecheehetowin Report by stating: “This Report outlines the University’s response to the [Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada] and illustrates ways in which we can promote the visibility of Indigenous culture physically, emotionally, and spiritually on campus.”

Through events organized by the Indigenous Centre, the UTM community can begin to address the six areas of reconciliation outlined by the report: creating Indigenous spaces, hiring Indigenous faculty and staff, implementing Indigenous curriculum, acknowledging Indigenous research ethics and building community relationships, supporting Indigenous students and co-curricular education, and implementation and close monitoring of any recommendation acted upon by the university administration.

Events organized at UTM that educate and celebrate Indigenous culture, both on and off campus, are open to all students. Prospectively, through participation of these activities and by recognizing the cultural importance of Indigenous traditions, students can help foster an inclusive environment that invites each and every eager student to embrace and express their unique cultural ties.

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Larry Lau News Editor

Mohawk Institute Residential School virtual tour On September 26, 2022, the Woodland Cultural Centre (WCC), an organization focused on preserving Indigenous cultures and traditions, will host a virtual tour of the former Mohawk Institute Residential School from 12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m. Participants will be introduced to the history of the Residential School, the living conditions of Indigenous children, the learning environment of classrooms, as well as many other aspects of Indigenous students’ experiences.

U of T Groundbreakers returns for a new season NATALIE NG/THE MEDIUM

UTM opens office for Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation in pursuit of truth and reconciliation U of T commits itself to raising awareness of Indigenous cultures, providing the Mississaugas of the Credit a foothold at UTM for ease of collaboration and research with the First Nation Peoples.

Malavika Puri Contributor

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ith the goal of reconciliation in mind, on June 29, 2022, the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM) opened the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation (MCFN) office. The office is located on the second floor of Maanjiwe nendamowinan—which means “gathering of minds” in Ojibwe.

This office is a space for MCFN council members to conduct research, host teaching sessions, and collaborate with UTM for Indigenous-related initiatives. Their work will help promote equity and inclusion of Indigenous people in the UTM community.

“This office is a tangible step in our ongoing commitment to deepening reciprocal relationships with Indigenous communities.”

“This office is a tangible step in our ongoing commitment to deepening reciprocal relationships with Indigenous communities,” says UTM Vice-President and Principal Alexandra Gillespie, at the opening ceremony of the MCFN office.

The office window contains a mural titled “Kiinwin Dabaadjmowin,” or “Our Story.” Created by Indigenous artists Philip Cote and Tracey Anthony, the acrylic artwork displays the life of the Anishinaabe people before, during, and after colonization.

“The office planning process actually commenced back in November of 2019, a few months before the pandemic

struck. UTM and the Indigenous Action Group collaborated to open the MCFN office,” says Tee Duke, Director of Indigenous Initiatives at UTM’s Indigenous Centre, in an email interview with The Medium.

“We have only just begun in terms of creating Indigenous spaces and I am excited for what paths lies ahead for us— our community here at UTM.” The Indigenous Centre holds on-campus events in collaboration with the MCFN and is hopeful of the opportunities presented by the office’s opening. “We have only just begun in terms of creating Indigenous spaces and I am excited for what paths lies ahead for us—our community here at UTM,” says Duke.

“All students, staff, and faculty are welcome to participate in its programming, whether they are of Indigenous ancestry or not.”

The Indigenous Centre offers virtual programs like monthly learning circles, seminars at class lectures, and curriculum resource support. All students, staff, and faculty are welcome to participate in its programming, whether they are of Indigenous ancestry or not.

There is still a long way to go on the path of truth and reconciliation with the Indigenous community. However, the MCFN office’s opening is a significant first step forward in the journey to making UTM a more inclusive space for the Indigenous Peoples.

Groundbreakers, a video series featuring innovative research leaders who are affiliated with U of T’s Institutional Strategic Initiatives, will be launching its second season on September 27, 2022, on YouTube. In its first season, which contained four episodes, Groundbreakers covered a wide range of topics, such as: artificial intelligence, robotics, the Covid-19 pandemic, and material science for sustainability. Similarly, the upcoming season will introduce students to the various innovative researchers and projects taking place at the university, some of which may one day transform our lives.

Ukrainian exchange students continue their studies at U of T Approximately 170 Ukrainian students were welcomed to U of T’s summer and fall semesters. Eager students whose education was interrupted by the ongoing Russo-Ukrainian war have been given opportunities to study among talented peers and to learn from world-renowned faculty in a safe environment. The university has provided funding for all Ukraine students via its exchange program, alleviating the financial burden from these students and their families. Additional scholarships are also available to the students.

Orientation Week Both new and returning students were introduced to the new academic year through numerous events during Orientation Week at the University of Toronto Mississauga. EagleOrientation, held from July 11 to 19, August 23, September 6 to 8, and the University of Toronto Mississauga Students’ Union’s (UTMSU) Venture22 Orientation, held from September 4 to 9, provided students with a plethora of activities, allowing members of the community to readjust to in-person university life. The Black Excellence Orientation, which took place from August 18 to 19, gave Black students opportunities to talk with Black peers, faculty, and staff. Furthermore, members of the LGBTQ2S+ community were able to connect with peers at the Queer Orientation events, which included the UTMSU’s LGBTQ2S+ Talks: Picasso Edition and Queer Pub, both held on September 21.

Recap of public health in Ontario The province of Ontario is currently facing numerous public health concerns. While Covid-19 continues to linger, test positivity rates have been decreasing steadily, reaching 11.4 per cent for the week of September 4, 2022. While 57,251 tests were completed, only approximately 6527 resulted in positive cases. As temperatures drop, flu season is expected to arrive in the GTA amid the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic. Public Health Ontario held a seminar on September 20 to discuss plans for the co-circulation of Covid-19 and Influenza viruses in the community.

Moving past respiratory diseases, Monkeypox, which peaked at 18 cases per day in mid-July, has seen dwindling case numbers since September started, reaching a maximum of one or two cases per day this month. As of September 20, 2022, there has been 667 confirmed cases of Monkeypox in Ontario.

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U of T holds symposium to address inequity in Indigenous healthcare The Indigenizing Health Symposium returns this year to raise awareness and discuss inequalities faced by Indigenous Peoples in healthcare.

Razia Saleh Contributor

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n a report by Statistics Canada released on August 30, 2022, chronic conditions were more prevalent among First Nations Peoples and Métis (who live off-reserve) than their non-Indigenous counterparts. Notably, 14 per cent of First Nations and Métis Peoples were diagnosed with three or more chronic conditions, as compared to eight per cent for the non-Indigenous.

Recognizing the injustices faced by Indigenous Peoples in healthcare, the WaakebinessBryce Institute for Indigenous Health will be hosting the Indigenizing Health Symposium: Rethinking with Spirit on September 28 and 29, 2022. The event focuses on Indigenous health policies and will take place in-person at the Native Canadian Centre of Toronto. All students, community members, and academics are welcomed to partake in the symposium.

Tickets and registration are required to attend the event.

The Medium spoke to the Network Environment for Indigenous Health Research (NEIHR)

WAAKEBINESS-​BRYCE INSTITUTE

of Ontario in an email interview about Indigenous public health and the symposium.

“While most people seeking healthcare services are hoping to receive quality care and service, there continues to be a lack of mandatory training on Indigenous health, the impact of colonization to the wellbeing of Indigenous Peoples, and Indigenous perspectives into what health is,” shares the NEIHR team.

The team has been finding solutions to combat such inequalities by conducting community-based research. Based on their findings, the NEIHR concludes that Indigenous Peoples often decide against seeking medical assistance due to previous experiences of discrimination.

Regarding the Indigenizing Health Symposium, the NEIHR team shares that the event will have Indigenous scholars and Elders sharing insight on “the importance of policy grounded in Indigenous knowledge and the

processes of increasing accessibility of policy work to Indigenous communities.”

This year’s iteration of the Indigenizing Health Symposium features several Indigenous keynote speakers, including Dr. Alanaise Onischin Ferguson, a professor of counselling psychology at Simon Fraser University; Dr. Brenda M Restoule, a clinical psychologist; and Shanna Peltier, a PhD student at U of T’s Ontario Institute for Studies in Education.

Restoule and Peltier will be presenting “The Indigenous Practice-Based Approaches to Navigating Therapeutic Engagement with Clients Experiencing Suicidal Distress: A Preliminary Report,” which focuses on raising awareness on the unique mental health issues Indigenous Peoples face.

Other speakers for the event include Dr. Maile Tauali’I, an assistant clinical investigator for Hawaii Permanente Medical Group, Pro-

fessor Rod McCormick, health researcher and clinician, Dr. Mikaela Gabriel and Dr. Sabina, post-doctorate fellows from the WaakebinessBryce Institute for Indigenous Health, and Luana Shirt, a Nehiyaw Ishkew writer and educator.

“We’re hoping that students have an enriching, fun, and connective experience at the symposium. With a host of academics, researchers, community members, and healers, there will be much to learn for everyone—not only from the speakers’ respective fields, but also from coming together to connect and network with each other as a community,” says the NEIHR team.

The team encourages students to participate in the symposium, explaining that “Symposia like these are important to have our community members gather, share knowledge, exchange information, and hopefully connect in ways [that] continue [to] address and challenge health and equity gaps when it comes to the well-being of Indigenous Peoples.”

The inequalities faced by Indigenous Peoples extend beyond just healthcare. The U of T community can start bridging this gap by recognizing, understanding, and discussing the hardships Indigenous Peoples encounter in contemporary society.

Commemorating the thousands of lives claimed by Canada’s residential school system U of T reminisces about the victims and survivors of residential school through gatherings, encouraging all to listen to Indigenous Peoples’ stories during Orange Shirt Day. Sena Yurt Contributor

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his September 30 marks the second time the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, also known as Orange Shirt Day, is celebrated in Canada as a statutory holiday. The “orange shirt” component of the celebration was inspired by the story of Phyllis Webstad, a residential school survivor. The day itself serves to raise awareness on colonial violence faced by Indigenous children and communities throughout Canadian history.

On her first day at St. Joseph’s Residential School in Williams Lake, BC, Webstad, then six-years-old, was stripped of her orange shirt that her grandmother had gifted her.

On September 30, 2013, Webstad shared her experience publicly and reflected on the intergenerational impacts of Canada’s Residential School system on Indigenous children, families, communities, language, and culture. “The color orange has always reminded me of that and how my feeling didn’t matter, how no one cared, and how I felt like I was worth nothing,” said Webstad.

Residential Schools were created to culturally assimilate Indigenous Peoples. Children were separated from their families, after which they slowly lose touch with their language and culture. To make matters worse, thousands of Indigenous children were physically and sexually abused at these schools, some who did not survive.

In 2015, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada reported 3,200 deaths at residential schools. Victims were buried in unmarked graves, and the remains of many remain undocumented.

U of T invites all students, staff, faculty, and all Canadians, to not only wear orange, but to listen to survivors’ experiences, to grieve for the missing or murdered, and to participate in reconciliation on Orange Shirt Day. Various events and activities are set to take place in celebration of Orange Shirt Day. U of T’s Varsity Stadium has already raised the “Every Child Matters” flag in advance of Orange Shirt Day.

CHRIS ROBERT/UNSPLASH

From 10:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. on September 30, U of T’s Hart House will be hosting a symposium featuring Andrew Wesley, the former Elder-in-Residence at First Nations House, as the keynote speaker. UTM Principal, Alexandra Gillespie, and U of T Vice President, People Strategy, Equity, and Culture, Kelly Hannah-Moffat, will both be addressing the community during the conference. Registration is required.

The Canadian government will also be broadcasting a one-hour long commemorative gathering to honour survivors of Residential Schools.

It is important for attendees to have a proper mindset when participating in Orange Shirt Day events. “If anyone deserves a day of commemoration, it is the thousands of children who were abused, forgotten, and buried without ceremony in unmarked graves. This National Day for Truth and Reconciliation is to recognize the true history of Canada, and to ask yourself, what does reconciliation mean?

Better to ask what we can do to right these wrongs,” says Brenda Wastasecoot, an Assistant Professor from the Centre for Indigenous Studies at U of T. Looking beneath the glamourous surface of our contemporary society, recounts of tragic events depict the inhumane treatment Indigenous children have received in Canada’s history. As pursuers of higher education, it is important for U of T students to commemorate the victims of Canada’s Residential Schools, who were children whose lives were lost using the name of education.

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Canoe racing returns to False “The Great Resignation,” “Quiet Quitting,” and “The Creek for the first time in Great Reshuffle,” what do over a century they all mean?

The Covid-19 pandemic shed light on many issues in the workplace, spurring a wave of resignations and job changes within the workforce.

The Four Fires Festival takes place in Vancouver and embraces Indigenous traditions and arts.

Larry Lau News Editor

Shreya Joshi Contributor

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ENERGEPIC.COM/PEXELS

The Back-to-Business column in The Medium focuses on business and economic news. Articles will address and analyze economic trends, financial developments, and workplace matters that are relevant to university students.

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ccording to Microsoft’s 2022 Work Trend Index, around 53 per cent of employees are more likely to prioritize their personal wellbeing over work, and approximately 52 per cent of Gen Z and millennials are considering switching up their jobs within the next year.

The data comes from survey respondents from 31 countries across the globe, including Canada.

This aligns with the contemporary trend of mass resignations and high turnover rates, culminating in the establishment of new terminology such as: “The Great Resignation,” “Quiet Quitting,” and “The Great Reshuffle.”

UTM Department of Management professor, Rafael Chiuzi, explains that the three terms are part of a similar wave that has inspired changing mentalities amongst many workers.

“The Great Resignation,” coined in May 2021 by University College London professor, Anthony Klotz, refers to a period in the pandemic when people began to leave their current jobs without the prospect of securing a new one. “I think a lot of people decided to reassess what they wanted for their careers,” said Chiuzi as he explained the exodus of workers from the workplace.

A report prepared by Mental Health Research Canada highlights that during November and December of 2021, around 35 per cent of workers felt burnt out, marking the start of the Great Resignation. “[‘The Great Resignation’] was a periodical thing.

Now, I think we’re past that, and a new thing came along, which is dubbed ‘Quiet Quitting,’” states Chiuzi. Contrary to what its name suggests, “Quiet Quitting” does not imply that employees are quitting their jobs.

In the phenomenon of “Quiet Quitting,” workers rec-

ognize the importance of setting personal boundaries to do “the bare minimum of what [they are] paid for without feeling any guilt of doing so,” shares Chiuzi. Essentially, workers stick to their contractual obligations and refuse to engage in uncompensated labour.

Last comes the “Great Reshuffle,” which concerns the phenomenon of increasing employee turnover. Workers are more open to changing companies or even switching careers altogether, placing their values and visions ahead of loyalty towards an employer.

Statistic Canada’s Labour Force Survey from August 2022, demonstrated that the proportion of permanent employees aiming to switch jobs within the next year reached 11.9 per cent in August, which doubled from January’s 6.4 per cent.

Most businesses are aware of the shift in employee attitudes. For companies that are more responsive and democratic, remote or hybrid work and four-day work weeks are among some initiatives put forth to increase flexibility. An example would be Twitter, which allows its employees to work from the office, at home, or both.

“Quiet Quitting” and the “Great Reshuffle” have implications for both working individuals and people entering the workforce. Students aspiring to pursue their dream job may run into both obstacles and opportunities due to the ongoing phenomenon. “For my students, I see that they’re going to have to pick between stability and boldness,” says Chiuzi.

The current workplace encourages risk-taking— though the trade-off is increased volatility. On the other hand, students are exposed to more options and opportunities to kick-start their career than they were in the past, which carries promising long-term implications.

The Covid-19 pandemic spurred workers to reimagine their career goals, resulting in shifts in the workplace, empowering employees to take control of their professional lives.

n September 10 and 11, 2022, the Four Fires Festival canoe races were held at Concord Community Park along False Creek in downtown Vancouver. This marks the first time in more than a century that the canoe race has taken place.

The event was hosted by Canoe Cultures, an Indigenous non-profit organization that focuses on preserving the traditional art of canoe building. The organization played a significant role in bringing together clubs from over twelve countries to race in the festival. Mike Billy Sr., co-organizer of the festival and Canoe Cultures member, proudly stated during a press release: “We’re glad to be back.”

Canoe races are traditionally held during summer weekends. In an interview with the Vancouver Sun, Mike Billy Jr. stated that it is a tradition to splash water onto the heads of the canoes as summer begins to “wake [the canoes] up and let them know it’s time to go. It’s awesome that we are going to be doing this right in the middle of downtown. It shows people that we are still here, we are still practicing our culture.”

During the festival, teams from various age and skill categories competed in a variety of activities ranging from water sports, to visual and performing arts, to culinary disciplines. An average of twenty-five races took place per day.

Performances by George Leach, Alex Wells, the Wild Moccasin Dancers, DJ Kookum, and Pat Calihou Band, among many others, provided entertainment for the crowd.

The canoe races included various prizes for its victors, such as a $20,000 cedar strip canoe. Traditional artwork, jewelry, and fashion were also displayed at the event, showcasing the creativity of Indigenous Peoples.

In many Indigenous cultures, canoes are considered to be members of the families that construct them. The success and spirit of the canoe depends on its carver’s skills. Canoe-building itself is a competitive art, and while people building the canoes may not necessarily be racers themselves, they still hold a strong degree of investment in the results of the competition.

Canoe racing and building are just one of many Indigenous traditions that have survived to this day. It is crucial for the non-Indigenous community to recognize and preserve such culturally significant events, allowing Indigenous Peoples to be acknowledged and celebrated.

YOLANDE COLE

MASTHEAD EDITORIAL BOARD Editor-in-Chief Elizabeth Provost editor@themedium.ca Managing Editor Aia Jaber managing@themedium.ca News Larry Lau news@themedium.ca Opinion Kareena Kailass opinion@themedium.ca Features Prisha (Maneka) Nuckchady features@themedium.ca A&E Julia Skoczypiec arts@themedium.ca Sports Alisa Samuel sports@themedium.ca Photo Samira Karimova photos@themedium.ca Design Manjot Pabla design@themedium.ca Copy Aidan Thompson aidan@themedium.ca Juliana Stacey juliana@themedium.ca Social Belicia Chevolleau social@themedium.ca Podcast Kareem Al-Sawalmeh message@themedium.ca

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OPINION

Editorial

Breaking the cycle of media censorship Indigenous issues deserve more than one day of coverage a year.

The Medium

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nly within the last two years has The Medium begun publishing themed issues.

Our themed issues celebrate, highlight, and support underrepresented and diverse voices on campus—many of whom are an integral and prominent part of our multi-cultural university.

This week, we are celebrating Indigenous Voices. On September 30, 2022, we will acknowledge and study the violent legacy of the Canadian Residential School system during the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation because simply acknowledging the tragedy is not enough.

As privileged students attending the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM), we sometimes fail to implement action by nullifying our advantages when it comes to giving platforms to marginalized groups.

As a news publication, we acknowledge our timing with printing this issue, and its ability to highlight the hardships faced by the Indigenous Peoples of Canada—despite falling short of showing the countless struggles Indigenous Peoples have faced in the past and present. The truth is, a singular day of reflection, or one news issue of acknowledgement, isn’t enough—the treatment of Indigenous communities should be a continuous conversation with consistent effort.

The Canadian news scene is in dire need of more coverage of Indigenous struggles, traditions, and art. The brutal mistreatment of Indigenous children, the lack of healthcare for Indig-

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Reflecting on the true essence of reconciliation can help us pursue real progress amidst a sea of performative activism.

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enous Peoples, the ghastly state of First Nations reserves, the suicide crisis faced by Indigenous communities, the absence of policies and Indigenous-identifying policy makers are issues we choose to only talk about when national holidays or headlines appear. But to the Indigenous community, these disparities aren’t breaking news; they are realities that emerge as part of their dayto-day. We must accept and acknowledge this truth before we start promising reconciliation.

We must give Indigenous communities a voice, so we can learn to listen. We recognize that it is vital for the Indigenous Peoples to tell their own stories. We cannot allow the humanity of the First Nations Peoples of Canada to be veiled by stereotypes, prejudices, false histories, and myths. Although we can start to raise awareness, only Indigenous voices can share with us their stories, disappearing languages, and suppressed traditions.

We hope this issue offers a small glimpse into the Indigenous voices on- and off-campus. No words or empty promises can achieve the forgiveness the government should seek. Frankly, we are tired of hearing politicians with a plan for reconciliation that they forget about soon after winning their election, but we, as citizens, can start by listening and learning.

Silence is complacency. Through sitting back and hiding behind these corrupt systems, we feed into cycles of oppression.

Overcoming performative allyship in the era of reconciliation Mashiyat Ahmed Contributor

TO CONTRIBUTE & CONNECT:

Editor | Kareena Kailass opinion@themedium.ca

ecent Liberal decisions made by Canadian governmental bodies have placed a distinct emphasis on Indigenous reconciliation.

With many politicians jumpstarting their efforts to heal Indigenous relations, they claim to apologize for Canada’s brutally successful execution of cultural genocide and religious homogenization.

Following former Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s public apology for the Canadian government’s involvement in Residential Schools in 2008, quantifiable progress has been made toward the reconciliation effort by various institutions. However, in August of 2022, Finance Minister Chrystia Freeland asserted that it is a “political responsibility for us as a country to support our allies with energy security.” The “political responsibility” Freeland references is the dependence Germany has on Russian oil, considering the recent events of the Russian-Ukrainian War.

What Freeland does not mention is that Canada plans on meeting this political responsibility and compensating for Germany’s energy transition by using fracked oil from Indigenous lands—particularly the land of the Wolastoqewiyik (People of the Beautiful and Bountiful River)—whose cultural and individual identities are dependent on the wellness of their physical environment.

People in positions of power know past wrongs must be amended, but their efforts and activism lack the crucial inter-cultural connectedness, communication, and authenticity needed to repair broken trust and elicit real change.

>> ALLYSHIP continues on page 07

07 >> ALLYSHIP continued from page 06 The reconciliatory process has been, at times, a show of performative allyship.

Canada’s tentative decision to support fracking on Indigenous lands as a guise of political responsibility has made me reconsider the actual effectiveness of our country’s empty promises. Since Prime Minister Trudeau’s taking of office in 2015, reconciliation funding has increased by around $2.4 billion each year, however, financial, and economic compensations are only the starting point of a healing journey with no definite end.

Damage began with the forceful and unjust confiscation of power from Indigenous Peoples—from enforcing authority over their lands, to snatching their identities and futures. Given this, I believe that the only plausible path towards true reconciliation and unity is through doing what is necessary for Indigenous communities to reclaim their strength, which includes, but is not limited to, helping them create a nourishing space so that we may all connect with each other from a place of fullness and not dependency.

Devaluing the cultural connectedness that Indigenous Peoples have with their lands through environmentally-destructive practices is an obvious step in the wrong direction—one that brutally reminds the victims of their own powerlessness. As young adults, we may be faced with the futility of our activism efforts, but I know that through conversations, local activism, and solidarity, we can create spaces for Indigenous individuals to gather momentum and strengthen their cultural identities.

Colonial resistance and celebrating Indigenous achievements Indigenous Peoples take control of their narrative by acquiring leadership roles.

Lydia C. Rehman Contributor

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irst Nations (status/non-status), Métis, and Inuit communities, living both on- and offreserve, in urban, rural, and remote areas are victims of colonization. This includes attempts made on behalf of the Government of Canada to culturally assimilate, systemically discriminate, and violently exclude Indigenous populations from governance and decision-making.

However, despite these attempts, Indigenous resistance and empowerment have continued to be at the forefront of defying the heteronormative, patriarchal, and colonial agendas that continue to be perpetuated.

Most recently, Michelle O’Bonsawin, an Abenaki woman of the Odanak First Nations Community in Québec, has become the first Indigenous judge to be appointed to the Ontario Superior Court of Justice. Dr. Alika Lafontaine of Treaty 4 territory, hails from Métis, Ojibwe, Cree, and Pacific Islander ancestry, and has become the first Indigenous president of the Canadian Medical Association.

These are major achievements for members of Indigenous communities, who are consis-

tently impacted by systemic racism. Policies, laws, and programs designed at the height of settler colonialism were intended to benefit settler communities at the expense of the health and well-being of Indigenous populations.

In a 2020 research report conducted by The Congress of Aboriginal Peoples—one of the five National Indigenous Representative Organizations—the over-representation of Indigenous peoples within the Canadian justice system was explored. Reports found that the colonial justice system itself has been an active member in advancing violence against Indigenous Peoples through criminalization and institutionalization solely based on Indigenous identity. In order to meet the needs of Indigenous Peoples and communities, we need more Indigenous representation within the leadership of these systems, along with allied professionals. These workers must be qualified and well-versed in understanding cultural safety, competency, and working meaningfully with Indigenous populations to advance wellbeing and safety.

The inclusion of professionals like Justice O’Bonsawin and Dr. Lafontaine are critical to advancing the ways Indigenous empowerment is embedded within healthcare and legal sys-

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tems. There must be necessary transformations in the way Indigenous Peoples are portrayed within media and workplaces.

As outlined in the Section 35 (1) of the Constitution Act: “The existing aboriginal and treaty rights of the aboriginal peoples of Canada are hereby recognized and affirmed.”

It is unfair that Indigenous Peoples have been continually disadvantaged. However, with the efforts made by Indigenous leaders, scholars, and activists, Indigenous self-governance continues to be critical in transforming a system that is systematically rooted in colonial practices. The outcome of this will result in promoting community development and empowerment for the well-being of Indigenous populations.

There are still many systemic barriers that currently exist for Indigenous Peoples and members of other equity-seeking populations.

Policies are still inherently racist, patriarchal, and carry major colonial impacts that affect the well-being of Indigenous populations. The forefront of all discussions should be situated on celebrating Indigenous sovereignty, resilience and the major efforts made by Indigenous Peoples, communities, organizations, and allied individuals that have mobilized collectively to resist the colonial agenda.

Neglecting neurodevelopmental research in the Canadian Indigenous community Oppression on Indigenous communities extends in disparities within psychological healthcare systems.

Paige France Contributor

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n recent years, there has been a push to promote more representative and distinct samples within research. A lack of diversity elicits serious ethical and equity consequences, preventing racially and ethnically minoritized (REM) populations from experiencing the benefits of tailored, high-quality healthcare.

Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is a neurodevelopmental disorder characterized by “persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction” that typically emerge within the first few years of life. ASD research has excluded equity-deserving groups, especially Indigenous communities, and continues to grossly lack diversity. Although ASD is equally prevalent across all races in North America, research of this disorder experiences inequalities in the diagnosis, treatment, intervention, and recruitment of non-Caucasian groups.

Several scholars have indicated that a key catalyst to this problem is referral bias due to researcher perception of children from REM groups. Health and human service providers as well as professionals can facilitate either conscious or unconscious cultural biases and

prejudicial communication towards external groups.

Very little has been done to deepen the understanding of factors contributing to this underrepresentation. To address this gap—while it is limited—precursive research has been carried out to analyze strategies to promote better inclusion practices, more effective recruitment of diverse audiences, as well as address disparities in ASD “service access and care.”

“The unequal footing prevalent in Indigenous communities, inhibits them from acquiring knowledge of economic, community, and healthcare resources.”

The unequal footing prevalent in Indigenous communities, inhibits them from acquiring knowledge of economic, community, and healthcare resources. Fear of legal uncertainties, lower literacy rates, and linguistic boundaries have aided in the legal and healthcare distrust among their communities. Discrimination and prejudice have been key inhibitors in seeking access to services. It has been re-

ported that Indigenous groups are more likely to trust community health workers from the same subculture as it decreases stigma that occurs when seeking healthcare outside of their communities. For this reason, recent strategies have facilitated the recruiting and training of researchers from REM populations, as they share similar characteristics and experiences representative of the group they are serving.

“Historically, research has been done on Indigenous communities rather than with them, causing distrust in the system.”

Confounding what has been known as an “othering” disorder, healthcare in Indigenous communities has been difficult due to its low accessibility, as well as Canada’s tainted past of healthcare exploitation and medical negligence. Historically, research has been done on Indigenous communities rather than with them, causing distrust in the system. Indigenous women of Canada have been subjected by hospitals to forced sterilization. This lack of consent was justified by claiming an inability for isolated communities to raise children with a Eurocentric mindset. Sadly, not a thing

of the past, these practices began decades ago and even crept into 2018, with the belief that no child could thrive on a reserve. Unfortunately, the severity of the issue is still unknown owing to a lack of comprehensive investigations and withheld public data.

Access to supportive services is limited, ASD awareness is low, and diagnosis is oftentimes delayed or worse, left misdiagnosed. Furthermore, this specialized support is oftentimes off the reserve, making the tailoring of assistance for Indigenous children with ASD not just challenging, but impossible. Eager to better integrate the lived experiences of autism within Indigenous communities into current research methods, there has been a dramatic shift to engaging community members within research directly. Retiring the old research model overseen by academic institutions which abided by strict ethics rules rather than providing a grassroots approach, recent research has seen more integration of people with lived experiences.

Integrity-based decolonization approaches rooted in community participation ensures any research done is with the community’s best interests in mind and it appropriately serves its target community. Equipped with a more humanistic lens, there is a hope that this new research paradigm will aid in influencing policy within and outside reserves and finally, ASD can be embraced rather than labeled.

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All history is written in pen Ink bleeds through more than textbook pages.

Aia Jaber Managing Editor

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nly 26 years ago, in 1996, the last working Residential School closed its doors in Saskatchewan, Canada. The school system was advertised to give children a new outlook on the expanding state of our nation, teaching them a curriculum approved by the Church and Canadian government. There, they would learn English and religion—merging their cultures and existences with the colonizers who made their way to their land. Except, these schools did not aim to merge with Indigenous communities; they imposed their beliefs on young, defenseless children—leading to hundreds of violent deaths, and thousands of ruined lives.

Indigenous children attending these schools faced a complete erasure of identity. Stripped of their clothing, families, and languages, these students experienced unrelenting sexual torment, physical abuse, and psychological warfare. The government did not choose to instill “Canadian culture” into these children, but rather elected to diminish any existence of Indigenous language and traditions. It was a genocide with repercussions greatly impacting the community today.

When I was 10, I read a biography in order to qualify for a book competition. In the au-

tobiography of her life, Shannen Koostachin of Attawapiskat has stuck with me for the last decade. She was a young Indigenous girl, who has since passed in a car crash, but has made such a beautiful impact on society. Within the biography, she speaks of the education system in Attawapiskat and her demand for an apology from Stephen Harper, the Prime Minister at the time. The grounds of the sole elementary school in the area were contaminated by a neglected toxic diesel leak—one the government refused to rectify. The horrible state of the reserve led to many people falling sick, and many committing suicide.

Dreaming of an education, students filled portables, hoping for a better future—one where they have equal opportunities to nonIndigenous students living in popular areas.

Shannen first introduced me to the horrors of Residential Schools, the lack of healthcare and water, and the suicide crisis amongst Indigenous youth. It was through her that I learned of the stolen children, the women who never made it home, and the inequity Indigenous Peoples face within healthcare.

But most importantly, she opened my eyes, at a young age, to how Canadian politicians pretend to care, but truly do not.

Across Canada today, over 1800 unmarked graves have been found across Residential Schools—extending Residential School crimes

beyond death. It is suspected that at least 1 in 50 children died, raising the anticipated number of total murders to 4100. To the children that survived to become adults, they endure the repercussions of these schools 26 years later.

These adults are shown to have higher rates of chronic infections and diseases and high rates of depression, but due to the lack of accessible healthcare, they endure a cycle of total silencing—unable to receive the help they need from those who make empty promises of reconciliation. And with limited medical resources comes limited mental health resources.

About 25 per cent of Indigenous Peoples struggle with substance abuse—a significantly higher number than non-Indigenous people in Canada.

Indigenous reserves lack necessary resources for basic human needs. Approximately 85 per cent of Indigenous reserves are facing a water crisis. Researchers have found that water within these communities is infected with E. coli, cancerous chemicals, and uranium—further leading to the increased need of healthcare they do not have. At this point, this is blatant poisoning of an ethnic group. I dare call it an ongoing genocide.

After a century and a half since the first opening of a Residential School, we’d assume

a non-existent disparity amongst the resources and equity accessible to Indigenous Peoples and non-Indigenous groups. Except, that is not the case. Suicide rates amongst Indigenous youths should not be six times higher than in other populations across Canada. Women should not be abducted while going on a walk.

Indigenous men should not be incarcerated at a higher rate because of their ethnic identity. The truth is, the government is doing bullshit with reconciliation. Their efforts do not match what they need to do to make amends. And to be honest, their efforts to make amends will never be enough if they keep neglecting the water and healthcare crisis.

From reading Shannen’s story eleven years ago, I knew that it would be ignorant of me to pretend that my existence in Canada is not at the expense of thousands of lives. This country is built on stolen land, and there is no other way to put it. The responsibility for reconciliation is not solely dependent on the government, but also on us and what we choose to do with the stories we know. We must listen to the stories, talk about their experiences, and give Indigenous voices a platform to re-write the traditions and languages erased by hate. All history is written in pen. The government does not get to choose Indigenous history as written in graphite, willing to be erased at the flip of a pencil.

Queen Elizabeth II: Friend of Canada or friend of colonialism?

To forget the monarchy’s contributions to colonialism is equivalent to forgetting the massacre of thousands of Indigenous Peoples.

Maja Tingchaleun Contributor

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hen Queen Elizabeth II passed on September 8, 2022, my social media feeds were flooded with pictures and quotes, filled with expressions of admiration, appreciation, shock, and sadness. I was tolerant of, albeit confused, by the outpouring of grief, care, and empathy for a stranger whose value to Canada was purely symbolic and almost overdue, at the age of 96.

When I signed up a few days later to write this article, the sentences I began composing in my mind were mostly neutral in tone. However, when Toronto Public Library announced a few days later that they would observe 96 seconds of silence on Monday, September 19—one second for every year of the Queen’s precious life—my jaw dropped. Over the past year, more than 1,800 unmarked graves have been identified—either as confirmed or suspected—across the sites of four Canadian Residential Schools.

That’s more than 1,800 precious children’s lives, lost. Not once did we ever think to have 1,800 seconds of silence for them.

It is easy to be neutral about whether or not you could, or should, mourn the

death of Queen Elizabeth II (and, just to get this out of the way, no one is stopping you from mourning her if you feel moved to do so), but it is impossible to retain a neutral stance towards the massacre of Indigenous children that occurred in Residential Schools. Within these schools, children were assaulted, abused, and malnourished. Many disappeared from their families, leaving their loved ones confused. The disappearance of Indigenous children, after being promised an education for their futures, is gut-wrenching.

To strip the Indigenous Peoples of their languages, cultures, and beliefs, colonizers used helpless, frightened, Indigenous children as pawns in their twisted ploy for cultural genocide. Innocent Indigenous children were killed to rid colonizers of any difficulties in their inhumane scheme of eliminating diversity.

In one Residential School, death rates were reported to be as high as 69 per cent. These schools were funded by the federal government, and many Catholic and Anglican churches. In other words, the Crown was complicit. The legacy that British settlers left behind—the same legacy Canada seeks to acknowledge and maintain through its ties to the Crown—is rampant with trauma and abuse for Indigenous Peoples.

Britain has been complicit in the colonization and forced assimilation of Canada’s Indigenous Peoples. And while the recently passed Queen’s autobiographies and memorials may not acknowledge her support for these initial settlers or with Residential Schools, it still happened. She spent all 96 years of her life perpetuating and celebrating the far-reaching and damaging effects of British power and, thus, colonialism, racism, and classism. Can her 70-year reign be called great if her empire was built on the blood of Indigenous Peoples?

Is her friendship with Canada as a Commonwealth country worth celebrating when her connection to us is through mass genocide and slaughter?

Look, the Queen was in fact human, and thus her death is sad in the way that all deaths are sad—as a human being. There will never be another Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor, and if you wish to mourn that fact, it would completely be within your prerogative to do so.

But she was also only human, and while I’m sure she was an okay person, I can’t say that for certain, because I didn’t know her—none of us knew her, and no one is actually required to mourn a stranger after they die. After all, you might even hate these symbolic figureheads of a monarchy that has oppressed, massacred, and displaced Indigenous Peoples. And if you choose to attribute greater importance to that fact instead of all else the late Queen represents—well, I’ll join you on Friday, September 30 for the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation.

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features

Editor | Prisha (Maneka) Nuckchady features@themedium.ca

UTM’s Indigenous Garden: a conversation with nature and tradition A student-led initiative aims to embrace Indigenous traditions on campus.

Dalainey Gervais Associate Features Editor

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aria Hupfield, an Assistant Professor of Indigenous Digital Arts and Performance at the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM), is an interdisciplinary artist and the founder of the Indigenous Creation Studio, a gathering space and a hub for creative people. One of the projects that have come out of the studio is the Indigenous Garden called the “Mashkiikii Gitigan.” With the intention of fostering an Indigenous Garden Community, planting seeds in the Indigenous Garden is simply the beginning to a blooming relationship with the land. “This is phase one of our work to change the culture around our relationship to land on campus by countering the frequent delineation between green spaces versus urban spaces,” shares Marim Adel, a Research Assistant at UTM’s Indigenous Garden.

Adel recently completed her undergrad in Exceptionality in Human Learning and Biology. She became involved with the garden through a work-study position in her second year, working periodically with the Indigenous Creation Studio ever since. “A lot of my research is informed through disability justice and accessibility, and I have been able to grow [my knowledge through] what I learn with the Indigenous Creation Studio,” explains Adel.

First halted by the pandemic, the garden is now in full bloom. “We started planting this season, so things are moving much faster,” says Adel. However, expanding the garden quickly is not a priority for those working on this project.

With drive to nurture the garden with true intentionality, members of the team conduct extensive research to deter-

mine what is good for the land, what is good for the students, and what plants students would seek to grow. “It is a participatory project,” explains Adel, “we want students to be excited about what [is] growing on their campus.”

Students working on the project developed a survey to find out which plants were deemed culturally significant to students. “We invite other forms of knowledge to the garden,” explains Adel, “we try and take a multicultural approach.” The garden recently grew Palestinian squash, for example, in addition to Indigenous medicinal crops.

“We reflect on the responsible ways to promote knowledge by making sure it’s grounded in humility, and making sure that everybody that’s involved recognizes that land is our teacher.”

Specific Indigenous methodologies and protocols are followed while assessing the plants and cultivation of the garden. “We follow the 6 “R’s” of Indigenous research; respect, responsibility, reciprocity, refusal, relevance, and relationality,” says Adel. “We reflect on the responsible ways to promote knowledge by making sure it’s grounded in humility, and making sure that everybody that’s involved recognizes that land is our teacher.”

Currently, the Indigenous Garden is growing medicinal herbs that can be of use to students, faculty, and community members. Sage, one of four sacred medicines, is used for smudging—an Indigenous tradition consisting of burning medicinal plants to cleanse one’s soul. Similarly, tobacco is

SAMIRA KARIMOVA/THE MEDIUM

used for sacred offerings when harvesting plants.

“Another important aspect for the garden is giving a space for land-based connection, especially for Indigenous, BIPOC, and LGBTQ2S+ students on campus,” says Adel. The garden is a way to bridge any disconnect with nature. “[It is] an experiential learning initiative,” she explains, “where its purpose is to teach about land stewardship to ensure the environment’s future.”

“Its purpose is to teach about land stewardship to ensure the environment’s future.”

The Indigenous Garden currently has two locations on campus, with the main site being behind the Communication, Culture and Technology (CCT) building. The other garden is located on the rooftop of Maanjiwe Nendamowinan (MN). “The CCT site is growing corn and other plants like calendula for the pollinators.”

Student involvement is crucial for the future of the garden. Working as a collective is key to ensuring sustainable growth on campus while honouring Indigenous traditions.

“The UTM campus is surrounded by nature, but we’re not really in conversation with it,” explains Adel. “We aren’t interacting with the trees and the plants and the majority of students don’t know what grows here. The garden is a place where students can begin to facilitate that conversation,” concludes Adel.

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SAMIRA KARIMOVA/THE MEDIUM

Community on Campus: Highlighting UTM’s Indigenous Centre Through its efforts to promote inclusivity and learning, the Indigenous Centre strives to become a place where all members of the community can engage in reconciliation.

Hema Ramnarine Contributor

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hen the Wecheehetawin Report was released in January 2017, one of its prevailing themes was the lack of dedicated Indigenous spaces on all three campuses of the University of Toronto. The report—written in collaboration with Indigenous Elders, faculty, staff, and students—specifically mentioned the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM) as a potential area for improvement because of its links with the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nations.

“The Centre offers opportunities for non-Indigenous members of the community to learn diverse Indigenous traditions—creating a space for productive and inclusive discussion.”

UTM’s Indigenous Centre opened later that year to consolidate Indigenous resources. “While there has always been a level of Indigenous services at UTM,” says Tee Duke, the UTM Assistant Director of Indigenous Initiatives, “the Centre was established as a way of pulling these services together in a coordinated and intentional way.”

The Indigenous Centre has served to promote a supportive environment for UTM’s Indigenous community. The Centre offers opportunities for non-Indigenous members of the community to learn diverse Indigenous traditions—creating a space for productive and inclusive discussion.

The Indigenous Centre represents one of many advancements made by UTM to engage in reconciliation, both on- and offcampus. For Duke, this is a propelling force in ensuring the suc-

cess of the Indigenous Centre’s initiatives. “Indigenous community development has always been at the forefront of our work, not only at UTM but external to the university,” she explains.

The Indigenous Centre has continuously extended a warm welcome to all UTM staff, students, and faculty—not just the Indigenous community. The involvement of all students, regardless of background, is encouraged. They believe this is integral to creating an “intercultural dialogue”—essential to reconciliation efforts. To this end, the Indigenous Centre has offered many programs such as curriculum resources and “Learning Circles,” an initiative developed to allow students to learn about Indigenous knowledge. Open to all U of T members, the Indigenous Centre also hosts weekly events to further initiate active involvement. Those include “Fresh Food Mondays,” held at the First Nations House at St. George where fresh produce is available for U of T Indigenous students.

“We are all responsible for mobilizing reconciliation.”

The Centre begun the 2022-2023 school year with its first event—the Meet and Greet and Tipi Raising—in front of the Maanjiwe Nendamowinan building on September 13, 2022.

The event was well-attended and invited both Indigenous and non-Indigenous members of UTM to gather, socialize, and ask questions. “We were able to bring community together and share the work we do within the centre,” says Jessica Tabak, the Indigenous Student Support Specialist at the Indigenous Centre.

On September 26, the Indigenous Centre will deliver a virtual tour of the Mohawk Institute Residential School. Participants will follow a guided virtual tour of the house, going over the history of the school, and hearing testimonies from five survivors.

In honour of Orange Shirt Day this upcoming September 30, 2022, the Indigenous Centre compiled a list of resources for students to self-educate. The list includes movies, podcasts, books,

documentaries, and suggested topics to initiate meaningful conversations. One such resource recommended by Tabak as a jumping off point, consists of the Wecheehetowin Report. “[The report] is a guiding tool for Indigenous and non-Indigenous folks to use for guidance. We are all responsible for mobilizing reconciliation,” explains Tabak.

For more events from the Centre, Duke advises students to keep an eye on their website, as they have more plans for the future. “[We] are planning more land-based learning [and] programming through our newly raised Tipi and utilizing Hart House Farm for future opportunities.”

“Not only do we have more Indigenous faculty [and] staff at UTM, but we continue to connect and support more Indigenous students.”

Since the Indigenous Centre’s opening, there has been a significant increase in Indigenous engagement and community development. “Not only do we have more Indigenous faculty [and] staff at UTM, but we continue to connect and support more Indigenous students,” shares Duke.

The Indigenous Centre can serve as a guide for students to become active members in reconciliation. The responsibility we all bear does not end when we leave campus, a notion that Duke makes clear. Dedicated to fostering an inclusive environment, Duke concludes by saying, “We are very proud and dedicated Indigenous community members ourselves and ultimately, we are always working for our community in [and] out of the Centre’s work—we volunteer at Indigenous agencies, we sit on Indigenous Organization boards, we attend Indigenous cultural events [and] activities, and we are robust advocators for our community—anything we can do to support and make our community members feel safe and welcome—we are there.”

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Misconceptions in the field of astronomy Professor John Percy speaks on how academia and popular culture spread misinformation about astronomy.

Shreya Joshi Contributor

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n September 13, 2022, Dr. John Percy from the Department of Astronomy and Astrophysics delivered a presentation entitled “Misconceptions about the Universe: From Everyday Life to the Big Bang.” During his engaging discussion, he addressed various myths regarding astronomy. Seemingly difficult to understand, and broad in nature, the domain is commonly filled with misinformation.

Most people think of Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics fields as dominated by older, cis-gendered white men.

However, Dr. Percy notes that the Astronomy Department is an exception to the stereotype; astronomers come from varying backgrounds and complex intersectional identities. Astronomers are racially diverse, LGBTQ2S+ positive, and encouraging of all genders.

Often confused with astrology—a pseudoscientific study of the movements of planets and how it impacts people’s lives—Dr. Percy emphasizes that astronomy is concerned with other aspects of our solar system. He clarifies that astrology is distinct from astronomy because its conclusions are extracted without any scientific inquiry.

One area Dr. Percy names as a common perpetrator of misconceptions in astronomy is the education industry, more specifically in the way they oversimplify concepts. For example, he remarks that they wrongly depict planets as being close together in a straight display.

In an attempt to simplify concepts for students, educators have engrained the wrong depiction of space. Similarly, Dr. Percy notes that diagrams and cartoons depict the solar system as being “squashed together.” Experienced in writing textbooks, Dr. Percy explains that “the problem is that very few teachers have a background in astronomy. Therefore, it is harder to accurately design diagrams and captions.”

ANDY HOLMES, PEDRO LASTRA, THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY/UNSPLASH

Aside from school textbooks, inaccuracies are further perpetuated through pop culture. Most people have heard the term “shooting stars” in movies, as characters make wishes when they see the rapid white flash of light.

Yet, Dr. Percy notes that shooting stars are actually meteors or streaks of light of varying colours produced by miniscule space rocks as they rapidly collide with Earth’s atmosphere.

A significant sun-related misconception is the notion that the sun will explode and turn into a black hole at the end of its lifespan.

Dr. Percy explains that this is wholly inaccurate and that the sun is too small for this to occur. It would have to be far larger to become a black hole. When the sun finally reaches the end of its life, it will likely transform into a neutron star—a dense object left behind when a star collapses and explodes.

Turning to the moon, Dr. Percy brings up the mainstream belief that there is a correlation between “crime and madness” during a full moon.

He shares that no scientific study has ever corroborated this myth.

The legend of the supermoon is an optical illusion that causes the moon to appear larger when seen from the horizon. Dr. Percy explains that the lines of the moon converge with the horizon, creating the illusion that the moon is larger in size than it should be. This is known as the “Ponzo illusion.”

Misconceptions can be dangerous. Transmitted rapidly through media, they can lead to wide-spread misinformation. “Popular culture affects everybody, especially teens and young adults. I’m afraid social media is getting to us all these days and we all should be careful,” concludes Dr. Percy

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Regimes inadequately propagate cultural inclusion Professor Luisa Farah Schwartzman identifies systematic defects in state cultural inclusion policies through her research.

Larry Lau News Editor

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hrough the 20th century, society saw groundbreaking technological advancements, with day-to-day life being redefined towards the end of the century.

While many aspects of society improved significantly, equality and cultural inclusion are among the several issues that remain prevalent problems today.

As we entered the 21st century, increased empowerment and diversity were themes embedded in our understanding of the new world. This has given marginalized groups the resources and opening to demand their rights. To this end, many governments began pursuing multiculturalism, a term defined as diversity within society, whose actual definition may not be as ingenuous.

As someone who grew up in Brazil, Schwartzman witnessed the prevalence of inequality, which she initially did not attribute to race. After living in the United States, where racial discrimination was a widely

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“Many governments inadvertently or deliberately label people when implementing policies that seek to promote cultural inclusion.”

mantle those very things.” For this reason, Schwartzman’s current research focuses on a multi-perspective analysis of the relationship between the state and social inequality.

“In Brazil, people have talked more about class, and in Canada, it’s language and religion, so there lies the difference. But in all places, there is a racial and colonial logic behind inequality,” says Schwartzman. Racism will always be a factor driving inequality.

A country’s historical events largely shape the policies that a regime implements and inform the way its people perceive the idea of cultural inclusion. This explains the distinction of Brazilians’ and Canadians’ discussions on inequality.

“It’s a colonial idea that we still have today. We now believe that minorities have culture—not the dominant groups of white people and settler colonies.”

ative connotations. Improper terminology may hint at the state’s questionable dedication to encouraging cultural appreciation.

Specifically relating to Canada, Schwartzman shares: “The idea that a settler nation is in a position to tolerate people indigenous to that land doesn’t make sense, and I think indigenous people in Brazil would say the same because it is a settler state as well.”

“It is important to learn education in ways that draw away from Eurocentrism; an education that gets us thinking about the creation of our modern world.”

The Canadian government, among many others, recognizes the importance of raising awareness for different ethnic cultures.

To this end, Schwartzman observes that notable initiatives focusing on creating an inclusive society include heritage months only for select communities. She adds that the education system teaches students about slavery and Residential Schools in an attempt to further promote cultural appreciation. “But it isn’t enough to learn only the dark histories,” she explains. “It is important to learn education in ways that draw away from Eurocentrism; an education that gets us thinking about the creation of our modern world.”

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“Multiculturalism and racial democracy are both national [and] nationalist projects that were created post-World War 2 when the elites of the world had to reinvent themselves and step away from scientific racism,” says Luisa Farah Schwartzman, an Assistant Professor in the Sociology Department at the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM). She explains that while racial discrimination and ethnical racism became taboo, privileged individuals simply reframed racism by introducing the innocent name of “multiculturalism” to their actions.

Schwartzman published a paper on January 20, 2021, that delved deep into the implications of contemporary politics on the inequalities faced by minorities.

“There was the idea of civilization, that these bigger groups were more civilized. It’s a colonial idea that we still have today. We now believe that minorities have culture— not the dominant groups of white people and settler colonies,” says Schwartzman.

She also holds that the modern distinction between people who have civilization and people who have culture is a western belief.

“If you paint [cultures and peoples] to be

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“Multiculturalism and racial democracy are both national [and] nationalist projects that were created post-World War 2 when the elites of the world had to reinvent themselves and step away from scientific racism.”

discussed topic, Schwartzman started looking into race’s role in inequality. From her research, she realized that politics also play a significant role in perpetuating these injustices. For example, many governments inadvertently or deliberately label people when implementing policies that seek to promote cultural inclusion. She explains that this classification causes states to “reproduce racial inequalities in efforts to dis-

“To truly embrace all cultures and peoples, Canada must transcend its identity as a settler state.”

barbaric and present the solution as civilization, you perpetuate archaic ideas of classification and race,” continues Schwartzman, stating that the Western idea of “civilization” is confining and backwards.

Many countries also put inadequate effort in promoting diversity by once again utilizing derogatory labels.

“Improper terminology may hint at the state’s questionable dedication to encouraging cultural appreciation.”

Likewise, Schwartzman remarks that when announcing initiatives for cultural inclusivity, various states use words with neg-

Additionally, historical events dictate that the Canadian government has systematically oppressed and discriminated Indigenous Peoples, which is engrained in Canada’s identity. To truly embrace all cultures and peoples, Canada must transcend its identity as a settler state.

Regardless, any substantial change to inequality starts from each individual citizen.

When bringing up culture, it is important to truly comprehend its intricacies and ensure that people identifying with the culture have offered their consent.

However, Schwartzman acknowledges that grasping the full picture of a culture is difficult when it has suffered from cultural appropriation and oppression. “You must be perceptive of meaning. Sometimes because of dynamics of power within society, certain aspects of different cultures, objects and practices are kept from being adopted by outside parties for purposes of protection and preservation,” concludes Schwartzman.

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Arts

Editor | Julia Skoczypiec arts@themedium.ca

Sara Kae’s “Rise”: A musical retelling of cultural stories Kae’s newest single uses the power of music to unify Indigenous voices and inspire change.

Julia Skoczypiec Arts & Entertainment Editor

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ndigenous artists work tirelessly to educate listeners through the sounds of their culture. While traditional songs are frequently performed at pow-wows and ceremonial festivals, contemporary Indigenous music aims to target younger audiences. By blending ceremonial chants and speeches with electronic synthesizers, booming percussion, and emotional vocal riffs, Indigenous artists allow for their genre to reach wider audiences.

Sara Kae, an Indigenous singer-songwriter and journalist from Thunder Bay, Ontario, uses music to share her life experiences. In her latest single “Rise,” Kae blends modern pop and R&B sounds with traditional Indigenous instrumentation. Her stories heal and empower her family and community. Her lyrics educate.

“My Indigenous name is Anee Anung Neping,” says Kae in an interview with The Medium. “It means ‘dancing star on the water.’ If I were to best describe myself, I would say that I am someone who really wants to use their voice to inspire.”

Growing up in Northern Ontario, it was not easy for Kae to celebrate her identity and culture.

“That’s what ‘Rise’ is all about— talking about these struggles that we’ve had and just how we’ve been neglected and pushed aside.”

“I remember hearing my siblings having conversations about thinking they are not gorgeous because of their roots and their darker skin,” Kae explains. “That’s what ‘Rise’ is all about—talking about these struggles that we’ve had and just how we’ve been neglected and pushed aside.”

With lyrics that discuss beauty and self-acceptance, “Rise” begs listeners to think about the horrific impacts of Residential Schools. The song places importance on the emotional turmoil that resides within many Indigenous communities.

As she wrote the song, Kae tried to express years of complex emotions. Her opening lyrics, “You wanna feel the tears I’m crying but you don’t wanna feel the pain,” speak to the centuries of cultural genocide and trauma that Indigenous Peoples have endured.

“I started writing ‘Rise’ on National Indigenous Peoples Day [June 21] in 2020. It was 4 a.m. and I was having a really tough day,” Kae says. “There is not a lot of knowledge on Indigenous Peoples, the history of Indigenous Peoples, and the truth about us—I was having a really hard time with [coming to terms with this representation]. ‘Rise’ is a whole bunch of emotions all encapsulated into one,” she shares.

Through the pain that comes with moving forward, “Rise” became a calling for growth and hope. During production, Kae and her producer—known as Kaevox Wav—decided to merge their vocals with traditional Indigenous chants and electronic samples to create a choir. The idea came from the need to emphasize unity and community.

“The more people encouraging these words, the better. The more we stand together and help each other and rise together—that’s exactly what I want. I want people to feel backed and supported,” Kae underscores.

Starting with a somber piano and building into a collection of powerful voices and expressive percussion, the rhythms in “Rise” mirror its lyrics. The entire song becomes a call for action. Through the building vocals and layers of instruments,

SARA KAE/SPOTIFY

you feel inclined to learn more about Indigenous culture.

That is exactly what Kae aims for her listeners to take from the song.

“I want [the listeners] to feel a little bit of that frustration and hope—[to] make them feel inspired to learn more, and to be that ally,” Kae says. “I want them to take the time to acknowledge that a lot of us are really healing.”

Even though we live on the traditional lands of Indigenous Peoples, many fail to understand and acknowledge the histories of the Peoples that founded these lands. The traumas of Indigenous communities rarely become news headlines. As such, songs like “Rise” are crucial to the current and next generations of Canadians.

“I want to make sure that [these traditions] stay and that we are teaching them to the next generation. We’re powerful and we’re resilient—I really want to drive that idea home.”

“I’m sitting here in honour of all my ancestors who were told that they couldn’t speak their language and that they couldn’t take part in their traditions,” Kae explains. “I want to make sure that [these traditions] stay and that we are teaching them to the next generation. We’re powerful and we’re resilient—I really want to drive that idea home.”

As an artist, Kae has struggled with the barriers that come with being a female independent in an industry where modern Indigenous music is scarce. Through continuous belief in herself, she pushes for the recognition and modernization of Indigenous music. Kae touches on other Indigenous artists that continue to inspire her in the process.

“There are a bunch of artists that I look up to. One of them would be [the group] ‘The Halluci Nation.’ They have done a really great job at bringing electronic music, pow-wow, and more traditional music into the picture. They’ve just done a really awesome job at representing our culture,” Kae says.

Although Kae’s soulful, piano based vibes sound nothing like The Halluci Nation’s electronic tunes, she’s inspired by the way they have intergraded powerful speeches and throat singing into a style that speaks to listeners outside of Indigenous communities.

“Music is a huge communicator [that transcends] beyond any language you speak or culture you follow. You don’t need to be Indigenous to understand,” Kae concludes.

Kae’s single allows us to witness the beauty and culture that music offers. The song’s use of united voices brings Indigenous peoples into the spotlight—a spotlight that they have long deserved.

“Rise” is available to stream on all major streaming platforms. To listen to the single and explore more of Kae’s work, check out her Linktree at www.linktr.ee/sarakae.

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The AGO’s Indigenous Collection: A celebration of art and culture The Art Gallery of Ontario continues its effort to platform modern and traditional Indigenous artwork.

Shreya Joshi Contributor

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KIRSTY MACLELLAN /THE MEDIUM

he Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO), located in downtown Toronto, typically attracts almost a million visitors a year.

The gallery’s vast collection features a range of works from Indigenous, Canadian, and European artists.

Currently, the Indigenous Collection at the AGO houses several historic and modern works of Indigenous art, particularly from First Nations, Inuit, and Métis artists. On a global scale, the collection features pieces from Africa, Australia, and the Torres Strait Islands.

One of the collections most significant pieces is the Anishinaabe Gunstock Club. The club was created in 1860 and was utilized by Indigenous Peoples from the Great Lakes and Woodlands regions for ceremonial purposes. Its engraved illustrations of three thunderbirds are intended to symbolize the natural world and its spiritual magnitude. Obtained in 2002, the Anishinaabe Gunstock Club is the AGO’s first significant acquisition of historical Indigenous artwork.

Another important piece is from Indigenous artist Charles Edenshaw. Referred to by his traditional name, Tahayghen, he gained traction in the late 1800s for his creation of the “argillite totem poles.” The poles contain references to tribal lineage,

family crests, and Indigenous history. They are symbolic of the Haida Peoples and their artistic fortitude. These totem poles continue to influence modern-day Indigenous art.

In its more modern collection, the AGO features works such as the 2006 sculpture, “Arctic Angst.” The piece was built by Bill Nasogaluak, a self-taught Tuktoyaktuk-based Inuk sculptor and painter.

The sculpture depicts a bear encountering its declining habitat. Polar bears are commonly seen in Inuit artwork as symbols of novelty or joy. Interestingly, Nasogaluak’s work represents anxiety.

Another modern piece in the exhibit is “Composition (Cube),” a three-dimensional piece by Cape Corset’s Indigenous artist Shuvinai Ashoona. The drawing uses semi-vibrant colours and pencil marks to depict life in a seemingly rural Indigenous atmosphere.

Commencing in the fall of 2021, the AGO has been offering a free virtual school program led by a team of Indigenous art educators. The program aims to teach youth about the facets of Indigenous art and culture.

In an interview with AGO Insider, artist and educator Mahlikah Awe:ri stressed that artwork plays an important role in bridging privileged and non-privileged groups.

“While Indigenous art is rooted in rich cultural traditions, it’s also contemporary and reflects ongoing conversations between Indigenous people and non-Indigenous people about the way forward.”

She stated, “[…] while Indigenous art is rooted in rich cultural traditions, it’s also contemporary and reflects ongoing conversations between Indigenous people and nonIndigenous people about the way forward.”

Through the Indigenous Collection, the AGO aims to educate visitors on the importance of Indigenous artistic creation. Each piece holds critical significance to Indigenous Peoples, their land, and preserves their culture.

Where the Blood Mixes: Revealing the wounds of Residential Schools Kevin Loring’s play voices the intergenerational traumas haunting the Indigenous Peoples of Canada.

Elizabeth Provost Editor-in-Chief

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en and I met at the Young Centre for the Performing Arts in the Distillery District in Downtown Toronto. It was a windy day for mid-June, and Jen was back for the summer from her Master’s in Art History at McGill. We’d been working together as Research Assistants for a year—she was my late-night SOS text when I needed to cure my imposter syndrome.

Our supervisor had recommended a play that was in town for a couple weeks. Unbeknownst to us, we’d spend the next hour and a half crying in the second row of an almostempty theatre (it was half-capacity night)— which was fortunate, as we got to coat the red velvet floors in our salty tears and running snot in peace.

Kevin Loring’s play Where the Blood Mixes premiered in 2008 at the Factory Theatre in Toronto where it was immediately awarded the Governor General’s Award. The play—co-produced by Canada’s oldest Indigenous theatre company, Native Earth Performing Arts—returned to Toronto this past June.

Set in the village of Kumsheen, Loring’s hometown, the setting gives the play its name.

“Most people say it means the place where the rivers meet,” says a character in the play. “But an elder once told me that the real meaning

is ‘the place inside the heart where the blood mixes.’”

Where the Blood Mixes centres around Floyd’s struggle from the loss of his wife— which led to his daughter, Christine, being taken by child services. For two decades, Floyd struggles to face his never forgotten traumas, until his daughter writes to him, desperately searching for a way back home.

“The play stages a complex story of healing as a town, a family, and a community is haunted by the horrors of St. George’s Residential School.”

The play stages a complex story of healing as a town, a family, and a community is haunted by the horrors of St. George’s Residential School. Throughout the play, Floyd and his childhood friend Mooch, confront their silenced pasts, and emerge from the veils of grief. They spend their time fishing, gambling, and being scolded for their actions by Mooch’s wife, June.

The frigid realities left behind by the Canadian Residential School system bear deep wounds. Art allows for truth to surface, for the unheard to be heard. The play situates audiences of non-Indigenous descent at the sidelines of truth—experiencing something misunderstood and seldom remembered.

GOODREADS

“Don’t matter how long ago it was. It happened yesterday, it happened today, it’ll happen tomorrow. Every day is every day.”

Opening up about abuse within the Residential School system, Mooch says: “Don’t matter how long ago it was. It happened yesterday, it happened today, it’ll happen tomorrow. Every day is every day.” He turns to Floyd, trying to understand why it was illegal to see his parents, and why he was filled with an immeasurable sense of guilt.

At the end of the performance, there was silence in the audience. We held our breath, before a standing ovation erupted across the theatre. Jen and I left the room with crumbs of mascara on the apples of our flushed cheeks.

Loring is a Nlaka’pamux and was born in the Lytton First Nation in British Columbia.

He is a graduate of the Studio 58 program from Langara College’s School of Theatre Arts in Vancouver. The Nlaka’pamux Nation Tribal Council live by the fundamental law that if “you take care of the land, the land will take care of you.” The relationships between person and land are the backbone of the play—the land healing each character.

Where the Blood Mixes is an emotional narrative that exposes Loring’s First Nation heritage and celebrates survivors. Although nonIndigenous people will never understand the traumas of the Residential School system, Kevin Loring’s production and storytelling peels back the first layer of the scab, allowing us to peak at the depth of the cut below the surface.

The script was also published as a 96-page paperback to equal critical success.

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The importance and influence of Indigenous storytelling The stories passed on from one generation to the next preserve history, teach lessons, and inspire a new generation to remember those that came before.

Nessma Korideck Contributor

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s children, we all looked forward to story time. Stories were a way for us to travel far away, to lands that we could only imagine in our dreams. As we grow up, it often seems like the art of storytelling slowly fades away.

In Indigenous culture, storytelling is crucial—even as people grow older. The act of telling stories is encouraged and taught as an art. Stories are used to teach lessons, inspire dreams, and entertain people.

“Every story has a moral that transcends the narrative to teach a lesson, while also maintaining a personal attachment with the storyteller.”

Indigenous narratives are used to inform generations about the historical pasts of their ancestors. Every story has a moral that transcends the narrative to teach a lesson, while also maintaining a personal attachment with the storyteller.

The bonding effects of storytelling are fundamental to Indigenous cultures.

THE ARTS ARCHIVE

“Indigenous stories are passed down from generation to generation to teach essential life lessons to the community’s young people.”

Storytelling is used to inspire. Indigenous stories are passed down from generation to generation to teach essential life lessons to the community’s young people. These types of narratives vary—but generally provide historical recounts through stories about land, animals, and spiritual morals. Some of these tales have managed to keep their accuracy for 300 generations. Through a process called “cross-generational crosschecking,” Indigenous stories have maintained their purity.

As part of this procedure, the Elders ensure that stories are understood and coherent before they can be retold.

Generally, Indigenous stories have non-linear narratives— meaning that there isn’t a specific beginning, middle, or end.

Since these stories are often told orally over many lifetimes, they have multiple meanings and interpretations. Oral traditions have also been used for survival purposes. Through the act of storytelling, communities learned about when and where to find certain foods and how to prepare meals.

“The stories represent identity and culture.”

Indigenous storytelling is an art because of the voice it holds. The stories represent identity and culture. In an interview with the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity, Reneltta Arluk, an Inuvialuit, Cree, and Dene performing artist, explains that stories are a form of teaching. She places importance on the idea that when we learn from our own teachings, we become one with them.

“When we learn from our own teachings, we become one with them.”

Finally, traditional Indigenous regalia takes influence from storytelling. Often worn during big gatherings or ceremonies, these clothing items are mainly worn by the chiefs or spiritual leaders. The materials include woven textiles, headbands, arm bands, and moccasins. Each item can be made from a variety of materials—such as eagle feathers, cotton, buckskin, beads, and ribbons. Varying based on cultural practices, these clothing items signify personal and cultural identities that tie back to ancestorial stories.

Storytelling empowers Indigenous voices. By preserving their stories and expressing themselves through art, Indigenous Peoples remind listeners of their strength and resilience.

These stories belong to them, and they should be heard, remembered, and learned from.

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sports & health

Editor | Alisa Samuel sports@themedium.ca

Dirty air and murky water: the health effects of environmental racism For many Indigenous communities, polluted air and contaminated water are a daily reality.

Hema Ramnarine Contributor

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ocated three hours from the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM) is “Chemical Valley” in Sarnia, Ontario.

Home to several oil refineries and chemical plants, a total of 62 facilities are responsible for over 40 per cent of Canada’s chemical industry, and over 15 per cent of Ontario’s total pollution output. Liquid benzene is one chemical pollutant that quickly evaporates into the air. Breathing in air that is contaminated with benzene may lead to cancer.

Right in the center of “Chemical Valley” is the Aamjiwnaang First Nation (AFN) community. Members of the AFN community have lived amongst the plants for years and, as a result, they experience a host of health issues, including headaches, higher rates of asthma, other respiratory issues, and, of course, cancer.

A 2019 study published in the journal Cancer found that “strikingly high” rates of acute myeloid leukemia—a blood and bone marrow cancer—in the area. The rates were reported to be three times as high as the Canadian average.

The AFN community has continuously lobbied the provincial and federal governments,

citing the astronomically high emission levels from the plants as a source of medical issues dating back to the 1990s.

While the provincial government ensures that emissions will not exceed a certain limit, the level of toxic fumes in the area still hit dangerous heights.

Jim Brophy, former Executive Director of Sarnia’s Occupational Health Clinic, spoke to the Toronto Star when a report on the benzene levels in “Chemical Valley” was released in 2016. He labelled the issue a case of “environmental racism.”

“There’s no way that a white community would be up against the fence line with one of the largest industrial concentrations in the country,” Brophy said.

“Anybody who is informed on this issue knows how dangerous this really is.”

Environmental racism refers to policies or practices, intentional or otherwise, that lead to pollution and health issues which disproportionately affect racialized or marginalized communities. Examples of environmental racism can include the placement of unsafe industrial plants near residential areas,

the dumping of toxic materials near racialized areas, or the prevalence of unsafe work practices in predominantly racialized workplaces.

Another example would be the longstanding Drinking Water Advisories (DWAs) that continue to be in effect for 32 Indigenous communities across the country. The negative impacts of unsafe drinking water, such as skin diseases and gastrointestinal disorders, have been well-documented, yet change has remained slow.

Canada has a history of environmental racism, something that was noted in a 2020 United Nations Special Rapporteur report.

In the report, Bascut Tuncak, former Special Rapporteur on human rights and hazardous wastes, found that Indigenous communities tend to be disproportionately affected by toxic waste: “When you look at the unique relationship that Indigenous Peoples have with their lands—both the water, the lands, the foods— they certainly are exposed more to pollution that’s released from these facilities.”

The right to clean air and safe water is something that many of us are fortunate enough to take for granted. Canadians can advocate for safe and clean living environments for marginalized communities by signing a petition to support Bill C-226, which addresses environmental racism.

Halifax welcomes the next North American Indigenous games in 2023 Thousands of Indigenous athletes and coaches will gather to celebrate their culture through sport.

Dalainey Gervais Associate Features Editor

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n 1990, Indigenous Peoples gathered in Edmonton, Alberta to hold the first inaugural North American Indigenous Games (NAIG).

Thirty-three years later, the NAIG council is organizing its upcoming event in Kjipuktuk (Halifax, Nova Scotia).

The University of Toronto has a unique relationship with the NAIG. In 2017, the NAIG asked Bruce Kidd, Olympian and former VicePresident and Principal of U of T Scarborough, to be a flag bearer for the opening ceremonies of the 10th NAIG. The university went on to host four of the 2017 NAIG sports events in the name of Truth and Reconciliation.

As stated on the organization’s website, “NAIG’s mission is to improve the quality of life for Indigenous Peoples by supporting self-determined sports and cultural activities which encourage equal access to participation in the social/cultural/spiritual fabric of the community in which they reside, and which respects Indigenous distinctiveness.”

The largest sport and culture event for North American Indigenous groups, the NAIG invites Indigenous athletes of 16 sport categories to compete. Its goal is to provide a space for the community of Indigenous Peoples of North America. With athletes from every Canadian province and territory, and from 32 US states, the games highlight the incredible diversity from across the continent. To represent this diversity within the game’s council members, a representative of each of Canada’s provinces

HALIFAX CHAMBER OF COMMERCE

and territories, and 13 representatives from the United States, are elected.

To honor Indigenous traditions, three sports have been included in the roster: three-dimensional archery, highlighting the sport of hunting with athletes aiming at three-dimensional animal props; box lacrosse—Canada’s national summer sport—which is believed to be a gift from the Creator (a supreme Being that created the world); and a canoe and kayaking event that acknowledges the Indigenous com-

munity’s historical use of canoes and kayaks to hunt and transport goods for trade. Each of the traditional sports will be honored through a special opening ceremony to celebrate the sports origins and importance.

Along with the sporting events to be held during the next NAIG, the organization will celebrate Mi’kmaq customs, traditions, and cultural values through music, art, and oral history as Nova Scotia is home to the Mi’kmaq people.

This is the first time the events will be held in Atlantic Canada. The NAIG team hosted an event this past July to celebrate the one-year countdown to the 2023 games. The event included singing and dancing, volunteer recruitment, and Indigenous vendors to support the local community. With over 5,000 athletes expected to attend the next games, the NAIG committee hopes to recruit about 3,000 operations support volunteers.

More information on the time and dates of NAIG cultural and sporting events, as well as the live broadcasting of the ceremonies, will be updated on the organization’s website closer to the start of the games.