Hon. Yvonne Boyer: Honourable senators, I’m honoured to speak today to Senator McCallum’s motion, and I thank her for her tireless advocacy on behalf of First Nations, Métis and Inuit across Canada.

Today I speak in full support of this important motion, which will certainly help move reconciliation forward in this country. In preparing to speak on this motion, I thought to myself, “how can I ensure my speech has an impact? What can I do to help advance the voices of those who have suffered deeply and continue to do so at the hands of this country’s government?”

As I thought about this, the answer became clear in my mind. I wanted to bring a voice into this chamber that for so long had been ignored and even barred from speaking here.

Today, I give my voice to a dear friend, respected Elder and residential school survivor, Garnet Angeconeb.

Garnet Angeconeb is an Anishinaabe man who has survived a long journey. He grew up on his family’s traditional territory until the age of seven when he was forced by the Government of Canada to go to Pelican Lake Indian Residential School. Garnet suffered many negative effects of government policies in the decades that followed. Despite those personal hardships, he became a journalist, a community leader and a respected elder in both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities.

Honourable senators, it is now my honour to share Garnet’s words with you.

Senators: I am so honoured to speak to you through Senator Yvonne Boyer inside this Chamber of honour and privilege. I acknowledge the Algonquin Anishinaabe people whose traditional lands the Red Chamber is located.

Today, I speak to you in the spirit of truth. The Elders teach us to speak the truth and so with this sacred teaching, I will speak firsthand about lived experiences of Indian residential schools.

I presently live in Sioux Lookout in northwestern Ontario and I am a proud member of the Lac Seul First Nation. We live in the traditional territory of Treaty #3, an area which encompasses 55,000 square miles of land; an area surrounded with beautiful lakes and forests.

Treaty #3 is a living document which is the foundation of our relationship with Canada. Not only that, but Treaty #3 binds the region together with the Anishinaabe people; politically, economically and socially.

Treaty #3 was signed in 1873. However, Lac Seul First Nation signed onto the Treaty with an adhesion in 1874. Our people continue to honour the Treaty, a treaty that is viewed as a sacred covenant of co-existence.

Upon signing the Treaty #3 adhesion in 1874 on behalf of the Lac Seul Anishinaabe, Chief Sakatcheway so eloquently said, “If you give what I ask, the time may come when I will ask you to lend me one of your daughters and one of your sons to live with us; and in return I will lend you one of my daughters and one of my sons for you to teach what is good and after they have learned, to teach us. If you grant us what I ask, although I do not know you, I will shake hands with you.”

So upon signing this Treaty, you can see that that started a long relationship of coexistence, a relationship that still exists to this day and is recognized under the 1982 Constitution Act of Canada.

However, from time to time, the relationship has hit bumpy spots and trying times along the way. Chief Sakatcheway’s vision of coexistence, to “teach” and “learn” from each other, has not always been practiced, nor honoured.”

No matter the issue, we need to continue to walk together on the path of learning. Learning more about residential schools is no exception. As a survivor of the Indian residential schools system, I continue learn about it. There is so much to learn about the post residential school era: the impacts, historic trauma, transgenerational anger, healing, reconciliation and so much more.

Let me try and explain what I mean so that we can all learn from each other.

In March 2017, A Senator speaking in the Red Chamber made less than distinguished comments about the “good” of Canada’s Indian Residential Schools system and the “well-intentioned” staff that worked within the schools. Her comments are contrary to the lived experiences of survivors and the findings of Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

As a survivor of the Indian residential school system myself and to my family and community, the Senator’s remarks, vile views, and her subsequent actions remain hurtful and deeply offensive. I also submit to you that her negative actions and tune go against the country’s move toward true reconciliation. Many people, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous, remain offended.

After being released from the confines of the residential school system with a wounded spirit, I didn’t want to listen to anyone. No one. The residential school system had made too angry.

I was bitter — very bitter. I was angry at myself. I was angry at my parents for allowing me to attend, but little did I realize it was the law of the state and role of the churches that separated me from my family. Dare I say it, I was even angry at God my Creator. Simply put, as a confused young man, I was mad at the world.

However, on the positive side, and through my personal healing journey, I was able to cope and I learned to control my anger. I found the strength to not let the anger control my life.

Why am I telling you this, you might ask?

You see, it was like this.

When I first heard and learned about the comments embraced by this Senator, I was puzzled. I felt the need to rise up to the challenge that we — the collective — still had a lot of work to educate each other about our shared history.

However, as more comments and actions were spewed out, I could feel the remnants of the Indian residential school anger rearing its ugliness.

Try as we did, in July 2017, a number of residential school survivors met face-to-face with this Senator, to seek more understanding of the effects of the legacy. This meeting failed. Following this meeting, it became obvious that the meeting was a meeting of convenience for the Senator; portraying a message that everything was well. Things actually got worse which led to this Senators exclusion from her political party not to mention her two suspensions from this Chamber.

Without malice, I found the Senator’s responses and actions to be condescending. She may have listened to our stories but somehow it appeared she didn’t hear our message. I ascertain that she was not engaged in a meaningful conversation of the healing of relations.

And so, given this ongoing matter, I hope you can see why some old wounds can be easily reopened. This is why I speak about anger stemming from historic trauma and that the effects of historic trauma are sadly transgenerational. This anger — a lingering effect of the system — certainly resurfaced in this situation.

Racism.

Like opening the wounds inflicted by the residential school system, the veneer is so thin that the embers of racism can be easily reignited. Certainly the words and actions of this Senator reignited the flames of racism in this country.

In the 1960s and 70s, as a young Anishinaabe man growing up in northwestern Ontario, I lived through very turbulent times dealing with overt racism including the impacts of systemic racism. Those living in northern Ontario can understand the threat of raging forest fires. In the era I speak about, racism in the north was ablaze. Although some fires have subsided, embers still smolder away and racism is still easily ignitable.

At least with raging forest fires, they can be extinguished with a lot of effort and firefighting equipment. But the raging fires of racism are not that easily extinguished. In this country, racism is on the rise. Northwestern Ontario is not free of racism. We still need collective effort and proper tools to fight racism.

Move Toward Healing and Reconciliation.

Senators, it is my belief that the healing of relationships is in order. Healing efforts through dialogue will lead all of us to meaningful reconciliation. But in saying this, healing must happen first before reconciliation efforts take shape.

In conclusion, let us move forward in the spirit of reconciliation. Let us talk to each other in a good way. Let us talk in a responsible way until every ounce of pain caused by the Indian residential schools system has dissipated.

My friends, the time is here. The time is now to listen to the wisdom of leaders past, for their guidance lives in each one of us today. Let us be guided by the spirit of leaders like Chief Sakatcheway.

And so what is this all about? This is about our children and our grandchildren and those yet to be born. Whenever I look into the eyes of my beautiful children, I cannot help but tell them: This is for you and the future of our country.

I have spoken the truth. Through truth, we will understand. Through understanding, there is hope. Through hope, there is healing. Through healing, there is reconciliation. Through reconciliation, there is forgiveness. Through forgiveness, there is peace.

Miigwetch, for listening.

Thank you, Garnet, my dear friend, for your powerful words. And thank you, colleagues, for listening with an open heart.

(On motion of Senator Martin, debate adjourned.)

On the Order:

Resuming debate on the motion of the Honourable Senator Ngo, seconded by the Honourable Senator Patterson:

That the Senate note that, by adopting the Journey to Freedom Day Act on April 23, 2015, and taking into account the first two elements of the preamble of the said Act, the Parliament of Canada unequivocally recognized violations of:

(a)the Agreement on Ending the War and Restoring Peace in Viet-Nam and its protocols (Paris Peace Accords); and

(b)the Act of the International Conference on Viet-Nam; and

That the Senate urge the Government of Canada to call upon six or more of the current parties to the Act of the International Conference on Viet-Nam, which include Canada, France, Hungary, Indonesia, Poland, Russia, the United Kingdom and the United States of America, amongst others, to agree to the reconvention of the International Conference on Viet-Nam pursuant to Article 7(b) of the Act of the International Conference on Viet-Nam in order to settle disputes between the signatory parties due to the violations of the terms of the Paris Peace Accords and the Act of the International Conference on Viet-Nam.

Hon. Yvonne Boyer rose pursuant to notice of November 24, 2021:

That she will call the attention of the Senate to the positive contributions and impacts that Métis, Inuit, and First Nations have made to Canada, and the world.

She said: Honourable senators, I rise today in this chamber to speak to my inquiry on the positive contributions Indigenous peoples have made to Canada and the world.

In introducing this inquiry, my hope is to provide information that may not be widely known but demonstrates and celebrates the strengths of Métis, First Nations and Inuit peoples and their contributions to building the nation.

As you are aware, in this place, I often speak of my Indigenous sisters. Forced sterilization, cerebral palsy, the murdered and missing, residential school abuse and the physical and sexual abuse of Indigenous women and girls have all been discussed in this chamber. Although these are real issues, and unsettling ones, we cannot neglect to talk of the resilience and strengths of our Indigenous sisters, of how they manage to thrive despite a colonial system that has caused immeasurable harms. In recognizing these achievements, we show that they are so much more than the injustices. We show the beauty, strength, brilliance and love.

In talking about some particularly brilliant women who are Métis, First Nations and Inuit, I want to honour all Indigenous women. I hope this is the first of many tributes in this chamber to their resilience and to who we are as Indigenous women and indeed as Indigenous people.

Today, I want to remember and to honour Gail Guthrie Valaskakis. As I began thinking about celebrating Indigenous women, almost instantly Gail’s beautiful face appeared before me, laughing, smiling and shining with its gentle exuberance as if, for a moment, her life force and lovely energy returned from the spirit world.

Gail Guthrie Valaskakis was born on May 8, 1939, to Miriam Van Buskirk and Benedict Guthrie at Lac du Flambeau Reservation in Wisconsin. That’s approximately 300 kilometres south of Thunder Bay as the crow flies.

She graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, completed a master’s degree at Cornell University and then a PhD at McGill University. She was the leading authority on northern and Indigenous media and communications in Canada. She consistently raised the profile of Indigenous media and communications in university and government circles, and she helped this medium gain critical academic recognition, policy support and resources.

I must interject here with a little story about her research and how seriously she took it. As she was a storyteller, here is a story she shared with me about her northern research and life.

In the late 1960s, she began her fieldwork for her doctoral dissertation studying the impacts the satellite system would have on the people of Canada’s North. This work took her to the eastern Arctic, where she studied the role and usefulness of communication technologies and became a leading authority on northern and Indigenous media and communications in Canada.

During this time, Gail travelled frequently to the High Arctic. When in the region, she often stayed with the family of a dear Inuk named Killiktee. During week-long snowstorms that forced her into confinement, she had to develop great personal fortitude and display extreme patience in order to come up with ways to entertain herself and not annoy her host family.

Once the whiteout conditions finally gave way to blue skies, Gail was able to spend time outdoors and participate in seasonal Inuit customs. On one occasion during a spring thaw, she accompanied Killiktee as they went about hunting seals out on the open ice by snowmobile and with harpoons. They ventured many miles from Killiktee’s home, with Gail perched snugly on the back of his snowmobile. Over the years, Killiktee had become an expert rider, deftly jumping from ice floe to ice floe during the springtime in daring moves that enabled him to cross vast distances of melting ice in search of seals. On one particularly steep and treacherous floe jump, Gail’s grip around Killiktee’s waist loosened, she fell off and went through the ice. However, rather than scream in horror, Gail proceeded to laugh hysterically, which was her way of dealing with this terrifying situation.

Her reaction greatly impressed Killiktee, as he had not expected Gail to behave so unexpectedly, turning what could have been a panic-stricken situation into one in which laughter prevailed. Killiktee was able to pull her out of the ice and bring her back to his home, where he had her change clothes and wrapped her in thick blankets. I remember her saying that she had never felt so cold in her life and that it took her a week to warm up. But in retelling the tale over the years, she often credited that unusual reaction to what many would consider a stressful event with forging the enduring trust that enabled her friendship with Killiktee to prosper for the decade that followed.

As you can see, Gail’s impressive collaborative and innovative approach to research, evaluation and policy development was groundbreaking. It was adopted by fellow community-based researchers who today acknowledge her as the innovator. Today, we see community-based research as a normal approach, but Gail was pioneering in her work, which was especially important in its applicability to working with Indigenous peoples in Canada. It is quite possible the phrase “Laughter is the best medicine” was coined here.

Gail was also a founding member of the boards of the Native Friendship Centre of Montreal, the Native North American Studies Institute and Manitou College — the first Indigenous post-secondary institution in Eastern Canada. She worked hard as a founding board member and was critical in establishing a halfway house north of Montreal and moving Waseskun House into a full-fledged healing lodge for men. She wrote a report for the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples entitled The Role and Future of Aboriginal Communications and received an Indspire Award in the category of Media and Communication.

For 30 years, Gail taught in the Department of Communication Studies at Concordia University where she established the Native Education Centre and participated in the creation of the Inter-University Joint Doctoral Program in Communications. Her expertise has been recognized internationally, and she has lectured in China, Russia, Israel, the United States and at universities across Canada.

In 1998, she left Concordia and her position of dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences to write a book called Indian Country: Essays on Contemporary Native Culture, and to join the Aboriginal Healing Foundation as director of research. It was at that time we developed our friendship, and my life changed forever because of it.

Now I would like you to really meet the person Gail was. Gail was my dear friend and sister, and we spent many, many hours and days together. We were hired at the same time at the Aboriginal Healing Foundation here in Ottawa. The year was 1999. The foundation was a trust fund that had been set up by the federal government to fund Indigenous communities and organizations that were addressing their own healing needs resulting from the physical and sexual abuse by the priests and nuns at residential schools throughout Canada.

The foundation was operated and run by Indigenous people and most, if not all, were survivors or generational survivors of the schools. Gail was hired as the director of research and I was the director of programs. Our chemistry was perfect.

Gail shared many special gifts with me. One was her ability to write and speak with alarming clarity. Her words could be so crystal clear that you had to pinch yourself, having been completely engulfed in her world.

Yet her accomplishments in her lifetime were enormous and are of the stature of the world’s greatest heroines. But her greatest gift was her capacity to share the world she grew up in; I truly feel as if I grew up alongside Gail.

You see, Gail was a blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty raised on an Indian reservation in Lac Du Flambeau — not exactly the stereotype, and an issue we could both certainly relate to. Here are two personal vignettes she gifted me:

“Gail the whale” she shouted, raising her voice above the giggles. “Hey Pig Nose! Where is your brother Egg Head now?: Whoever said that blondes have more fun never went to an Indian school.”

And the second:

The field behind Simpsons Electric Company was a grassy no man’s land continually claimed in the movement of small battalions of school children with roving alliances. I sensed the fever of contagion rise on my neck, knowing I was exposed to the next shot, “Hey Chomoqamon, white girl, where are you going so fast?” Caught in the vortex of a borderzone windstorm, I felt fat and sluggish, barely able to produce the usual lethal stare, the corrupt smile, the corrosive word. The sudden slap to the head was a trophy – NOT a call to war. Tomorrow I might be walking with them teasing someone else. My position rose and fell, depending on whether I answered the questions of white teachers who were drawn to me like magnets, hit a softball hard enough to make first base, smoked a whole reed cigarette without coughing, stayed beyond the lines of fire in other people’s fights or slithered through a hundred other tests of childhood that emerged each day to move the measure of who I was in Indian country.

The Lac Du Flambeau Indian Reservation was Gail’s heart and soul. She spoke of her grandparents’ deep connections to the land that was passed down to her and her brother Greg. She heard the stories of the battles of Strawberry Island and the spirits of Medicine Rock and the mysteries of the shaman, Anewabe. Gail’s father taught her with photographs and artifacts of his life and his ancestors’ lives full of outpost traders, lumber barons and government administrators. She lived in the past and the present while holding a tenacious grasp of the heritage descended from her father’s namesake Kinistano, who signed the 1854 Treaty of La Pointe, allocating land to the Lac du Flambeau Chippewa.

Though she moved around for education and for love, Gail never really left Lac du Flambeau because her spirit and her heart was always there. She never lost her passion for her people and her home, to which she returned often, right up to the end of her life.

A serious and diligent scholar, but also a person so full of life and laughter, private but outgoing, elegant but entirely without pretense. If you had Gail on your team, you knew you were going to get things done. And you knew you were going to have a lot of fun doing them.

Indeed, she lived her life as her father predicted — on the border of Indian country — walking with a moccasin on one foot and a shoe on the other. Gail Guthrie Valaskakis passed away in Ottawa on July 19, 2007. She is loved deeply and missed by many who remember her as a colleague, a mentor, a scholar and a friend.

And she remains with us in spirit, as an Indigenous role model and an inspiration. I know she is smiling, knowing I shared her stories with you in the Senate of Canada.

Thank you, marsee, meegwetch.

(On motion of Senator Martin, debate adjourned.)

(At 7:15 p.m., the Senate was continued until tomorrow at 2 p.m.)