Latest news with #SixtiesScoop
CBC
3 days ago
- Politics
- CBC
10 years after apology, '60s Scoop survivors call for support beyond 'grossly inadequate' payout
Survivors of an infamous Canadian campaign to take Indigenous children from their families are underscoring the need for more action on the 10-year anniversary of the Manitoba's government formal apology for its role. Lorraine Sinclair and Cindy Munro are grateful they reunited. The sisters say they're from a family of 11 children — nine of whom, including them, were separated and adopted out during the Sixties Scoop. "We're learning about each other. Our other extended family and our other brothers and sisters, we don't really know them," said Munro. "I don't know who they are. That's not fair — that's not fair to my children, my grandchildren, my siblings." The sisters were among a group of survivors and supporters at an event at St. John's Park in north Winnipeg on Wednesday to mark a decade since then premier Greg Selinger apologized to families caught in the Sixties Scoop. The once legal and systematic practice removed thousands of First Nation, Métis and Inuit children from their birth families from the late 1950s into the 1980s. Most were adopted out to non-Indigenous families in Canada and abroad. Coleen Rajotte, an advocate for Sixties Scoop survivors, said the 2015 apology was an important part of reconciliation but doesn't go far enough. "It recognizes that we were through genocide, we were taken away from our families and placed far away from our culture and language," she said. "It's now 2025, and we're asking the federal government and provincial government: what has really been done for us?" The federal government announced a $800-million settlement for survivors in 2017, though some waited years for payments due to various delays. Over 34,000 claims were submitted by the 2019 deadline. The sum eventually doled out to those deemed eligible amounted to about $25,000 per survivor. Rajotte, who served on a Manitoba committee that asked for the 2015 apology, campaigned against that amount. She calls it "pathetic" and "grossly inadequate" compared to similar settlements reached for residential school and day school survivors. "Not that money is going to fix everything, but we really feel like Sixties Scoop survivors have often been forgotten about," she said. "We don't really have the strong political voices that we need to move our issues forward." Rajotte said beyond inadequate financial restitution, there are also issues that remain in terms of repatriating Canadian-born survivors that were adopted out internationally. "Many of our survivors are still out in this world somewhere — Europe, United States, New Zealand, Australia," she said. "Our children were placed far away, and we don't even know how many more of our Sixties Scoop survivors are still out there." WATCH | Premier Greg Selinger apologizes for Sixties Scoop in 2015: RAW: Premier Selinger apologizes for Sixties Scoop 10 years ago Duration 2:35 Sinclair and Munro say two of their siblings have died. One of their sisters remains in a locked mental health institution in Minnesota, and they want help repatriating her. "I want a family picture. I don't know what that is," said Sinclair. Late last month, advocates convened a group of survivors at Anish Healing Centre, which supports Sixties Scoop survivors, to ask them for input on what more needs to be done to support them. Rajotte said the group penned a letter with recommended supports that they sent to Manitoba Premier Wab Kinew's office. They're hoping to meet with him. Among other recommendations, Rajotte would like to see governments fund the creation of a centre devoted to helping survivors seek guidance should they wish to repatriate, and to help them access financial and mental health supports for all survivors. "I stand here as a proud Cree woman who has gone through her own healing journey," said Rajotte. "I feel blessed that we have a voice and I am using our voice today to say more has to be done."
Winnipeg Free Press
14-06-2025
- General
- Winnipeg Free Press
Hope and healing
'How do you begin to forgive the unforgivable?' This is the enduring question of Cree, Salish and Métis writer and poet Chyana Marie Sage in her memoir Soft As Bones, and a question that plagues many in Prairie cities across Canada. Through the weaponization of residential schools, the child welfare system, the Sixties Scoop and unfulfilled treaties, Canada has inflicted harm on Indigenous Peoples for centuries that snakes through generations. In Soft as Bones, Sage speaks of her deep pain caused by Canada and inflicted on her family. Growing up in Edmonton in public housing, she recounts the horrors of having to turn her father in for sexually abusing her older sister for years. This resulted in the cutting off of family ties, skirting from house to house and school to school, and ultimately bearing the brunt of generations of trauma through alcohol and drug abuse and a constant desire to fill a void with dangerous behaviour. Ana Noelle photo For Chyana Marie Sage, the power of the matriarch was and is critical, as her sense of trust, particularly for men, had been eaten away. Part tome of Indigenous teachings, part scrapbook of poems and certainly a deep dive into the emptiness that many youth feel, Soft as Bones also provides pathways for healing the self and a people. Despite the revulsion for her father, Frank, who did unthinkable things, Sage gains an understanding, through her healing, that violence and sickness can be traced back through the reach of memory. As Sage posits, 'I think of the way the schools and the scoops took all my relatives away, and scattered them, and not just physically but mentally, spiritually, and emotionally too.' She speaks openly and honestly about her life and her path to healing, and eloquently and magically weaves in traditional teachings of the drum, water and the animals to not only shed light on her metamorphosis, but on the transformation of her family and her people. A constant thread in the healing is the power of women, the matriarchy — when Sage felt safest, it was with Indigenous women. When she felt healing, it was with Indigenous women. At the centre of her core was her mother, who endured violence, and her sisters. And there were always elders present to teach, guide and love. This is what good teachers do. They guide with love. For Chyana Marie Sage, the power of the matriarch was and is critical, as her sense of trust, particularly for men, had been eaten away. 'My trust was eviscerated on such a fundamental, intrinsic level during my most formative years, and that has affected most of my relationships ever since. I have struggled to trust anyone who got close to me,' she writes. What is most captivating for this reviewer is the role school played in Sage's life. As she jumped from school to school, she and her sisters were forced to navigate new peers, protect themselves and endure the systemic racism inherent in our colonial systems. At age 15, Sage is expelled from high school for possession of weed. She describes having to appear in front of the school board: 'So I was expelled from the only place that was giving me any sense of routine. Across the table sat Ms. Long, the vice-principal who loathed me, staring at me with a smug smile on her pinched face.' Children understand very quickly when they are not loved, and too often schools send powerful signals that kids are not wanted. Weekly A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene. On the other hand, a former principal, Mr. Skoreyko, had her back. When she returned to the school that expelled her from Grade 12, where Skoreyko was principal, there were no questions asked. He showed her kindness throughout her teens, and this made the difference for her. When children are pulled closer and not pushed out of the community, they begin to trust and thrive. 'Mr. Skoreyko was someone I could actually count on,' Sage writes. All young people need multiple Mr. Skoreykos — particularly those who are most vulnerable. Soft as Bones Despite the odds, Sage sought her undergraduate degree at the University of Alberta before heading to Columbia University to further develop her writing at grad school. As she explains, and bears witness to, 'Writing is catharsis and it is the most powerful tool I have to use on my healing journey.' The writing of Soft as Bones, and the interviews she performs with her family, are stepping stones along this journey. There is no arrival point, just the notion of getting better. As Sage writes: 'There is no such thing as healed — there is only movement along the spectrum of unawareness to awareness.' Soft as Bones is essential reading for all who work in systems on this land, in this territory. It is a call to action and sheds an enormous spotlight on the voids created by historic violence and racism, and the formidable elixir that is land, language, culture and community. Matt Henderson is superintendent of the Winnipeg School Division.
Yahoo
10-06-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Why some refuse to evacuate during wildfires — and how understanding those choices can improve disaster plans
As out-of-control wildfires threaten communities across central and Western Canada, thousands of people have been forced out of their homes across Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta — but even in the face of mandatory evacuation orders and potential danger, some people may not go willingly, or at all. It's a story that's played out in Pimicikamak Cree Nation in northern Manitoba, where Chief David Monias recently voiced frustration with residents who refused to leave, despite a May 28 mandatory evacuation order spurred by a fire near the community. Monias initially said he planned to use police to round those people up and force them out. But later in the week, he said authorities had been able to convince holdouts in Pimicikamak — including an elderly man who didn't believe he'd survive if he left the community, and a family with young kids who thought they'd have the option to drive out later, Monias said — to leave voluntarily. Some underestimated the size of the fire. Others feared leaving their community for a bigger city, where they would "basically be homeless" and worried about how they would be treated. And for some, Monias said, being forced out of their community may have reminded them of past traumas inflicted on First Nations people, like the Sixties Scoop and residential schools. "Everybody wants to stay home. And I understand that," Monias said. "It took a while for people to catch on [that] this is real, and that it could endanger their lives." As of late last week, more than 18,000 wildfire evacuees had registered with the Canadian Red Cross in Manitoba, while officials in Saskatchewan estimated 15,000 were forced from their homes in that province. While it may seem counterintuitive to stay in an active wildfire zone when evacuation has been ordered, experts say that kind of refusal isn't unheard of in disasters. "There are often rational thoughts behind the reasons why persons do not evacuate, and those decisions go beyond mere recklessness or decisions not to obey orders," said Jack Rozdilsky, a professor of disaster and emergency management at York University in Toronto. Experts say if authorities take the time to understand why people choose to potentially put themselves in harm's way instead of evacuating, it could also help improve future evacuation planning and policy. Why do some people refuse to evacuate? Sometimes, those reasons are strictly practical — for example, not having a car to get out of their homes, or facing roads to safety that are congested and don't seem safe themselves, said Tara McGee, a professor at the University of Alberta whose research has included wildfire evacuations. People may also be reluctant to leave pets uncared for, or leave their homes unprotected from fire — especially if they have firefighting experience — and the perceived risk of break-ins. For people from small, remote communities who have never left before, or those who have had traumatic experiences with previous evacuations, the prospect of leaving can also be stressful enough that they decide against it, McGee said. The cost of evacuation and barriers for people with disabilities, especially if in-home care is needed, can also make people hesitant to leave their homes for an uncertain immediate future, Rozdilsky said. And if people didn't get enough notice to pack adequately before evacuating, or don't get enough timely information about what's happening on the ground while they're away from home, they may go back even before it's safe, McGee said. But reasons for not evacuating can also have more to do with how serious people believe the risk is — and the disconnect between the danger seen by authorities — who understand how quickly wildfire can spread in dry, windy conditions — and residents who think the danger has been overblown and take a "wait-and-see" approach, believing others will protect them even in extreme circumstances. "They don't necessarily see the danger in front of them," Rozdilsky said. "Wildfires are unique and dynamic situations, and there have been circumstances right now in Manitoba where mandatory evacuation orders are issued for locales and jurisdictions where the fire is not necessarily approaching one's front yard." That can be especially true for people who have survived previous disasters without evacuating, and feel what Rozdilsky calls a "tragic overconfidence" they can do it again. More deep-seated issues can also play a role, like for people whose families have lived on the land they're on for generations and feel a responsibility to care for it, or those who have trust issues with authority — especially in cases where there have been past false alarms, said Jeffrey Pellegrino, a professor of emergency management and homeland security in the school of disaster science and emergency services at the University of Akron in Ohio. What can authorities do when people won't leave? Depending on the wording of a particular evacuation order, authorities may technically be allowed to force out or fine people who refuse to leave during an emergency, Rozdilsky said — but given the amount of work and the lack of resources typically present in those situations, experts say they'd hesitate to take such a drastic step. "We're always going to be in a bad position if we force people to do something," Pellegrino said. "We need their assistance, because in a disaster we have limited resources, and we ultimately put people at risk to go in and … move people by force." Instead, Rozdilsky said authorities may take a different approach, like going door-to-door to take one last crack at convincing the holdouts of the danger they face, before asking them to take steps like filling out a next-of-kin form, providing dental records or writing their social insurance number in permanent marker on their arm, to make identifying their body easier if they die. "Those are actions which illustrate the seriousness of the risk and serve a purpose — often to scare people who have refused to evacuate, to try to make the risk real," Rozdilsky said. "These are extreme examples, but at the same time, with the extent and magnitude of these out-of-control wildfires, authorities sometimes are forced to act, to do everything possible to convince people to remove themselves." And if people still want to stay back despite the risk to their safety, Rozdilsky said local leaders may ask them to at least take steps to help the firefighting effort, like clearing brush from areas around their home and setting up sprinklers. What can be done differently? While refusals to evacuate can create an immediate issue for local authorities, they can also create an opportunity to improve emergency response plans — if officials take time to understand the reasons behind residents' decisions. "To be able to work with people, you have to understand their context," the U.S.-based Pellegrino said, highlighting the example of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, when some people didn't evacuate because their pets weren't allowed in evacuation centres. "Because of that incident so many years ago now … we understand that the value that people put into their pets really, you know, impacts their judgment. "Those pets often bring a point of solace and a point of comfort for people, and so to be able to have them in a safe space, provide food, whatever areas pets need — we're trying to make that happen so that we are sensitive to what people need and value, and ultimately build that trust in us so that we can keep everybody safe." During an emergency like a wildfire, clear and widespread communication that's tailored to give groups the support and information they need in a way that will resonate with them — whether it's people with limited English proficiency or those with disabilities — is key to getting people on board with evacuation, Pellegrino said. But even better is engaging those communities before an emergency like a wildfire strikes — whether that means doing disaster drills, encouraging families to have an evacuation plan in their back pocket that accounts for things like medications and pets, or reminding people to fireproof their homes as much as they can ahead of time, so they feel ready to leave when the time comes. WATCH | This man evacuated his family from the Pimicikamak wildfire: "Emergency managers need to prepare these types of things before, in terms of building relationships and having the resources to put out those messages quickly," Pellegrino said. "That's ultimately going to build trust and more community engagement." Find the latest wildfire information at these sources: Are you an evacuee who needs assistance? Contact Manitoba 211 by calling 211 from anywhere in Manitoba or email 211mb@
Calgary Herald
06-06-2025
- General
- Calgary Herald
Sacred Siksika ribstones are back in Alberta from Canadian Museum of History
Article content An important ceremonial object was handed over to the Siksika First Nation on Friday in what the Indigenous community calls a 'profound act of justice and reconciliation.' Article content The items returned to the community were Ribstone artifacts, which had been held in the Canadian Museum of History for over 100 years. Article content Article content Ribstones are skeletal objects of the bison, which is venerated in Indigenous cultures as a staff of life, a source of abundance, and as entities creating balance in the natural world. Article content Article content The repatriation of these objects was overseen by the Soyohpawahko Blackfoot Crossing Historical Park, which ensured the safe return of the artifacts to Indigenous land. The event was punctuated by presentations, a traditional ceremony and various cultural performances. Article content Article content 'The return of the Siksika Nation Ribstone marks the restoration of a sacred artifact—etched with ancestral prayers—to its rightful place,' said Shannon Bear Chief, general manager of the historical park. Article content 'This is more than repatriation; it is the reclamation of identity, sovereignty, and spiritual strength.' Article content Objects such as ribstones were usually placed in locations of symbolic importance to the community, and many would visit the sites to offer prayers and conduct ceremonies. Article content Access to these places was severed after Indigenous communities were confined to their reserves in the late 19th century, said Jack Ives, anthropology professor at the University of Alberta, who is a former provincial archaeologist behind the push to repatriate ceremonial objects to Indigenous bodies. Article content Their culture was further assailed by the advent of residential schools and policies such as the Sixties Scoop, which drove Indigenous people away from their traditional practices.
Yahoo
02-06-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Daughter of First Nations woman missing 20 years remembers her mother's 'warm hands'
Stephanie Cameron-Johnson was 11 and in foster care when she learned her mother had gone missing on Vancouver Island, after a friend showed her a photo in a newspaper. What followed would be two decades of challenging racial stereotypes surrounding her mom, undoing shame, and repairing identity disconnection caused by the child welfare system, Cameron-Johnson says. "The narrative that's been spoken about missing, murdered Indigenous women and two-spirit folks… I really feel like it's my responsibility to change that," said Cameron-Johnson. Her mother Belinda Cameron, a Sixties Scoop survivor from Peguis First Nation in Manitoba, was 42 when she was last seen at a Shoppers Drug Mart in Esquimalt, B.C., on Esquimalt Rd near Head St., on May 11, 2005. She suffered from a mental illness and was prescribed medication, to be picked up at Shoppers daily, but failed to attend the pharmacy in the days following. She wasn't reported missing until June 4. Det. Colin Hanninen of the Victoria Police Department said Cameron was a person of routine and a fixture in Esquimalt in 2005. She was considered a vulnerable person by police due to addiction and mental health issues, said Hanninen, and her disappearance is considered suspicious. Cameron was initially reported missing by a man who she'd been involved with, but the man told Victoria Police he had not seen her in over a month. Police used a polygraph test to question if the man had harmed Cameron; he denied doing so and passed the test. "At the time there was a robust investigation involving this person, and a polygraph was part of that," said Hanninen. Investigators conducted over 100 interviews and an extensive forensic examination of Cameron's Cairn Road apartment near Old Esquimalt Road, said Hanninen, as well as canine and helicopter searches. "Unfortunately, you know, it had been potentially three to four weeks from the time we can confirm she was last seen to her being reported, which puts you at a disadvantage," said Hanninen. "In 2005, it would have been a lot more challenging than it would be today to find clues of where she could have gone or, you know, if she was with anybody." A 2010 report from the Native Women's Association of Canada said British Columbia had the highest number of cases of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls in the country, according to its database. B.C. also had the highest percentage of suspicious death cases: nine per cent of the cases in its database from B.C. fell under the category of suspicious deaths, compared to four per cent nationally, the report said. Cameron-Johnson said police and media reports her mother used drugs or may be doing sex work don't fit with the way she remembers her mother. "It's a stereotype… that's not all who she was," said Cameron-Johnson. "I remember speaking to some social workers, and they said that she was just always so sweet and kind but that could also kind of get taken advantage of." Cameron-Johnson and her younger sister Zoe were living in foster care at the time of their mother's disappearance. Social workers told the sisters their mother voluntarily put them into care, said Cameron-Johnson, but she remembers being abruptly removed by ministry workers from her Grade 1 classroom in 1999. 'When she went missing, my foster mom told me that it was essentially, like, her fault," Cameron-Johnson said. "They really did make her look like she was in the wrong." She and her sister being put in care was the beginning of her mother's downward spiral, Cameron-Johnson said. "I feel like that really kind of did have that ripple effect on my mom's self worth, and going missing," said Cameron-Johnson. "I don't think she was surrounded with care and love and support. I feel that someone did, like, harm her in a terrible way, and I think that people knew her... know things." Kirsten Barnes, director of clinical legal services at the B.C. First Nations Justice Council, said women like Cameron faced less access to legal recourse and understanding around systemic barriers in the '90s and early 2000s than today, with improvements still needed. "Indigenous women, a lot of them would have felt incredibly alone. They would have felt incredible power imbalance… she probably felt a great deal of pressure," said Barnes. Federal and provincial sanctioned policies such as residential schools and the Sixties Scoop were "created deliberately to destroy the family unit," said Barnes, and have led to the ongoing overrepresentation of Indigenous children in care, known as the Millennial Scoop. As of January 2024, 68 per cent of the 4,835 children and youth in care in B.C. were Indigenous, according to the province. "In this case with Belinda, had she had those [family] connections her whole entire life, things may have been different, right? She may have had all of the support that she would have needed," Barnes said. "No parent wants to ever voluntarily give their children up… and that may not have happened if she had not been taken as a child herself. It wasn't really voluntary if you think about the circumstances that she was probably dealing with at the time." Cameron-Johnson said she and her sister are still looking for answers on what happened to their mother, and can feel their mom guiding them. Belinda Cameron was a mother, a homemaker, a baker, enjoyed beading group nights at the Victoria Friendship Centre, and was a skilled thrifter with incredible style, said Cameron-Johnson. "I just remember her warm hands. She just had a really lovely, warm presence," Cameron-Johnson said. "She was there. She was present. I can't really ask more for that, as a parent, to have in your life." Belinda Cameron is described as a five feet, eight inches tall with a medium to large build, long, dark brown hair at the time of her disappearance, and dark brown eyes. She is also known as Belinda Ann Engen. Anonymous tips can be made online at Victoria Crime Stoppers. People who may have information about Cameron can contact 250-995-7654 and ask to speak to the Historical Case Review Unit or send an email.
