32 35 PB

2019
volume 14
number 1
volume 14 | number 1
2019
Contents
Foreword .......................................................................................................................................................... 4
By Marc St. Dennis
Editorial: Indigenous Child Welfare Legislation: A Historical Change or Another Paper Tiger? ................. 5
By Cindy Blackstock
Aboriginal Social Work Education in Canada: Decolonizing Pedagogy for the Seventh Generation ............ 9
By Raven Sinclair
Indigenous Wholistic Theory: A Knowledge Set for Practice ....................................................................... 22

By Kathy Absolon
Family Counselling as Decolonization: Exploring an Indigenous Social-Constructivist Approach in Clinical

Practice ..................................................................................................................................................... 43
By Suzanne Stewart
Culturally Restorative Child Welfare Practice: A Special Emphasis on Cultural Attachment Theory ........ 56
By Estelle Simard
A Way of Life: Indigenous Perspectives on Anti-Oppressive Living .............................................................81

By Robina Thomas and Jacquie Green
Aboriginal Youth Talk About Structural Determinants as the Causes of Their Homelessness ................... 94
By Cyndy Baskin
A Review of the Literature and the Benefits and Drawbacks of Participatory Action Research ................ 109
By Marlyn Bennett
Conversational Method in Indigenous Research .........................................................................................123

By Margaret Kovach
The Occasional Evil of Angels: Learning From the Experiences of Aboriginal Peoples and Social Work.. 137
By Cindy Blackstock
Contemporary Practice of Traditional Aboriginal Child Rearing: A Review ............................................... 153

By Nicole Muir and Yvonne Bohr
First Peoples Child & Family Review | v14 | n1 | 2019
Contents 3
Historical Trauma, Race-Based Trauma, and Resilience of Indigenous Peoples: A Literature Review .....166
By Elizabeth Fast and Delphine Collin-Vézina
Healing Through Culture for Incarcerated Aboriginal People ................................................................... 182

By Ashley Hyatt
Reflections on Intergenerational Trauma: Healing as a Critical Intervention ...........................................196

By Ashley Quinn
Intergenerational Trauma and Aboriginal Women: Implications for Mental Health During Pregnancy .. 211
By Amrita Roy
Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls in Canada: Issues and Implications.................................... 225
By Anupriya Sethi
2019
Foreword
Marc St. Dennis
MA, Coordinating Editor of the First Peoples Child & Family Review, First Nations Child & Family Caring Society of Canada, Ontario, Canada
Corresponding author: mstdennis@fncaringsociety.com
The first issue of the First Peoples Child & Family Review was published 15 years ago, in
2004. From then on, this journal has provided a respected platform to share knowledge generated by
Indigenous researchers, graduate students, community members, youth, and non-Indigenous allies and
supporters. It has been a great privilege to promote the outstanding research, critical analysis, stories,
standpoints, and educational contributions that have appeared in our journal over the years. In
celebration, we have chosen to publish this special issue which features a reprint of 15 of our most popular
contributions. All of our published contributions – which, at the time of this writing, amounted to just
over 300 – have inspired the discussion about and, in many cases, directly influenced innovation within
child, family, and community-based matters for Indigenous peoples in Canada and abroad. Therefore, it
was not easy to decide upon which articles to feature in this issue. Ultimately, we selected 15 contributions
based on the total full-article downloads, which happens to pleasantly reflect the life-span of the journal.
Readers will find that the wisdom shared in this issue is just as relevant today as it was when the contents
were first published – although often in new and surprising ways.
Four general themes emerged during the editing process. This includes the sharing of
Indigenous ways of knowing and Indigenous ways of being in the world; advice for conducting respectful
research with and for Indigenous peoples and communities; challenging the status-quo in child welfare,
social work, and family services; and documenting the effects of colonization and the power and strength
of Indigenous peoples and communities. I present these themes more as a matter of utility than as a true
reflection of reality. The truth is that all things are interconnected and, therefore, the articles featured in
this issue can be interpreted as a representation of each of these themes and, I am sure, quite a bit beyond
them as well. Each time we travel around the circle, we bring new experiences and knowledge – in a sense,
we are in a constant state of renewal – and new patterns emerge. As you read this celebratory issue of the
First Peoples Child & Family Review and re-visit some of our most popular articles, I hope you will enjoy
the process of discovering new wisdom.
In good spirit,
Marc St. Dennis

Coordinating Editor
First Peoples Child & Family Review
2019
(Editorial) Indigenous Child Welfare
Legislation: A Historical Change or Another
Paper Tiger?
Cindy Blackstock
Ph.D., Professor, McGill University, School of Social Work, Quebec, Canada
Corresponding author: reception@fncaringsociety.com
For millennia before colonization, First Nations laws regarding children flourished across what is
now known as Canada. These laws were ignored by colonial forces who imposed their own version of child
welfare on First Nations families. This resulted in what the 2015 final report of the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2015) called “cultural genocide.” The reassertion of First Nations
laws that are derived through community consultation processes presents a promising alternative to the
reliance on provincial or territorial laws that apply today.
On November 30, 2018, Minister Philpott of Indigenous Services Canada, accompanied by

leaders from the Assembly of First Nations, Métis National Council, and Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami
announced that the federal government would table historic “Indigenous” child welfare legislation in the
House of Commons, early in 2019 (Indigenous Services Canada, 2018). It seems like good news but will it
really build healthy families and, over time, reduce the over-representation of First Nations children in
care or is it another colonial paper tiger? The answer is – it depends. But red flags are already flying, such
as the pan-Indigenous approach, the lack of a clear funding base, and a lack of attention to the child
welfare needs among and between First Nations, Métis, and Inuit.
On its face, the proposed legislation seems to respond to calls by First Nations to recognize their
child welfare laws (Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1996; McDonald & Ladd, 2000) but the
federal proposal is for “Indigenous” legislation not “First Nations” legislation. The problems with this
approach are not just nomenclature, there are vast differences in the way First Nations, Métis, and Inuit
child welfare are structured, legislated, and funded. Creating one piece of legislation to cover this broad
landscape presents the real risk that the legislation will be so watered-down that it does not meet anyone’s
needs.
There are over 100 First Nations child and family service agencies in Canada delivering services
on- and, in some cases, off-reserve (First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada, n.d.). As a
funding condition to deliver services on-reserve, the federal government requires First Nations agencies
to operate under provincial or territorial child welfare laws. Where First Nations agencies serve off-
Indigenous child welfare legislation: A historical change or another paper tiger? 6
reserve populations, funding comes from the respective province or territory. First Nations not served by
a First Nations child and family service agency receive child welfare services from the respective province
or territory (Blackstock, 2017).
Meanwhile, Inuit and Métis child welfare is delivered differently. For Inuit living in Nunavut,
child welfare services are delivered by the territorial government, whereas provincial child welfare
authorities deliver services to Inuit living in other areas of Canada. Other than the Nunavut government,
there are no Inuit agencies that provide the full range of child welfare services. Métis agencies exist in
some parts of the country. These agencies provide a range of child welfare services and operate pursuant
to provincial or territorial laws and funding regimes. There are no direct federal child welfare programs
for Inuit and Métis.
The pan-Indigenous nature of the proposed legislation raises concerns that it will not adequately
reflect Canada’s funding obligations to First Nations or the significant expertise and experience that First
Nations child and family service agencies have developed over the past 40 years. Take, for example, the
need for federal legislation to preserve the hard-won equitable funding arrangements the Canadian
Human Rights Tribunal (First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada et al. v Attorney
General of Canada, 2016 CHRT 2, 2016 CHRT 10, 2016 CHRT 16, 2017 CHRT 14, 2018 CHRT 4) ordered
Canada to provide to First Nations child and family service agencies. The legal proceedings leading up to
the Tribunal’s landmark 2016 decision were preceded by over a decade of research documenting the
inequities and proposing the solutions and a further nine years of litigation (Royal Commission on
Aboriginal Peoples, 1996; MacDonald & Ladd, 2000; Tromcé et al., 2005; Blackstock, Prakash, Loxley, &
Wien, 2005; Loxley et al., 2005; Office of the Auditor General of Canada, 2008/2011; Truth and
Reconciliation Commission of Canada, 2015). New legislation that shifts the child and family services
model to First Nations jurisdiction absent the substantive equity funding guarantees of the Tribunal
decisions could result in a reversion back to the failed approach of “case-by-case” negotiations that gave
rise to significant inequalities.
Proponents of First Nations child welfare laws cite the failure of provincial and territorial laws to
address the chronic over-representation of First Nations children in child welfare. Research by Chandler
and Lalonde (1998) showed that higher degrees of self-determination among First Nations in British
Columbia are correlated with lower youth suicide rates. Pro-First Nations jurisdiction arguments are often
buttressed within broader claims of treaty rights, sovereignty, and self-determination (Metallic, 2018).
These are legitimate claims which invoke sensitivity to the range of child welfare models First Nations
may choose to implement. Some First Nations have already invested significant energy in creating
effective child welfare laws (Anishnabek, 2016), others are just beginning the process, and others are
choosing alternate service delivery models. All of these options will need to be enabled by federal
legislation, including resources to develop, implement, and evaluate child welfare and ancillary laws and
mechanisms, such as First Nations courts.
The second series of arguments set out in Minister Philpott’s speech announcing the proposed
Indigenous child welfare legislation is less convincing. She argued that all measures should be exhausted
before considering child removal and that poverty and medical need should not be the basis for removals
(Indigenous Services Canada, 2018). I agree with this but it is redundant. Provincial and territorial child
welfare laws already require social workers to exhaust all least disruptive measures and poverty is not
© Blackstock
listed as a reason to remove a child. The problem with the Minister’s proposition is not the legislation per
se but rather the lack of culturally-based responses to address persistent poverty, addictions, and housing
issues. The federal government’s ongoing under-funding of critical public services on-reserve and refusal
to adopt the Spirit Bear Plan (First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada, 2017) to address
the inequities compounds this problem. Put simply, the solution Minister Philpott called for is already on
the books and layering it with federal legislation will not help. What is needed is the money to make the
previously offered solutions a reality.
While the content of the proposed legislation is still unknown, so too, disturbingly, is the expertise
that went into writing it. Despite urging by the First Nations Child & Family Caring Society and others,
Canada has chosen to write this legislation without the aid of Elders, First Nations child and family service
experts, youth in care, and others. Instead, Canada is relying on officials at Indigenous Services Canada
and the Department of Justice, who have no expertise in First Nations child welfare, to jointly hold the
drafting pen and control the release of information. The process smacks of government hubris that got
First Nations children into this mess in the first place and contradicts the very purpose the proposed
legislation is intended to achieve: self-determination rather than Canada-determination.
Given the problems outlined above and Canada’s promise of finally affirming First Nations
jurisdiction, the question becomes: to what extent should First Nations children and families compromise
in order to “get something passed?” This is a tough question, with arguments on both sides, but the only
answer that makes sense to me is that First Nations children, youth, and families deserve the best. If this
proposed legislation affirms First Nations jurisdiction, respects diversity among First Nations, protects
the safety and wellbeing of First Nations children and families, and embeds a statutory funding base, then
it has a foundation for success. If it is deficient on one or more of these fronts or tries to kick these
foundational items into a forum for future discussion, then we must press for a better deal. After the
residential schools, 60’s scoop, and Canada’s discrimination as per the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal
decisions, it is well past the hour for Canada to stop asking First Nations children to be patient and to
applaud government “first steps” that fall far short of meeting their needs and respecting their rights.
© Blackstock
References
Anishnabek Nation. (2016). Draft Anisnabek nation child well-being law. North Bay, ON: Author.
Blackstock, C. (2017). The complainant: The Canadian human rights case on First Nations child welfare. McGill Law Journal,
62(2), 287-326.
Blackstock, C., Prakash, T., Loxley, J., & Wien, F. (2005). Wen: de: We are coming to the light of day. Ottawa, ON: First
Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada.
Chandler, M., & Lalonde, C. (1998). Cultural continuity as a hedge against suicide in Canada’s First Nations. Trans-cultural
Psychiatry, 35(2), 191-219. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F136346159803500202
First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada. (n.d.). First Nations child and family service agencies. Retrieved
from https://fncaringsociety.com/agencies
First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada. (2017). Spirit Bear Plan. Retrieved
from https://fncaringsociety.com/spirit-bear-plan
First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada et al. v Attorney General of Canada, 2016 CHRT 2, 83 CHRR D/207.
First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada et al. v Attorney General of Canada, 2016 CHRT 10, 83 CHRR D/266.
First Nations Child & Family Caring Society of Canada et al. v Attorney General of Canada, 2016 CHRT 16.
Indigenous Services Canada. (2018). Speech of Minister Philpott during CFS legislation announcement. Retrieved
from https://www.canada.ca/en/indigenous-services-canada/news/2018/12/minister-philpott--cfs-legislation-
announcement.html
Loxley, J., De Riviere, L., Prakash, T., Blackstock, C., Wien, F., & Thomas Prokop, S. (2005). Wen: de: The journey continues.
Ottawa, ON: First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada.
MacDonald, R., & Ladd, P. (2000). The joint national policy review on First Nations child and family services. Ottawa, ON:
Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development Canada, Assembly of First Nations.
Metallic, N. (2018). A human right to self-government over First Nations child and family services and beyond: Implications of
the Caring Society case. Journal of Law and Social Policy, 28(2018), 4-41.
Office of the Auditor General of Canada. (2008). Chapter 4: First Nations Child and Family Services Program: Indian and
Northern Affairs Canada. In 2008 May report of the Auditor General of Canada. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Office of the Auditor General of Canada. (2011). Chapter 4: Programs for First Nations on reserves. In 2011 June status report of
the Auditor General of Canada. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. (1996). Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Ottawa, ON: Canada
Communication Group.
Trocmé, N., Fallon, B., MacLaurin, B., Daciuk, J., Felstiner, C., Black, T., . . . & Cloutier, R. (2005). Canadian incidence study
of reported child abuse and neglect 2003: Major findings. Ottawa, ON: Minister of Public Works and Government
Services Canada.
Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. (2015). Final report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada.
Winnipeg, MB: Author.
© Blackstock
2019
Aboriginal Social Work Education in Canada:
Decolonizing Pedagogy for the Seventh
Generation
Raven Sinclair
Ph.D., Professor, University of Regina, Faculty of Social Work, Saskatchewan, Canada
Corresponding author: ravsin@sasktel net
Abstract
Aboriginal social work is a relatively new field in the human services, emerging out of the Aboriginal
social movement of the 1970s and evolving in response to the need for social work that is
sociologically relevant to Aboriginal people. Aboriginal social work education incorporates Aboriginal
history and is premised upon traditional sacred epistemology in order to train both Aboriginal and
non-Aboriginal social workers who can understand and meet the needs of Aboriginal people. The
deficiencies of contemporary cross-cultural approaches and anti-oppressive social work education are
highlighted as a means to emphasize the importance of social work education premised upon relevant
history and worldview. The values and responsibilities that derive from Aboriginal worldview as the
foundation for Aboriginal social work education are discussed in terms of the tasks that are implied
for the educator and student of Aboriginal social work. Such tasks include self-healing,
decolonization, role modelling, developing critical consciousness, and social and political advocacy.
Aboriginal social work education, a decolonizing pedagogy directed to mitigating and redressing the
harm of colonization at the practice level, is a contemporary cultural imperative.
Keywords: Aboriginal social work, decolonization, pedagogy, worldview
1
The original version of this article was published in: Sinclair, R. (2004). Aboriginal social work education in Canada:
Decolonizing pedagogy for the seventh generation. First People Child & Family Review, 1(1), 49-61.
Aboriginal social work education in Canada: Decolonizing pedagogy for the seventh generation 10
Introduction
Aboriginal social work education is an emerging pedagogy framed within colonial history and
Indigenous worldview. Colonial history establishes the proper contexts for contemporary social and
physical pathologies that are highly visible in many Aboriginal communities while Indigenous worldview
provides a vital source of knowledge and cultural reflection for Aboriginal students. This paper describes
the risks that result from an assumption that current cross-cultural and anti-oppressive approaches are an
effective lens through which to regard hundreds of years of oppression and cultural destruction. A
discussion of Aboriginal social work education is held to support the assertion that a decolonizing
pedagogy is a contemporary cultural imperative; that culturally appropriate and sociologically relevant
teaching and healing models must evolve and translate into practice and service delivery that will meet
the needs of future generations.
Historical Context of Aboriginal Social Work

Between the years of 1950 and 1977, the Spellumcheen Band in British Columbia lost 150 of 300
children through child welfare apprehensions (McKenzie & Hudson, 1985). In the same period, a
Manitoba Band lost just over 100 children. Child welfare authorities removed many of these children
without any notice to the families or bands, and many of these children have never returned. While child
welfare agencies received thousands of dollars per Aboriginal child placed for adoption, Aboriginal
families who searched for their children were lied to and deliberately misled by social workers (Fournier &
Crey, 1997; Kimmelman, 1982).
The scooping of the children comprises mainstream social work in the eyes of Aboriginal people.
Social work has negative connotations to many Aboriginal people and is often synonymous with the theft
of children, the destruction of families, and the deliberate oppression of Aboriginal communities. The 60s
Scoop is one story in the backdrop of colonialism and how colonization has manifested in the realm of
child and social welfare and social work with respect to native people in Canada (Bruyere, 1999; Duran &
Duran, 1996; Hart, 1999; Lee, 1992; McKenzie & Hudson, 1985; Poonwassie & Charter, 2001). Aboriginal
involvement in the foster care and welfare systems are other stories, the origins of which can be traced to
colonialism. Social workers that work with Aboriginal people must be aware of these historical elements
of the interaction between western social work and Aboriginal people because the majority of Aboriginal
clients will have encountered these experiences directly or intergenerationally.
Colonialism and the Growth of the Child Welfare System

The historical context that all social workers should know is the story of two nations of people
who began a symbiotic and allied relationship that, over time, deteriorated as the driving forces for land
and resource acquisition strengthened. The colonialistic actions and attitudes towards Aboriginal people
have been deliberate and calculated; designed to displace and distance the people from their land and
resources. The attempted obliteration of Aboriginal culture was one strategy towards achieving that end.
Almost every contemporary social pathology or health issue in Aboriginal communities can be attributed
directly to the fallout of colonialism (Midgely, 1998) whether the source is the industrial/residential
school era which saw children forcibly confined to institutions, the child welfare era that witnessed the
forced removal of children from their families and communities, or the contemporary era of racism, social
exclusion and marginalization, and oppression.
© Sinclair
The social work profession and social work education have not been free from colonial influence.
In the words of Freire (1990), “The social worker, as much as the educator, is not a neutral agent, either in
practice or in action” (p. 5). Indeed, early social work practices were complicit with government colonial
actions. When Aboriginal people began to protest against the residential school system and the schools
began to close down, the child welfare era ensued and is evidenced by the mass child welfare “scooping”
of Aboriginal children culminating in transracial adoption and/or long-term foster care. Aboriginal people
have decried these actions as genocidal. In this manner, the social work profession became a pawn to
further enact state policy towards native people (Bruyere, 1999; Hart, 1999; Maurice 2000). During the
residential school period, complicity occurred through the social workers who accompanied the police on
their forays onto reserves to remove the children. After the residential school period, the profession
unquestioningly aligned itself with the assimilation policies manifested in the transracial fostering and
adoption of Aboriginal children (Fournier & Crey, 1997). It is often stated that the intentions of social
workers who went to reserves and apprehended children were good, albeit misguided. One British
Columbia social worker has a more enlightening perspective:
When we removed children from their own homes and put them in foster homes about
which we knew next to nothing, no matter how we cloaked our actions in welfare jargon,
we were putting those children at risk. . . . The welfare department which employed me
was the biggest contributor to child abuse in the province (Fournier & Crey, 1997, p. 86).
To quote Justice Kimmelman (1982), “The road to hell was paved with good intention and the child
welfare system was the paving contractor.”
Canadian government policies with respect to Aboriginal people have been directed towards a
goal of assimilation. The titles of the various pieces of legislation of the last century speak for themselves:
the Gradual Civilization Act of 1857; the Gradual Enfranchisement Act of 1869. Enfranchisement with
respect to the Indian Act occurs when an Aboriginal person willingly or unwillingly relinquishes their
Aboriginal status and any rights that accrue from that status. Duncan Campbell Scott, Deputy
Superintendent of Indian Affairs, speaking about the issue of enfranchisement, stated in 1920,
Our objective is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not been
absorbed into the body politic, and there is no Indian question, and no Indian
department. This is the whole object of this bill (as cited in Jamieson, 1978, p. 120).
The enfranchisement amendment to the Indian Act encouraged Indian men to relinquish their
Indian status and become “Canadian citizens” (Frideres, 1998). Enfranchisement was automatic for
individuals who received a university degree, entered the military, or became a doctor or lawyer. The
educational agenda for Aboriginal people in Canada was also designed from within an assimilationist
perspective and had the goal of acculturating Aboriginal people to a western way of living and thinking. By
forcing residential school education on Aboriginal people, 2 the government wielded absolute power in
altering language, culture, and socialization. Aboriginal people argue that this form of education
amounted to cultural genocide as languages were lost, cultural practices were denigrated, and traditional
socialization practices were replaced by institutionalization.
2
Forced attendance of residential schools was legislated in the 1920 amendment to the Indian Act.
© Sinclair
Social Work Education

Western theoretical hegemony manifests primarily in educational institutions. The most harmful
assumptions are that western thought ought to be the standard educational platform, is automatically
relevant and valid, and is universally applicable. The Aboriginal person becomes a virtual non-entity in
institutions that marginalize Aboriginal thought and reality through the neglect and erroneous authoring
of Aboriginal cultural knowledge, languages, and colonial history. For Aboriginal children who are
required to learn in mainstream institutions, western education has not mirrored the social, political,
economic, or worldview reality of their daily lives because Aboriginal history is generally absent in
curricula. The exception is specific native studies degree programs. The early Aboriginal social activists
and pioneers who penned “Indian control of Indian education” recognized the potentially harmful effects
of such an educational system on Aboriginal people (National Indian Brotherhood, 1972). They
understood that the western educational paradigm was serving to colonize Aboriginal people at the
intellectual level (Cardinal, 1969; Smith, 1999) and some directed their critiques to social work (Hart,
2001; Morrisette, McKenzie, & Morrissette, 1993; Weaver, 1999).
The paradigm from which social work has been taught and practiced is western in theory,
pedagogy, and practice.
We need to address the problem of how we train an Indian social worker. I have some
very serious doubts about the ability of existing social work schools to do that – to really
meet the needs of native people. I don’t think they’re capable of that. Not because they’re
not teaching and doing good things, but I don’t think they understand native people
(Stalwick, 1986, p. 16).
Recognizing that western trained social workers, Aboriginal social workers included, might not be able to
meet the needs of the Aboriginal population, Aboriginal educators began to question the relevance of
mainstream social work education for Aboriginal students and the First Nations University of Canada
School of Indian Social Work was founded in 1974. 3 The following year, the social work diploma program
was initiated at Maskwacis Cultural College in Hobbema, Alberta. The development of Aboriginal social
work education programs has been a vital step for several reasons: the lack of substance within cross-
cultural and anti-oppressive social work education for Aboriginal students, the neglect of the impact of
colonial history on contemporary social and wellness issues, and the absence of Indigenous knowledge in
social work pedagogy.
Cross-Cultural and Anti-Oppressive Education

In the contemporary context among mainstream generalist social work schools, the generalist
social work student learns about Aboriginal people through cross-cultural and/or culturally sensitive
social work education and practice. Unfortunately, cross-cultural discourse often dismisses and/or
incorrectly authors Aboriginal thought, history, and colonization in terms that are ambiguous and
misleading. Examples of this include having the history of colonization phrased as “cultural disruption”
(Williams & Ellison, 1996), or having Aboriginal epistemology relegated to the level of religion or
3
The First Nations University of Canada was formerly known as the Saskatchewan Indian Federated College.
© Sinclair
mysticism (Deloria, 1999; Warrior, 1995). It is inconceivable that any social worker mandated
professionally and ethically to address social problems and strive for social justice would not have a full
understanding of the historical context of current Aboriginal issues given the high percentage of
Aboriginal clients in most social work settings. The fact that the Aboriginal context is poorly addressed or
omitted in social work (Turner, 1999) is unacceptable and contributes to what Freire (1970) referred to as
a culture of silence. A culture of silence exists where the oppressed are not heard in society, and where a
lack of knowledge about their contexts creates a high risk for the perpetuation of racism, discrimination,
and an ethic of blaming the victim for their own situation.
Similarly, anti-oppressive practice has an inherent danger. The danger lies in proclaiming an anti-
oppressive stance while doing little or nothing to address the reality of oppression. As a profession, social
work can do many things with awareness of critical issues such as racism, including nothing. “Awareness
itself ‘lacks political substance and is sociologically naïve’” (Dominelli, 1998, p.13). Awareness without
legitimate action is a cognitive ploy that risks passing for anti-oppressive and anti-racist pedagogy and
practice in social work. It contributes to silence and inactivity about tangible issues of racism and
oppression in the field of social work and in society. Contemporary anti-oppressive pedagogy does not
address the culture of silence because it does not require anything beyond a theoretical grasping of issues.
Neither the personal involvement nor the commitment of the social work student or practitioner is
requested or required. Social workers risk falling into the trap of believing that just because they are social
workers they are, therefore, non-racist and non-oppressive because the profession has a Code of Ethics to
guide practice and because social work institutions proclaim they are committed to this ideology.
For Aboriginal social work students, engaging in studies on how to become an effective cross-
cultural worker in Canada verges on ludicrous because the cross-cultural or minority client is
automatically labelled as the other. This forces the Aboriginal student to take a dominant subjective
stance with respect to issues of diversity because they are never requested to examine their work with
white individuals as cross-cultural. They are required to perceive themselves and their people as the other
who is in need of assistance (Blaut, 1993; Gross, 1995; Said, 1978;). Such an approach only perpetuates
marginalization and constructions of difference and fosters the internalizing of racism. An explanation for
this is found in Duran and Duran (1995), who articulated that the term “‘cross-cultural’ implies that there
is a relative platform from which all observations are to be made, and the platform that remains in place
in our neocolonial discipline is that of Western subjectivity” (p. 5). In simpler terms, even in the new
millennium, the standard for social work education and practice is literature and education based on the
worldview, lifeways, and reality of the dominant, predominantly white, and mainstream society.
Aboriginal social work education, mandated by Aboriginal Elders to train social workers to work
with Aboriginal people, is not cross-cultural because Aboriginal social work programs are founded on the
assumption that the workers and the clients are from the same cultural group. Rather, Aboriginal social
work education attempts to achieve cultural relevance. Mainstream social work can take a lesson from this
concept. Culturally relevant pedagogy incorporates perspectives and practices respectful to the group in
question and attends to those issues that impact most on Aboriginal people (Weaver, 1999). Those issues
are history and epistemology.
© Sinclair
History
Many authors recognize the importance of understanding Aboriginal history in education and
practice with Aboriginal clients (Battiste, 2000; Cross, 1986; Deloria, 1999; Graveline, 1998; Hart, 1999;
Laenui, 2000; Morrissette, McKenzie, & Morrissette, 1993; Nabigon & Mawhiney, 1996; Puxley, 1977), as
an approach that must occur within the context of colonialism and from an Aboriginal worldview
perspective (Battiste, 2000; Bruyere, 1999; Charter, 2001; Duran & Duran, 1995; McKenzie & Hudson,
1985; Poonwassie & Lederman, 1999; Puxley, 1977). Incorporating the historical context into social work
education and especially service delivery is an approach that constitutes Freire’s (1970, 1998) notion of
the development of critical consciousness through conscientization. Conscientization is a critical
approach to liberatory education that incorporates helping the learner to move towards a new awareness
of relations of power, myths, and oppression. By developing a critical consciousness in this way, learners
work towards changing the world. For Aboriginal students, an accurate reflection of Aboriginal history
and epistemology provides accurate frameworks to reflect their personal experiences in the classroom
setting. This approach enables the Aboriginal social work student to truly understand their personal and
familial contexts, as well as their sociopolitical contexts, and the contexts of the majority of the people
with whom they are hoping to work and to whom they are hoping to be of assistance. Students gain the
appropriate knowledge set to understand both the problem definition and the problem solutions. At the
level of service delivery in Aboriginal communities and Aboriginal social service agencies, critical
consciousness provides the structural framework for understanding contemporary social conditions and it
also paves the way to reacquiring the necessary value and ethical foundations for practice by drawing
upon traditional knowledge.
The key to traditional Aboriginal wisdom rests in the reconstruction of Aboriginal ways of
knowing - epistemology (Bruyere, 1999; Duran & Duran, 1995; Duran, Duran, & Yellow Horse Braveheart,
1998; Ermine, 1995; Grande, 2000; Henderson, 2000; Pillai, 1996) – and its incorporation into social
work pedagogy. In the Aboriginal social work milieu, traditional knowledge is being nurtured and
supported through inclusion in the curricula and synthesis into the daily workings of institutions.
Reviving ancient knowledge from the ashes of colonialism is critical to Aboriginal social work education
and the healing agenda. In discussing research, Maori scholar Karen Martin (2001) argued that theory has
historically drawn “upon frameworks, processes and practices of colonial, western worldviews and the
inherent knowledges, methods, morals and beliefs” (p. 2) but that Indigenous worldview provides the
“core structures” of a theoretical orientation. In Aboriginal social work education and practice, Aboriginal
epistemology provides the core structures - the values and ethics - for social work delivery and practice.
Aboriginal epistemology
How do Aboriginal educators begin to reconstruct knowledge based on Aboriginal epistemology
keeping in mind western theoretical and pedagogical hegemony, not to mention raised eyebrows at the
mere mention of Aboriginal intellectualism (Grande, 2000)? The lack of intellectual space reserved for
Indigenous thinkers in any field makes this reconstruction a challenge (Alfred, 1999; Battiste, 1998).
However, the challenge must be taken because colonialism, in which oppression is a tool, “constructs the
‘other’ as savage, barbaric, inert, and subhuman” (Pillai, 1996). Non-western theories and knowledge are
marginalized in the colonial context. Cognitive imperialism extends to the post-secondary classroom
(Battiste, 1998). Indigenous theories not only challenge the language of colonialism but challenge western
© Sinclair
theoretical hegemony and provide the space for important critiques of colonial relations of power,
domination, and exploitation (Dei, 1999). In Aboriginal social work, these critiques provide the
foundational context of education that will, ultimately, translate into direct practice.
Pillai (1998) added that the critically important aspect of Indigenous knowledge reconstruction
centers on the relationship between Indigenous epistemology and ecological survival. Indigenous ways of
knowing are linked intrinsically to the land and nature, and hence, ecological survival - “reconstructing
‘Indigenous theories’ must be seen not as an end in itself but as an integral part of movements for
ecological and economic survival” (Pillai, 1998, p. 209; Deloria, 1999).
Indigenous epistemology provides the pathway to knowledge from which flows natural laws and
human values, ideologies, and responsibilities. There are several key concepts that encapsulate the basic
tenets of Indigenous epistemology. These tenets are, for the most part, generalizable among nations,
although manifestations of them may be different among nations (Hanohano, 1999; Morrisette,
McKenzie, & Morrissette, 1993; Nabigon & Mawhiney, 1996). This background of worldview information
forms the pith of Aboriginal education in general and Aboriginal social work education in particular
because, for Native cultures, spirituality is inextricably and intrinsically woven into philosophy, ideology,
and daily living.
Two of the key concepts that underpin Aboriginal worldview are the concept of All My Relations
and the concept of the sacred. All My Relations is a cornerstone of Indigenous cosmology. Translated to
English from different Indigenous languages, All My Relations captures a tenet of Indigenous
epistemology.
All My Relations is first a reminder of who we are and of our relationship with both our family
and our relatives. It also reminds of us of the extended relationship we share with all human beings. But
the relationships that Native people see go further, the web of kinship extending to the animals, to the
birds, to the fish, to the plants, and to all the animate and inanimate forms that can be seen or imagined.
More than that, All My Relations is an encouragement for us to accept the responsibilities we have within
this universal family by living our lives in a harmonious and moral manner (King, 1990, p. 1).
The kinship web extends to all human relations, both living and unborn. The responsibility of the
living is to care for and honour the suffering, memory, and spiritual well-being of those who have passed
away, as well as to pray for the lives of seven generations to come and to act as caretakers of the earth.
Hence, the kinship web is physical, spatial, and temporal (Deloria, 1999; Henderson, 2000; Kulchyski,
1999, McCaskill & Newhouse, 1999). All species – all forms of life – have equal status before the presence
of the universal power to which all are subject. The interrelatedness and interconnectedness dimensions
of Aboriginal epistemology are often taught and understood visually through the medicine wheel, or the
sacred circle, which is a symbol, a tool, and an ideology (Braveheart, 1998; Bruyere, 1999; Duran, Duran,
& Yellow Horse Graveline, 1998; Hanohano, 1999; Hart, 2001; Maurice, 2000; McKenzie & Hudson,
1985; Morrissette, McKenzie, & Morrissette, 1993; Nabigon & Mawhiney, 1996).
The second concept, which is woven through all concepts of Indigenous worldview, is the concept
of the sacred. If the notion of All My Relations is a cornerstone to Indigenous worldview, then the notion
of the sacred is best described as the supreme law:
© Sinclair
The sacred permeates all aspects of Indigenous worldview. In practice, this translates to a
reverent belief in the sacredness of life manifested in an array of behaviours that are
integrated into daily life: sunrise ceremonies honouring the new day, the simplest prayers
uttered in the course of the day, to the most reverent ceremonies such as the Sundance
and the sweatlodge (Sinclair, 1999, p.5).
Decolonizing Pedagogy
The implications of these epistemological values for the Aboriginal social work educator go
beyond merely knowing the information from whence one can engage in a banking concept of education
with students; that is, Freire’s (1970) notion of the student as a tabula rasa or blank slate to be filled with
information, and the educator as the expert. Both the educator and the student must involve themselves
in the process of healing, learning, and developing along a path guided by Aboriginal epistemology.
Colloquially, one must “walk the talk” (Katz, 2001). The Aboriginal approach to education is more than a
difference in perspective. “At a fundamental cultural level, the difference between traditional Aboriginal
and Western thought is the difference in the perception of one’s relationship with the universe and the
Creator” (Hamilton & Sinclair, 1991). The critical aspects of Aboriginal epistemology address the key
concepts of harmony and balance, the absence of which signifies disease or illness that form a focus for
remedial action. Hence, Aboriginal epistemology and healing methodology are inseparable in the
Aboriginal social work classroom.
In practice, what studies are finding is that remedial programs based on Aboriginal epistemology
are proving effective with higher client reported success rates (Duran, Duran, & Yellow Horse Braveheart,
1998; Hart, 2001; Lederman, 1999; Nabigon, 1996; Stevenson, 1999). “Many successful programs
currently operating among Native American groups use Native American epistemology as the root
metaphor for theoretical and clinical interventions,” (Duran, Duran, & Yellow Horse Braveheart, 1998, p.
70) – as are approaches which utilize a hybrid, or mixed Aboriginal-mainstream methodological model –
“postcolonial practice integrates Indigenous knowledge and therapies with Euro-American models of
therapy” (Duran, Duran, & Yellow Horse Braveheart, 1998, p. 70). Duran, Duran and Yellow Horse
Braveheart (1998) discussed emerging therapies and practices based on post-colonial thought which
involves a critical analysis of history and the revaluing of Aboriginal healing knowledge. Similarly, the goal
of Aboriginal social work then appears to be the decolonization of Aboriginal people which is enacted
through a methodology that contextualizes colonization and integrates healing methods based on
Aboriginal epistemology.
From this perspective, Aboriginal social work can be described as a practice that combines
culturally relevant social work education and training and theoretical and methodological knowledge
derived from Aboriginal epistemology that draws liberally on western social work theory and practice
methods, within a decolonizing context (Sinclair, 2001). Aboriginal social work education, then, is
charged with the task of imparting this knowledge to students in order that they can effectively work in a
decolonizing context.
The premises for social work in Aboriginal communities and with Aboriginal people is undergoing
a transformation as the result of reclaiming Indigenous knowledge, expressing Indigenous voices,
acknowledging Indigenous ways of knowing, and implementing Indigenous healing practices. This
reconstruction of epistemology and the reconstruction of voice that challenges neocolonialism comprise
© Sinclair
the critical pedagogy that has evolved as the primary approach to Aboriginal social work education. For
example, the recently implemented Master of Aboriginal Social Work program of the First Nations
University of Canada and the University of Regina, is based on a pedagogy derived from Aboriginal
epistemology and is premised on training counselors and therapists who will utilize traditional
methodology to work with the direct and intergenerational survivors of the residential school system
(Katz, 2001). Similarly, the Native Human Services program at Laurentian University is community-
based and driven and premised upon culture-specific helping methods. Such approaches are having an
influence in the mainstream social work education milieu. Community-based Bachelor of Social Work
programs delivered in communities by mainstream universities such as the University of Regina, the
University of Victoria, University of Manitoba, University of Calgary, Carleton University, and the
University of Quebec have emerged along with access social work programs that emphasize rural and
Aboriginal course content for delivery in Aboriginal and remote locations. The community-based and
access programs are striving to create culturally relevant programs for Aboriginal students and more often
utilize Aboriginal educators and consultants in designing and delivering the programs.
The Challenges of a Decolonizing Pedagogy

The cultural imperative of Aboriginal social work education is to train social workers who
incorporate Aboriginal epistemology and pedagogical methods into their approaches, combined with
appropriate and useful western theory and practice models, within a critical historical context. On one
level, taking this path is simple – the Elders say “walk your talk, heal yourself before you can heal others”
– and once the individual has acquired sufficient western-validated education, the work begins. On
another level, it is a solitary journey where Aboriginal worldview and traditional knowledge foundations
have few mirrors in western pedagogy and critical analysis with respect to Aboriginal populations is, at
least within mainstream institutions, relegated to one class or theoretical approaches such as anti-racism
or cross-cultural social work. Aboriginal social work educators are informed by an array of theories in the
areas of post-colonialism, liberation, anti-racism/oppression, and other critical theories, and they are
charged with the task of incorporating what works in these theories with their own and their students’
social, economic, and political realities. The contemporary reality for Aboriginal people in Canada is
neocolonialism, manifested in racism, oppression, and exclusion. For Aboriginal social work students, a
large portion of the learning has occurred before they set foot in a classroom. The material that provides
the fodder for Aboriginal social work curriculum does not come from a textbook – it comes from the post-
colonial frontlines where intergenerational trauma is the norm and is manifested in lateral violence,
substance abuse, sexual abuse, suicide, depression, and rampant ill-health.
The approaches that Indigenous scholars are finding effective are framed within an ancient sacred
knowledge. Aboriginal social work practitioners and educators are charged with personal responsibility
based on this knowledge base. The responsibility is to engage in a healing journey in order to be able to
embark upon the tasks of helping others whether it is in the field or in the classroom – “in healing
ourselves, we heal our communities and our Nations” (Native Human Services Program Statement of
Philosophy, Laurentian University). Hence, the work involves working towards individual physical,
emotional, mental, and spiritual health. In addition, the Aboriginal social educator and worker must act
as a role model who is expected to challenge stereotypes, address issues of oppression and internalized
colonization, reclaim and contextualize Aboriginal history, acquire western theoretical and practice
© Sinclair
knowledge, engage in the reconstruction of Aboriginal epistemology and pedagogical forms and
synthesize these tasks into a form that meets the mandate of the Elders, the requirements of western
institutions and regulatory bodies, and needs of students.
The knowledge and insight that the educator accrues must then be presented with skill, tact, and
sensitivity to students who come from diverse educational backgrounds and are most likely
intergenerationally affected by colonization. They often have English as a second language, are survivors
of residential schools, the 60s Scoop, and the child welfare system, are dealing with intergenerational
trauma issues themselves, face social and institutionalized racism and oppression in an urban setting, and
finally, may experience their own degrees of internalized colonialism which affects how knowledge is
heard and integrated. These are the challenges of a decolonizing pedagogy.
The Future
Increasingly the theme of decolonization as a necessary element of education is being explored
(Alfred, 1999; Bruyere, 1999; Hart, 2001; Laenui, 2000; Weaver, 1999). The next task for Indigenous
social workers is to discuss more freely the processes and models that are proving effective (Duran,
Duran, & Yellow Horse Braveheart, 1998; Graveline, 1998; Stevenson, 1999) and to articulate Indigenous
models and methodologies for others to emulate. Hence, Aboriginal social workers and educators must
publish at a higher rate in order to disseminate and share their knowledge. Recognizing that Aboriginal
social work in the frontlines is extremely demanding, and Aboriginal educators are scrambling to keep up
with the increasing numbers of Aboriginal students, time and space must be made for authoring of
Aboriginal wisdom. Another area where Aboriginal social workers and educators need to direct attention
is towards health research. Support for Aboriginal faculty and workers to embark upon a research agenda
are needed. The money is available through federal funding programs, but the capacity needs to be
developed for Aboriginal social workers to be able to successfully access those funds. Aboriginal people
must lead the assault on the ill-health and social pathologies within Aboriginal communities and one way
to do this is to participate in the health research agenda. Capacity building in health research is essential
for Aboriginal communities to define their health issues, implement culturally relevant research
strategies, and implement appropriate solutions for their own health issues. Aboriginal populations have
reached a critical mass in terms of the illness wrought by colonization. Working towards health, in the
context of neocolonial modernity, has become a modern Indigenous cultural imperative.
Conclusion
Aboriginal social work education has evolved out of a critical need for training of helpers, both
Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal, who will have the skills and abilities to meet the needs of Aboriginal
people. The training that has emerged incorporates critiques of colonial history in order to contextualize
the contemporary reality of Aboriginal ill-health and social pathology. Aboriginal social work education is
not cross-cultural social work where the assumption is that benevolence is extended to the less fortunate
minority or disenfranchised group member of which the educator or practitioner is usually not a member.
Rather, it is premised on Indigenous knowledge that encompasses Aboriginal philosophical and healing
methods that can be incorporated into contemporary social work approaches to wellness. The values and
ethics that stem from Aboriginal epistemology create a responsibility for the educator, student, and
practitioner to “walk the talk” of wellness. That means embarking on personal healing and wellness in
order to help others. As Aboriginal social work pedagogy develops in order to continue the task of
redressing the effects of colonization and neocolonialism, the commitment to a decolonizing pedagogy is a
daunting and challenging but necessary task. Our duty to the seventh generation demands it.
© Sinclair
References
Alfred, T. (1999). Peace, power, righteousness: An Indigenous manifesto. Don Mills, ON: Oxford University Press.
Battiste, M. (Ed.) (2000). Reclaiming Indigenous voice and vision. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Battiste, M. (1998). Enabling the autumn seed: Towards a decolonized approach to Aboriginal knowledge, language, and
education. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 22(1), 16-27.
Blaut, J. (1993). The Colonizer’s model of the world: Geographical diffusionism and Eurocentric history. New York City, NY:
Guilford Press.
Bruyere, G. (1999). The decolonization wheel: An Aboriginal perspective on social work practice with Aboriginal peoples. In R.
Delaney, K. Brownlee, & M Sellick (Eds.), Social work with rural and northern communities. Thunder Bay, ON:
Lakehead University, Centre for Northern Studies.
Cardinal, H. (1969). The unjust society: The tragedy of Canada’s Indians. Edmonton, AB: Hurtig.
Chrisjohn, R., & Young, S. (1997). The circle game: Shadows and substance in the Indian residential school experience in
Canada. Pentiction, BC: Theytus Books.
Cross, T. (1986). Drawing on cultural tradition in Indian child welfare practice. Families in Society: The Journal of
Contemporary Social Services, 67(5), 283-289. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F104438948606700505
Dei, G. (2000). Rethinking the role of Indigenous knowledges in the academy. The International Journal of Inclusive Education,
4(2), 134-147. https://doi.org/10.1080/136031100284849
Deloria, V., Jr. (1999). Spirit and reason: The Vine Deloria Jr. Reader. Colorado: Fulcrum Publishing.
Dominelli, L. (1998). Anti-oppressive practice in context. In R. Adams, L. Dominelli, & M. Payne (Eds.), Social work: Themes,
issues and critical debates. London, ON: MacMillan.
Duran, E., & Duran, B. (1995). Native American post-colonial psychology. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
Duran, B., Duran, E., & Yellow Horse Brave Heart, M. (1998). Native Americans and the trauma of history. In M. Battiste & J.
Barman (Eds.), First Nations education in Canada: The circle unfolds (pp. 60-76). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Ermine, W. (1995). Aboriginal epistemology. In M. Battiste & J. Barman (Eds.), First Nations education in Canada: The circle
unfolds (pp. 101-112). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Fournier, S., & Crey, E. (1997). Stolen from our embrace: The abduction of First Nations children and the restoration of
Aboriginal communities. Vancouver, BC: Douglas & McIntyre.
Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. Ney York City, NY: The Continuum Publishing Corporation.
Freire, P. (1990). A critical understanding of social work. Journal of Progressive Human Services, 1(1), 3-
9. https://doi.org/10.1300/J059v01n01 02
Freire, P. (1998). Pedagogy of freedom: Ethics, democracy and civic courage. Oxford: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, Inc.
Frideres, J. (1998). Aboriginal peoples in Canada: Contemporary conflicts. Toronto, ON: Pearson Prentice Hall.
Grande, S. (2000). American Indian identity and intellectualism: The quest for a new red pedagogy. International Journal of
Qualitative Studies in Education, 13(4), 343-359. https://doi.org/10.1080/095183900413296
Graveline, F. J. (1998). Circleworks: transforming ethnocentric consciousness. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing.
Gross, E. (1995). Deconstructing politically correct practice literature: The American Indian case. Social Work, 40(2), 206-
213. https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/40.2.206
Hamilton, A. C., & Sinclair, C. (1991). Aboriginal concepts of justice. In Aboriginal Justice Implementation Commission (Ed.),
Report of the Aboriginal justice inquiry of Manitoba: The justice system and Aboriginal people (Vol. 1) (pp. 17-47).
Winnipeg, MB: Queen’s Printer.
Hanohano, P. (1999). The spiritual imperative of native epistemology: Restoring harmony and balance to education. Canadian
Journal of Native Education, 23(2), 207-219.
© Sinclair
Hart, M. (1999). Seeking minopimatasiwin (the Good Life): An Aboriginal approach to social work practice. Native Social Work
Journal, 2(1), 91-112.
Hart, M. (2001). An Aboriginal approach to social work practice. In T. Heinonen & L. Spearman (Eds.), Social work practice:
Problem solving and beyond (pp. 231-256). Toronto, ON: Irwin.
Henderson, J. (2000). Ayukpachi: Empowering Aboriginal thought. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous voice and vision
(pp. 248-278). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Jamieson, K. (1978). Indian women and the law in Canada: Citizens minus. Ottawa, ON: Advisory Council on the Status of Women.
Katz, R. (2001). Aboriginal therapy. In R. Sinclair & R. Katz (Eds.), Proposal for a special case cohort Master of Aboriginal Social
Work Program through the Saskatchewan Indian Federated College, School of Indian Social Work (unpublished paper).
King, T. (Ed.) (1990). All My Relations: An anthology of contemporary Canadian native fiction. Toronto, ON: McClelland and Stewart.
Kimelman, E. (1985). No quiet place: final report to the Honourable Muriel Smith, Minister of Community Services. Winnipeg,
MB: Manitoba Community Services
Kulchyski, P., McCaskill, D., & Newhouse, B. (Eds.) (1999). In the words of Elders: Aboriginal cultures in transition. Toronto,
ON: University of Toronto Press.
Laenui, P. (2000). Processes of decolonization. In Battiste, M. (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous voice and vision, (pp. 150-160).
Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Lederman, J. (1999). Trauma and healing in Aboriginal families and communities. Native Social Work Journal, 2(1), 59-90.
Lee, B. (1992). Colonization and community: Implications for First Nations development. Community Development Journal,
27(3), 211-219. https://doi.org/10.1093/oxfordjournals.cdj.a038608
Martin, K. (2001). Ways of knowing, ways of being, and ways of doing: Developing a theoretical framework and methods for
Indigenous research and Indigenist research. Journal of Australian Studies, 27(76), 203-
214. https://doi.org/10.1080/14443050309387838
Maurice, J. (2000). De-spiriting Aboriginal children: Western constructions and destructions of Aboriginal children in the child welfare
system during the 1960s and 70s (unpublished paper). Toronto, ON: University of Toronto, Faculty of Social Work.
McKenzie, B., & Hudson, P. (1985). Native children, child welfare, and the colonization of native people. In K. Levitt & B.
Wharf (Eds.), The challenge of child welfare (pp. 123-141). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Memmi, A. (1965). The colonizer and the colonized. Boston, MA: Beacon Press.
Midgley, J. (1998). Colonialism and welfare: A post-colonial commentary. Journal of Progressive Human Services, 9(2), 31-50.
Morrisette, V., McKenzie, B., & Morrissette, L. (1993). Towards an Aboriginal model of social work practice: Cultural
knowledge and traditional practices. Canadian Social Work Review, 10(1), 91-108.
Nabigon, H., & Mawhiney, A-. M. (1996). Aboriginal theory: A Cree medicine wheel guide for healing First Nations. In F.
Turner (Ed.), Social Work Treatment. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
National Indian Brotherhood/Assembly of First Nations. (1972). Indian control of Indian education: Policy paper presented to
the Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Pillai, P. (1996). Feminism and the problem of epistemic displacement: Reconstructing Indigenous theories. In A. Kibbey & R. J. Z.
Werblowsky (Eds.), On your left: The new historical materialism (pp. 206-247). New York, NY: New York University Press.
Poonwassie, A., & Charter, A. (2001). An Aboriginal worldview of helping: Empowering approaches. Canadian Journal of
Counselling, 35(1), 63-73.
Puxley, P. (1977). The colonial experience. In M. Watkins (Ed.), Dene Nation: The colony within (pp. 103-119). Toronto, ON:
University of Toronto Press.
Said, E. (1978). Orientalism. New York, NY: Random House.
Sinclair, R. (1999). Gender diversity in the ‘Americas’: Reconstructing a way of life (Unpublished paper).
Sinclair, R. (2001). Aboriginal social work: Decolonizing theory and practice (Unpublished paper).
Sinclair, R. (2002). The neocolonialism of anti-oppressive social work: Challenging the invisible paradox (Unpublished paper).
© Sinclair
Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples. New York City, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
Stalwick, H. (1986). What was said? Study Guide One. Demonstration of strategies for change: A review of Indian and native social
work education in Canada. Regina, SK: Social Administration Research Unit, Faculty of Social Work, University of Regina.
Stevenson, J. (1999). The circle of healing. Native Social Work Journal, 2(1), 8-21.
Turner, F. (Ed.) (1999). Social work practice: A Canadian perspective. Scarborough, ON: Prentice-Hall Canada Inc.
Warrior, R. (1995). Tribal secrets: Recovering American Indian intellectual traditions. Minneapolis, MN: University of
Minnesota Press.
Weaver, H. (1999). Indigenous people and the social work profession: Defining culturally competent services. Social Work,
44(3), 217-225. https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/44.3.217
Williams, E., & Ellison, F. (1996). Culturally informed social work practice with American Indian clients: Guidelines for non-
Indian social workers. Social Work, 41(2), 147-151. https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/41.2.147
© Sinclair
2019
Indigenous Wholistic Theory: A Knowledge
Set for Practice
Kathy Absolon
Ph.D., Associate Professor and Director, Wilfrid Laurier University, Centre for Indigegogy, Ontario, Canada
Corresponding author: kabsolon@wlu.ca
Abstract
In this article, the author establishes a knowledge set for Indigenous social work practice based on
Indigenous wholistic theory. An overall framework using the circle is proposed and introduced followed
by a more detailed and elaborated illustration using the four directions. The article identifies the need to
articulate Indigenous wholistic theory and does so by employing a wholistic framework of the four
directional circle. It then systematically moves around each direction, beginning in the east where a
discussion of Spirit and vision occurs. In the south, a discussion of relationships, community, and heart
emerge. The western direction brings forth a discussion of the Spirit of the ancestors and the importance
of Indigenous knowledge and Indigenous knowledge production. The northern direction articulates ideas
surrounding healing and movements and actions that guide practice. The article begins with a discussion
on all four directions together with a final examination of the Centre fire where all elements interconnect
and intersect. Lastly, the article proclaims the existence of Indigenous wholistic theory as a necessary
knowledge set for practice.
Keywords: Indigenous wholistic theory, social work practice, four directional

circle, relationships, community, healing
1
The original version of this article was published in: Absolon, K. (2010). Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for
practice. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 5(2), 74-87.
Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 23
Introduction
This article joins other recent and worthy publications where authors advance Indigenous ways of
knowing, being, and doing (Graveline, 2004; Hart, 2002; Nabigon, 2006; Poonwassie & Charter, 2005;
Sinclair, Hart, & Bruyere, 2009; Solomon & Wane, 2005). As Indigenous practice increasingly becomes
asserted and expressed, we need to continue to articulate elements of Indigenous wholistic theory that
guides Indigenous-based social work practice.
Indigenous peoples have worldviews and means of relating to the world. Stemming from this
worldview comes the understanding that “we are all related.” Indigenous theory is rooted intimately
within Indigenous epistemologies, worldviews, cultures, and traditions. Indigenous wholistic theory is
wholistic and multi-layered, which encompasses the spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical elements
of being. We also acknowledge our past, present, and future. By that very nature, we must look at the past
and into our future; Indigenous theory factors in seven generations past and the seven generations into
the future. It forms a framework to Indigenize our thoughts and actions into active healing processes that
simultaneously decolonize and Indigenize. And finally, but not exclusively, I know that Indigenous theory
is earth-based and derived from the teachings of the land, sun, water, sky, and all of Creation. Its
methodologies of practice integrate the natural teachers and elements of the earth. Indigenous wholistic
theory is an ancestral concept to Indigenous people where,
Aboriginal people in Canada have ancient culture specific philosophical foundations and
practices, which continue to provide them with guidance in everyday life. In their healing
process these imperatives provide guidance to those who experience physical,
psychological, emotional, or spiritual distress – individually, in a family, or in a
community (Poonwassie & Charter, 2001, p. 63).
Our work as wholistic practitioners is to remember and reconnect with wholistic knowledges, pick up our
bundles and activate them again. Picking up our bundles means to relearn, reclaim, pick up, and own the
teachings and practices that emanate from wholistic theory and knowledge. It means to live and practice
minobimaadsiwin (a good life). In this article, a wholistic framework organizes and presents the
knowledge set for Indigenous wholistic theory in Indigenous social work practice.
This article, in fact, stems from an earlier article I wrote in 1993 called Healing as Practice:
Teachings From the Medicine Wheel (Absolon, 1993), which I never formally published but was widely
requested and used. Within this article, I use the terms Indigenous and Anishinaabek as inclusive to all
Aboriginal, First Nations, Métis, and Inuit peoples. My use of the spelling wholism indicates whole as in
wholistic, complete, balanced, and circular. First, I present an overview. Second, I identify who I am.
Lastly, I present the initial tenets of Indigenous wholism with a wholistic model and discussion.
Overview
This article is written for those that seek to understand a wholistic perspective of practice from an
Indigenous lens and is organized using a wholistic paradigm of the four directions circle, which
encompasses concepts such as cyclical, circular, and relational. Wholistic theory includes an intermixing
and consideration of time and space: the past, present, future; directions, doorways of life; the ecology of
creation such as earth, sun, water, air, and all their occupants; and values that retain the balance and
harmony of all of the above. My goal is to highlight a knowledge set that informs Indigenous wholistic
© Absolon
theory for practice. This knowledge is based on oral traditions, is sacred, and can take years to understand
and know. I feel limited to fully and adequately articulate a complete portrait of the elements of
Indigenous theory. However, I encourage readers to embrace opportunities to learn and follow-up with
references cited to develop their own knowledge set. The presented framework does not delve into the
specifics of each area of knowledge because specific knowledge sets can be learning processes in
themselves. This knowledge set can be used to guide practice and further practice lenses can be developed
for purposes of wholistic assessment, evaluation, treatment, and change; and may be applied at levels of
self, individual, family, community, organization, and institution.
Who am I?
During my contemplations of writing this article, I wondered: Who am I to write such an article?
An Indigenous worldview seeks that you identify yourself to the Spirit, the people, and the Spirit of the
work you intend on doing and this act establishes the beginning of respectful practice. As I send out these
words, I can only do so from where I sit and from where I am located (Monture-Angus, 1995). Through
my sharing of who I am, I establish the parameters of what I may know and not know. In doing so,
readers can determine what fits for them and what doesn’t. Before I send out this knowledge, I need to
share a bit on where this knowing comes from and who I am to honour its source and to be accountable.
We arrive at our place of knowing because of our families, communities, Elders, and many other helpers.
Our knowledge bundles develop over time with experience, teachings, and reflections. Our genealogy of
knowledge is significant and we acknowledge who our teachers are and where we received our teachings
(Marsden, 2005). What follows is a brief introduction to who I am as a prelude and this is how we would
traditionally begin.
First, in my language, I announce my name, acknowledge my nation, relatives, and family because
they taught me about living on the land and life in the bush. Minogiizhigokwe n’dizhnakauz (I am Shining
Day Woman). Anishinaabekwe n’dow (I am an Anishinaabe woman). Waubzhizhii n’dodem (I am Marten
clan) and Flying Post n’doonjibaaam (I come from Flying Post First Nation). I am also Midewiwin and
receive many of my teachings from the Three Fires Society Midewiwin Lodge. For the past twenty years, I
have a blended background of Indigenous based wholistic healing practices along with some western
social work practice methods. Over the years, many traditional mentors have appeared on my path and at
the community level. My Anishinaabe relatives, Midewiwin, and clan family continue to teach me to walk
in the beauty of our culture and ways. Consequently, my knowledge bundle is both cultural Anishinaabe
and western, where I strive to balance both worlds. However, I have been actively focusing on my
Anishinaabe culture and language which means learning my language, teachings, songs, ceremonies,
medicines, and many other aspects that our knowledge bundles entail. In part, my knowledge is a
summation of those who have crossed my path and took pity on me enough to share their knowledge and
wisdom. Finally, I am grateful for all the Spirits that guide and walk with me. They provide the signs that
let me know I am on the right path. Currently, I teach at Wilfrid Laurier University in a Masters of social
work Aboriginal field of study program where we employ wholistic knowledge and teachings on a daily
basis. We call this process Indigegogy, whereby we teach Indigenous theory and worldview using
© Absolon
Indigenous pedagogy. 2 Lester Rigney (1999) called an Indigenous methodology Indigenist, however, in
our Indigenous social work education context we call it Indigegogy. Finally, I come from the land and
frequently return there as reference points for my work as an educator, researcher, and practitioner. The
teachings of the Anishinaabe inform my worldview.
Indigenous Wholistic Theoretical Orientation

Diagram 1
Indigenous wholistic theory is whole, ecological, cyclical, and relational. The Medicine Wheel,
four directions, and circles have been used as an effective and appropriate means and tools to develop
healing strategies. They offer a multilevel strategy that is circular in nature and which has been practiced
for thousands of years by our ancestors (Absolon, 1993; Graveline, 2004; Hart, 1996, 2002; Little Bear,
2000; Nabigon, 2006). The diagram above (Diagram 1) of concentric circles represents a level of being
and illustrates the reciprocal interconnections of self, individual, family, community, nation, society, and
creation. At the centre is a tiny circle representing the self. The next circle represents family, then the
community, then the nation, society, and outward to the ecology of creation. Inclusive to all the levels are
the infants, youth, young adults, adults, and Elders. Each level of being is affected by the historical, social,
political, and economic; and each layer has a spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical element.
Indigenous wholism considers the connections and the concept that we are all related begins to make
sense as we perceive each aspect in relation to the whole. The dynamics of our realities are created
because of the relationships and the experiences of these interrelationships and interconnections. I use
the Medicine Wheel as a tool to depict Indigenous wholistic theory, which helps us to understand our
realities and experiences by considering the influences of all the elements of the whole on our individual
and collective being. This is just a beginning.
2
My colleague, Malcolm Saulis, tells us that the term was given to us by Stan Wilson who coined what we do as Indigegogy.
© Absolon
Understanding Indigenous peoples’ experiences can initially be understood within such a

wholistic framework. The above illustration illuminates that Indigenous peoples’ experiences can be
framed and contextualized within a historical, social, political, and economic framework. Such a wholistic
framework provides a concrete tool for understanding the nature of balance, harmony, and
minobimaadsiwin (living a good life). It acknowledges the factors that contribute toward achieving that
sense of peace and balance.
The imbalance is then determined to occur in the symptoms that people identify, which are
typically called presenting problems or issues. These presenting issues are initially identified by people,
families, or communities who desire a change toward peace and balance. Upon further consideration of
the elements of Indigenous wholism in problem definition, we need to consider factors that fuel
imbalances among Indigenous peoples’ lives. If Indigenous worldviews, traditions, values, and beliefs are
foundational to living a good life, then the absence or attack of Indigenous worldviews, traditions, and
identity has created imbalance and disease. Colonizing agents and mechanisms of colonization such as
residential schools, child welfare authorities, social welfare traps, land dispossessions, etc., have all
contributed to personal and familial imbalance in many areas of functioning (Duran & Duran, 1995;
Graveline, 2004; Hart, 2002; LaRoque, 1991; Nabigon, 2006). The attempted domestication 3 of
Indigenous peoples via the Indian Act policies has contributed to disease and illness among the people.
Now the internalization of colonialism contributes to internal violence and lateral oppression. As earth-
based and earth-centred peoples, a forced disconnection from our land would naturally create imbalance
and disease among the people. Our reactions to these conditions are then understandable. Indigenous
peoples have been living and breathing oppressive conditions for centuries now and undoubtedly the
internalization of racism and the need for community healing is apparent when,
Some of the greatest resistors to the recovery of Indigenous knowledge are our own
Native people who have internalized the racism and now uncritically accept ideologies of
the dominant culture . . . Because of the extent to which colonization has taken root, any
efforts to restore our traditional ways would have to be matched with a strong community
decolonization agenda. While developing a critical consciousness aimed at understanding
precisely how colonialism has affected our health and mindset, and thus, how we might
meaningfully challenge that oppression, we can begin to reaffirm the richness
and wisdom inherent in our traditional ways (Cavender Wilson, 2004, p. 72).
I agree with Cavender Wilson in that using and applying Indigenous theory to practice requires a
knowledge set of social and political policies and practices. At this juncture, I become more specific in my
presentation of Indigenous wholistic theory.
The following diagram (Diagram 2) is a more specific representation illustrating theoretical

underpinnings using the four directions and spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical elements. Within
each element are some specific theoretical factors that warrant consideration in Indigenous-based
practice. There are many more elements and this representation is by no means exhaustive. Circle
3
I use the term domestication to coin what Paulo Freire (1996) in Pedagogy of the Oppressed described when colonizing forces
attempt to acculturate or assimilate Indigenous peoples. The treatment of Indigenous peoples by the colonizer with the goal of
acculturation is akin to the domestication of animals.
© Absolon
Diagram 2
teachings are diverse and representations of such can look different depending on the context, teacher,
and Nation. With that being said, the proposed theoretical framework requires a dual knowledge set of
Indigenous knowledge and anti-colonial knowledge. Current theory must tackle colonial constructs while
asserting the power and role of Indigenous knowledge. The article is now organized using the following
circle as a guide. Each direction is briefly introduced with teachings of the nature of that doorway or
direction as given to me by my traditional teachers whom I am grateful to acknowledge (Herb Nabigon,
Bawdwayidung, Obaunisay, Medwayaushii, and many others). Grandfather Sun rises in the east and so we
enter into this discussion through the Eastern door and follow the directions to the Southern, Western,
and Northern doorways. Each section will discuss components of Indigenous wholistic theory relative to
each doorway. These directions are not mutually exclusive; in fact, they interrelate, interconnect, and are
interdependent. Any change or movement in one area will affect the whole. The arrows in the diagram
illustrate the interrelationships and interdependence between all the components.
The discussion of each of the doorways is meant to guide a wholistic knowledge set. The goal of
this article is to present an Indigenous wholistic theory for social work practice. It does not present the
© Absolon
specifics of Indigenous issues or concerns but presents a framework from which issues can be understood
and practice guided. This article advocates a knowledge set that is based on the collective doorways of the
whole circle – that is, the knowledge set that an Indigenous wholistic theory commands.
Waabinong: In the East

The teachings from the sacred direction of the Eastern doorway, Waabinong, speak to us about
new beginnings. The sun rises in the East, presenting us with a new day of life. With each day we have new
life and new gifts. Waabinong represents springtime and rebirth. The Eastern doorway brings forth
teachings of visioning, beginning, and rebirth. Here is where I present literature that deals with
foundational principles and issues. Visioning requires one to be able to see the past, the present, and
envision the future. Visioning denotes the theoretical underpinnings and principles from which searching
for knowledge begins. Beginning denotes recognition that Indigenous peoples are in a state of resurgence
and revitalization and at this time in our long history we are recovering, re-emerging, and reclaiming our
knowledge base. The context of our past has vastly changed, yet we remain: we are Indigenous and we
carry our ancestors’ stories, teachings, and knowledge. Renewal of this doorway gifts us with the ability to
experience the rebirth of the old into the new. In processes of renewal and rebirth, change is inevitable.
Aspects of Indigenous wholism that proceed through the Eastern doorway are Spirit, identity, and
history. The role of spirituality must be considered within healing practices and processes (McCormick,
2005). Each and every being is a Spirit being and acknowledging one’s Spirit begins with acknowledging
oneself. Spiritual knowledge entails awareness and understanding of Indigenous epistemology and a
respectful consciousness of the sacred world to Indigenous peoples. Indigenous wholism implies a balance
within all aspects and elements of the whole, which is achieved through interconnections,
interdependence, and interrelationships (Marsden, 2006). As Dawn Marsden (2006) stated,
If we know who we are, that all life is connected through Spirit, and if we learn how to live
good lives, then by extension we will act responsibly toward the creation of harmonious
and sustainable (healthy) relationships in this world.
Indigenous epistemologies, worldviews, methodologies, and frameworks must form the basis for
our knowledge quests and practice (Bishop, 1998; Cole, 2002; Duran & Duran, 2000; Ermine, 1995;
Fitznor, 2002; Kenny, 2000; Simpson, 2001; Sinclair, 2003; Wilson, 2001). Within the essence of
Indigenous epistemology is spirituality and as Indigenous peoples our responsibilities include: to honour
our relations with all of Creation; to follow our original instructions as orally passed on; to continually
relearn ceremonies, rituals, and daily protocols; to regenerate mutual relationships and not to replicate
western paradigms (Cole, 2002; Ermine, 1995). Spiritual considerations occur within the guidelines and
frameworks of our Creator and we are to honour the knowledge we have. Spirituality is inherent in
Indigenous epistemology, which sees everything in relation to Creation, the earth, and recognizes that all
life has Spirit and is sacred. Willie Ermine (1995) talked about the inner space and inner knowing within
Aboriginal epistemology – he identified the ways inner knowing is inherent in Aboriginal epistemology in
the following quote:
Those who seek to understand the reality of existence and harmony with the environment
by turning inward have a different, incorporeal knowledge paradigm that might be
termed Aboriginal epistemology. Aboriginal people have the responsibility and birthright
© Absolon
to take and develop an epistemology congruent with holism and the beneficial
transformation of total human knowledge. The way to this affirmation is through our own
Aboriginal sources (Ermine, 1995, p. 103).
The doorway to the inner space, where the ancestral knowledge sits, is through other realms via
dreams, ceremonies, vision quests, and rituals. The ancestors are there waiting to share their knowledge.
The map to get there is in Indigenous knowledge and more specifically within Indigenous epistemology.
The published work of Indigenous scholars reveals that Indigenous worldviews and ancestral knowledge
are being carried forward into our future by asserting the role of Indigenous cultural knowledge and
history and second, by critiquing and dismantling colonizing knowledge and mechanisms of oppression.
These actions set the stage for visioning, beginning, and renewal. Out of renewal emerges a duality of
knowledge, characterizing a cultural discourse and a colonial discourse. Both must necessarily be
addressed.
Within an Indigenous worldview, we believe we are Spirit beings. As such, identifying who we are
is the first protocol we do before we begin any ceremony, speak, or act. Some people announce their Spirit
names as they address the Spirit. Some people announce their English name, clan, and Nation. We speak
from our location and announce who we are, where we come from, and what our intentions are. In doing
so, we are also announcing who we are not and where we do not speak from. Accountability and ethics of
oral tradition are thus established and the people now have the power and choice to receive your words or
actions. Within this specific doorway, Indigenous wholism implies that we attend to our positionality and
locate ourselves (Absolon & Willett, 2005; Monture-Angus, 1995). Inclusive to location and positionality
is identifying who you are, where you come from, and what are your motives or intentions.
Waabinong, in the East, also implies knowing our history: cultural and colonial. It calls upon a
knowledge base of the history of colonization of Indigenous peoples in Canada and its impact on
Indigenous peoples’ cultures and traditions; the oppression of Indigenous spirituality, ceremonies, songs,
dances, gatherings, naming and death ceremonies, and life teachings. It calls for us to know that the
suppression of Indigenous peoples’ bundles and their “traditional Elders, keepers of knowledge were
deliberately murdered” (Colorado, 1988, p. 51). Sacred birch bark scrolls, knowledge bundles, and
ceremonial objects were confiscated, destroyed, and outlawed. To understand the extent of Indigenous
peoples’ anger, grief, depression, and loss one must develop an awareness and understanding of the
impact of having one’s culture, family, children, language, and way of life attacked over and over.
Indigenous scholars are calling for an ongoing critique and deconstruction of colonial motives,
theories, and methods (Absolon & Herbert, 1997; Duran & Duran, 1995, 2000; Henderson, 2000b;
LaRocque, 1991; Ross, 2005; Smith, 2000; Talbot, 2002). Critical reflections and discourse set a pathway
for decolonization and for freedom to be attained without replicating or empowering colonialism and
Eurocentric hegemony (Alfred, 2005). Decolonization presupposes a commitment to a critical analysis of
the existing unequal power structures, a rejection of hegemonic belittling, and a commitment to
consciousness raising and politicization. Clearing the mind of colonial constructs alone is not enough.
Decolonization is the common descriptor for unlearning out of racism and colonization (Calliou, 2001;
Fitznor, 2002; Graveline, 2004; Simpson, 2001; Wa Thiong’o, 1986).
© Absolon
In summary, the theoretical elements of Indigenous wholistic theory of Waabinong, the Eastern
doorway are Spirit, beginnings, and history. Some key points from this doorway are:
• beginning and rebirth;

• inclusion and respectful acknowledgement of Spirit;
• spirituality is connected to healing;
• establish your location and position yourself within your practice, as such;
• acknowledge your genealogy of knowledge;
• recognize the legitimacy of Indigenous epistemologies, worldviews, and knowledge;
• understand that Indigenous peoples have a cultural history that predates colonization;
• identity: understand the diversity within families, individuals, and communities; and
• develop a knowledge set about the history of colonization and the mechanisms of oppression.
Zhaawnong: In the South

The Southern doorway, Zhaawnong, encompasses the emotional and relational realms. It brings
forth teachings of life, relationships, people, and growth and will cover literature relating to principles of
reciprocity and relationships. Zhaawnong brings the summer and renewal. This doorway addresses issues
of relationships, protocols, accountability, reciprocity, and community. Relationships can extend to
humans and the natural and spiritual world. For example,
Indigenous peoples the world over follow the rhythm of the cosmos with distinct
relationships to the sun, moon, stars, animals, plants, sound, wind, water, electrical and
vibrational energy, thunder, lightning, rain, all creatures of the land and water, the air,
and the rhythm of the land itself (Solomon & Wane, 2005, p. 55).
In Indigenous contexts building and nurturing quality relations is integral to living in a good way.
Kinship systems and their relationship connections are recognized in the Southern doorway. Leroy
Little Bear (2000) identified the value of knowing that totality and wholeness exist within the circle of
kinship. He used an analogy of four flower petals to symbolize strength, sharing, honesty, and kindness in
kinship relations. Further, he stated that “the function of Aboriginal values is to maintain the relationships
that hold creation together. If creation manifests itself in terms of cyclical patterns and repetitions, then the
maintenance and renewal of those patterns are all-important” (Little Bear, 2000, p. 81). Kinship systems
serve to connect threads between individuals, families, and communities and extend beyond biology. For
example, kinship systems can be based on the clan system where relationships and roles are determined
by clan identity and function (Benton-Banai, 1988). Families have tendencies to adopt people and
community members can relate to each other as aunties, uncles, nieces, nephews, brothers, or sisters
without the genetic basis for such ties. Our Cocomish and Shaumish can be other Elders other than our
biological ones. Families and communities are broadly defined and are not limited to genealogy or
genetics.
Indigenous communities have immense strength and resources from which kinship ties, healing
and recovery, wellness, survival, and collectivity exist. The viability of community relationships in social
work practice cannot be underestimated. Identifying community strengths in all areas of prevention,
intervention, rehabilitation, support, and postvention approaches will contribute to the development of
© Absolon
grassroots and community strengths approaches (Gone, 2004). Principles of collaboration and
empowerment ought to guide relationships with community members, such as engaging with local
community members in the planning and delivery of service. From an Indigenous perspective, the culture
of a community is where the heartbeat of that Nation resides. Communities are suffering in the colonial
aftermath; hence their heartbeats may be weak. Nevertheless, the heartbeat of a community is in the
people, which ought to influence methods of practice. Community interests ought to be considered
essential elements of practice and community involvement fostered at all levels of service delivery, such as
planning, visioning, brainstorming, designing, creating, evaluating, assessing, intervening, and treating.
In this sense, methodologies of practice will diversify as community contexts vary from one community to
the next. Training for work with Indigenous communities ought to be interdisciplinary and diverse
community-based methodologies encouraged. Methods that foster community relationships and
collaborative processes include the teachings of the Medicine Wheel, storytelling, sharing and teaching
circles, community participation, and role modelling (Poonwassie & Charter, 2001). Methods of practice
ought to attend to supporting and fostering healing relationships within the self, family, and community.
Elders are another cornerstone of Indigenous knowledge, culture, and heritage. Oral traditions,
languages, and historical accounts would be lost without the wisdom, knowledge, and experience of
Elders. Ethics of practice exist in the protocols in working with the Elders and with traditional knowledge.
Elder protocols are varied depending on the Nation and territory and identifying reliable Elders will occur
in consultation and communication with community resource people. For example, some people will offer
tobacco, cloth, or a small gift as a gesture of reciprocity and gratitude. Elders are essential to learning and
teaching through mechanisms such as storytelling, ceremony, songs, dances, and passing on teachings.
Healing and wellness programs often employ Elders to work with children, youth, and families.
Community initiatives in Ontario, such as Enaahtig Healing Lodge and Learning Centre, Kii-Kee-Wan-
Nii-Kaan Southwest Regional Healing Lodge, Anishinaabe Health in Toronto, Shawanaga Healing Centre,
and Skaagamakwe Healing Centre, work with Elders in the delivery of programs and services. There are
many other examples across the country of programs and services that recognize the role and contribution
that Elders can make to healing and wellness initiatives.
This doorway also calls for the development of a critical understanding of the social context and
conditions of issues, such as an understanding of family violence and abuse, alcoholism, addictions,
depression, grief and loss, disempowerment, suicide, intergenerational trauma, lateral violence, and
multigenerational trauma. Cavender Wilson (2004) stated that,
When considering the plethora of social problems facing Indigenous communities today
(including poverty, chemical dependency, depression, suicide, family violence, and
disease), it is profoundly clear that these are the devastating consequences of conquest
and colonization. For Indigenous nations, these problems were largely absent prior to
European and American invasion and destruction of everything to us. A reaffirmation of
Indigenous epistemological and ontological foundations, then, in contemporary times
offers a central form of resistance to the colonial forces that have consistently and
methodically denigrated and silenced them (p. 70).
I believe that when practitioners continue to apply psychotherapeutic approaches to practice that
omit the social and political contexts of Indigenous peoples’ realities, then their practice continues to
pathologize, diminish, and problematize Indigenous peoples. I agree with Duran and Duran (1995) that
© Absolon
the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders ought to have a category recognizing the post-
trauma effects of colonization and genocide. Further, “those negative influences have resulted in the
marginalization and clientization of these groups in contemporary society” (Poonwassie & Charter, 2001,
p. 64). We must be careful to not adopt theories and methods of practice that only pathologize and
problematize Indigenous clients without regard for the broader socio-political issues and historical
context.
In summary, the theoretical elements of Indigenous wholistic theory of Zhaawnong, the Southern
doorway, acknowledge the emotional aspects of the whole where relationships and sociological contexts
are understood. This doorway specifically:
• calls for renewal at relational levels;

• attends to relationships;
• integrates understandings of diverse relationships;
• understands kinship systems as moving beyond genetics;
• identifies community strengths and resources;
• collaborates with the community to foster healing relationships;
• utilizes methods that support healthy relationship building;
• acknowledges the role and contribution of Elders and protocols; and
• contextualizes issues within a socio-political analysis of social problems facing Indigenous
peoples today.
Niingaabii’ong: In the West

The Western doorway, Niingaabii’ong, brings forth teachings of the ancestors, the mind, and
respect. It relates to respect for knowledge and knowledge of creation. Niingaabii’ong brings autumn and
cleansing. It also calls for mental strength and reason. Operationalizing respect in practice requires one to
step back and think wholistically and consider how all the doorways specify and articulate the value of
respect. Asserting Indigenous knowledge as a tool for recovery from colonial trauma and all its
manifestations is acknowledged in this doorway. It is evident that in Indigenous communities across the
land, a re-emergence of knowledge is occurring. Decolonizing our minds in addition to establishing a
critical discourse, theory, and practice based on Indigenous knowledge are acknowledged by
Niingaabii’ong.
Respect is a core principle from which Indigenous methodologies ought to emerge (Absolon &
Willett, 2004; Archibald, 1993; Battiste & Henderson, 2000a; Fitznor, 1998; Graveline, 2000; Gross,
2002; Kenny, 2000; McPherson & Rabb, 2001; Sinclair, 2003; Wilson, 2003). Respect is a wholistic value
and can be applied and operationalized at all levels of social work practice. To acknowledge and validate
Indigenous philosophies and worldviews is to practice respect. Gross (2002) stated that respect is in the
Anishinaabe teachings of Bimaadziwin, which loosely translates to mean a good life. The life goal of the
old Anishinaabe was to follow the Anishinaabe teachings of Bimaadziwin, hence to strive toward living a
good life. We need to learn our teachings and apply these teachings today to rebuild and recover from
colonial trauma. I have heard over and over how Indigenous peoples have been helped through our own
cultural mechanisms such as sweat lodge ceremonies, healing ceremonies, sharing and talking circles,
dances, songs, and other cultural pathways to wellness. Indigenous ways of health and recovery remind
© Absolon
people of the beauty of who we are, where we come from, and what we know. It builds healthy esteem and
confidence in our identity. It instills good feelings about being Indigenous again and reconnects people to
the power of their identity. We must respect who we are, what we know, and where we come from. Our
recovery and rediscovery is imperative to our healing as peoples.
The recovery of traditional knowledge is deeply intertwined with the process of decolonization
because for many of us it is only through a consciously critical assessment of how the historical process of
colonization has systemically devalued our Indigenous ways that we can begin to reverse the damage
wrought from those assaults (Cavender Wilson, 2004).
Respect calls upon us to look again, speculate, consider, and operationalize Indigenous knowledge
as a source of healing and recovery. In itself, though, Indigenous knowledge is massive, complex, and
dynamic. Many Indigenous scholars share commonalities across the diversity of their Nations regarding
Indigenous knowledge (Absolon, 1993; Battiste & Henderson, 2000b; Benton-Banai, 1988; Brant
Castellano, 2000; Cajete, 2000; Colorado, 1988; Fitznor, 1998; Graveline, 2000; Gunn Allen, 1986, 1991;
Hart, 2002; Henderson, 2000a; Holmes, 2000; Kovach, 2005; Martin, 2002; Nabigon, 2006; Thomas,
2005). “There is a communal ideology and unique worldview between and among the Indigenous peoples
of the world. This common thread is inherent in most Indigenous cultures despite the severity and
sustained duration of the colonial impact . . .” (Solomon & Wane, 2005, p. 54). For example, Indigenous
knowledge is consistently referred to as wholistic. That is a given. Additionally, “most Aboriginal
worldviews and languages are formulated by experiencing an ecosystem” (Henderson, 2000a, p. 259).
Indigenous worldviews teach people to see themselves humbly within a larger web or circle of life. It is
both feminine and masculine and acknowledges the roles of both men and women. The Earth is feminine
and the Sun is masculine – both are necessary for life to exist. Men’s work and women’s work may be
different, but they are interdependent and contribute to a healthy whole. Interrelationships and
interdependence within this circle create a consciousness of relationality within all of creation.
Indigenous knowledge comes from ancestral teachings that are spiritual and sacred in origin
(Ermine, 1995). It exists in our visions, dreams, ceremonies, songs, dances, and prayers. It is not
knowledge that comes solely from books. It is lived knowledge, experiential knowledge, and enacted
knowledge. It is cyclical and circular and follows the natural laws of creation. Indigenous knowledge is
earth-centred with ecology-based philosophies derived out of respect for the harmony and balance within
all living beings of creation. Indigenous knowledge occupies itself with the past, present, and future. The
past guides our present and in our present we must consider the generations to come. Indigenous
knowledge lies in our stories and narratives and within our oral traditions. It exists in our relationships to
one another and to all of creation. Indigenous knowledge exists in animals, birds, lands, plants, trees, and
creation. Relationships among family and kinship systems exist within the human, spiritual, plant, and
animal realms. Indigenous knowledge systems consider all directions of life: East, South, West, North,
beneath, above, and ground levels. Life is considered sacred and all life forms are considered to have a
Spirit. We manifest this knowledge in our humility in offering thanks for life and in seeking life’s
direction. Indigenous knowledge has enabled Indigenous Nations to live in harmony and balance with the
earth and without harm. Our ancestors have used their knowledge to respect the laws of creation, while
subsisting on the land, since time immemorial. Thus, a practice that is derived from Indigenous
knowledge would certainly entail methods that demonstrate respect and reverence within these
© Absolon
understandings. Healing centres today, for example, have programs and services reconnecting people to
the land, plants, medicines, and elements. Youth programs venture outdoors where the natural world
fosters and participates in the healing and recovery needs of young adults. Sitting by fire is peaceful and
water fosters a sense of serenity and calmness. Earth’s elements are healing elements too.
Our ancestors sit in the Western doorway and when we use spiritual protocols in our practices we
are sending our thoughts into the Spirit world. The significance of ancestors cannot be ignored. Many
Indigenous people pay homage to the ancestors and turn to sacred ceremonies to tap into and seek out
ancestral knowledge. Healers and medicine keepers work with healing ceremonies and invoke the
ancestors and use of sacred medicines to facilitate healing practices. Recognition of the ancestors implies
an acknowledgement of the cycles of life and death as natural life cycles. Funerals and burials involve
teachings of life and death, which facilitates the grieving process for family and community. Indigenous
communities have high incidences of death and loss and our capacity to cope and survive such
tremendous losses is fostered through our ceremonies and cultural understandings of life and death.
Death and dying, grief and loss, are among common issues that confront Indigenous people. Higher
mortality rates plague Indigenous communities and depression is often connected to unresolved grief and
trauma. Loss has been felt with the loss of people and family members, loss of language, culture, land,
freedom, movement, subsistence, and livelihood. The losses are many and are vitally important when
considering issues of unresolved grief and loss. Importantly though, Indigenous theory has teachings
which reflect understandings of life and death.
In contextualizing the loss of culture, language, traditions, community, land, and family this
doorway casts our attention toward the political arena to further develop an understanding of the politics
of colonization and its impact on Indigeneity, governance, livelihood, subsistence, freedom, land bases,
and living an Indigenous way of life. The extent to which assimilation policies and oppressive tactics
diminished Indigenous peoples’ good life cannot be underestimated historically and currently. We need to
have a political analysis to understand why families do not know their life cycle ceremonies or why
children were forced to attend residential schools. We need to understand the lack of choice and free will
and forced erosion of the culture and language so that we do not perpetuate a “blaming the victim” stance
in our practice. For example, while working at the community level, I recall people blaming members in
their own community and negatively labelling them Bill C-31ers. Their remarks indicated that they
thought Bill C-31ers were undeserving of their membership, housing, and treaty entitlements.
Consequently, I engaged them in a critical education about the nature of Bill C-31 (an Indian Act
amendment) and the history of the Indian Act and sexism instituted in it. Many of our people don’t have
this knowledge set and so Indigenous wholistic theory calls for practitioners to become critically literate
and critical educators to their clients to begin teaching individuals, families, and communities about the
colonization of Indigenous peoples on their own land. We must develop anti-colonial practices and
consider issues of power and oppression in areas of health, social welfare, child welfare, justice, mental
health, family, and community services. In this sense, this doorway calls for power analysis and an
understanding of power and social constructions of health and illness.
In summary, the theoretical elements of Indigenous wholistic theory of Niingaabii’ong, the

Western doorway, acknowledge the mental aspects of the whole where reason and respect are addressed.
This doorway specifically:
© Absolon
• recognizes ancestors, ancestral knowledge, and power;

• acknowledge the mental aspects and power of knowledge;
• asserts and respects Indigenous knowledge and ways of knowing;
• applies a critical analysis and knowledge of the political contexts of practice;
• develops critiques of the mechanisms of colonialism and engages in critical literacy and critical
education with Indigenous communities;
• is anti-colonial in practice and works to counter colonial ideologies; and
• acknowledges the ancestors and cycles of life and death.
Giiwedinong: In the North

The Northern doorway, Giiwedinong, brings forth teachings of healing, doing, and movement. In
this realm, the physical elements are acknowledged and physical action and movement are located.
Giiwedinong brings winter and healing. When all the other three directions are in place, the teachings of
the Northern doorway are operationalized and it is with a consciousness of all the doorways that action
occurs in a conscious and healing way. Methods of practice are recognized in this doorway as doing. As an
example, I suggest the reader locate a recent publication edited by Sinclair, Hart and Bruyere entitled
Wicihitowin: Aboriginal Social Work in Canada (2009), which provides many excellent contextual
chapters on Indigenous based social work practice. What we do is addressed in the Northern doorway and
winds of change gift us with opportunities to heal. In practice, the following quote poses good questions
for consideration when bringing forth healing practices:
In many Indigenous societies, some of the questions they are constantly asking are: How
much of the sacred healing practices can they share? Would these practices work out of
context? Is it possible to re-create rituals of healing outside of the healers’ community?
Each healing practice is unique to the individual requiring healing and to the healer
(Solomon & Wane, 2005, p. 53).
Some people will not discuss or share sacred healing practices, but there are now common
practices among Indigenous peoples that are readily identified. Indigenous-based practices ought to
recognize the disconnection that colonial mechanisms created and engage to reconnect people through
collective processes. Circle processes, or circle talk, were named as a viable method for working with
Indigenous groups and communities (Graveline, 2000; Hart, 1996; Steinhauser, 2001; TeHennepe, 1997;
Weenie, 1998). I agree that “many indigenes have growing interest in returning to their sacred teachings
and ceremonies and will continue to follow their traditions to sustain themselves and to help the
generations to come” (Solomon & Wane, 2005, p. 53). Protocols, circles, and sharing are common
Indigenous practices that bring people together for sharing, learning, and healing. Circle processes
counter the isolation and alienation that many Indigenous peoples experience in relation to the issues and
concerns they face. Sometimes we don’t know what we don’t know until exposed to the knowledge and
experiences of others. Only when fed with accurate information can we develop in our understanding and
knowledge. The following story was told to me by one of my mentors and has helped create an
understanding of patience and care within the healing journey:
Once there was a starving human without food or water, alone on a raft for a long, long
time – saltwater surrounded the raft and was undrinkable. More time passed and this
© Absolon
person is one day discovered by another human who is able to recognize the thirst and
hunger and not be afraid of it. This human offers the diseased, sickly, and starving person
a dropper of water - not a whole meal but only a slight drop of water. Slowly the human
absorbs the drop and then is given another drop. A few drops of water turn into a dropper
of water over time. The dropper of water is tolerable and digestible; a full meal would not
be. In time, that dehydrated person is able to drink more and more and more. And over
time this human begins to acquire an appetite and over time develops an incredible
hunger and yearning to be fed: The dropper is no longer enough. The hunger and
yearning become the drive for more food . . . and is ready to digest food . . .
Learning about our truths and sharing collective pains is a process that occurs in time. The
experience of sitting in many sacred circles (women’s circles and mixed gender circles), through listening,
sharing, and dialoguing as we fed each other droppers of water, taught me about patience and acceptance.
Our thirst and yearning for knowledge are quenched through listening to others’ stories and experiences
and drawing on our collective strengths. Acquiring knowledge and understanding is a life long journey
and circle processes provide a culturally congruent means to do so. Our feast, therefore, is a series of
“droppers of water” through conversations and dialogues and not the eating of one large meal. Healing is
fostered, friendships develop, and relationships between the people are restored. Within the circle
process, many formats have been shared in terms of the amount of people and length. Hart (2002) has
researched and worked with circles for many years and his book Seeking Mino-Pimatisiwin: An
Aboriginal Approach to Helping is a good resource. Additionally, I would add that methods of gathering
people together are varied, but one thing for sure is that food is central to any successful gathering.
Feeding people in a loving and good way will fuel a positive environment and nurture optimistic feelings.
McCormick (2005) presented a worthy chapter where Indigenous practices toward a healing path are
summarized. He identified the healing path and outlines the role of “spirituality in healing, the role of
nature, the role of cleansing, the role of culture in healing, the model of the circle and Medicine Wheel, the
concept of balance, the role of connection, and the role of ceremony in healing” (pp. 293-294). It
explained healing approaches and practices that utilize Indigenous methods while integrating concepts
such as connection, balance, nature, and wholism. His chapter is useful because he linked these
approaches to counselling and therapy with individuals, groups, and communities. Indigenous healing
processes are identified as wholistic, multifaceted, and diverse where sharing is facilitated through a
variety of paths.
I had the privilege, at a young age, of being a student of traditional teachers and was given
teachings to live, practice, and share. I also had the privilege of growing up in the bush. I acknowledge
these privileges because of the institutional racism that severed many First Nations from their inherent
right to the traditions and values of our many cultures. All Indigenous peoples, I believe, should have their
teachings with them. My responsibility has been to internalize the teachings into who I am and honour
them in the way I live. I cannot lose them or have them stolen - they exist as a part of me - in my mind, my
body, and my Spirit and heart. For these tremendous gifts, I am most grateful. Relearning the cultural
teachings, worldview, and philosophies of my people have been my personal and professional
methodology of practice. Committing to relearning our culture and language as a methodology for
emancipatory and liberating practice is now essential to my life and work. If I am able to offer Indigenous
peoples something, I want it to be based within Anishinaabe epistemology.
© Absolon
Diversity is another concept of this doorway and actions of practice ought to reflect the diverse
manifestations of colonialism and internalized colonialism. People have diverse experiences and not all
Indigenous people aspire to be traditional or have traditional knowledge. Indigenous people are also
Christian and traditional or neither. Some people are assimilated into Canadian society and like it that
way. Indigenous peoples are diverse in their linguistics, lifestyles, cultures, and ways of life. Families are
diverse and communities are diverse. Community governance structures can be diverse and the
operations of programs may reflect cultural and organizational diversity. Communities may vary in their
priorities, goals, and objectives. Land bases are diverse and livelihoods will also be diverse. Nations across
Canada are very diverse as are the linguistic groupings. Programming that might work in one community
may not be appropriate for another because of the unique conditions and situations that exist within
communities. Distinct community-based strategies will require specific considerations relative to each
community.
Additionally, economic conditions among Indigenous peoples are diverse, though there is a
prevalence of poverty and low socio-economic status. The high incidences of unemployment and poor
housing conditions continue (Wesley-Esquimaux & Smolewski, 2004). Some communities struggle with
the poor quality of drinking water and sewage systems. The physical conditions under which some
Indigenous people exist are deplorable. A socio-economic analysis of poverty, unemployment, housing,
homelessness, and other consequences of the economic marginalization of peoples in a colonial and racist
society is required to refute any notion that Indigenous peoples are poor because of stereotypical notions
of being lazy, drunk, or stupid. One need only look at the peasant farming policies in the prairies in the
late 1800s to realize that the government's agenda was to maintain Indigenous peoples as the working
poor and did so by creating glass ceilings on profit margins in farming (Carter, 1990). Because of racism,
oppressive Federal policies, fiscal erosions, and reneging on fiduciary responsibilities, Indigenous peoples
have retained sub-standard economic status. Understanding the economics of Indigenous peoples’ lives
requires a structural economic analysis. This understanding will foster a compassionate lens from which
you perceive the people and their conditions. I believe this analysis prevents blaming the victim and
redirects the problem to the institutions and structures.
In summary, the theoretical elements of Indigenous wholistic theory of Giiwedinong, the

Northern doorway, acknowledge the physical aspects of the whole where methods of practice and action
are. This doorway specifically:
• recognizes the healing in being and doing;

• calls for action and movement;
• acknowledges the collective work;
• addresses methodologies of practice from Indigenous frameworks such as sharing or teaching
circles, ceremonies, use of nature, and process-oriented action;
• healing as a restoration of balance using tools such as the Medicine Wheel;
• the diversity within Indigenous contexts; and
• encourages a socio-economic analysis of contemporary conditions.
© Absolon
Centre Shkode
The Centre Shkode (fire) is where the fire exists and where all four doorways intersect and
interrelate. The Centre is where balance and harmony exist when all aspects are living in harmony and
balance. The Centre fire could also represent self in relation to all else. It is the essence of self and the
manifestation of the whole. In summary, the Centre fire represents a coming together of all four
directions. Ermine (1995) told us more about this Centre fire of the self:
Aboriginal epistemology is grounded in the self, the spirit, the unknown. Understanding
of the universe must be grounded in the spirit. Knowledge must be sought through the
stream of the inner space in unison with all instruments of knowing and conditions that
make individuals receptive to knowing. Ultimately it was in the self that Aboriginal people
discovered great resources for coming to grips with life’s mysteries. It was in the self that
the richest source of information could be found by delving into the metaphysical and the
nature and origin of knowledge. Aboriginal epistemology speaks of pondering great
mysteries that lie not further than the self (p. 108).
The Centre represents the fire of life where all directions meet and locates the teachings of integration,
balance, interconnections, and holism. The Centre also represents the self - the essence of the cumulative
aspects of self: the spirit, the heart, the mind, and the body. Utilizing a wholistic analysis enables
practitioners to better understand people in their whole context, as the Centre really represents the
cumulative aspects of all four doorways.
Each doorway in isolation from the others is insufficient. All doorways are interdependent,
interconnected, and make up the collective whole. An Indigenous wholistic theory of practice considers all
four doorways and their elements. For example, Indigenous worldview effects how people see themselves
in relation to their community and themselves. Recognizing cultural knowledge implies the existence of
methods of healing and practice that have been exercised and applied in Indigenous contexts. Wholistic
practice means to honour the balance and respect all the directions in programming, policy, and practice.
For example: create programs that feed the Spirit (using medicines of sweetgrass, sage, tobacco and
cedar; ceremonies; and circle formats), the emotions (the internalized inferiority, fear, shame, anger,
pain, and self-hate), the mind (educating First Nations workers and shareholders 4 about the authentic
history, the nature of their own experience, decolonizing our minds and unlearning racism, and dealing
with our internalized racism and inferiority), and the body (addressing the symptoms of racism that First
Nations people, workers, and leaders carry with them as baggage that results in low self-esteem,
substance and personal abuse, family violence, and suicide).
Indigenous knowledge is a lived knowledge, meaning that you must practice what you know and
be what you do. There is no distinction between living and working. Indigenous knowledge is a way of life.
For Indigenous helpers to continue to develop their knowledge and understanding into practice they must
be provided with opportunities to learn. Professional development for Indigenous helpers means those
helpers need to be supported to attend ceremonies and traditional venues so they can learn how to pick up
4
I learnt of this term at Kii-Kee-Wan-Nii-Kaan Healing Lodge where the term shareholder was used in lieu of client, as
shareholders indicated that people have a stake and investment in their own wellness where their wellness journey is a mutual
process. I liked the application of the term shareholder.
© Absolon
their knowledge bundles. Traditional knowledge is transmitted and passed on at ceremonies and that is
where we learn the teachings and protocols.
Workers need to be aware of Indigenous peoples’ contexts and within Indigenous contexts is
where capacity is developed. Community-based education directed at capacity building and critical
education foster peoples’ abilities to control their own needs and program directions. Building a solid
foundation for any initiative is paramount to its success. Any community-based initiative ought to have an
anti-colonial agenda coupled with an affirmation and presence of Indigenous ways of knowing, being, and
doing. Staff education will, in part, address an authentic movement of healing and will begin to truly
reflect Indigenous wholism in practice. Professional development is also about cultural development and
a commitment to providing cultural teachings and language lessons empowers helpers in their own
identity and knowledge set. In essence, practice and programming based on Indigenous theory ought to
support workers to be strong and healthy in terms of clear minds, strong spirits, healthy bodies, and
healing hearts. A genuine and real movement addresses and deals with the internalized oppression of
First Nations peoples. It also includes and addresses symbolic components of culture and spirituality in a
complementary fashion and in a way that strengthens and heals our Spirits, bodies, and hearts.
Conclusion
This article was set forth to present an Indigenous wholistic theory as a knowledge set for
practice. I utilized the concepts of concentric circles and Four Directions. As I travelled around the circle I
discussed some elements related to each direction, eventually leading to the place where all components
intersect. Indigenous wholistic theory is cyclical, circular, and wholistic. Oral traditions were typically the
venue for transmitting such knowledge. Utilizing visuals is one method to try to lift the words and
concepts off the page. Ironically, Indigenous theory is not something one can acquire vicariously or by
reading a book. It is a living phenomenon. This representation of Indigenous wholistic theory can be
elaborated upon much further. My hope is to convey a theory that is based on the culture and traditions of
Indigenous worldviews, is anti-colonial in its perspective, is wholistic and cyclical, and is ecologically
derived. Spiritual and natural laws direct the protocols from which these methodologies are derived.
Understanding and learning Indigenous wholistic theory is simultaneously simple and complex. It is both
fluid and concrete. Minobimaadsiwin is the good life we strive for and the Creator gave us all that we need
to heal ourselves wholistically. Indigenous ways of knowing, being, and doing have worked for our
ancestors and can be translated into contemporary contexts. Our nations are not bankrupt. We have the
Spirit of our ancestors and strength of knowledge and theory that has the capability to heal ourselves, our
families, our communities, nations, and the earth. Indigenous wholistic theory is a theory for balance,
harmony, and B’maadisiwin. Chi’miigwech. All my relations!
© Absolon
References
Absolon, K. (1993). Healing as practice: Teachings from the Medicine Wheel (Unpublished paper). WUNSKA network,
Canadian Schools of Social Work.
Absolon, K., & Herbert, E. (1997). Community action as a practice of freedom: A First Nations perspective. In B. Wharf & M.
Clague (Eds.), Community organizing, Canadian experiences (pp. 205-227). Toronto, ON: Oxford University Press.
Absolon, K., & Willett, C. (2004). Aboriginal research: Berry picking and hunting in the 21st century. First Peoples Child &
Family Review, 1(1), 5-18.
Absolon, K., & Willett, C. (2005). Putting ourselves forward: Location in Aboriginal research methodology. In L. Brown & S.
Strega (Eds.), Research as resistance: Critical, Indigenous and anti-oppressive research approaches (pp. 97-125).
Toronto, ON: Canadian Scholars’ Press.
Alfred, T. (2005). Wasáse: Indigenous pathways of action and freedom. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press.
Archibald, J. (1993). Researching with mutual respect. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 20(2), 189-192.
Battiste, M., & Henderson, J. Y. (2000a). Ethical issues in research. In Protecting Indigenous knowledge and heritage: A global
challenge (pp. 132-144). Saskatoon, SK: Purich Publishing.
Battiste, M., & Henderson, J. Y. (2000b). Protecting Indigenous knowledge and heritage: A global challenge. Saskatoon, SK:
Purich Publishing.
Benton-Banai, E. (1988). The Mishomis book. Hayward, WI: Indian Country Communications Inc.
Bishop, R. (1998). Freeing ourselves from neo-colonial domination in research: A Maori approach to creating knowledge.
International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 11(2), 199-219. https://doi.org/10.1080/095183998236674
Brant-Castellano, M. (2000). Updating Aboriginal traditions of knowledge. In G. J. S. Dei, D. G. Rosenberg, & B. L. Hall (Eds.), Indigenous
knowledges in global contexts: Multiple readings of our world (pp. 21-36). Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press.
Cajete, G. (2000). Indigenous knowledge: The Pueblo metaphor of Indigenous education. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming
Indigenous voice and vision (pp. 181-191). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Calliou, S. (2001). Decolonozing the mind: A non-empirical reflection of some First Nations scholarship. In K. P. Binda & S.
Calliou (Eds.), Aboriginal education in Canada: A study in decolonization (pp. 195-210). Mississauga, ON: Canadian
Educators’ Press.
Carter, S. (1990). Lost Harvests. Montreal, QC: McGill-Queen’s University Press.
Cavender Wilson, A. (2004). Reclaiming our humanity: Decolonization and the recovery of Indigenous knowledge. In D. A.
Mihesuah & A. Cavender Wilson (Eds.), Indigenizing the academy: Transforming scholarship and empowering
communities (pp. 69-87). Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press.
Cole, P. (2002). Aboriginalizing methodology: Considering the canoe. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education,
15(4), 447-460. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390210145516
Colorado, P. (1988). Bridging Native and western science. Convergence, 11(2), 49-67.
Duran, B., & Duran, E. (1995). Native American postcolonial psychology. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
Duran, B., & Duran, E. (2000). Applied postcolonial clinical and research strategies. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous
Voice and Vision (pp. 86-100). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Ermine, W. (1995). Aboriginal epistemology. In M. Battiste & J. Barman (Eds.), First Nations education in Canada: The circle
unfolds (pp. 101-112). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Fitznor, L. (1998). The circle of life: Affirming Aboriginal philosophies in everyday living. In D. C. McCance (Ed.), Life ethics
in world religions (pp. 21-40). Atlanta, GA: Scholars’ Press.
Fitznor, L. (2002). Aboriginal educators’ stories: Rekindling Aboriginal worldviews (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved from
University of Toronto Libraries: Catalogue (4683156)
Freire, P. (1996). Pedagogy of the oppressed (20th anniversary ed.). New York City, NY: Continuum International Publishing Group.
© Absolon
Gone, J. P. (2004). Keeping culture in mind: Transforming academic training in professional psychology for Indian country. In
D. A. Mihesuah & A. Cavender Wilson (Eds.), Indigenizing the academy: Transforming scholarship and empowering
communities (pp. 124-140). Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press.
Graveline, F. J. (2000). Circle as methodology: Enacting an Aboriginal paradigm. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in
Education, 13(4), 361-370. https://doi.org/10.1080/095183900413304
Graveline, F. J. (2004). Healing wounded hearts. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing.
Gross, L. W. (2002). Bimaadiziwin, or the “Good Life,” as a unifying concept of Anishinabe religion. American Indian Culture
and Research Journal, 21(1), 15-32. https://doi.org/10.17953/aicr.26.1 m868112ml1837177
Gunn Allen, P. (1986). The sacred hoop: Recovering the feminine in American Indian traditions. Boston, MA: Beacon Press.
Gunn Allen, P. (1991). Grandmothers of the light: A medicine woman’s source book. Boston, MA: Beacon Press.
Hart, M. A. (1996). Sharing circles: Utilizing traditional practice methods for teaching, helping and supporting. In S. O’Meara &
D. A. West (Eds.), From our eyes: Learning from Indigenous peoples (pp. 59-72). Toronto, ON: Garamond Press.
Hart, M. A. (2002). Seeking mino-pimatisiwin. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing.
Heilbron, C. L., & Guttman, M. A. J. (2000). Traditional healing methods with First Nations women in Group Counselling.
Canadian Journal of Counselling and Psychotherapy, 34(1), 3-13.
Henderson, J. Y. (2000a). Ayukpachi: Empowering Aboriginal thought. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous voice and
vision (pp. 248-278). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Henderson, J. Y. (2000b). Postcolonial ghost dancing: Diagnosing European colonialism. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming
Indigenous voice and vision (pp. 57-76). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Holmes, L. (2000). Heart knowledge, blood memory, and the voice of the land: Implications of research among Hawaiian elders.
In G. J. S. Dei, D. G. Rosenberg, & B. L. Hall (Eds.), Indigenous knowledges in global contexts (pp. 37-53). Toronto,
ON: University of Toronto Press.
Kenny, C. (2000). A sense of place: Aboriginal research as ritual practice. In R. Neil (Ed.), Voices of the drum: Indigenous
education and culture (pp. 139- 150). Brandon, MB: Kingfisher Publications.
Kovach, M. (2005). Emerging from the margins: Indigenous methodologies. In L. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as
resistance: Critical, Indigenous, and anti-oppressive approaches (pp. 19-36). Toronto, ON: Canadian Scholars’ Press.
LaRocque, E. (1991). Racism runs through Canadian society. In O. McKague (Ed.), Racism in Canada (pp. 73-76). Saskatoon,
SK: Fifth House.
Little Bear, L. (2000). Jagged worldviews colliding. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous Voice and Vision (pp. 77-85).
Marsden, D. (2005). Indigenous wholistic theory for health: Enhancing traditional-based Indigenous health services in
Vancouver (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC.
Marsden, D. (2006). Creating and sustaining positive paths to health by restoring traditional-based Indigenous health-education
practices. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 29(1).
Martin, K. (2002). Ways of knowing, ways of being and ways of doing: Developing a theoretical framework and methods for
Indigenous re-search and Indigenist research (Unpublished paper).
Monture-Angus, P. (1995). Thunder in my soul: A Mohawk woman speaks. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing.
McCormick, R. (2005). The healing path: What can counselors learn from Aboriginal people about how to heal?. In R. Moodley
& W. West (Eds.), Integrating traditional healing practices into counselling and psychotherapy (pp. 293-304).
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications Inc.
McPherson, D. H., & Rabb, J. D. (2001). Indigeneity in Canada: Spirituality, the sacred and survival. International Journal of
Canadian Studies, 23(1), 57-79.
Nabigon, H. (2006). The hollow tree: Fighting addiction with traditional native healing. Montreal, QC: McGill-Queen’s University Press.
© Absolon
Poonwassie, A., & Charter, A. (2001). An Aboriginal worldview of helping: Empowering approaches. Canadian Journal of
Counselling and Psychotherapy, 35(1), 63-73.
Poonwassie, A., & Charter, A. (2005). Aboriginal worldview of healing: Inclusion, blending, and bridging. In R. Moodley & W.
West (Eds.), Integrating traditional healing practices into counselling and psychotherapy (pp. 15-25). Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage Publications Inc.
Rigney, L. (1999). Internalization of an Indigenous anticolonial cultural critique of research methodologies: A guide to Indigenist
research methodology and its principles. Wicazo Sa Review, 14(2), 109-121.
Ross, L. (2005). Personalizing methodology: Narratives of imprisonment. In I. Hernandez-Avila (Ed.), Reading Native American
women: Critical/creative representations (pp. 39-63). New York City, NY: Altamira Press.
Simpson, L. (2001). Aboriginal peoples and knowledge: Decolonizing our processes. The Canadian Journal of Native Studies,
21(1), 137-148.
Sinclair, R. (2003). Indigenous research in social work: The challenge of operationalizing worldview. Native Social Work
Journal, 5(1), 117-139.
Sinclair, R., Hart, M., & Bruyere, G. (Eds.). (2009). Wicihitowin Aboriginal Social Work in Canada. Winnipeg, MB: Fernwood Publishing.
Smith, L. T. (2000). Kaupapa Maori research. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming indigenous voice and vision (pp. 225-247).
Solomon, A., & Wane, N. N. (2005). Indigenous healers and healing in a modern world. In R. Moodley & W. West (Eds.),
Integrating traditional healing practices in counselling and psychotherapy (pp. 52-60). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage
Publications Inc.
Steinhauser, P. (2001). Situating myself in research. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 25(2), 183-187.
Talbot, S. (2002). Academic Indianismo: Social scientific research in American Indian studies. American Indian Culture and
Research Journal, 26(4), 67-96. https://doi.org/10.17953/aicr.26.4.j3w2317170370937
TeHennepe, S. (1997). Respectful research: This is what my people say, you learn it from the story. In S. De Castell & M. Bryson
(Eds.), Radical Interventions: Identity, politics, and difference/s in educational praxis (pp. 153-182). Albany, NY: State
University of New York Press.
Thomas, R. A. (2005). Honouring the oral traditions of my ancestors through storytelling. In L. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as
resistance: Critical, Indigenous, and anti-oppressive approaches (pp. 237-254). Toronto, ON: Canadian Scholars’ Press.
wa Thiong’o, N. (1986). Decolonising the mind: The politics of language in African literature. Oxford, OXF: James Currey.
Weenie, A. (1998). Aboriginal pedagogy: The sacred circle concept. In L. A. Stiffar (Ed.), As we see: Aboriginal pedagogy (pp.
59-66). Saskatoon, SK: University of Saskatchewan Extension Press.
Wesley-Esquimaux, C., & Smolewski, M. (2004). Historic Tauma and Aboriginal Healing. Ottawa, ON: The Aboriginal Healing
Foundation.
Wilson, S. (2001). What is an Indigenous research methodology? Canadian Journal of Native Education, 25(2), 175-179.
Wilson, S. (2003). Progressing toward an Indigenous research paradigm in Canada and Australia. Canadian Journal of Native
Education, 27(2), 161-178.
© Absolon
2019
Family Counselling as Decolonization:
Exploring an Indigenous Social-
Constructivist Approach in Clinical Practice
Suzanne Stewart
Ph.D., Associate Professor, University of Toronto, Dalla Lana School of Public Health, Toronto, Canada
Corresponding author: suzanne.stewart@utoronto.ca
Abstract
In Canada, Indigenous peoples' lives are shaped by relationships with their families. These relationships
are defined by traditional Indigenous conceptions of connectedness with the earth, communities, and the
many relations that occur within these contexts and are based on what is termed Indigenous ways of
knowing. These relationships are also described through a concept of Western social constructivism.
Social constructivism is an ideal mate for Indigenous ways of knowing in the practice of family counselling
because it recognizes the importance of culture and context in understanding what occurs in human
interactions when constructing knowledge based on this understanding. Indigenous ways of knowing have
been of recent and growing interest to family mental health practitioners and policymakers who are
seeking to support clients in decolonization processes. Family service providers who work in a Western
social service or health care setting have an interest in exploring forms of sociocultural theory and
practice, such as Indigenous ways of knowing, in order to address and further the practitioner-family
interaction and to benefit both individuals and communities in a responsible and sustainable manner.
Using current and historical literature, this article presents a summary of issues and guidelines for a
hybrid approach that brings together Western and Indigenous approaches for family service workers
(such as counsellors, social workers, psychologists, and psychiatrists) and a set of guidelines for practical
application. Implications of how these practices can positively impact and promote community mental
health in the current climate of recovery from colonialism and cultural genocide are presented.
Keywords: Indigenous families, Indigenous psychology, Indigenous mental health, cross-

cultural communication, social-constructivist counselling
1
The original version of this article was published in: Stewart, S. (2009). Family counseling as decolonization: Exploring an
Indigenous social-constructivist approach in clinical practice. First People Child & Family Review, 4(1), 62-70.
Family counselling as decolonization 44
Preface
I work from the position of an Indigenous woman, a parent, a psychologist, and an academic. My
identities are created and informed by numerous political, social, and economic contexts that see me as
the Other. I am implicated in the dichotomies of oppressor/oppressed, colonizer/colonized, and
male/female. These binaries rest on the edifice of notions of race, class, and gender. The colonial
experience has been devastating to Indigenous peoples around the world, and presently, recovery and
healing are timely and necessary. Resistance, which is a part of decolonization, can be as much a personal
struggle as it is a community struggle. Resistance means breaking through pain and denial. It means
unlearning what we as Indigenous people have been taught about ourselves and instead learn to value
ourselves. Such emancipatory projects require a critical understanding of the colonial structures of
oppression and domination. Resisting colonialism requires a reasoned and critical analysis of the systemic
and systematic practices that exclude specific groups from equitable access and participation in
mainstream society. Thus, the underlying assumptions of ideologies and practices which require the
Other need to be revealed and challenged. The underlying assumption of this paper is that resistance is
possible within colonialism through a deconstruction of the therapeutic relationship that is dominated by
Western ethics and ideas and the inclusion of Indigenous ways of knowing.
Introduction
Social-constructivist therapies are useful approaches for effective and appropriate family
counselling with Canadian Indigenous groups because these therapies often give power back to the client
through the co-constructed nature of the therapeutic relationship. A return of power to the client is also
made in terms of self-determination within the context of the counselling relationship, and this is
particularly useful when dealing with non-Western populations such as Indigenous communities. This
paper will include an extensive review of existing literature on social-constructivist family therapy in
Indigenous contexts, then an Indigenous perspective will frame a discussion on some of the most salient
issues facing counsellors and educators who work with Indigenous families. The issues discussed will
include Indigenous psychology/mental health, cross-cultural communication, and theory and practice of
social-constructivist counselling. Lastly, a list of guidelines for constructivist counsellors who work with
Indigenous families will be presented.
Generally, the term culture is used in reference to differences that may include but are not limited
to ethnic or racial differences in values, language, attitudes, or behaviour (Duncan, 1995). Pederson (1991)
offered an alternative to a broad definition of culture with a narrower description that distinguishes
between cultural, demographic, and personal constructs as the important facets in differentiating
minority from the dominant culture. "According to a broad definition of culture, multicultural perspective
applies to all counseling relationships. Multiculturalism may be described as fourth force (complementary
to forces of psychodynamic, behavioral, and humanistic explanations of human behavior) in counseling
from its own theoretical perspective" (Pedersen, 1991, p. 6). This definition is most relevant to the
counselling processes discussed in this paper because it is related to the key concept of culture as denoting
socially constructed difference that is more than just individual difference.
Constructivism focuses on concepts of freedom and responsibility in human existence (Peavey,

1995). Having the freedom to choose can mean shaping your life, though we may not have a choice
© Stewart
regarding externalities to the self (such as choosing your parents, your gender, living on stolen lands, etc.).
The way in which we live and what we become result from our choices (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). Once this
essential freedom is realized and accepted, there must also be an acceptance for the responsibility for
directing our lives. The constructivist counsellor begins enacting the change process by creating an
atmosphere for the relationship that is caring, open, human, and lastly, always changing. Indigenous
clients value these characteristics in a helper, especially one who self-discloses as part of the relationship
process (McCormick, 1997). Personal projects, as part of constructivist counselling, are a useful and
effective vehicle for change (Mahoney, 1991). Projects can be developed for Indigenous families in a
variety of ways. One way is to invite each family member to tell his or her stories, to suggest that they have
many stories to tell. This technique of using the client's narrative to self-explore and discover the meaning
clients assign to parts of their stories comprises an approach that is a subset of constructivism called
narrative therapy (Mahoney, 1991). Indigenous people are traditionally oral people, whose identities are
carried on through generations of story-telling (Trimble & Medicine, 1993). Therefore, using narrative
therapy with peoples who come from a narrative tradition is both fitting and helpful.
Culture and Psychology

Indigenous cultural variables suggest generalizations across Nations, bands, communities, and
even families, to be faulty. The diversity and within-group-differences of Indigenous peoples in Canada
are complex and based in local traditions and cultural norms (Stewart, 2008). There are differences
across and within Indigenous communities with respect to levels of involvement in both Western and
traditional cultures, language, geographic residence, and socioeconomic status (Garrett & Garrett, 1994;
Herring, 1989; Stewart, 2008). However, there are some common threads of shared cultural variables
that do exist and are relevant to the assessment and intervention of Indigenous families' mental health
concerns by helping professionals (DuBray, 1985; Duran, 2006; Sue & Sue, 1990). Some of these shared
ideals include the importance of family or community, rules of non-interference, non-competitiveness,
sharing, and emotional restraint (Restoule, 1997). The high value placed on the role of the family
underscores the importance of examining the social-constructivist theory and practice of family
counselling as applied to Indigenous families. The constructivist perspective is useful in the context of
Indigenous families because for some social-constructivist counsellors, therapy is an explicitly political
act, where there is an exposing of power and a giving of privilege to the special knowledges of the
disenfranchised. Indigenous peoples in Canada have been historically marginalized and disempowered by
the dominant culture through forced colonization and assimilation tactics of the federal government that
have served to create a legacy of cultural genocide. Social-constructivist approaches emphasize identifying
and serving the client's goals (Guidano, 1990), whereas research has suggested that Western-based
therapies in general usually have goals different and unhelpful to those of an Indigenous client
(McCormick, 1996 Trimble & Flemming, 1989).
Diversity within Indigenous communities, both urban and rural or on-reserve, can also be
evidenced in varying degrees of traditional cultural commitment among members of a specific Nation
based on differences of value orientation, which in the context of family counseling, is particularly
apparent in terms of varying family patterns (such as importance of extended family) and parenting styles
(Lafromboise, Trimble, & Mohatt, 1990). However, a prevailing and real sense of identity-based on a
common worldview and history ties Natives together as a people of many peoples (Herring, 1999;
© Stewart
Thomason, 1991). It can also be acknowledged that there exists a high degree of psychological
homogeneity and a small amount of shared cultural meanings and standards, which are based on
common core values or rules that exist for traditional Natives across Nations and communities (Brant,
1990; DuBray 1985; Restoule 1997; Oswalt 1988; Sue & Sue 1990).
Ibrahim (1985) and McCormick (1996) suggested that there is a need to understand the
worldview and beliefs of a culture prior to applying techniques and theories of healing or helping.
Therefore, it is significant that a lack of understanding Indigenous culture, beliefs, values, and spirituality
could result in erroneous assumptions in the assessment of family or individual mental health problems
and the treatment used in dealing with the problem (Appleton & Dykeman, 1996; Duran, 2006).
Counselling ought to begin with an exploration of the natural helping styles of a culture before utilizing
theories or approaches for members of that culture (Herring, 1999). It is imperative to “mobilize” the
philosophies and healing resources of participants to help them in the healing process (McCormick, 1996,
p 165). Further, to ignore such worldviews or to impose a different one is to overlook important healing
resources and undermine the therapeutic relationship (Appleton & Dykeman, 1996). For example, a
traditional healer would almost never treat an individual in isolation (Thomason, 1991), but would rather
include the extended family and the community to support and promote the goal of interconnectedness
necessary to mental health (Lewis & Ho, 1989). Gone (2004) and Duran (2006) have suggested that using
a non-Indigenous approach to healing with Indigenous clients is a continued form of colonial oppression.
That is, in order to begin and promote healing, mental approaches with Indigenous clients, including
families, should come from Indigenous paradigms of health and wellness such as Indigenous ways of
knowing (Stewart, 2008).
Some theories in Western psychosocial development, such as attachment theory (Neckoway,

Brownlee, & Castellan, 2007) and psychosexual development (Duran, 2006) run antithetical to
Indigenous notions of holistic health and development (Mussell, Cardiff, & White, 2004). Although there
appear to be universal aspects, such as cultural and historical contexts, to developmental psychology
theory, social and behaviour researchers suggest that the standard process of Western psychosocial
development ought to be revised when considered across cultures (Axelson, 1993; Sue & Sue, 1990). The
rationale for this consideration is that children and adolescents have to master psychosocial
developmental tasks through culturally sanctioned socialization; in essence, this means that social
environments and their patterns of interpersonal relationships impact the development of individual
thinking, feeling, and behaviour (Sue & Sue, 1990).
Acceptance of Indigenous conceptions of mental health and individual or community

development does not affirm or preclude the use of a particular method, such as social constructivism, of
mental health intervention. An Indigenous approach to mental health service such as family counselling
can be viewed as part of the scientific tradition because an important aspect of the scientific endeavour is
the discovery of appropriate methods for investigating the phenomenon of interest (Kim & Berry, 1993).
Psychologists and professional helpers should not and cannot be bound to a particular method because
culturally different clients bring diverse contexts and histories into counselling (Trimble & Medicine,
1993). The use of multiple methods is recommended to mental health workers to increases the
practitioner's confidence that a particular outcome is valid and not an artifact of a therapeutic method
(Berry, 1993). For example, a family therapist may work from a social-constructivist framework, but
© Stewart
incorporate traditional Indigenous forms of helping and healing such as prayer, use of ceremony, or
working together with an Elder or healer, within the counselling setting.
A family counselling approach that includes a culturally-based conception of mental health and
healing can contribute to developing forms of health services and promotion that respond effectively to
the client needs created by the complex history and social context of Canada's Indigenous peoples
(Trimble & Thurman, 2002). Further, traditional knowledge, values, wisdom, and healing practices of
Indigenous peoples can be used not only to appropriately address and deal with community mental health
dysfunction and healing, but as appropriate for non-Native populations, where dominant cultural
assumptions and arrogance have historically overlooked and denied the strengths of bringing Indigenous
ways of knowing into a counselling model (Kirmayer, Brass, & Tait, 2000). The section that follows will
explore the theory behind both social constructivism and Indigenous ways of knowing.
Social Constructivism in Counselling Psychology

In our contemporary global village, which is marked by the incessancy of capitalism and
multinational aggression, human dilemmas are different than in previous eras. This is especially true for
Indigenous families, who presently face both continued oppression and racism and the awesome task of
decolonization and community rebuilding (Green, 1995). Social constructivism inherently assumes that
people are always situated, or must be socially located, in a specific context that will shape our lives from
that unique perspective (Mahoney, Norcross, Prochaska, & Missar, 1989). When contexts change,
narratives will change; Peavy (1998) wrote that this does not de-legitimize historical events but simply
suggests that as situations change, so do people. Clients' needs in the context of the therapeutic
relationship are unique in our age of post-modern critiques of the self, which is marked by a move away
from an objective understanding of the self and reality and away from binary constructions of concepts
such as identity, culture, health, etc. Pepper (1942) wrote of an assumption of contextualization of
historical events, which can only be understood when placed in a context of time and place. An important
point is that the meaning changes with context. Therapeutic implications are great with respect to this
assumption of the importance of context to personal change. To illustrate, take the example of a story of a
specific event as a client understands her life at one point in time (e.g., when she, as an Indigenous girl, is
first entering community college at age 19): The story may be told differently at another point or place
(e.g., when she is leaving a second abusive relationship at the age of 35). This in a social constructivist
understanding, the proof of the truth of a client's story is not if the story corresponds to actual events, but
that the meaning and depth the client assigns to that experience is the reality or truth for him or her in
that specific context (Mahoney, 1991). This notion is invaluable when dealing with families, where each
member can story and re-story together within counselling sessions, gaining insight from other members'
perspectives (Gergen, Anderson, & Hoffman, 1996). Understanding contextualization is key to
understanding the constructivist approach (Kelly, 1955).
Perspective is also a key aspect of the social-constructivist theory. For example, my perspective as
the author of this paper shapes who I am in bringing my ideas and knowledge into interaction with the
established theories. The implication is that my role in this integration of theory and self, as my dialogue
with families, is reflexive in nature. It is valuable, in the context of constructivism, to perceive the use of
social interaction and reflection as tools to propel us down the path of understanding the self. Thus, from
a constructivist point of view, counselling is a reflexive social practice, meaning that it occurs through
© Stewart
interaction, self-reflection, telling and retelling stories, ideas, feelings, etc. (Neimeyer, 1995). A
constructivist framework also assumes a value in using the metaphor of self as a central aspect of the
therapeutic relationship and process (Mahoney, 1991). This is a point to which many Indigenous people,
in my experience as a psychotherapist and educator, can relate.
The metaphorical self is constantly evolving, has multiple voices, and is defined by language and
memory; self is not an object but is a complex netting of meaning and a metaphorical way of referring to
the subjective sense of who we are (Peavy, 1998). It is necessary to state that in reviewing the literature on
constructivism, there is much conflict within constructivist thinking about the nature of the self (Guidano,
1990). The only consistent agreement among all constructivists is that while the self cannot be pinned
down in one specific way or another, self (by nature) is not a thing that exists as an empirical entity
(Mahoney, 1991). That is, the self should not be reified and is in no way accessible through empirical or
positivistic testing. The implications of this in the context of Indigenous family counselling are twofold:
this means that self must then always be changing (since it cannot be pinned down); and that self must
then be defined through its relationships with others (in the family, for example), if it does not exist
objectively as an empirical entity. Thus, people have a built-in capacity for change and require
relationships to define existence, both of which provide a rich and plentiful ground on which to lay the
possibility of positive change in the therapeutic setting. Gergen, Anderson, and Hoffman (1996) wrote
that individuals change only in the context of the family and the meaning ascribed to them in their
familial relationships.
Therefore, the self is a metaphorical expression that organizes meaning with the capacity to
interpret, choose, and act in order to effect change. The Indigenous self is closely tied to the land and a
sense of spirituality (McCormick, 1996), which encompasses both the self and the environments (i.e.,
context) as one. When dealing with families it is important to understand that Indigenous youth today
often possess a bicultural identity, which includes traditional beliefs and self-awareness of self-as-context
as well as contemporary or more mainstream accounts of self; this bicultural sense of self is usually linked
to a level of acculturation (Herring, 1999; Wetsit, 1999). Group or cultural identity, according to Trimble
and Fleming (1989), is based on each community's history. Knowledge of this history is essential for
mental health issues to be effectively addressed with Indigenous families. For example, Indigenous
children raised with traditional Indigenous values, beliefs, and systems often enter mainstream society
with a set of cultural assumptions and expectations with respect to who they are and how to interact with
others in a way that is non-competitive, non-threatening, and based on a sense of collectivity. These
assumptions are not those of their non-Indigenous peers and educators, which can cause problems with
social interactions and educational testing and assessment (Herring, 1999).
Generations of domination at the hands of colonial governments have caused shame and
unworthy feelings for many Indigenous individuals about themselves and their culture (Hodgson, 1990).
The long-term effects of oppression and acculturation can be seen in epidemic proportions of low self-
esteem within Indigenous families and communities (Weenie, 2000). Green (1995) reported that low self-
esteem in First Nations communities is linked to achievement in life and the ability to adjust to
environmental demands. It influences individuals' general states of well-being and produces a diminished
sense of self that can breed failure. Low self-esteem coupled with dysfunctional symptomology creates
further obstacles to the career development process; therefore, career counsellors need to examine the
© Stewart
vocational and personal problems, goals, and his or her capacity for successful remediation of these
problems (Johnson, Swartz, & Martin, 1995). Doing so in the family context would be more useful to
Indigenous clients. Elder and community leader support in raising self-esteem is a necessity in promoting
community mental health and wellness, in addition, support for the healing process by the dominant
culture is also required (Martin & Farris, 1994). There is a need for a mental health approach that
supports traditional beliefs and healing, as informed by Elders and community leaders, whose input
should be solicited in the creation of family mental health intervention programs and counsellor
education (France, 1997; Darou, 1987; Peavy, 1995). Part of the Indigenous tradition is not separating the
individual from the family or community context.
Mahoney (1991) wrote that self-knowledge is extremely important in counselling because it and
all other types of knowledge are reflexively intertwined. As a professional helper (and philosophical
agent), the author was aware that any attempt at complete objectivity in self is not possible and that
understanding the subjective nature of the self in relation to others is integral to the counselling
relationship and vital to the Indigenous counselling process. The self is capable of changing through the
innumerable life projects, which we, as active agents, pursue through our interactions (relationships) with
others and by our own self-reflection (Guidano, 1990). Peavy (1998) held that we (i.e., the selt) are
literally created through our acts; that we are constantly revising our life stories, thereby demonstrating a
natural inclination towards change rather than stagnation.
The concept of emotion is also integral to social constructivism in counselling. The emotional
experience of the client in their interpersonal relationships and in their construction, and carrying out of
life's projects, is a major source of energy in constructing and de-constructing the self (Peavy, 1998).
Guidano (1990) suggested that no human change can occur without emotion. The author, as a
constructivist counsellor, placed definite emphasis on the Indigenous client's emotional experience in the
context of the family and in the context of colonialization, as the connector in social relations. In this way,
the author has seen the self as seeking meaningful purpose and this leading to self-construction in
counselling, or what is therapeutically known as self-empowerment.
The process of constructivist therapy is focused on the understanding of deep human experiences
(Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). In this way, language forms an important component to social-constructivist
counselling. Through this approach, clients, such as Indigenous families are encouraged to examine their
options for change within the context of their social, cultural, and historical realities, which clients
themselves identify and create. A constructivist helper assumes that there are multiple realities, not one
truth-objective reality. We live in a social world that is constructed through our relationships with others.
More specifically, we co-construct our reality through social relations (Mahoney, 1991). In this social
construction of the self in reality, language is one of the most salient meaning structure tools
(Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). The author proposed two implications for this in the application of theory to
practice: the importance of understanding how to work with Indigenous client stories as a way of
problem-solving, and; the value of examining and respecting the metaphors and language that Indigenous
clients might use to describe their lives and themselves.
A central tenet of constructivism is that external reality can never be externally known (Kelly,
1955). That is human reality results from our own self-organizing capabilities that give order to our
experience. Thus, human realities are metaphorical and constructed and constructed mostly through the
© Stewart
use of language (Mahoney 1991). Counselling is best understood in this framework as a metaphorical
process (Peavy, 1998).
Constructivism works to restore continuity of self that is disrupted by inauthentic living through
an attempt to promote holism that will motivate change (Mahoney, 1991). The author suggested that
narrative therapy is an apt technique for working with Indigenous families because, in keeping with both
the theory and some Indigenous beliefs, knowledge of the world (and selt) is socially constructed. Kelly
(1955) wrote that people construct their realities as they live them, so the act of telling a story can induce
client change because the telling adds to the story itself through the possibility of new meaning-making.
An overarching goal of social-constructivist counselling is affecting human change by changing

personal meaning systems, which is formally known as second-order change in this framework (Mahoney,
1991). The main technique requires simply that counsellors realize this goal by operating from a second-
order change perspective (Mahoney, 1991). What this means for a counsellor working with Indigenous
families is that the counsellor should consider the client-therapist relationship as dynamic and co-
constructed. For example, the counsellor might present her/himself to families in a transparent manner,
while gathering family histories in a way that is continuous (non-linear) and does not connote an ending
to the narrative.
Another way to view the goal of constructivist therapy is as creative rather than corrective
(Neimeyer, 1995), which means that the therapeutic relationship exists to create meaning, not to fix the
client; it is the promotion of meaning-making and personal development that effects change here. This fits
well with Indigenous goals for therapy, which are not always to seek change, per se, but, rather seek
support (Malone, 2000). A few specific techniques that are feasible for employing to effect second-order
change with Indigenous families are a) stream-of-consciousness narrative therapy, and b) facilitating a
meaningful account of client/family life or life projects. Bringing the client's attention to selfhood is also a
goal for the constructivist therapist (Neimeyer, 1995), which can be accomplished by use of circular
questioning (bringing the issue back to the client) and by getting clients to describe self-satisfying rituals
(Guidano, 1990), particularly traditional ceremonies and practices they engage in and asking for
understandings of their meanings. Generally, to work from a constructivist framework, the counsellor can
exist in the relationship from a credulous approach of curiosity for the client's life and self, with ample use
of metaphors and stories in the language and understanding of the client (Neimeyer, 1995).
For constructivists specifically, client change occurs through the storying and re-storying of the
client's life and life projects (Guidano, 1990). Externalizing problems and meaning-making are the precise
mechanisms by which the client is enabled to make better sense of self in the world, which leads to
change. By emphasizing the active nature of the self, clients are empowered to act (i.e., to pursue change)
from within the self. By encouraging clients to see reality as a product of personal meanings, change – or
at least the possibility for change – is created. Optimum change, in this way, occurs for the client at the
core of self, rather than simply peripherally.
Having discussed the distinct and peculiar ways that constructivism can affect client change, let
us draw attention to the concept of change itself. Human beings' experience of psychological change is
highly individualized and is only dubiously defined by a single set of principles, stages, or an operational
definition (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). To convey the nature and complexities of the experience of change is
© Stewart
a vast and complex undertaking, partly because our understanding of change is always changing and also
because the human condition, in our present age, is changing more rapidly than ever (Mahoney, 1991).
Change has a way of perpetuating itself in the context of human beings of each distinct culture.
Interestingly, it may be difficult for me as a helper to discuss client change meaningfully, especially in a
context of Indigenous families, because, according to Mahoney et al. (1989) therapists' perceptions of
change and of how to bring it about are usually different from those of their clients. As a helper operating
from a social constructivist perspective and Indigenous perspective, the author offered a central point that
the experience of change cannot be separated from the "experience of experience." Thus, the lived
experience of the therapeutic relationship is the catalyst for change.
However, the experience of change is relative to each client and each family within each Nation
and cannot be completely separated from the predominately tacit and very personalized experience of self
in these contexts.
Guidelines for Practical Applications

Based on the research of existing data and literature, and my own experiences in clinical
practices, I have formulated some practical application suggestions to consider when counselling with
Indigenous families from a social-constructivist approach:
• Conventional and historical approaches to mental health by therapists may be inappropriate

for Native individuals and families (Stewart, 2008; Trimble & Flemming, 1989).
• The inclusion of Indigenous definitions of mental health, such as that proposed by Garrett
(1999), Herring (1999), McCormick (1996), and Stewart (2008), and traditional Indigenous
healing practices form the groundwork for mental health interventions with Indigenous youth,
adults, and families.
• Acceptance of Indigenous ways of knowing (psychologies) does not affirm or preclude the use
of a particular method (Kim & Berry, 1993).
• An Indigenous counsellor is most effective for Indigenous families.
• Non-Indigenous counsellors can be suitable if appropriately trained in Indigenous local
knowledge, philosophy, and spirituality, and possess an attitude that does not conform to
stereotypes or romanticizations of Indigenous peoples.
• Indigenous peoples include a wide variety of specific cultures; there is no one Indigenous
identity. There are great between-and-within-group differences.
• Indigenous cultural values often differ in binary opposition with the dominant culture's values
of mental health practice (e.g., individualism versus collectivity).
• Input from local Indigenous community leaders, healers, and Elders as to how counselling is
to be implemented with community members is vital; this could be described as forming the
crux of Indigenous ways of knowing in a counselling context.
• Awareness of the historical realities of colonization and intergenerational trauma associated
with the experiences as well as internal/external barriers that Indigenous individuals, families,
and communities face is foundational to counselling Indigenous clients. Often many clients
themselves need to be educated about the links between colonial history and their own
personal healing journey.
© Stewart
• Standardized testing and assessment are not appropriate for use with, and potentially
damaging to, Indigenous clients and families because they are often based on Western
standards of mental health and functioning.
• The role of community and family is usually significant to Indigenous individuals, so family
counselling might be more appropriate than individual counselling with Indigenous clients.
• Self-disclosure by the counsellor can be especially effective in rapport building with
Indigenous clients, but a demand for a client self-disclosure is considered intrusive.
• All counsellors, regardless of cultural identity, should learn their own colonial histories and
clarify their own values, assumptions, and beliefs regarding health and wellness so that they
may better know where their own understandings fit with the client's cultural paradigm of
mental health wellness.
Colonialism and the Co-Constructed Relationship

Colonialism is manifested through forces of power that worked and still worked to control
Indigenous lands and populations; in such a framework, power is accessed when certain cultural forms
are made to prevail over others thereby producing racialized and marginalized identities. European
supremacy, for example, is based on the civilized/uncivilized dichotomy, which effectively justifies
colonization. The colonizers represent the advanced civilization whereas the colonized represent
backward savagery. This conception allows "ideas about the biological bases of racial inequality" (Said,
1994, p. 140). Cultural and racial differences are the defined edges or markers used to subordinate. As
markers, they are sanctions on the boundary notion of east and west (Said, 1994). The west is superior
and strong and the east is primitive, weak, and in need of salvation. This advanced/backward dichotomy
serves to support control and domination (Said, 1994). It is also used to define male/female power
relationships. Men epitomize the progressive agents and women are inert and backward-looking (Davis,
1985) in parallel to the dichotomies of civilized/uncivilized that colonialism posits. Cesaire (1972)
compared colonization with notions of objectification. The Indigenous and the female are objectified and
seen as lacking, thus, further justifying the relationships of domination and submission. Colonialism
throughout the world is sustained with an intimate relationship with education, imperialism, and
capitalism. In the Canadian experience, colonialism was carried out through armed conflict, the
establishment of residential schools, and the implementation of the Indian Act of 1876. The principles of
patriarchy, racism, and sexism function together to centre power with men and white people. These
principles are the roots of unequal power relationships and give understanding to how certain groups
came to be subordinated. Colonialism is organized around male control and a fixated view of the Other.
The will to claim and control what is different is the main thrust of colonialism. Colonialism is organized
around essentializing notions of race, class, and gender. The dominant group defines what is normal.
Colonialism is a social construction; within a social-constructivist counselling context, it has no
significance on its own as it is defined only in relation to the Other (Weenie, 2000). This feature of
colonialism creates a space for agency and change.
Conclusion
Post-modern theory is a reaction to what came before, namely, modernity. Modern philosophy
holds that truths exist and that the source of truth is through the objectivity of science and its rigorous
© Stewart
method. Post-modern theories, such as constructivism, hold that there is no one truth – objectivity is, at
best, a dubious prospect – and that we are active agents of perspectival knowledge. In the field of
professional helping, this means a greater sense of agency for the client and a helper who is not the expert
or leader in the session. When considering counselling across cultures, as in the case of working with
Indigenous families, agency and power are huge issues at many different inter and intrapersonal levels.
The philosophical differences that set the constructivist approach apart from most other
counselling theories, such as post-modern theory, is that it rejects the notion that helping – and people
generally – can be scientifically validated and that objective reality (i.e., the truth) is questionable. In a
sense, this is compatible with Indigenous conceptions of identity as culturally sanctioned, non-linear
thinking, and valuing the individual within the family context.
In conclusion, although this fusion of constructivist therapies and Indigenous ways of knowing
was developed by the author to support and assist Indigenous families in the counselling process,
attention must be drawn to Canadian societal obligations. With creative use of vital cultural information
and abolition of all colonization practices, dominant society should give space and autonomy to
Indigenous communities in order to facilitate post-colonial healing and recovery. All counsellors – not
just those working with Indigenous families – must adopt relevant cross-cultural approaches, such as a
constructivist approach, to working with Indigenous families; to do so will help all mental health and
community workers to better accomplish the goal of improving the overall quality of mental health
interventions practices in Canada and promoting overall health.
© Stewart
References
Appleton, V. E., & Dykeman, C. (1996). Using art in group counseling with Native American youth. The Journal for Specialists
in Group Work, 21(4), 224-231. https://doi.org/10.1080/01933929608412254
Axelson, T. (1993). Counseling and development in a multicultural society (2nd ed.). Monterey, CA: Brooks/Cole.
Berry, J. W. (1993). Psychology in and of Canada: One small step toward a universal psychology. In U. Kim & J. W. Berry
(Eds.), Indigenous psychologies: Research and experience in cultural context. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
Brant, C. C. (1990). Native ethics and rules of behavior. Canadian Journal of Psychiatry, 35(6), 534-539.
Cesaire, A. ( 1972). Discourse on colonialism. In P. Williams & I. Chrisman (Eds.), Colonial discourse and post-colonial theory:
A reader (pp. 162-171). New York City, NY: Columbia University.
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The psychology of optimal experience. New York City, NY: Harper Perenial.
Darou, W. (1987). Counselling the northern Native. Canadian Journal of Counselling and Psychotherapy, 21(1), 33-41.
Davis, A. (1985). Violence against women and the ongoing challenge of racism. Latham, NY: Kitchen Table.
DuBray, W. H. (1985). American Indian values: Critical factor in casework. Families in Society: The Journal of Contemporary
Social Work, 66(1), 30-37. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F104438948506600104
Duncan, C. F. (1995). Cross-cultural school consultation. In C. C. Lee (Ed.), Counselling/or diversity. Needham Heights, MA:
Allyn and Bacon.
Duran, E. (2006). Healing the soul wound: Counseling with American Indians and other Native peoples. New York City, NY:
Teachers College Press.
France, H. (1997). First Nations: Helping and learning in the Aboriginal community. Guidance Counselling, 12(2), 3-8.
Garrett, M. T. (1999). Soaring on the wings of the eagle: Wellness of Native American highschool students. Professional School
Counseling, 3(1), 57-64.
Garrett, J. T., & Garrett, M. W. (1994). The path of good medicine: Understanding and counseling Native Americans. Journal of
Multicultural Counseling and Development, 22(3), 134-144. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2161-1912.1994.tb00459.x
Gergen, K. J., Anderson, H., & Hoffman, L. (1996). Is diagnosis a disaster? A constructionist trialogue. In F. W. Kaslow (Ed.),
Handbook of relational diagnosis and dysfunctional family patterns (pp. 102-118). Oxford, UK: John Wiley & Sons.
Gone, T. (2004). Keeping culture in mind. In D. A. Mihesuah & A. C. Wilson (Eds.), Indigenizing the academy (pp. 124-142).
Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press.
Green, H. (1995). May I walk in beauty: First Nations and selt-esteem. Guidance Counselling, 12(2), 22-26.
Guidano, V. F. (1990). The self in process: Toward a postrationalist cognitive therapy. New York City, NY: Guilford.
Herring, R. D. (1989). The American Native family: Dissolution by coercion. Journal of Multicultural Counseling and
Development, 17(1), 4-13. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2161-1912.1989.tb00411 x
Herring, R. (1999). Counselling Native American Indians and Alaska Natives. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Hodgson, M. (1990). Shattering the silence: Working with violence in Native communities. In T. A. Laidlaw & C. Malmo (Eds.),
Healing voices (pp. 33-44). San Francisco, CA: Tassey-Bass Publishers.
Ibrahim, F. A, (1985). Effective cross-cultural counseling and psychotherapy: A framework. The Counseling psychologist,13(4),
625-683. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0011000085134006
Johnson, M. J., Swartz, J. L., & Martin, W. E. (1995). Application of psychological theories for career development with Native
Americans. In F. T. L. Leong (Ed.), Career development and vocational behavior of racial and ethnic minorities
(pp.103-131). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaurn Associates.
Kim, U., & Berry, J. W. (1993). Indigenous psychologies: Research and experience in cultural context. Newbury Park: CA: Sage.
Kirmayer, L. J., Brass, G. M., & Tait, C. L. (2000). The mental health of Aboriginal peoples: Transformations of identity and
community. Canadian Journal of Psychiatry, 45(7), 607-617. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F070674370004500702
Kelly, G. (1955). The psychology of personal constructs. New York City, NY: W. W. Norton.
© Stewart
Lafromboise, T. D. (1993). American Indian mental health policy. In D. R. Atkinson, M. George, & D. W. Sue (Eds.),
Counseling American minorities: A cross cultural perpective (4th ed.). Madison, WS: W. C. Brown & Benchmark.
Lafromboise, T. D., Trimble, J. E., & Mohatt, J. V. (1990). Counseling intervention and American Indian tradition: An
integrative approach. Counseling Psychologist, 18(4), 628-654. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0011000090184006
Lewis, R., & Ho, M. (1989). Social work with Native Americans. In D. R. Atkinson, M. George, & D. W. Sue (Eds.), Counseling
American minorities: A cross cultural perpective (3rd ed.). Dubuque, IA: W. C. Brown.
Malone, J. (2000). Working with Aboriginal women: Applying feminist therapy in a multicultural counselling context. Canadian
Journal of Counselling and Psychotherapy, 34(1), 33-42.
Mahoney, M. (1991). Human change processes. New York City, NY: Guilford Press.
Mahoney, M. J., Norcross, J. C., Prochaska, J. O., & Missar, C. D. (1989). Psychological development and optimal
psychotherapy: Converging perspectives among clinical psychologists. Journal of Integrative and Eclectic
Psychotherapy, 8(1), 251-263.
Martin, W. E., & Farris, K. K. (1994). A cultural and contextual decision path to career assessment with Native Americans: A
psychological perspective. Journal of Career Assessment, 2(3), 258-275. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F106907279400200305
McCormick, R. (1996). Culturally appropriate means and ends of counselling as described by the First Nations people of British
Columbia. International Journal for the Advancement of Counselling, 18(3), 163-172. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF01407960
McCormick, R. (1997). Healing through interdependence: The role of connecting in First Nations healing practices. Canadian
Journal of Counselling and Psychotherapy, 31(3), 172-184.
Mussell, W. J., Cardiff, K., & White, J. (2004). The mental health and well-being of Aboriginal children and youth: Guidance for
new approaches and services. Chilliwack, BC: Sal'i'shan Institute.
Neckoway, R., Brownlee, K., & Castellan, B. (2007). TS attachment theory consistent with Aboriginal parenting realities. First
Peoples Child & Family Review, 3(2), 65-74.
Neimeyer, R. A. (1995). An invitation to constructivist psychotherapies in constructivism in psychotherapy. In R. A. Neimeyer &
M. J. Mahoney (Eds.), Constructivism in psychotherapy. Washington, DC: American Psyhchological Association.
Neckoway, R., Brownlee, K., & Castellan, B. (2007). Is attachment theory consistent with Aboriginal parenting realities?. First
Oswalt, W. H. (1988). This land was theirs: A study of North American Indians (4th ed.). Mountainview, CA: Mayfield.
Peavy, R. V. (1998). Socio-dynamic counselling: A constructivist perspective. Victoria, BC: Trafford Publishing.
Pedersen, P. B. (1991). Multiculturalism as a generic approach to counselling. Journal of Counselling and Development, 70(1), 6-
12. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.1556-6676.1991.tb01555.x
Pepper, S. (1942). World hypotheses. Berkely, CA: University of California Press.
Restoule, B. (1997). Providing services to Aboriginal clients. Guidance Counselling, 12(2), 13-17.
Said, E. (1994). From orientalisrn. In P. Williams & I. Chrisman (Eds.), Colonial discourse and post-colonial theory: A reader
(162-171). New York City, NY: Columbia University.
Stewart, S. L. (2008). Promoting Indigenous mental health: Cultural perspective on healing from Native counsellors in Canada.
International Journal of Health Promotion and Education, 46(2), 12-19. https://doi.org/10.1080/14635240.2008.10708129
Sue, D. W., & Sue, D. (1990). Counselling the culturally different. New York City, NY: John Wiley & Sons.
Thomason, T. C. (1991). Counselling Native Americans: An introduction for non-Native American counselors. Journal of
Counseling and Development, 69(4), 321-327. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.1556-6676.1991.tb01514 x
Trimble, J. E., & Flemming, C. (1989). Providing counseling services for Native American Indians: Client, counselor, and
community characteristics. In P. Pedersen, J. G. Draguns, W. J. Looner, & J. E. Trimble (Eds.), Counseling across
cultures (3rd ed.). Honolulu, HW: University of Hawaii Press.
Trimble, J. E., & Medicine, B. (1993). Diversification of American Indians: Forming an Indigenous perspective. In U. Kirn & J.
W. Berry (Eds.), Indigenous psychologies: Research and experience in cultural context. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
© Stewart
Trimble, J. E., & Thurman, J. P. (2002). Ethnocultural considerations and strategies for providing counseling services to native
American Indians. In P. Pedersen, J. Draguns, W. Lonner, & J. Trimble (Eds.), Counseling across cultures (5th ed.) (pp.
53-91). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Weenie, A. (2000). Post colonial recovering and healing. In J. Reyhner, J. Martin, L. Lockard, & W. S. Gilbert (Eds.), Learn in
beauty: Indigenous education in a new century (pp. 65-70). Flagstaff, AZ: Northern Arizona Unviersity’s Center for
Excellence in Education.
Wetsit, D. (1999). Effective counseling with American Indian students. In K. Gayton & J. Tippeconnic III (Eds.), Next steps:
Research and practice to advance Indian education (pp. 179-200). Charleston, WV: ERIC Clearinghouse on Rural
Education and Small Schools.
© Stewart
2019
Culturally Restorative Child Welfare
Practice: A Special Emphasis on Cultural
Attachment Theory
Estelle Simard
MSW, Executive Director, the Institute of Culturally Restorative Practices, Ontario, Canada
Corresponding author: esimard01@gmail.com
Abstract
A research project was implemented through the use of qualitative secondary data analysis to describe a
theory of culturally restorative child welfare practice with the application of cultural attachment theory.
The research documented 20 years of service practice that promoted Anishinaabe cultural identity and
cultural attachment strategies by fostering the natural cultural resiliencies that exist within the
Anishinaabe nation. The research brings a suggested methodology to child welfare services for First
Nations children; the greater the application of cultural attachment strategies the greater the response to
cultural restoration processes within a First Nations community.
Keywords: cultural attachment theory, culturally restorative practices, Anishinaabe
1
The original version of this article was published in: Simard, E. (2009). A culturally restorative child welfare practice: A special
emphasis on cultural attachment theory. First People Child & Family Review, 4(2), 44-61.
A culturally restorative child welfare practice: A special emphasis on cultural attachment theory 57
Introduction
Culturally restorative child welfare practice is one of the cornerstones for the rebuilding of a
nation. For centuries, governmental laws, regulations, policies, and practices have impacted First Nations
people, families, and communities. These laws created latent consequences for First Nations people and
have resulted in the creation of generations upon generations of social welfare casualties. Child welfare
policies have been seen as intrusive and at times culturally inappropriate due to the continued difference
between mainstream and Aboriginal worldviews on child welfare practices. A growing body of research
has suggested the need to create alternatives that support the recognition of culturally distinctive service
practices (Brant, 1990; Rusk-Keltner, 1993) which promote better outcomes for First Nations children.
Failure to change policies and regulations on First Nations child welfare practices leads to the over-
representation of First Nations children in care across Canada (Blackstock, Trocmé, & Bennett, 2004).
Often times, the engagement of family, extended family, and community falls short of the type of
intervention needed to rebuild the family system. A consequence of the lack of culturally distinct practices
is First Nations children becoming split feathers, a term used to describe the deep loss effects of children
displaced from their ancestral roots (Locust, 1998).
Although there have been some self-government gains with the creation of Native child welfare
agencies, as with other provincial devolution models, "administrative control over child welfare services to
Aboriginal authorities does not mean that the practice orientation will change, as it is still guided by the
dominant protection paradigm" (Bellefeuille & Ricks, 2003). As an alternative to this paradigm, the
research reviewed 10 historical videos which described the foundational practices of Weechi-it-te-win
Family Services. The research, qualitative in nature, documented twenty years of service practices by
looking at the theory of restorative child welfare which supports Anishinaabe children's cultural identity
and cultural attachment. Weechi-it-te-win Family Services has harmonized and shaped a unique but
anomalous service delivery that has protected Anishinaabe children and families in 10 First Nations
communities. The research project documented and discussed the unique practices of Weechi-it-te-win
Family Services as they support the immediate and longitudinal benefits of children and families of the
Rainy Lake Tribal Area.
Weechi-it-te-win Family Services, a transformative agency, has used cultural premises to set a
standard of care that can be followed by mainstream social work practitioners when working with First
Nations children. The cultural diversity and cultural integrity of Weechi-it-te-win's model allows for the
development of standalone Native Child Welfare agencies or First Nations communities to champion their
own children according to their own customs and traditions. The fluidity of Weechi-it-te-win's model
recognizes that cultural diversity is a necessary component in First Nations communities, as one size will
not fit all. Further, the project documented child welfare paradigms and practices through the systematic
review of the academic literature, contrasted with Weechi-it-te-win Family Services’ practices.
The research project focused on cultural attachment theory as a mechanism to culturally

restorative child welfare practices. Conversely, the literature has shown attachment theory as an approach
that has negatively impacted First Nations people who are involved with child protection services. The
immediacy of timelines in the promotion of healthy attachment of children with their caregivers is a
significant cornerstone of this theory. The research project described how cultural attachment supports
and fosters the wellbeing of our children, families, extended families, communities, and nationhood. In
© Simard
the most humble of ways, the research project begins to lay a foundation to support the longitudinal
benefits associated with this specific type of care and these specific types of services. It provided options
and choices for practitioners to utilize in the creation of positive outcomes and alternatives for First
Nations children and families involved with child welfare agencies. Further, the research project
introduced standards of care into the literature further to the concepts of cultural identity, cultural
attachment theory, and culturally restorative practices as best interest alternatives for First Nations
children, families, and communities.
Literature Review
History of First Nations people
Looking at the history of First Nations people is one of the elements to culturally competent social
work practice. Throughout the literature, there is a documentation of history in its most negative forms,
with minimal research conducted on the inherent resiliencies which have existed for First Nations people.
Weaver (2004) stated, "knowledge, skills, and values/attitudes are primary areas that have been
identified consistently by scholars as the core of cultural competence with various populations . . . and
culture, history, and contemporary realities of Native clients" (p. 30) as a beginning to this process with
First Nations people. This means knowing the truth, appreciating, and understanding the history of First
Nations people and understanding how this history often brings about strong feelings towards cultural
restoration in First Nations communities. Often time, it is painful to look at the history of First Nations
people across Canada as it is often based on the realities of ostracism committed by church-and-state on
vulnerable populations. This one-sided paradigm of history does not capture the total history of First
Nations people, as this recorded history does not typically include First Nations history and cultural
norms from a First Nations perspective.
In our understanding of history, we investigate the historical relationship between First Nations
people and the policies of church-and-state. But as First Nations people, we are cautioned by our Elders to
not stay in the pain of history too long. They teach us to look at the internal strengths of our nations, as it
is the cultural laws that have guided how First Nations people govern themselves, their families, and their
communities prior the beginning of colonization in 1492. In capturing the full spectrum of history, the
positive and the negative, as scholars, there exists the need to capture the essence of First Nations history
and the resurgence of culture and teachings. It is the teachings, the language, and the cultural ceremonies
that have been passed down from generation to generation, from Elder to Elder, from parent to child.
Seeking this knowledge and applying it to current realities is an important aspect of culturally restorative
child welfare practice.
Historical trauma
William’s (2006) description of cultural competency through the lens of the critical theory
paradigm looked at the outcomes of oppression through historical, political, or economic constructs. In
addition, Weaver (1999) stated that in culturally competent social work practice there exists "four
important areas of knowledge: 1) diversity, 2) history, 3) culture, and 4) contemporary realities" (p. 220).
As we begin to add to our body of knowledge in this area, specifically dissecting the historical implications
involved in current realities for First Nations people, practitioners embark on understanding the root of
the problems.
© Simard
In Trans-Generational Transmission of Effects of the Holocaust, Felsen (1998) spoke to the

specific characteristics of survivors of the Jewish holocaust. He stated, "Clinical reports suggest special
characteristics of children of survivors and particular problems in the relationship between children and
parents in survivor families, supporting the hypothesis of intergenerational transmission of Holocaust
trauma" (p. 43). He specifically addressed Holocaust offspring as typically having "less differentiation
from parents, less feelings of autonomy and independence, elevated anxiety, guilt, depressive experiences,
and more difficulty in regulating aggression" (Felsen, 1998, p. 57). Although Felsen's work addressed
transmission of intergenerational trauma of Jewish Holocaust survivors, other researchers have extended
this philosophy to First Nations, American Indians, or Native American peoples throughout the United
States of America and Canada (Duran & Duran, 1995; Duran, Duran, Yellow Horse Brave Heart, & Yellow
Horse-Davis, 1998; Morrissette, 1994; Yellow Horse Brave Heart, 2003).
Morrissette (1994) discussed the holocaust of First Nations people and specifically discussed the
residential schools and how this genocidal experience continues to haunt First Nations people. Yellow
Horse Brave Heart (2003) had a significant amount of research related to historical trauma, historical
trauma response, and psychoeducational programs with the historical trauma in First Nations
communities, specifically the Lakota Nation. She defined historical trauma as "the cumulative emotional
and psychological wounding over the lifespan and across generations, emanating from massive group
trauma experiences" (p. 7). She described historical trauma response as:
the constellation of features in reaction to this trauma, and that [historical trauma] and
[historical trauma response] are critical concepts for native people, as increasing
understanding of these phenomena, and their intergenerational transmission, should
facilitate preventing or limiting their transfer to subsequent generations (p. 7).
In their article Healing the American Indian Soul Wound, Duran et al. (1998) discussed the implications
of First Nations traumatic history and the connection to the soul wound otherwise described by other
researchers as "historical trauma, historical legacy, American Indian Holocaust, [and] intergenerational
post-traumatic stress disorder" (Duran et al., 1998, p. 341). The researchers go on to define elements of
historical trauma as:
features associated with depression, suicide ideation and behavior, guilt and concern
about betraying the ancestors for being excluded from suffering as well as obligation to
share in the ancestral pain, a sense of being obliged to take care of and being responsible
for survivor parents, identification with parental suffering and a compulsion to
compensate for the genocidal legacy, persecutory, and intrusive Holocaust, as well as
grandiose fantasies dreams, images, and a perception the world is dangerous (Duran et
al., 1998, p. 342).
In addition to these characteristics, Duran et al. (1998) stated these emotional calamities are triggered by
enduring acculturative stress. This acculturative stress is the result of history or historical legacy and
latent consequences of laws and policies meant to help First Nations people.
The link between history and contemporary issues for First Nations people is apparent.
The past 500 years have been devastating to our communities; the effects of this
systematic genocide are currently being felt by our people. The effects of the genocide are
© Simard
quickly personalized and pathologized by our profession via the diagnosing and labelling
tools designed for their purpose (Duran et al., 1995).
Utilizing culturally competent strategies to effectively deal with "grief resolution and healing from
historical trauma response" (Duran et al., 1998) has become an efficient clinical response. Further,
psycho-educational programs on historical trauma, a process of disclosure within a group setting or in
cultural ceremonies, in addition to ceremonial grieving processes to promote community wellness and
cohesiveness, are all strategies used by Brave Heart (1998). The omission of historical trauma as a frame
of reference for the social work profession is a gross injustice for First Nations people, as the disregard of
history and its impact on current realities is, by definition, to continue culturally destructive practices.
Canadian profile
A profile of First Nations people has been captured by the Assembly of First Nations (AFN) (AFN,
2007a). Today, there are a total of 633 First Nations communities across Canada with an estimated
population of 756,700 First Nations members (AFN, 2007a). The AFN stated that the most pressing
problem that exists is the overall economic disparity between Canadians and First Nations communities.
One instrument that shows this disparity is the Human Development Index. "First Nation communities
are ranked 76th out of 174 Nations when using the United Nations Development Index 2001. This is
compared to Canadian communities who ranked 8th" (AFN, 2007a, p. 3).
First Nations people in Canada continue to be challenged and faced with their children being
culturally displaced, uprooted from their identity, and natural cultural resiliencies that exist within the
First Nations continuum of care. An epidemic of Native children being placed in foster care systems
throughout Canada is a growing concern for First Nations people. According to the AFN (2007b), "1 in 4
First Nations children live in poverty, compared to 1 in 6 Canadian children" (p. 2), furthermore, "as many
as 27,000 First Nation children are currently under care" (p.2). The Canadian Incident Study on
Reported Child Maltreatment is one current national study that has documented the over-representation
of First Nations children in care across Canada (Trocmé, Knoke, & Blackstock, 2004). This research
identified a total of "76,000 children and youth placed in out-of-home care in Canada, 40 percent of those
children are Aboriginal or children labelled ‘Indian’ or ‘Native American,’ yet fewer than 5% of the
children in Canada are Aboriginal" (Trocmé et al., 2004, p. 2). In some provinces, 80 percent of the
children in out-of-home placements are of First Nations descent (Trocmé et al., 2004). Blackstock et al.
(2004) stated, "at every decision point in cases, Aboriginal children are over-represented; investigations
are more likely to be substantiated, cases are more likely to be kept open for ongoing services, and
children are more likely to be placed in out-of-home care" (p. l). The national research has indicated an
"overrepresentation due to poverty, unstable housing, and alcohol abuse complicated by the experience of
colonization" (Blackstock et al., 2004, p. 14). In light of this knowledge, it is a vital indication of the need
to re-evaluate mainstream child welfare practices with First Nations people.
Child welfare laws and implications for First Nations people

First Nations people and social work advocates have a professional responsibility to change how
laws, policies, and frameworks influence our people. There are numerous laws, policies, and regulations
that have impacted First Nations people, so much so that First Nations communities are typically
marginalized and collectively oppressed. There are two main destructive areas of policies, the first being
© Simard
the residential school policies and the second being child welfare policies and laws. Comeau and Santin
(1995) stated, "in no other area did federal bureaucrats and professional social workers wreak so much
havoc in so little time as in the field of child welfare" (p. 141). In the best interest of children, judges,
lawyers, and professional social workers dictated "the loss of an entire generation of children" (Comeau &
Santin, 1995, p. 141). Patrick Johnston (as cited in Comeau & Santin, 1995), the author of Native Children
and the Child Welfare System, called this era the "sixties scoop" (p. 143). Comeau and Santin (1995)
described the amendments to the Indian Act in 1951 where the federal government gave provincial
governments the jurisdiction to provide child welfare services on First Nations communities, thereby
washing their hands of their fiduciary responsibility to First Nations child welfare initiatives. Further, "by
1980, 4.6% of all registered Indian children were in care across Canada, compared to less than 1 % of all
Canadian children" (p. 143). In addition to this statistic, during the 1970s and 1980s, cross-cultural
placements were used as the primary modus operandi to adoption (Comeau & Santin, 1995). "In 1985,
Edwin C. Kimelman, Associate Chief Judge of the Manitoba Family Court reported on Native adoptions
and foster placements and described the situation as the routine and systematized ‘cultural genocide’ of
Indian people" (Comeau & Santin, 1995, p. 145). The child welfare paradigm in Canada does not include
culturally restorative practices as a standard of care for First Nations children.
Implications of attachment theory

Bowlby, the father of attachment theory, built on components of Freud's theory, hypothesizing an
infant's need to explore, for safety, and for security with the help of a significant caregiver (Waters &
Cummings, 2000). Bowlby further hypothesized attachment as control systems or behavioural systems
that are driven and shaped by evolutionary theory. Two major themes in Bowlby's work evolved: a) a
secured base concept and b) working models (Waters & Cummings, 2000). In their critical analysis of
attachment theory, Waters and Cummings (2000) suggested a need to have a criterion of application for
review across cultures as it can erode the scientific consistency needed to maintain the theory. Further,
they stated,
Bowlby's emphasis on the early phase of attachment development has been a source of
misunderstanding and missed opportunity - misunderstanding because it suggests that
secure base behaviours emerges rather quickly and missed opportunities because it
doesn't direct attention to the maintaining and shaping influence of caregiver behaviour
or developmental changes in secure base use beyond infancy, much less in the course of
adult-adult relationships (p. 166).
Waters and Cummings (2000) discussed the lifespan of a child into adulthood and point out the gap in
between the life stages as being unknown; therefore, they suggest it is necessary to continue to develop
"the effects of early experiences, the mechanism underlying stability and change, and the relevance of
ordinary socialization processes in attachment development" (p. 166).
In child welfare practice:
The primary goals of child welfare and mental health professionals serving these
maltreated children are to ensure their safety and protect them from further abuse, to
help them heal from any physical or psychological effects of the maltreatment, and to
provide opportunities for them to become healthier and well-functioning children and
adults (Mennen & O'Keefe, 2005, p. 577).
© Simard
Often permanency philosophies and timelines in child welfare have been guided by attachment theory.
Timelines for securing change within the family systems do not allow for adequate time to change the
individual, family, and, at times, the community. First Nations children and families often fall victims to
the misapplication of attachment theory. A child welfare practitioner’s competing interest, noted by
Mennen and O'Keefe (2005), is that:
Child welfare policy strives to use children's attachments as a guide to decisions about
placements, but the demands of the system can interfere with this ideal. Increased
caseloads, poorly trained workers, media attention, and political pressure often combine
to lead to decisions that are not in children's best interest (p. 578).
Often times, attachment theory's link to suggested long term psychological issues, maladjusted members
of society, or links to behavioural issues in relation to societal safety have also been key factors in
decisions of attachment and permanency planning in child welfare management. Berry, Barrowclough,
and Wearden (2006) stated:
Attachment theory has the potential to provide a useful theoretical framework for
conceptualizing the influence of social cognitive, interpersonal, and affective factors on
the development and course of psychosis, thus, integrating and enhancing current
psychological models. Insights derived from attachment theory have significant clinical
implications, in terms of informing both psychological formulations and interventions
with individuals with specific types of insecure attachment (p. 472).
Mennen and O'Keefe’s (2005) study had hypothesized that problematic behaviours are associated with a
lack of immediate attachment to a significant caregiver.
Unfortunately, the research on attachment behaviour of children in foster care is limited

and needs to be bolstered to provide a clearer understanding of how maltreatment,
separation from parents, and placement in foster care influences attachment and how
foster children's attachment affect their long-term adjustment (p. 582).
It is important to note, there is a minimal amount of academic research on cultural attachment
requirements related to either a generalist approach to service delivery or a more specific approach like
working cultural attachment models specific to First Nations communities. The complete disregard to
elements of cultural competency, historical implications, and latent consequences of policies on First
Nations people is evident in the literature. A defined culturally congruent child welfare service practice
model is minimal, if not nonexistent in the research. Currently, there exists a deficiency on culturally-
specific research on First Nations children and statistics continue to show a gross over-representation of
First Nations children in care across Canada.
Cultural competency
Cultural competency in the field of human services has been the intention for many practitioners
but it is seldom realized. There are many reasons that have contributed to this dilemma. The
incorporation of ethical standards and principles as it relates to culturally competent social work practice,
in addition to a growing body of literature emphasizing the importance of cultural competence, has not
brought the direction and clarity that is needed to embrace such a criterion (Weaver, 2004; Williams,
2006). In addition to this predicament, the concept of cultural competence through the literature has not
© Simard
navigated one true path to the attainment of these standards and principles. The presence of ambiguity as
it relates to defining cultural competency has left many practitioners with minimal tools to effectively and
efficiently deal with clients in a manner that is conducive to the client's cultural orientation and
framework (Williams, 2006). As the literature has shown, there is a growing trend to further cultural
competence strategies but there is "little empirical work to provide professionals with specific principles
or procedures for effective cross-cultural work" (Weaver, 2004, p. 21). In particular, with specific cultural
groups such as the Anishinaabe Nation.
Culture has been defined in many different books, literature, journals, magazines, and
dictionaries. Cross (2006) defined culture as "the integrated pattern of human behaviour that includes
thought, communication, action, beliefs, values, and institutions of a racial-ethnic, religious, or social
group" (p. 1). Day (2000) defined cultural epistemology as the "language and communication patterns,
family, healing beliefs and practices, religion, art/dance/music, diet/food, recreation, clothing, history,
social status, social group interactions, and values." Hogan (2007) stated that culture is learned, shared,
and transmitted values, beliefs, norms and lifeways of a group which are generally transmitted
intergenerationally and influence one's thinking and action. Supplementary to this definition is the
beliefs, the arts, the laws, morals, customs, or values which make up the societal structure of a nation
(Hogan, 2005).
Williams (2006) stated:
Culture defines the norms, symbols, and behaviours that aid us in making sense of the
world. When there are gaps among service systems, practitioners, and clients, it
contributes to misunderstandings and impasses that prevent effective social work
intervention; seeking cultural competence is our response to that dilemma (p. 210).
Cultural competency suggests having some level, standard, or quality of understanding in working with
another culture. This requires the act of acquiring knowledge and skills to meet the needs of the clients.
Siegel et al. (2000) defined cultural competency as "the set of behaviors, attitudes, and skills, policies and
procedures that come together in a system of agency or individuals to enable mental health caregivers to
work effectively and efficiently in cross/multicultural situations" (p. 92). Cross (2006) provided a similar
definition of cultural competence: "a set of congruent behaviours, attitudes, and policies that come
together in a system, agency, or professional and enable that system, agency, or professional to work
effectively in cross-cultural situations" (p. 1). Williams (2006) stated that "cultural competencies often are
organized into categories for self-awareness, attitudes, skills, and knowledge" (p. 210). Cultural
competence requires the:
systematic gathering of cultural information . . . on beliefs, practices, and characteristics

of different ethnocultural groups . . . , generic social work skills . . . , and competencies
include self-awareness . . . , analysis of power structure . . . , empowerment . . . , critical
thinking . . . , and development of an effective working alliance (Williams, 2006, p. 211).
Cultural competence at an organizational level has been identified within the literature. In this
analysis, there exists a range of subjective organization evaluations and quality assurance indicators.
Cross (2006) identified a cultural competency continuum ranging from cultural proficiency to cultural
destructiveness. This continuum included cultural destructiveness, cultural incapacity, cultural blindness,
© Simard
cultural pre-competence, basic competence, and advance cultural competence. Other research has shown
performance measures and quality assurance mechanisms have been developed to evaluate the concept of
culturally competent practices. Siegel et al. (2000) identified six domains: “needs assessment,
information exchange, services, human resources, policies and procedures, and outcomes” (p. 95). In
addition, the model described by Siegel et al. (2004) evaluates each domain on three different
organizational levels: administrative, provider network, and individual. Each domain and each level have
outcomes indicators to evaluate the effectiveness of culturally competent service delivery. All discussions
on cultural competency at an organizational level are important, as it is in the system that defines its
policy, procedures, and direct service practice with client groupings.
Although definitions and descriptions of culture and cultural competence are extensive and do
not, by themselves, help practitioners attain competence, the literature has defined culture as the holistic
make-up of a people and the act of competent service practice is the acknowledgement and inclusion of
culture into all levels of social practice with people. The manner in which we incorporate service
standards into accountable organizational frameworks is the threshold of cultural competence within any
service organization.
The mandate of Weechi-it-te-win Family Services

Weechi-it-te-win Family Services (WFS) is a Native child welfare agency in Fort Frances, Ontario,
Canada. WFS was established to create a change in the mainstream child welfare practice in Indian
communities. The agency’s services have evolved considerably over the last twenty years. The growth of
the agency has been referred to as the iceberg phenomena (Simard, 1995) and is a symbol used to show
the thaw of distrust for mainstream child welfare agencies. WFS became an Aboriginal Children’s Aid
Society on September 2, 1987, under the Ontario Child and Family Services Act. As a society, WFS has
jurisdiction for services respecting the welfare of children and their families within ten First Nations
communities (Ferris, Simard, Simard, & Ramdat 2005).
WFS began as a vision for a child and family services agency based on Anishinaabe customs and
values. A Native model of child welfare called the Rainy Lake Community Care Program was developed
based on the goals adopted by the Council of Chiefs. Namely, “to preserve Indian culture and identity
among our people; to strengthen and maintain Indian families and communities; and to assure the
growth, support, and development of all our children within Indian families and communities” (Ferris et
al., 2005, p. 5). Since its inception, WFS has endeavoured to provide child protection and family support
services in ways that promote the preservation of Anishinaabe culture and identity, strengthen
Anishinaabe families and communities, and foster growth and development of Anishinaabe children
within Anishinaabe families and communities. It is believed that the spirit of cultural development for the
agency is deeply rooted in the traditional laws and customs of the Anishinaabe Nation.
The elders have advised and informed [WFS] that the agency has Cultural Rites as an
Aboriginal Organization. The Cultural Rites arise from the fact that the Agency was born
from Aboriginal aspirations and determination and, as such, was bestowed a Name and
Ishoonun. In accordance to Aboriginal cultural thought, the Agency’s Name came from
the Atisookaanug as well as the emblem of the loon. The loon has provided numerous
instructions to WFS on how the organization needs to operate and perform. Later, WFS
was bestowed pipe(s), flag(s), a drum, and medicines. Because of these sacred items, WFS
© Simard
has a duty to ensure that they are treated in a cultural manner that respects the original
instructions from the Elders or ceremony that transferred these items to WFS. In
addition to the Aboriginal cultural thought, the moment WFS received its Name it
became more than a simple organization that provides services, it, in fact, became
customarily personified in the eyes of the Atisookaanug. This means that WFS became a
person (much like the idea of a corporation under the Corporate Act), a living and
breathing Aboriginal entity with a customary responsibility for family and cultural
preservation (WFS, 2005, p. 2).
Instrumental to culturally competent strategies utilized within an agency system, it is imperative
for every area of structures and services to integrate the cultural make-up or teachings of the community
they serve. This is more than including culture as an afterthought; the culture must be the foundation for
the agency’s structure.
Models of culturally restorative child welfare practices

Limited information on culturally restorative child welfare practice has been found in the
literature; however, many best practice models on First Nations child welfare practices are alive and well
throughout Canada and abroad. The integration of cultural frameworks into service practice is not new, as
First Nations child welfare or children's mental health agencies have been advocating for this type of
practice for decades. As key First Nations stakeholders and First Nations service providers enter the world
of academia, a forum for change in service delivery paradigms grows. It is essential to continue to address
these in a manner that creates cultural understanding, values diversity, and supports culturally restorative
child welfare practices. In the spirit of the transfer of knowledge, the researchers must:
utilize the research initiatives of the world of academia, with the same vigour, but [apply]
this research vigour to our cultural teachings of their Nationhood, and what a world of
difference we would make for our children and our grandchildren to come (Tibasonaqwat
Kinew, 2006)
Cultural identity
Cultural identity formation is an important aspect of cultural restoration processes. The literature
advised careful reflection and critical analysis of the frame of reference in the presenting of the definitions
of cultural identity for First Nations people (Oetting, Swaim, & Chairella, 1998; Peroff, 1997; Weaver,
2001). Oetting et al. (1998) discussed how identity changes over time and the manner in which we define
and evaluate cultural identification changes with time as well. Weaver and Yellow Horse Brave Heart
(1999) stated, "Little is taught about how to assess where the client is in terms of cultural identity" (p. 20).
Adding to the confusion about cultural identity is that cultural identity has been defined "from a non-
Native perspective. This raises questions about authenticity: Who decides who is an indigenous person,
Native or non-Native? The federal government has asserted a shaping force in Indigenous identity by
defining both Native nations and individuals" (Weaver, 2001, p. 245). In his article, Indian Identity,
Peroff (1997) stated, "Far more than with any other American racial or ethnic minority, American Indian
identity or 'Indianness,' is often expressed as a measurable or quantifiable entity" (p. 485). The example of
this measurement given for the United States of America is the blood quantum. In Canada, this is also
true for First Nations people as well and is defined as eligible for status, non-status, Métis, or Inuit.
Weaver (2001) discussed the pitfalls of defining cultural identity and stated, "Identity is always based on
© Simard
power and exclusion. Someone must be excluded from a particular identity in order for it to be
meaningful . . . and to search for the right criteria is both counterproductive and damaging" (p. 245). The
literature goes on into several key areas: definitions of cultural identity from an Indigenous perspective; a
discussion on the themes of cultural traditions and revitalization; measurements of cultural identity
(Novins, Bechtold, Sack, Thompson, Carter, & Manson, 1997; Oetting et al., 1998; Peroff, 1997; Weaver,
1996; Weaver, 2001; Weaver & Yellow Horse Brave Heart, 1999); historical implications related to
cultural identity; and the adoption of culturally restorative strategies into child welfare practices.
The concepts of cultural identity, cultural assessment, cultural attachment, cultural revitalization,
and individual/collective renewal are documented in the literature (Peroff, 1997; Weaver, 1996; Weaver,
2001; Weaver & Yellow Horse Brave Heart, 1999). Cultural identity is defined by Oetting et al. (1998) as
the connection to a particular group due to "qualified classifications" (p. 132), or likeness that is "derived
from an ongoing social learning process involving the person's interaction with the culture." (p. 132).
Further, "cultural identification is related to involvement in cultural activities, to living as a member of
and having a stake in the culture, and to the presence of relevant cultural reinforcements that lead to
perceived success in the culture" (132). Oetting et al. (1998) also discussed the importance of family,
extended family, and community in the transmission of this cultural knowledge. Peroff (1997) discussed
the concept of tribe or community identification and stated, "An Indian identity is the internal spark that
sustains a living Indian community" (p. 491).
Weaver (2001) discussed cultural identity in three domains: "self-identification, community

identification, and external identification" (p. 240). She defined cultural identification as being based on
"a common origin or shared characteristics with another person, group, or ideal leading to solidarity and
allegiance" (p. 241). She stated, "Identities do not exist before they are constructed . . . and are shaped in
part by recognition, absence of recognition, or misrecognition by other" (p. 241). Further, identity is
"multilayered, (and may include) sub-tribal identification like clan affiliations, tribes or regions, descent,
or lineage" (242). Weaver discussed how "self-perception is a key component of identity . . . , identity is
not static rather it progresses through developmental stages during which an individual has a changing
sense of who he or she is, perhaps leading to a rediscovered sense of being Native" (p. 243). She also
suggested that as the individual ages, the cultural formations become stronger (Weaver, 2001).
There is a history of cultural identification assessments that begins with a mainstream worldview.
Often times, these models look negatively at other worldviews and compare levels of assimilation or
acculturation into that mainstream worldview (Weaver, 1996). Weaver (1996) discussed these models of
assessment: transitional models, alienation models, and multidimensional models of assessment on a
continuum ranging on levels of cultural competence. The most current model of cultural identification
assessment is the orthogonal cultural identification model (Oetting & Beauvais, 1998; Weaver, 1996).
Further to this type of assessment, the world of psychology has also implemented cultural assessment into
their supportive documentation relevant to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders
assessments (Novins et al., 1997). One of the mechanisms to achieve this goal was the development of an
outline for cultural formation, the importance of the child's family system in the course of therapeutic
treatment, and overall cultural identity formation (Novins et al., 1997).
Historical implications on cultural identity have also been described in the literature (Weaver,
1996; Weaver et al., 1999). The pattern of laws, policies, and regulations dictated on First Nations people
had, and continues to have, dire impacts on First Nations people. Weaver et al. (1999) stated,
© Simard
When assessing Native clients, social workers should explore the relevance of historical
trauma . . . , discuss multi-generational trauma experienced by a client's family and
nation . . . , and recognize the trauma, then take the steps towards a recognizing and
dealing with and healing that trauma is critical (p. 29).
Social workers must begin to utilize multi-generational genograms to support the exploration of collective
trauma experience in nationhood, in the community, in the extended family, and with family. It is
important to caution social workers of possible misconceptions as historical trauma has often been used
as a backdrop to permanency planning. This, of course, would be a gross error in cultural identity
assessment as it would perpetuate a system that has existed for centuries.
The federal government's attempt to deal with the “Indian problem” has led to a pattern of
defining identity "based on the statistical extermination of Indigenous people, thereby leading to an end
to treaty and trust responsibilities" (Weaver, 2001, p. 247). As a result, cultural identity should
encapsulate a holistic view based on self-perception, self-identification, self-in-relations to family,
community, nationhood, and other nations under different tribal affiliations. Further, identity
development is a fluid system, evolving with time and nurturance. The beauty of cultural identity is
eloquently captured in this quote:
The strength of the culture is so powerful and is embedded in the very nature of our
existences, that even if all systematic oppression work and there was no ounce of culture
left in us as a people and the only thing noticeable about us as different would be the
colour of our skin . . . the culture is so strong that one day someone would dream . . . and
we as a nation would start over once again (Kelly, 2007).
Methods
The research captured the knowledge and experience associated with the longitudinal
development of an "Indian alternative" at WFS. It was designed to address the question: What is
culturally restorative child welfare practice? The researcher looked at ten, one-to-one qualitative video
footage of thirty minutes each, which have existed within the agency as a part of curriculum development
data archives. These data sets are a part of on-going training and curriculum development projects of
WFS and are part of the descriptive analysis of culturally restorative child welfare practice. The research
was consistent with secondary data analysis that was guided by qualitative examination.
Results
WFS is an agency that has developed a solid culturally competent social work practice. The WFS
model of governance has pre-disposed a concept of collaboration with Elders, tribal leaders, and
grassroots community members. As a result of oral tradition, they have been taught the concepts of
culturally competent and congruent social work practice through an inductive learning style. The
invaluable resources within the First Nations have been available to educate workers on cultural
awareness/sensitivity for child welfare and children's mental health services whose main population is the
ten First Nations communities of WFS. As a result of this collaborative effort, cultural attachment theory
has been re-vitalized, developed, and fostered by the people of WFS. This model has shown the
importance of cultural restoration when working with First Nations populations, based on ethical
considerations, effective practice, evidence-based practice, and cultural skill development.
© Simard
In a review of the data, it is clear to state the existence of the concept of wiiji'ittiwin before WFS
became a corporate structure. The Anishinaabe concept of wiiji'ittiwin is difficult to translate, as most
often the English language does not adequately equate to the true meaning of the word. Within the
Anishinaabe language, there are systems, structures, meanings, teachings, legends, roles, responsibilities,
and, often times, ceremonies attached with that Anishinaabe translation. Many of these concepts of
attachment within the Anishinaabe language is embedded with the understanding that the language is the
heart of the people and carried in the very genetic structure of the Anishinaabe people. This review of the
data and its presentation is based on the theoretical principles of establishing the rationale, revitalizing
the teachings, and showing a mechanism to do so within the concept of wiiji'ittiwin – helping and
supporting children and families.
Historical context
The historical context of WFS begins with the understanding of family structures that existed
before colonization and is the main focus of much of the results within the research. Colonization,
historical traumas, and impacts are latent consequences and present-day realities that have touched
Canada, Ontario, and the Northwestern part of Ontario in the Rainy River District. A consistent theme
that has been documented is the ramifications of federal and provincial laws on child welfare practices in
Canada that have seriously injured First Nations people in the Rainy River District. The First Nations
population within the Rainy River District was an estimated 10% of the total population in the early
1960s. As much as 80% of the children in care were First Nations children with the social services
agencies of the time, clearly indicating the over-representation of First Nations children in care during
that era. Some underlying factors that contributed to this fact were the absence of Anishinaabe child
welfare and/or the acknowledgment of the existence of Anishinaabe child welfare systems. Often times,
the community standards were compared with mainstream practices. This was interlaced with the First
Nations’ multigenerational pain as a result of the despairing poverty, residential school trauma and 60s
scoop losses. As a result, mainstream social welfare and child welfare agencies were mandated by the
provincial government to deliver these services on behalf of the federal government. The problem that
existed within the Rainy River District was a mainstream agency delivering services to First Nations
people with the absences of cultural understanding or context. As a result, children were often removed
from their homes, placed in non-Native homes, displaced from their communities, often times losing their
identity as Anishinaabe, and thereby suffering a loss of attachment to the resiliency that exists within the
Anishinaabe culture. WFS was created as a response to the paradigm that existed during this point-in-
time within the Rainy River District.
Throughout the years, the research has shown the absence in a cultural context or cultural
continuity, which had significant impacts on attachment to culture. Mass or generational removals of
children in the First Nations communities began to erode the natural resiliencies that existed within the
First Nations communities. The attitudes of mainstream workers were laced with an ethnocentric view
that allowed the systematic oppression of a population. One of the interviewers stated, "Workers did what
they thought was best . . . government did what they thought was best . . . but in practice, they fell short of
long term implications related to short-sighted practice" (WFS, 1984a). He went on to say, "Ignorant
practice resulted in gross patterns of injustice for First Nation children, families, and communities" (WFS,
1984a). The mainstream system focused narrowly on child safety, removal, foster care placements, and
© Simard
adoption. This streamlined approach often did not engage the family, extended family, or community. As
a result of these minimal competencies in cross-cultural relationships, there was a severance of family,
extended family, and community. Often times, this left a wreckage of victimization and trauma due to the
application of European standards and intervention on First Nations people.
The research indicated there was not a blanket acceptance by First Nations people of the child
welfare paradigm in the early 1950s to 1985, which was a system based on coercion. For those that were
taken from their families and communities during this era, it is important to understand the worldview of
the time. It was an era of history based on extreme violence. Elders discussed the trauma being "so
shocking to a people and a culture that it was often not talked about" (Tibasonaqwat Kinew, 2006).
Another Elder talked about the fight being taken out of them through years and years of government
interventions and churches who tried to convert the tribal people. Community members, through their
family systems, disclosed the history of Jesuits and Royal Canadian Mounted Police terrorizing people
and cultures. As a result, there was often conversion to "mainstream ways" through trauma and threats.
The research indicated laws and policies were put in place to disrupt the natural Anishinaabe systems.
These included values, worldviews, standards, and systems put in place for First Nations people only to
eventually collide with each other, as often two worldviews do. It was in the early 1960s when advocates
began to plead with social workers in the Rainy River District to begin to look at them as human beings; to
deal with Natives with some compassion and to allow for child welfare governance to take place in the
First Nations communities. It was always the intent of these advocates to re-establish tribal jurisdiction.
Two key government position documents lead way to the development of the WFS: A Starving Man
Doesn’t Argue (Technical Assistance and Planning Associates, 1979) and To Preserve and Protect
(Unknown Author, 1983). Both government policy position papers discussed the ramifications of child
welfare practice and the encouragement of First Nations child welfare jurisdiction in the First Nations
communities.
A response to the paradigm of the time resulted in an assertion of tribal sovereignty across the
Rainy River District. Examples ranged from First Nations roadblocks to the guarding of tribal lands to
ensure children would not be taken away by the Children’s Aid Society. Men like Moses Tom and Joseph
Big George are credited with the community initiatives across the territory, Ontario, and other provinces
in Canada. Their commitment as tribal leaders to empower Anishinaabe child welfare systems was core to
the development of WFS, but also core to the steadfast vision of saving First Nations children from the
clutches of mainstream child welfare agencies and their systematic strategies to “take the Indian out of the
child.” The assertion of tribal control over child welfare is a consistent theme that has been voiced from
the beginning and continues to be a driving theme across the decades. The politic lead by Parent/Teacher
Organizations across Ontario began to open discussions with the government to promote alternatives to
child welfare. The value of commitment to these strategies has been passed on from generation to
generation. This is seen through the political and community movement to promote the inherent
strategies that exist within the Anishinaabe culture. For WFS, it is consistent in the tribal sovereignty
development of the agency. This is clearly seen in the following timeline of policy development:
• The 1970s: the prevention programs in each of the ten First Nations communities;
• 1985: the planning committee designed to create the foundation of WFS and the community
care program’s vision, mission, goals, and objectives;
© Simard
• 1986: society status is attained by WFS;

• 1990: cultural competency strategies were documented into bylaws, policies, and service
practices;
• 2000: the beginning of the devolution process for WFS; and
• 2005: WFS implemented Naaniigan Abiinooji as a best interest strategy for children of WFS.
As an agency of national interest for the territorial nation of Treaty #3, WFS is responsible for a
restorative approach to child welfare. They do not condone or blindly accept the rapid child welfare
changes under the Child and Family Services Act or its amendments. The role of WFS is to be a resource
to the communities as they rebuild their communities’ natural structures and protect the communities
from the continual distortion and exploitation of power exerted on First Nations people. Further, WFS is
true to the understanding “that the Native people have been a persecuted minority with the need to regain
and resume their collective role in the raising of their children” (WFS, 1984a).
The research themes have shown that there has always existed a need to change the policies but
the government failed to acknowledge cultural wisdom, often believing it had no place in modern day
First Nations communities. It was important in the development of WFS for it not to repeat the same
pattern. As a result, there existed another important theme of a spiritual timeline in which cultural
precepts, ceremonies, drums, and pipes were given to the agency, along with the responsibility and duty of
care for these items on behalf of the children, families, and communities. These items are noted
throughout the research as the heart of the agency’s vision and spirit. With the cultural foundation and
spiritual acknowledgement in place, WFS began to embark on a spiritual journey of cultural restoration
into child welfare practice. This practice has great importance as it has allowed for the collective
responsibility of raising a child with instilling values, traditions, roles, and responsibilities of the First
Nations community. Further, it allowed for the opportunity to safeguard the child’s inherent cultural
identity and dignity related to the knowledge of one’s purpose and place within the cultural context of
Anishinaabe mino-bimaatiziwin.
Culturally restorative child welfare practice
Cultural restoration is the rebuilding of a nation of people based on Anishinaabe teachings,
language, principles, and structures. It is based in the fierce love of Anishinaabe people for their children
and the creative thinking that has allowed for the creation and harmonization of strategies to empower
Anishinaabe Naaniigan Abiinooji – Anishinaabe child welfare. It is the steadfast vision of the traditional
governance structure and the First Nations advocates that have led the way to the creation of this system
of care. Cultural restoration uses the concepts involved in the Naaniggan Abiinooji’s Anishinaabe Natural
Protective Network Principle. Some of these include principles of customary care, the best interest of the
child, identity, developmental milestones, cultural placement, definitions of family, Anishinaabe rights of
the child, cultural ceremony, and Anishinaabemowin – the language of the people to achieve this feat. All
of these factors are the mechanisms of cultural attachment theory to achieve cultural restoration.
Throughout the research, the project has suggested that the greater the application of cultural
attachment strategies, the greater the response to cultural restoration processes within a First Nations
community. This directly proportional proposition suggests an alternative strategy to governmental
engagement with First Nations people, which are based on reinvestment in cultural attachment strategies
in First Nations communities. Cultural presence in First Nations communities equates to increased trust
© Simard
and more access to services, thereby bolstering higher caseloads – the iceberg phenomenon. The research
has indicated a continual battle to justify the needs to alter programs and services for the betterment of
First Nations communities. This continues to be a source of frustration described throughout the
research.
Emerging Anishinaabe values in the Community Care Programs has stated,
Children represent the future and the future cannot be entrusted to the care of external
government and public agencies. Reaffirming Anishinaabe identity requires control over
community life and [the] preservation of Anishinaabe identity requires control over the
care and protection of children (Simard, 2006).
The laws of the Anishinaabe are from the Creator and are thereby sacred. They have meaning, creating a
bond and attachment to the expectation of the Creator for individuals, as Anishinaabe. These laws come
with traditional customary obligations, known by the Anishinaabe. The research has also indicated that
the Anishinaabe Nation was once a thriving nation that took care of everyone and continues to be a proud
people and nation. Collective responsibility and/or sacred responsibility were taken seriously. This is to be
passed down from generation to generation via the oral teachings, birch barks scrolls, language,
pictographs, rock paintings, and the petro-graphs found throughout Turtle Island (Jourdain, 2006).
The natural protective factors are the systematic structure which has existed in within the
Anishinaabe teachings for a millennium. The structure acknowledges the protective factors, the system
needed to be in place, and the roles and the responsibilities of the people within the circles (Appendix 1).
It shows the natural multifaceted and collective approach to raising a child. The approach acknowledges
the importance of continuity for the child, the development of identity, the character, and the
responsibility attached to children in their role within the Anishinaabe society. Within WFS training
presentations, they have contrasted their approach with the mainstream approach as it relates to First
Nations families, extended families, First Nations communities, and the Anishinaabe Nation.
As the previous documentation of history and the literature review have shown, the narrow
approaches used by mainstream practices often fall short, thereby creating greater destruction to
community restoration and child safety. A key piece noted by the research is "family preservation takes a
secondary role within mainstream social work practice" (Simard, 2006). Further, the research has shown
the child being ripped out of their inherent Anishinaabe family system and support structure. This, of
course, is the crux of the problem as it does not allow for continuity and restoration of Anishinaabe
teachings and systems to take responsibility and accountability for raising their own.
The conceptual basis of the research is centred on the protective layers within the Anishinaabe
society. The center of the protective layer is the child. The teachings related to the child begin with the
Anishinaabe Rights of the Child Principle. The Anishinaabe Rights of the Child Principle was based on the
teachings of the Anishinaabe; however, it was researched and documented by Jourdain (2006) in the
early 1990s. It consists of the following:
Spiritual name: Anishinaabe ishinikassowin

Clan: ododemun
Identity: anishinabewin
© Simard
Language: anishinabemoowin
Cultural and healing ways: anishinabe miinigoosiwin
Good life: minobimatiziwin
Land: anishinabe akiing
Lifestye: anishinabechigewin
Education: kinamaatiwin
Protection: shawentassoowin and ganawentasoowin
Family: gutsiimug (Jourdain, 2006)
The Anishinaabe Rights of the Child Principle are consistent with an ethical assumption which links to
concepts and laws in Naaniigan Abiinooji. It is meant to ensure a child has the spiritual foundation of
inode'iziwin and the ability to balance their lives to achieve minobiimaatiziwin within their surroundings.
This principle allows for the formation of identity within the context of Naaniigan Abiinooji and is the best
practice related to the raising of an Anishinaabe child. It is used as a mechanism to provide an
opportunity for the child, family, extended family, and community to collectively raise the child within the
child's cultural context.
Identity is an important factor for Anishinaabe, although there are many concepts and meanings
which define identity. As shown in the literature review, Anishinaabe describes identity as a living and
breathing force. It is a special link between a child and the Creator; it is not static and will not end. The
concept is difficult to describe, but the Anishinaabe word is Daatisookaanug – my spirit/my identity – and
is similar to Atisookaanug, which is of the spirit or the sum of the spirit. Atisookaanug is the all-knowing
and, some might say, direct link to the Creator. The connection of identity to Anishinaabe is carried within
the spirit and it is the spirit that brings strength, love, ancestral knowledge, and a mode of being on Turtle
Island. In Anishinaabe, we are of the spirit and it is this connection of restoration which will rebuild a
child, a family, a community, and a nation of people.
Further to the concept of Anishinaabe Rights of the Child Principle, is the concept related to the
Anishinaabe Developmental Milestones Principle within practice. As in European principles on
development, Anishinaabe have consistent teachings on Anishinaabe cultural milestones. If one
researches the developmental milestones of a culture, there are overarching similarities. The Elders have
discussed these concepts and some Anishinaabe have written and discussed this as a manner of
introduction into the WFS service practices.
Jourdain (2006) has captured and discussed the Elders’ teachings on the Four Hills of Life, which
are a teaching of the Anishinaabe society with an emphasis on the importance of cultural responsibilities
related to the raising of a child. Jourdain (2006) discussed the traditional lifespan of the Anishinaabe and
the unique healing component of achieving the psycho-spiritual task associated with each level. The
levels are: "Abinodjiiwin - childhood; Oshkinigiwin - youth hood; Nitawigiwin - Adulthood; and lastly
Kitisiwin - elderhood" (Jourdain, 2006). Jourdain also pointed out the tasks associated with each life
stage. Abinodjiiwin is the time to develop the child identity, a time to develop trust, and a time to make
connections within the community. In Oshkinigiwin, it is a time of understanding the physical, emotional,
© Simard
mental, and spiritual needs related to one's own being. It is a time in which one child would go to fast and
receive his/her vision related to their purpose. It is also a time in which the family would begin to prepare
the young person to become a fully functioning adult within the Anishinaabe society. In Nitawigiwin, the
young adult begins to learn about independence, procreation, parenthood, and leadership. It is also a time
in which the young person learns about collectiveness to the Anishinaabe people. It is a time in which the
young person might also begin to learn about medicines and ceremonies and maybe a time of initiation
and convocations into a sacred lodge, which exists within Anishinaabe culture. There is a time when the
young adult takes on the role of advocate and protector of the Anishinaabe system. This is where the
fierceness of love and protection come into play as an Anishinaabe often does not take this role lightly.
The final stage is the Kitisiwin stage in which one is an Elder. An Elder is a very important part of this
process as they are the keepers of the generational window. They are the keepers of the sacred medicines,
the healing lodges, the ceremonies, customs, the language, and they are the teachers. Further, the role of
the Elders are to promote the knowledge and wisdom related to the people, they are the disciplinarians,
they are the promoter of Anishinaabe family systems, and they guide the lives of others in their sacred
responsibilities of the Creator. Jourdain (2006) discussed the cultural ceremonies associated with the
Hills of Life, such as "the welcoming ceremony; naming ceremony, clan identity; walking out ceremony;
fasting; initiation ceremonies; traditional practices ceremonies; and sometimes the Creator gives
traditional and ceremonial leadership rights to Elders."
As in developmental tasks in European settings, cultural developmental milestones also have

effects related to a lack of accomplishment. Within a cultural context, there are many variables that can
constitute cultural unrest and discord. Manifestations of this unrest are included as follows:
identity crisis; lack of supportive relationships; physical, emotional, mental and spiritual
disturbances; there are manifestations of dysfunctions or dependencies; and in Elders,
the person may be unable to share, support, love, communicate, be confident in
leadership roles, and may possibly make decisions for Anishinaabe children and families
in haste (Jourdain, 2006).
The possibilities that exist within the restoration of Anishinaabe systems far exceed the deficits related to
restoring this type of practice with First Nations people. It is also important to note, although the research
has shown only one mode of developmental milestones for Anishinaabe, specifically, Jourdain's teaching,
the beauty of the Anishinaabe teachings are the diversity that exists within receiving the teachings on
childhood development and rites of passage for the Anishinaabe child. When one family receives teaching
on the cultural rites for a child, especially their own, there is much more meaning and attachment to the
teaching received by the family, the extended family, and the community.
The second layer of the natural protective network is the family. Within the research, the
definition of family is much more than the nuclear family in mainstream systems. Anishinaabe family
principles are structured on value-based teaching within the concept of Naaniigan Abiinooji. The
Anishinaabe family structure was a resilient mechanism in which the community all had sacred
responsibility in the raising of a child and the mentoring of a fellow community member.
Jourdain (2006) has presented a collective definition of family:
Nuclear family: immediate family, mom, dad, siblings;
© Simard
Extended family: Aunties and Uncles on Paternal or Maternal sides, cousins, second
cousins, maternal family lineage, and paternal family lineage;
Community family: This is the membership of a First Nation community;
Nation family: These are the members which exist within a treaty. For example, Treaty #3
is a nation and those members within this area are in fact family;
Nationhood family: These are all the members of the Anishinaabe family, regardless of
jurisdiction, provincial territories, or countries. It is all Anishinaabe;
Clan family: There are significant teachings on clan and clan family which details the
innate relationship to each other through our spiritual clan protector;
Cultural family: The cultural family is linked to the ceremonial practices of the
Anishinaabe. It is also the support within these circles of ceremonial activities.
Building on this foundation of Anishinaabe family structures, WFS has integrated a service placement
model called the Cultural Placement. The principle is an ethical assumption, which is directly linked to the
concepts and laws that exist in Naaniigan Abiinooji. Kishiqueb (2006) developed, presented, and
discussed the implementation of this principle into practice in the early 1990s. The principle was used to
offer security for the child and to ensure the continuity of placement. It is used as a mechanism to provide
an opportunity for the child, family, extended family, and community to collectively raise the child within
the child's cultural context. Reunifications with family systems were a prominent theme for the
Anishinaabe children.
The Cultural Placement principle is as follows: If the community is aware of a child and family in
need, typically the community will work with the family and attempt to provide services to mitigate the
risk of harm for the child. If intervention is needed, it is based on the resources that exist with the family
system. "As a first resource, the child is placed with immediate family, extended family, family within the
community, extended family off reserve, family within neighbouring communities, a Native family off
reserve, then a non-Native family, or other facility off reserve" (Kishiqueb, 2006). This placement
principle has proven to be successful, as WFS has gone from placing children in 20% Anishinaabe homes
to 85% Anishinaabe homes in 20 years of service practice. Further, in several of the communities, this
principle has allowed all children to be placed within their cultural context of family and community.
Customary care
Another part of the family within this protective shield is the concept of customary care. There are
many facets to customary care principles, only some of which will be discussed within this paper.
Customary care principles are a way of life established by the Anishinaabe people. It is the commitment to
raising the children to ensure the identity and rights of the child are adhered to, as they are a part of
teaching vital life skills for each First Nations child. It is a community approach to making decisions on
children and families because they know the families and the families' needs. It is built with the premise
that the worker lives within the community and has more opportunity to invest in the preventative and
healing interventions of child welfare practices. It is based in love for the people as the main theme of a
natural helper. One interviewee stated, "Child welfare practice dictates social work education, but it is not
necessary . . . I'd be irresponsible to say formalized education is not relevant but I don't think it is
essential to provide culturally competent services" (WFS, 1984a). Another stated, "You need wisdom,
© Simard
kindness, respect . . . this far exceeds the education anybody on earth can give you because we are all
human beings, let's treat each other like human beings" (WFS, 1984b). The underlying principle of
customary care is the commitment to working in a respectful manner, speaking from the heart, and with
the community as the voice that empowers a different approach than mainstream child welfare
intervention.
The final layers of the Natural Protective Network Principle are the concepts of First Nations and
nationhood governance. The people within First Nations communities need to have the power to create
the services to help and heal their own people. The services need to be based on decisions made by Chiefs
and Councils who consult actively with the Elders and service providers of the community. This
consultation allows for the development of fundamental rights to care for children through a community
perspective, which is typically based on Anishinaabe systems and structures. As many Chief and Councils
monitor through portfolio systems, the supervision of such structures has typically been empowered
through Family Service Committees. These committees have taken different forms and can encompass
different people, but the point of consultation and supervision is the main theme noted. Grandmothers on
Family Service Committees are a standard that has its roots in historical roles and structures. It is the
people that make up the committees that supervise the team and direct the team in case planning and
review. The team is accountable to the grandmothers of the Family Service Committees. Within this
system of care, the response to services is done up front. It is an interactive response that allows for life
continuity for the child. The overall system is mentored, monitored, and supported by WFS.
As an agency, WFS has developed a sound practice within the concept of Naaniigan Abiinooji –
inadequately translated to the best interest of the child. This concept encompasses many of the cultural
attachments necessary to the wellbeing of an Anishinaabe child. It is what we do as service providers to
enhance the child's wellbeing in the areas of physical needs, emotional needs, mental needs, and spiritual
needs. It is also what we do as service providers to ensure the moulding and supporting of the child's
development in this area. Further, it is how we bring in family and extended family or community
members in their "traditional roles" as caregivers to the child. It is the collective accountability to the child
and the family. The concept of Naaniigan Abiinooji is the spiritual mechanism and/or traditional roles of
helpers we need to embrace to complete this task as service providers. Stakeholders within the video
footage have differentiated between the mainstream concept of the best interest of the child and
Naaniigan Abiinooji, and have found key differences. Both standards agree in the basic principles of rights
for the child; however, Naaniigan Abiinooji requires more. In the WFS system:
Naaniigan Abiinooji requires safety, protection, basic needs, rights to culture,

Anishinaabe children's rights, traditional teachings and education, traditional
developmental milestones, immediate family, extended family, all significant
relationships, clan traditional or adoptive community, land, language, Anishinaabe name,
treaty rights, and ischooin niin (sacred items) (Kishiqueb, 2006).
As an agency, it is the responsibility of WFS to ensure access to these standards of care for children in
their care, thereby allowing the community to increase community wellness and wellbeing. This is one of
the inherent roles of leadership in First Nations governance and nationhood building.
The WFS model has shown the sacredness of raising an Anishinaabe child and some of the
foundations based on cultural teaching of the Anishinaabe. Within the research, Elders discussed the two
© Simard
main teachings related to responsibility and traditional ethics inherent in leadership. Firstly, is a teaching
on Oozhegwaas - a spiritual being who steals children when parents are engaged in other activities.
Oozhegwas represents the possibilities of what happens when the natural protective factors that exist in
First Nations communities are not working properly. It is a story about a grandmother's teaching on child
care, a mother's reclaiming of her child, and a spirit being who steals a child. It is about the process the
mother went through on her journey to reclaim her child and is compared to the process of various First
Nations communities in their attempt to restore cultural values in Anishinaabe child welfare practice.
The second responsibility related to leadership is the concept of non-interference. The concept of
non-interference has been misunderstood by non-Native people for centuries. Often times you hear a
person describing the concept and the misinterpretation of the principle leaves a person wondering if it is
an appropriate response. The Elders within the videos have described non-interference as understanding
the sacred responsibility related to Creator's gift of free will. It is a teaching that is based in the scrutiny of
life, of one's purpose, and is based in the highest of ethics and morals. It is based in a manner of thinking
that is built on Naanabooz stories, creation stories, visions, and teachings of the Anishinaabe. It is a
mechanism to process right and wrong, as well as to know one's place within all levels of being. Non-
interference is based in the relational developmental or attachment to one's belief system – Anishinaabe –
and it is the understanding of the great responsibility of choice/free will. Another way of stating it is, "the
ability to choose to help or not to help, and to help all, not just Anishinaabe, but all of humanity. Ensuring
we are all safe" (Henry, 2006).
Leadership in Anishinaabe is not an easy task, according to the research. There are many stages of
healing and commitment that exist within the Anishinaabe system's framework. But it is important to
note the question throughout the research: What foundation do we want to work from? What standards or
principles do we use? And when they are defined, how can the communities work together to achieve
restorative child welfare practice? This is the ethical dilemma associated with the concept of non-
interference. It is a choice in leadership based on Anishinaabe cultural principles. Henry (2006) stated,
"Never get complacent, Weechi-it-te-win; you are the helpers, the shakbewis, to the children, blaze a good
landing spot for them, blaze a good road for them, so when they come there will be a good place for them
amongst the Anishinaabe." This concept and theme is prevalent in all of the leaders of the agency and the
commitment to that vision is intact.
Cultural restoration, a principle often foreign to mainstream social work practice, can seem
elusive. A child welfare system can adopt strategies to improve better outcomes for First Nations children.
Much of the research has shown various cultural attachment strategies to support this venture. The
creation of WFS was a systematic approach to the administrative harmonization of the cultural concepts
introduced in this research. The promotion of harmonization has allowed a systematic and culturally
competent organization to begin to devolve services to the First Nations community through the
devolutions principles. This process allows for the spiritually educated task of implementing Abiinooji
Innakonegewin (Anishinaabe Child Care Law), which is the enactment of the supreme Anishinaabe law on
how to care for our children. These tasks require a commitment, an anchoring in the vision, and an
assertion in child welfare sovereignty for the Anishinaabe Nation.
© Simard
Discussion
An implication for practice is the concept of cultural diversity that exists on Mother Earth. The
fluidity of the WFS culturally restorative practice model with other Indigenous child welfare service
agencies has many advantages and potential pitfalls through misapplication of the model. Cultural
diversity is an essential component of this model, as it allows for the opportunity to investigate the true
and Natural Laws that have been given to each Indigenous nation. The cultural investment and
opportunities this project provides are endless, as each nation is rich in cultural knowledge. However, the
absence of cultural leadership by the Indigenous nations into service practice could prove to be
disrespectful to the central theme of culturally restorative child welfare practices, which is nationhood
empowerment.
The researcher believes it is important to take the cultural attachment theory to the next level in
the world of academia and social work practice. For too long, First Nations people have been subject to a
mechanism that does not work and as a result, our nations have been continual victims to the
shortsighted practice of policymakers, institutions, and agencies. The opportunities within cultural
attachment into social work practice are an immense task. Literature, systematic study, and research
analysis are needed to support this theory. The principle of increasing cultural attachment strategies into
practice should increase culturally restorative nations. The Anishinaabe Nation is a proud nation of
people and a theory to support that development is imperative.
Conclusion
The objective of the research was to attain and package the wisdom of WFS with a level of
competence and integrity that ensures the inherent dignity and worth of this organization. It was the
intent to create, share, and mentor an environment in which other populations can achieve organizational
change. The research captured cultural values and the possibilities inherent in culturally restorative child
welfare practices. Anishinaabe worldviews and practices have had limited admittance to literature
grounded in scientific journals and the research has opened new doors and opportunities for First Nations
researchers.
Cultural attachment is found in the protective network principle and culturally restorative child
welfare practice is the systematic embracing of culture to meet the cultural needs of the First Nations
child. Cultural attachment is one tool for the rebuilding of a nation of people. Culturally restorative child
welfare practice is a conceptual framework based on the cultural teachings of a nation; it is based on the
ceremonial practices; it is found in the circle of protection; it is defined by the specific roles and
responsibilities of a member within a nation and their subsequent contribution to the development of the
child's secure cultural attachment; it is found in the ceremonial and cultural developmental milestones
with a nation; and it is the full integration of these concepts into children’s mental health and child
welfare service delivery systems.
The WFS practice model has created a change in paradigm related to child welfare. The system
initially was a response to mainstream child welfare but its foundation was based on a concept that was
rooted in the Anishinaabe teachings and ceremonies. The mandate was not to complete child welfare in
the same manner as mainstream practice; the mandate was to find an alternative. The steadfast vision of
the management has brought the agency to where it is today. Principles of change evolved into having a
deeper understanding of the Anishinaabe culture and traditions and this has been the greatest reward.
© Simard
References
Assembly of First Nations. (2007a). Fact sheet: First Nation population. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Assembly of First Nations. (2007b). Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples at 10 years: A report card. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Bellefeuille, G., & Ricks, F. (2003, January 23). A pathway to restoration from child protection to community wellness. Presented
at the 1st annual native social work conference: Articulating Aboriginal paradigms, implications for Aboriginal social
work practice.
Berry, K., Barrowclough, C., & Wearden, A. (2006). A reviewof the role of attachment styles in psychosis: Unexplored issues and
questions for further research. Clinical Psychology Review, 27(4), 458-475. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpr.2006.09.006
Blackstock, C., Trocome, N., & Bennett, M. (2004). Child maltreatment investigations among Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal
families in Canada. Violence Against Women, 10(8), 901-916. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F1077801204266312
Brave Heart, M. (1998). The return to the sacred path: Healing the historical trauma and historical unresolved grief response
among the Lakota through a psychoeducational group intervention. Smith Studies College in Social Work, 68(3), 287-
305. https://doi.org/10.1080/00377319809517532
Comeau, P., & Santin, A. (1995). The first Canadians: A profile of Canada's native people today (2nd ed.). Toronto, ON: James
Lorimer & Company.
Cross, T. (2006). Cultural competence continuum. Retrieved from https://affcny.org/family-supports/transracial-
transcultural/voices-of-professionals/cultural-competence-continuum/
Day, P. (2005). Untitled. Presented cultural competence conference, Fort Frances, ON.
Duran, E., & Duran, B. (1995). Native American postcolonial psychology. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
Duran, E., Duran, B., Yellow Horse Brave Heart, M., & Yellow Horse-Davis, S. (1998). Healing the American Indian soul
wound. In Y. Danieli (Ed.), The international handbook of multi-generational legacies of trauma. New York City, NY:
Plenum Press.
Felsen, I. (1998). Trans generational transmission of effects of the Holocaust. In Y. Danieli (Ed.), The international handbook of
multi-generational legacies of trauma. New York City, NY: Plenum Press.
Ferris, P., Simard, E., Simard, G., & Ramdat, J. (2005). Weechi-it-te-win Family Services: Utilizing a decentralized model in the
provision of bi-cultural services. Ottawa, ON: First Nations Child & Family Caring Society of Canada.
Henry, L. (2006). Traditional teaching lecture and presentation. Presented at Fort Frances, ON.
Hogan, M. S. (2005). Media review: Moving beyond culture. American Journal of Primatology, 66(3), 293-
295. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajp.20147
Hogan, M. (2007). The four skills of cultural diversity competence: A process for understanding and practice. Belmont, CA:
Thomson Higher Education.
Jourdain, L. (2006). Anishinaabe child welfare lecture and presentation. Presented at Fort Frances, ON.
Kelly, F. (2007). Traditional teaching lecture and presentation. Presented at Fort Frances, ON.
Kishiqueb, K. (2006). Naaniigan Abinooji. Presented at Fort Frances, ON.
Locust, C. (2000). Split feathers: Adult American Indians who were placed in non-Indian families as children. OACAS Journal,
44(3), 11-16.
Mennen F. E., & O'Keefe M. O. (2005). Informed decisions in child welfare: The use of attachment theory. Children and Youth
Services Review, 27(6), 577-593. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.childyouth.2004.11.011
Morrissette, P. J. (1994). The Holocaust of First Nation people: Residual effects on parenting and treatment implications.
Contemporary Family Therapy, 16(5), 381-392. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF02197900
Novins D. K., Bechtold, D. W., Sack, W. H., Thompson, J., Carter, D. R., & Manson, S. M. (1997). The DSM-IV outline for
cultural formulations: A critical demonstration with American Indian children. Journal of the American Academy of
Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, 36(9), 1244-1251. https://doi.org/10.1097/00004583-199709000-00017
© Simard
Oetting, . R., Swaim, R. C., & Chiarella, M. C. (1998). Factors structure and invariance of the orthogonal cultural identification
scale among American Indian and Mexican American youth. Hispanic Journal of Behavioral Sciences, 20(2), 131-
154. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F07399863980202001
Peroff, N. C. (1997). Indian identity. The Social Science Journal, 34(4), 485-494. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0362-3319(97)90007-0
Rusk-Keltner, B. (1993). Native American children and adolescents: Cultural distinctiveness and mental health needs. Journal of
Child and Adolescent Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing, 6(4),18-23. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1744-
6171.1993.tb00176 x
Siegel, C., Davis-Chambers, E., Haugland, G., Bank, R., Aponte, C., & McCombs, H. (2000). Performance measures of cultural
competency in mental health organizations. Administration and Policy in Mental Health, 28(2), 91-
106. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1026603406481
Simard, S. G. (1995). Historical lecture on Weechi-it-te-win Family Services. Presented at Fort Frances, ON.
Simard, S. G. (2006). History of Weechi-it-te-win Family Services. Presented at Fort Frances, ON.
Simard, E. (2006). Rethinking attachment theory: Culturally restorative child welfare practice. Presented at Fort Frances, ON.
Technical Assistance and Planning Associates Ltd. (1979). A starving man doesn’t argue: A review of community social services
to Indian in Ontario. Toronto, ON: Author.
Tibasonaqwat Kinew. (2006). Traditional teachings lecture. Presented at Fort Frances, ON.
Trocmé, N., Knoke, D., & Blackstock, C. (2004). Pathways to the overrepresentation of Aboriginal children in Canada's child
welfare system. Social Service Review, 78(4), 577-600. https://doi.org/10.1086/424545
Unknown Author. (1983). To Preserve and Protect.
Water, E., & Cummings E. M. (2000). A secure base from which to explore close relationships. Child Development, 71(1),164-
172. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-8624.00130
Weaver, H. N. (1996). Social work with American Indian youth using the orthogonal model of cultural identification. Families in
Society, 77(2), 99-109. https://doi.org/10.1606%2F1044-3894.879
Weaver, H. N. (1999). Indigenous people and the social work profession: Defining culturally competent services. Social Work,
44(3), 217- 225. https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/44.3.217
Weaver, H. N. (2001). Indigenous identity: What is it and who really has it?. American Indian Quarterly, 25(2), 240-
255. https://doi.org/10.1353/aiq.2001.0030
Weaver, H. N. (2004). The elements of cultural competence: Applications with Native American clients. Journal of Ethnic &
Cultural Diversity in Social Work, 13(1), 19-35. https://doi.org/10.1300/J051v13n01 02
Weaver, H. N., & Yellow Horse Brave Heart, M. (1999). Examining two facets of American Indian identity: Exposure to other
cultures and the influence of historical trauma. Journal of Human Behavior and the Social Environment. 2(1-2), 19-
33. https://doi.org/10.1300/J137v02n01 03
Weechi-it-te-win Family Services (WFS) (Producer). (1984a). Interview with J. Lees [video]. (Available from WFS, 1457
Idylwild Drive, Fort Frances, ON)
WFS. (Producer). (1984b). Interview with M. Tom [video]. (Available from WFS, 1457 Idylwild Drive, Fort Frances, ON)
WFS. (2005). By-law number 1: A by-law relating generally to the transaction of the affairs of Weechi-it-te-win Family Services,
Inc.. Fort Frances, ON: Author.
Williams, C. C. (2006). The epistemology of cultural competence. Families in Society, 87(2), 209-
222. https://doi.org/10.1606%2F1044-3894.3514
Yellow Horse Brave Heart, M. (2003). The historical trauma response among Natives and its relationship with substance abuse:
A Lakota illustration. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs, 35(1), 7-13. https://doi.org/10.1080/02791072.2003.10399988
© Simard
Appendix One
Natural Protective Network Principle
The natural protective factors are the systematic
structure which has existed within the Anishinaabe
teachings for a millennium. The structure is a principle of
the Anishinaabe Nation and acknowledges the protective
factors, the system needed to be in place, and the roles
and the responsibilities of the people within the circles. It
shows the natural multi-faceted and collective approach
to raising a child. The approach acknowledges the
importance of continuity for the child, the development
of identity, the character, and the responsibility attached
to the child in their role within the Anishinaabe society
(Simard, 2008).
Part 2 of 3
Within Weechi-it-te-win's presentations, they have
contrasted their approach with the mainstream approach
as it relates to impacts for First Nations families,
extended families, First Nations communities, and even
the Anishinaabe Nation. The narrow approaches used by
mainstream practices often fall short, thereby creating
greater destruction to community restoration and child
safety (Simard, 2008). A key piece noted by the research
is “family preservation takes a secondary role within
mainstream social work practice” (Simard, 2006).
Part 3 of 3
Further, the research has shown the child being ripped
out of their inherent Anishinaabe family system and
support structure. This, of course, is the crux of the
problem as it does not allow for continuity and
restoration of Anishinaabe teachings and systems to take
responsibility and accountability for raising their own
children (Simard, 2008).
© Simard
2019
A Way of Life: Indigenous Perspectives on
Anti-Oppressive Living
a b
Robina Thomas and Jacquie Green
a
Ph.D., Associate Professor, University of Victoria, School of Social Work, British Columbia, Canada
b
Ph.D., Associate Professor, University of Victoria, School of Social Work, British Columbia, Canada
Corresponding author: robinat@uvic.ca
Abstract
The focus of this article is on the key elements of anti-oppressive practices as examined by two Indigenous
women who practice and teach anti-oppressive ways. Anti-oppressive living is characterized as a Way of
Life that values the sacred and traditional teachings of various Indigenous cultures. The Medicine Wheel
is discussed and highlighted as an effective teaching tool to examine anti-oppressive ways of living,
practicing, and perspectives.
Keywords: anti-oppressive practice; Medicine Wheel, Indigenous Way of Life; social work
1
The original version of this article was published in: Thomas, R., & Green, J. (2007). A Way of Life: Indigenous perspectives
on anti oppressive living. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 3(1), 91-104.
A Way of Life: Indigenous perspectives on anti-oppressive living 82
Introduction
For the past five or six years, we have been asking ourselves: What is anti-oppressive practice?
How would we know that someone was, in fact, living and practicing anti-oppressively? More specifically,
as Indigenous women, we question what anti-oppressive practice would look like through an Indigenous
lens. We have begun to identify some of the key elements of anti-oppressive practice (AOP), which
include, but are not limited to:
• AOP is necessarily complicated and uncomfortable. AOP requires grappling with issues of
justice and oppression that can be challenging and frustrating as we explore issues of
oppression through our own experiences, our own lives, and locations in the world. These
explorations, complexities, and tensions are necessary because as helpers, we engage with
peoples’ personal and intimate lives and well-being; knowing what our values and beliefs are,
where they come from, and how they affect specific relations are important in developing a
commitment to overcoming injustice in our practice with clients.
• AOP, at its core, must include an analysis of power and strive to work across differences.
• AOP forces us to critically examine how we know what we know and to explore our
assumptions, not only about helping, but about other human beings. AOP invites us to connect
our subjective lived experiences to our knowledges – that is, what we know may be connected
to who we are. AOP offers an opportunity to explore the interconnections between who we are
and biases, beliefs, and attitudes towards other (marginalized) groups of people.
Mindful of, and using these key elements, we will discuss our collective perspectives of AOP as
Indigenous women. Many people may ask for a definition of AOP; in this paper, we will demonstrate and
show that for us, as Indigenous women, AOP means a Way of Life – a Way of Life that values the sacred
and traditional teachings of various Indigenous cultures. 2 Specifically, we will utilize the teaching
philosophies of the Medicine Wheel to frame and discuss our AOP perspectives.
The Medicine Wheel is an ancient teaching tool. It has no beginning and no end and teaches us
that all things are interrelated. The circularity of the wheel we are utilizing is comprised of quadrants that
represent all living things (see Figure 1). There are many teachings, principles, and philosophies of the
Medicine Wheel. Our teachings come from our Anishnaabe friend and mentor, Gale Cyr. She is from the
East of Turtle Island – Quebec, Canada.
As stated above, it is important to remember that when we use the Medicine Wheel, each
quadrant is interrelated. For example, the Eastern direction represents our spiritual being, which is, in
turn, also connected to the physical being of the Western direction. No quadrant is worth or valued as
being greater than the other quadrants; all aspects of our being and place are of equal importance and are
positioned in balance and harmony with one another. Moreover, once you have journeyed around the
Medicine Wheel, you have the opportunity to learn from your experiences and journey around the
2
We capitalize the term Our Way of Life to demonstrate the significance of Indigenous relationships to all living things as a Way
Of Life.
© Thomas & Green

Medicine Wheel again, this time learning from your mistakes. What the Medicine Wheel teaches us to be
conscious of is that if we remember what the challenges were in our previous journey, then our next
journey can be different and more effective. Starting at the East and working clockwise around the
Medicine Wheel, we have the four aspects of all human beings: spiritual, emotional, physical, and mental
(Bopp, Bopp, Brown, & Lane, 1989, p. 12; Saulis, 2003, p. 294). The Medicine Wheel also has four colours
to represent all the races of Mother Earth: red,
Figure 1 yellow, black, and white. It also provides us with
the four stages of the lifecycle: infant, youth, adult,
and elder; as well as the four seasons: spring,
summer, fall, and winter (Hart, 2002, p. 40). As
we will show, each of these representations has
particular meanings for both life and AOP.
Our teachings about using Medicine

Wheel philosophies emphasized that we are to
always to begin in the East because this is the
direction of spirituality, the colour red, the life
stage of the infant, and springtime. This is the
direction of new beginnings, of daybreak, and the
sunrise. In this paper, we will focus on the Eastern
direction to examine the history of Indigenous
peoples in Canada and the impact of colonization
– the history and beginning of Indigenous
relationships with settlers and their policies. This history of colonization is vital to understanding the
contemporary lives and subjective experiences of Indigenous peoples and the ongoing relationships
between Indigenous peoples and the Canadian settler state.
The South is the direction of our emotional being, the colour yellow, and the life stage of youth.
This is the direction of summer, a time for lots of activity. For youth, this is a time in their life where they
are learning much. The Southern direction is also the place where we recognize and honour the teachings
of our Elders and spiritual leaders. In this direction, our paper will look at the self and how we know what
we know – we will focus on and examine how heightened and complex our identities have become
because of our interaction with non-Indigenous peoples.
In the West, we have the direction of our physical being, the colour black, the life stage of the
adult, and the fall or autumn season. This is the direction we look towards when we do our work and our
practice. For example, the Western direction is where social workers share their knowledge and work
within our communities to help strengthen our children and families. In this direction, our paper will
focus on the following issues: the particular skills that AOP requires; the historical analysis of relations as
a necessary skill for anti-oppressive practice; and lastly, we identify critical self-examination as yet
another necessary skill and demonstrate why this skill is so vital for AOP.
The North is the direction of our mental being, the colour white, the life stage of an elder, and
wintertime. When we reach the North, we are reminded to revisit our work. This is the time to focus on
what changes we need to make to our lives; a time to re-think and re-evaluate our actions and behaviours.
© Thomas & Green

For social work practice in Indigenous communities, this is the direction of vision. This is the time to
dream of anti-oppressive living. The northern direction is the time where our language, culture, and
tradition are revived and become a part of our day-to-day lives.
The text that follows helps us to journal through all the aspects of the Medicine Wheel, which
assists us in AOP.
Beginning in the East, We Will Start Our Journey with Our Current
and Historical Analysis
Given that “colonialism has racism as its ideological rationale” (Maracle, 1996, p. 89), an analysis
of the impact of colonization on the lives of Indigenous peoples in Canada is absolutely necessary if social
workers are to practice in an anti-oppressive way. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (1994)
defined colonialism as:
1. the quality of being colonial;

2. something characteristic of a colony;
3. a. control by one power over a dependent area or people
b. a policy advocating or based on such control.
However, as those of us who have lived the experience of colonialism (and continue to live in it)
know, colonialism is a much stronger force than these mere words reflect: In fact, it is life altering for the
Indigenous peoples of Canada (and colonized peoples worldwide). In a recent article, Alfred (2004)
argued that colonialism “is the fundamental denial of our freedom to be Indigenous in a meaningful way
and the unjust occupation of the physical, social, and political spaces we need in order to survive as
Indigenous peoples” (p.89). This articulation encapsulates the depth and breadth of the impact and
effects of colonialism.
Colonization is about taking control of our lives, lands, resources, and people – at any expense
and at the cost of Indigenous peoples’ lives and livelihood – to make those lands productive in terms of
economic rewards (Tuhiwai Smith, 2002, pp. 20-22). In other words, capitalism and colonialism have an
intimate and necessary relationship. Loomba (1998) described this interdependent relationship in the
following way: “Thus we could say that colonialism was the midwife that assisted at the birth of European
capitalism, or that without colonial expansion the transition to capitalism could not have taken place in
Europe” (p.4).
In Canada, the federal government went to great lengths to ensure that capitalism not only
materialized but flourished. The government ensured the growth of capitalism and solidified their colonial
stronghold through the development of extensive legislation, indicating the extent to which Canada was
willing to go to guarantee that Indigenous peoples did not get in the way of progress (capitalism) (Tully,
2000, p. 38). In order to subjugate and oppress Indigenous peoples, the Canadian settler state required
the creation and maintenance of violence (Hodge, 1990, p. 93). This violence took on a complex and
intricate web aimed at destroying the mind, body, spirit, and humanity of our peoples. Colonial violence
took on different manifestations, including, but not limited to, the Indian Act in its assorted
© Thomas & Green

manifestations; biological and germ warfare; theft of cultures, knowledges, traditions, languages and
identity; residential school policy; child welfare policies; and various treaty processes. 3
While capitalist expansion was critical to the colonial enterprise, colonialists were equally
interested in the moral and cultural lives of Indigenous peoples (Tuhiwai Smith, pp. 25-26). Through the
Indian Act and the residential school policy, the government launched an official policy of dispossession
and cultural genocide in 1920. Our children were forcefully removed from their homes, their families, and
their communities to be Christianized and civilized (Aboriginal Healing Foundation [AHF], 2003, p. 27).
In these isolated and foreign places, Indigenous children were forced to speak a language they did not
know, pray to a God they knew nothing of, and be educated in a way that was both alien and purposeless
for them. The effect of these policies was to degrade the Indigenous peoples of Canada and to position
them in the lowest strata of society (AHF, 2005, pp. 43-44). The education received in those institutions
was minimal, at best (AHF, 2003, p. 29); the children were, in fact, being trained to become the working
class (AHF, 2005, p. 34) – the labourers, housekeepers, and maids for the emerging white nation. This
was done in a very deliberated, thoughtful, and planned way.
Modern colonialism did more than extract tribute, goods, and wealth from the countries that it
conquered – it restructured the economies of the latter, drawing them into a complex relationship with
their own, so that there was a flow of human and natural resources between colonized and colonial
countries (Loomba, 1998, p. 3).
In 1887, the Indian Act was amended to ban our potlatch and sun dances. The potlatch and other
traditional ceremonies were, and still are, our traditional governance systems. For example, in the
Thi’lelum (Big house) we pass on names, Chieftainships, songs, dances, masks; performed marriages;
supported our families (funerals); and redistributed our wealth through giveaways. For Indigenous
peoples, the ceremonies performed in these sacred places constituted both the administration and
governance of community members – in effect, these ceremonies served similar functions to Western
structures like the Department of Vital Statistics and Parliament. By destroying our community
governance, the Canadian state threatened and attempted to eradicate our communal identity and the
status of our Nations.
In many Indigenous languages, there is no word that translates to anti-oppressive practice.

However, there are various phrases in our mother tongue that identifies a Way of Life. For example,
phrases and/or terms such as Snuw’uy’ul roughly translates into our teachings - our ways of knowing and
being; our governing structures; our culture; our tradition; our language; our sacred bathing holes;
hunting, fishing, and gathering rights; our family; our community; and our relationship with Mother
Earth and Father Sky. 4 Through the banning of the potlatch, and other traditional ceremonies, the
government specifically and purposefully attacked and attempted to rupture our Way of Life (Lawrence,
2002, pp. 23-24). Indigenous scholar Maracle (1996) captured the spectrum of these ruptures:
3
The Indian Act is an enforced colonialist, paternalistic legislation that has governed and classified every aspect of the lives of
Indigenous peoples in Canada for well over 100 years. This broad, sweeping act continues to govern, control, classify, regulate,
and dictate our identity, our movements, and the economic, social, and political lives of our people today (Lawrence, 2003, p. 4).
4
Snuw’uy’ul is a Hul’qumi’num Mustimuhw term by Hul’qumi’num speaking people.
© Thomas & Green

The aims of the colonizer are to break up communities and families and to destroy the sense
of nationhood and the spirit of co-operation among the colonized. A sense of powerlessness
is the legacy handed down to the colonized people. Loss of power – the negation of choice,
as well as legal and cultural victimization – is the hoped-for result (p. 93).
Through their power to define “Indians” as inferior and the development of racist policy, the Canadian
state directly attacked our Way of Life and our way of being (Simpson, 2000, p. 118). Many of our people,
both the young ones and the older ones, remember the pain and devastation of the days when the potlatch
was banned and residential schools were still open.
The state also used education to push forward Eurocentric beliefs. Maracle (1996) believed, “The
appropriation of knowledge, its distortion and, in some cases, its destruction, was vital to the colonial
process” (p. 89). Education had an assimilationist agenda (Castellano, Davis, & Lahache, 2000, p. 25),
requiring our people to assume the cultural, social, and political belief systems of the colonizer as part of
the “civilizing mission” that was directed towards Indigenous peoples (AHF, 2005, p. 42). The education
process had, as its underlying agenda, to ensure that our people would believe their knowledges and
traditions – their Way of Life – to be inferior; this was due in part to the colonialists’ own thinking that
Indigenous epistemologies were inferior (Tuhiwai Smith, 2002, p. 11). Having our knowledges targeted
for destruction, and having to assimilate into Western knowledge systems, has had a significant
psychological impact on our people. As a result of Eurocentric educational indoctrination, Indigenous
peoples began to forego their Ways of Life in order to be more like the “superior” others. Hooks (1995),
when discussing colonization of the mind in Black communities, claimed, “Through being
taught/socialized Eurocentric biases black [people] began to long for the ‘rewards’ that whites had access
to (luxury and comfort). To gain access to these rewards, blacks began assimilating white values.”
However, assimilating white values may be easier than having the dominant society accept our Way of
Life. The experience of racism has meant that Indigenous peoples have internalized racism, domination,
and colonization.
Given the colonial history of Canada, AOP with Indigenous peoples requires an intimate
knowledge and understanding of the history of Indigenous peoples in Canada, including the ways in which
the colonization of lands, resources, psyches, and hearts of Indigenous peoples was an integral part of the
colonizing processes. The Indian Tribes of Manitoba (1971) reminded us of the significance of linking
history to the present and to the future: “To deny the past and to refuse to recognize its implications is to
distort the present; to distort the present is to take risks with the future that are blatantly irresponsible” (p.
ii). As social workers, we must understand the impact these policies have had, and continue to have, on the
day-to-day lives of our children and families that we work with. It is critical for social workers to question
themselves and their knowledge of Indigenous peoples by asking themselves: What have the experiences of
the Indigenous children and families been? Did they, their parents and/or grandparents attend residential
schools? Have they been involved in the child welfare system and how might they feel about social
workers? What is their history with social work? What are their fears? We must always take these questions
into account when we work with Indigenous children and families. We must always situate the present
within the context of the past and continuously engage how the families we support come to know what
they know. Maracle (1996) believed that “change must be the basis for education” (p. 92). Change can only
begin by knowing and engaging the effects of where we have come from and knowing and engaging the
effects of where the children and families we support have come from.
© Thomas & Green

In the Southern Direction, We Journey to Reflect on the Self

As time went on, we realized that AOP is not enough. We cannot decide when or when not to
practice. It must be about living – anti-oppressive living. Anti-oppressive social work, in essence, is a Way
of Life. In her book Killing Rage: Ending Racism, Hooks (1995) discussed Martin Luther King’s image of a
“beloved community where race would be transcended, forgotten, where no one would see skin colour” (p.
263). Hooks eloquently reminded us that King’s dream of a beloved community can only be realized if we
resist the need to transcend history and to forget the everyday processes of racialization. A beloved
community can only be made possible when we forge individual and collective bonds based on “loving ties
of care” (Hooks, 1995, p. 264). And so, not only is it critical for social workers to practice and live anti-
racism, it must go hand in hand with creating a Way of Life – a beloved community cultivated from care
that centers differences that is so crucial to the theory and practice of anti-oppressive living.
Others also offer the gift of living in a more just way, of fostering a more just society. In his book
Wásase, Alfred (2005) encouraged us to become warriors again: those who carry the burden to peace (p.
51). He believed that behaving “indigenously” is a personal attribute that is observable. He also stated that
we need to “recreate a life worth living and principles worth dying for” (p. 25). For us, this is also about a
Way of Life, how we are and want to be in the world.
We believe that the same is true for anti-oppression – we must live it. Our beloved community
would foster anti-racist/anti-oppressive living. But the question becomes: What do we need to do to get
there and how do we get to living anti-oppression? Hooks (1995) said, “To live in an anti-racist society we
must collectively renew our commitment to a democratic vision of racial justice and equality” (p. 271).
Dominelli (1988) believed that “to become fully human and live in egalitarian harmony with black people,
white people have to become anti-racist. Anti-racism is a state of mind, feeling, political commitment and
action (p. 16). Hooks and Dominellis’ statements on anti-racism hold true for anti-oppressive living. We
must be committed to justice and equality in all aspects of our lives and be willing to do something about
it. It is not enough to merely recognize that inequalities and injustices exist; that is, anti-oppressive living
is neither passive nor something we do in our “job.” Rather, it is an active stance and way of being in the
world around us. As social workers, we must continue to strive for social justice, not only to benefit
ourselves but to benefit all of our children.
In order to strive for social justice, we must begin this process by asking ourselves how we know
what we know. Rarely do we have the opportunity to turn inwardly and look into our life and critique how
we have been socialized and what we have internalized from our socialization. We believe that the best
helpers are those that know their self the best. Dominelli (1988) believed that by “getting rid of the
injustice perpetrated by racism we will begin reclaiming our own humanity and establishing egalitarian
relationships between black and white people” (p. 14). If anti-oppression is about living, then reclaiming
and politicizing our humanity must be a starting point. Seletze (D. Johnnie, personal communication)
believed that healing is life long and that every day we can strive to be a better person than we were the
day before and a better person the next day than we were today. Yes, we can all heal and become more
fully human. In The Sacred Tree: Reflections on Native American Spirituality, Bopp et al. (1984)
included a code of ethics. The first ethic states:
Each morning upon rising, and each evening before sleeping, give thanks for the life
within you and for all life, for the good things the Creator has given you and others and
© Thomas & Green

for the opportunity to grow a little more each day. Consider your thoughts and actions of
the past day and seek for the courage and strength to be a better person. Seek for the
things that will benefit everyone (p. 75).
We believe that if helpers thought critically every day about their ways of living, then we would be a step
closer towards committing to anti-oppressive living.
Indeed, being committed to living anti-oppression requires that we not only examine our values
and beliefs but live them out as well. As helpers, we must believe that we are good helpers or we would not
be in social work. But we need to question our intentions and motivations and ask ourselves: Are we good
helpers? Do we truly value all human beings? When we see the “stereotypical” Indigenous person on the
streets, do we value them? Do we care about the poorest people? When we work with people from the gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual, transgendered, and queer community do we value them? What about people who live
with disabilities? These are tough questions, but they must be examined. Exploring our values and beliefs
is very difficult, but a commitment to anti-oppressive living requires that we do just this. The eighth ethic
from Bopp et al. (1984) was, “All the races and tribes in the world are like the different coloured flowers of
one meadow. All are beautiful. As Children of the Creator they must all be respected” (p. 80). A
commitment to continuously examine our values and beliefs can be instrumental in living anti-
oppression, which informs how we will practice social work.
In the Western Direction, Now We Journey to Look at How Our

History and Reflective Self Inform Best Practices
In our examination of praxis, we have come to know and understand that praxis must include an
analysis of Indigenous histories. We also understand that praxis must include a continuous reflection of
the self. A research study on best practices in First Nations communities identified the importance of
knowing the self in practice:
One worker talked about always having to remember where she was from and why she
was doing this work. It was the personal commitment to her community that kept her
strong and wanting to do social work, but also remembering that she was, at the same
time, a social worker and a First Nations person. She always had to remember the
historical issues that have impacted our people while at the same time remember our
traditional ways (Green & Thomas, 2005, p. 10).
One critical skill in social work practice requires an examination and understanding of our assumptions.
For example, there are assumptions around Indigenous peoples living on or off the reserve system. Non-
Indigenous peoples, at times, assume because one lives on-reserve that they are necessarily cultural,
culturally aware, and/or traditional. As we explore our histories, we see how, for one, reserve systems are
colonial regimes (Simpson, 2000, p. 126). As well, we understand that while reserves were created to
isolate our people from the dominant society, our children were simultaneously removed from our
reserves to learn how to assimilate into the dominant society. Having said this, many people who live
within and among the reserve system are truly connected to one another. Moreover, those who live in
urban settings gravitate towards and are connected with one another. The point here is, that no matter
where Indigenous peoples live, they/we do make connections with each other and nurture relationships
and traditional teachings interchangeably. For this reason, much of our work is based in the communities
© Thomas & Green

we live in. Our work is closely linked to the issues of our community and we work hard to pay attention to
what our community members tell us. Fostering these relationships is important for our learning, for our
teaching, for our practice, and for our communities.
Another set of skills required of social workers is a fundamental understanding of colonialism and
colonial relations. In research engaged by Green and Thomas (2005), social workers whom they
interviewed believed all social workers must have sound knowledge of the history of Aboriginal peoples.
As well, these workers suggested social workers pay particular attention to the history of the geographical
area where one is working (p. 8). By attending to, and understanding our histories and lives, social
workers will come to understand that in contrast to colonial policies, traditional teachings are rooted in
understanding our connections to Mother Earth and Father Sky. It is through our ceremonies that we
understand our identities and our cultures – no matter where we live – and these ceremonies are
important to our social, political, and economic knowledges. Cajete (2000) goes on to say that it is the
intimate relationship that people establish with place and with the environment and with all things that
make them or give them life (p. 183). Thus, skills of reflection and locating our histories are integral to
unravelling assumptions we make of Indigenous peoples and the lives we live.
Common assumptions made about Indigenous peoples are based on racist stereotypes and racist
attitudes. Sinclair (2004) stated that even in the new millennium, the standard for social work education
and practice is literature and education-based on the worldview, life ways, and reality of the dominant,
predominantly white, and mainstream society (p. 53). What helpers must recognize is that due to
residential school trauma and other racist policies, many Indigenous peoples have had to deal with multi-
generational trauma. For many, substance misuse is an antidote to numb historical pain. It is critical that
helpers come to understand history and see how we can work together to heal from our past. Many people
fail to see the strengths and resiliency of Indigenous peoples. As an example, if we as practitioners, when
working with families, focus on and look for the strengths of a person, rather than always exerting energy
on “fixing” a person, families may then have an opportunity to recognize and work through their own
strengths. We believe that it is the beliefs, stereotypes, and attitudes of social workers that must shift,
rather than a constant centring of clients to fix and shift their behaviours and attitudes. Working with
families from a strength-based model requires a commitment to valuing and honouring relationships.
Relationships in our practice can be modelled by looking at our own inter-relationships with our families,
to our teachings, and how we engage with Mother Earth and Father Sky. By understanding how we relate
to people, we can then model to families what meaningful relationships could look like. King (as cited in
Sinclair, 2004) spoke to relationships:
‘All my relations’ is a first reminder of who we are and of our relationship with both our
family and our relatives. It also reminds us of the extended relationship we share with all
human beings. But the relationships that Native people see go further, the web of kinship
extending to the animals, to the birds, to the fish, to the plants, to all the animate and
inanimate forms that can be seen or imagined. More than that, ‘all my relations’ is an
encouragement for us to accept the responsibilities we have within this universal family
by living our lives in a harmonious and moral manner (p. 54).
In our work, we honour our relationships by inviting Elders to come to speak to students. Our Elders are able
to share their histories and their experiences and impart an important and different set of learning to students.
© Thomas & Green

We know and believe that children are the heart of communities and they must be central to how
we look at practice. Because children are gifts from our Creator, they must be at the centre of love and
nurturing from a circle of extended family and community members (Cherrington, 2000, p. 29). More
importantly, in practice, we must remember how children historically have been traumatized by colonial
practices and how our children are devastated by racism. We know how policies, legislation, and other
laws have harmed our Way of Being as Indigenous peoples. For many helpers, we have seen how
stereotypes and assumptions have harmed Indigenous families and resulted in the removal of children
from our families and communities.
Especially important in social work practice is maintaining relationships with children. Children
are precious and must continue to be looked after by our families and extended families. Moreover,
children must have strong relationships with people who work for them. Aboriginal children are precious
to us because they represent our collective future. Anderson (2000) reminded us that children are not
considered possessions of the biological parents; rather, they are understood to be gifts on loan from the
Creator (p. 159). It is important to be committed to children-in-care and, moreover, be consistent in how
we engage with them. As helpers, it is important to maintain relationships with the children and families
we work with to the best of our abilities, most particularly those children who are in child protection. If we
reflect on our traditional teachings, there were many people involved with children in our communities;
these were lifelong relationships, which in turn, impact on the Way of Life for children. In our practice,
then, we must remember that children receive many teachings and form a variety of strong and important
lifelong relationships. The relationships we forge with children will impact how they become an adult. We
must also remember that the children will remember what we do and say. For anti-oppressive living, we
must critically analyze how our educational teachings and training impact our relationships with children
and their families. We must continuously reflect on how legislation and organizational policies and
practices could be used to strengthen families rather than create harm for children and families.
As an example, social work training and education have stressed that we must learn how to be
objective. We learn that there are certain standards by which to communicate and document what
relationships are like between social workers and their clients. We also learn how to report on the lives of
children and families. For anti-oppressive practice, the question becomes: How do we act and write in a
way that is resilient and supportive for children? Can we do this ethically? How do our traditional
teachings inform how we work within practice standards?
To answer the questions posed above, we want to emphasize that to practice in a way that benefits
children and who they are as human beings, we as practitioners must journey from our head to our heart.
Elders and traditional teachers have taught us that the longest journey anyone makes is from the head to
the heart. What does this mean for practice and how do we do this? One reason why this head-to-heart
journey is important is because social workers are directly involved in and influence the relationship with
families and these relationships must be viewed as lifelong. Johnson (2000) encouraged professionals to
believe that personal uniqueness and differences should be valued and respected (p. 133). In our
mainstream and western educational training, we are taught to be objective: we assess, we recommend,
and we implement and then we move onto our next “case file.” However, the heart in our practice teaches
us and encourages us to practice differently because we, as people and as social workers, are responsible
for the relations and connections we make. We very well may see this family in another place and time or
© Thomas & Green

perhaps we will share a sacred ceremony with this family. In our classrooms, the journey from the head to
the heart is at times brought together and made present when we share ceremony with our students.
Ceremony collectively connects each person, each student, and ourselves with the past, present, and
future, demonstrating the need to work from a holistic place – connecting the head to the heart.
Ceremonies like smudging encourage students and like the teachings of the Medicine Wheel tell us, to
bring forward and engage their whole person (spiritual, emotional, physical, as well as mental). When we
engage in sacred ceremonies together, relationships are solidified – most times, forever. For this reason, it
is important that we consider all notes and communications as sacred, where any documentation must be
scrupulously respected. Rather than emphasizing objectivity, we need to remember that we are
communicating about our community members and our families – not our “cases.”
In the Northern Direction of Our Journey, We Reflect on Our

Practice and We Look at Vision and Re-visioning
For Indigenous peoples, vision is critical in our lives and for our future. We reflect on our
communities, our teachings, and our ancestors to see how their lives impact who and how we are today.
For us as practitioners, we must remember the strength and resiliency of our grandparents, our ancestors,
and our children who have been warriors throughout history because we too hope to be remembered in a
similar way. Despite the imposition of colonial policies, our people are alive and well. Our people are re-
claiming traditional teachings and persevering our ways of life in regenerating culture, language, and
ceremony. Our people continue to believe in change. In practice, we understand how policies have
affected the lives of so many Indigenous children. Today, we can redo practice standards and incorporate
traditional teachings into how we do our work. As we continue to re-learn our traditional ways, we know
that contemporary practice must be inclusive of varying ways of being. In our relationships with non-
Indigenous peoples, we know that we must work collaboratively and that we must model collaboration
through meaningful partnerships.
Partnerships are important and meaningful. However, non-Indigenous workers, politicians, and
state workers must demonstrate their willingness to truly understand the historical legacies that have
harmed our people and to link these to the myriad of issues that our communities are challenged by
because of these legacies. As Indigenous peoples, there are many situations where we have been forced to
engage in mainstream policies and practice standards in order to work in our own communities. It is time
now for non-Indigenous workers to engage in our ways of being and practice in a way that exemplifies a
Way of Life relevant to the people they work for. What we are invoking, here, is a call for non-Indigenous
workers and politicians to shift their own cultural values and belief systems in order to collaborate in a
meaningful and positive way with Indigenous peoples. This is a necessary step for re-visioning
relationships.
Graveline (1998) stated, “Resistance is essential to our survival” (p. 43). Indigenous peoples have
resisted assimilation and have survived. A belief in hope and vision for the future of the next seven
generations is necessary to continue to challenge dominant systems.
In order to put forward the traditional worldview, we need to continue to challenge the Western
paradigms that guide today’s education systems. Continued resistance needs to be mounted, as Western
educational models are still playing a large role in reinforcing altered forms of consciousness. Thinking
© Thomas & Green

with the head (cognition) as separable from the heart (feelings) is expected and continuously reinforced in
Western schooling (Graveline, p. 39).
As we reflect on this wheel of practice, we see how Indigenous peoples have resisted and are
standing strong. We see how, despite the many different forms of colonial impositions, our spirits and Our
Way of Being are strong. We also recognize that there are still places where our people must heal and
move forward with their lives. This is true for our lives as workers as well. By collaborating in our
practices, we as helpers can resist and re-vision to truly deconstruct colonial practices in our
communities. We recognize that it is essential for us to incorporate our regenerative cultural teachings
into our practice. We know that historically culture and tradition were instrumental to healthy
communities.
Acknowledging and recognizing that, although our lives, our lessons, and our students are
steeped in colonial mentality, we still must accept responsibility to teach and we can rely
on traditional forms to do so. I stand strong in my ability and my willingness to accept
personal responsibility for understanding power and relationships and to share what I
have learned through my own experiences and voice (Graveline, 1998, p. 48).
In the Northern direction of our work, we reflect on the stories our grandmothers have shared
with us. We must remember their stories so we can learn from them and live our lives accordingly of our
respective traditional places. We must remember the resistance of our grandmothers and grandfathers
who lived through residential school trauma and the ban of ceremonial practices. Today, we can
incorporate their resistance and practice differently. We must remember that in their lives, children were
and are the hearts of their communities. Today, we must ensure that children continue to be the centre of
our practice. What will the children say to us if we ask them: What is a social worker? How would our
ancestors answer this question? As helpers, we know that our helpers were and are our grandparents, our
ceremonies, and our relationship to All Living Things.
In conclusion, we want to reiterate that we have come to understand anti-oppression as a Way of

Life. Reflecting on our philosophy from the Medicine Wheel, our well-being (spiritual, emotional, physical
and mental) are critical aspects of our lives. As we write this, we are mothers, grandmothers, students,
teachers, and social workers (to name a few). We are always all these things. As such, we must live the
values and beliefs we embrace all the time. If we always live our values and beliefs, anti-oppressive social
work would be based on Snuw’uy’ul – all of our traditional teachings to live a good life and to be the best
human beings and helpers we can possibly be.
All Our Relations!
Kundoque (Jacquie Green)
Qwul’sih’yah’maht (Robina Thomas)
© Thomas & Green

References
Aboriginal Healing Foundation [AHF] (2003). Aboriginal people, resilience and the residential school legacy. Ottawa, ON: Author.
AHF. (2005). Reclaiming connections: Understanding residential school trauma among Aboriginal people. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Alfred, T. (2004) Warrior scholarship: Seeing the university as a ground of contention. In D. Mihesuah & A. Wilson (Eds.), Indigenizing the
academy: Transforming scholarship and empowering communities (pp. 88-99). Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press.
Alfred, T. (2005) Wasáse: Indigenous pathways of action and freedom. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press.
Anderson, K. (2000) Recognition of being: Reconstructing Native womanhood. Toronto, ON: Sumach Press.
Bopp, J., Bopp, M., Brown, L., & Lane, P. (1984). The sacred tree: Reflections on Native American spirituality. Twin Lakes, WI: Lotus
Light Publications.
Cajete, G. (2000). Indigenous knowledge: The pueblo meaphor of Indigenous education. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous
voice and vision. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Castellano, M. B., Lynne, D., & Lahache, L. (Eds.). (2000). Aboriginal education: Fulfilling the promise. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Dominelli, L. (1988). Anti-racist social work. London, UK: British Association of Social Workers.
Graveline, J. (1998). Circle works: Transforming Eurocentric consciousness. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing.
Green, J., & Thomas, R. (2005). Learning through our children, healing for our children: Best practice in First Nations communities. In
L. Dominelli (Ed.), Communities in a globalizing world: Theory and practice for community empowerment. Farnham, UK:
Ashgate Pubishing.
Hart, M. (2002). Seeking Mino-Pimatisiwin: An Aboriginal approach to helping. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing.
Hodge, J. L. (1990). Equality: Beyond dualism and oppression. In D. T. Goldberg (Ed.), Anatomy of racism. Minneapolis, MN:
University of Minnesota Press.
Hooks, b. (1995). Killing rage: Ending racism. New York City, NY: Henry Holt & Co.
Loomba, A. (1998). Colonialism/ postcolonialism: The new critical idiom. New York City, NY: Routledge.
Johnson, P. (2000). Envisioning a community-centered education: We do not own our children, we must honor them in all ways. In M.
Kape ahiokalani Padeken Ah Nee-Benham (Ed.), Indigenous educational models for contemporary practice: In our mother’s
voice. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Earlbam Associates, Inc.
Lawrence, B. (2002). Rewriting histories of the land: Colonization and Indigenous resistance in eastern Canada. In S. Razack (Ed.),
Race, space, and the law: Unmapping a white settler society. Toronto, ON: Between the Lines.
Lawrence, B. (2003). Gender, race, and the regulation of Native identity in Canada and the United States: An overview. In Hypatia,
18(2), 3-31.
Maracle, L. (1996). I am Woman: A Native perspective on sociology and feminism. Vancouver, BC: Press Gang Publishers.
Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. (1993). Colonialism. In Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (10th ed.). Springfield, MA:
Author.
Mihesuah, D., & Wilson, A. (Eds.). (2004). Indigenizing the academy: Transforming scholarship and empowering communities.
Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press.
Saulis, M. (2003). Program and policy development from a holistic Aboriginal perspective. In Westhues, A. (Ed.), Canadian social
policy: Issues and perspective (3rd ed.). Waterloo, ON: Wilfred Laurier Press.
Simpson, A. (2000). Paths toward a Mohawk nation: Narratives of citizenship and nationhood in Kahnawake. In D. Ivison, P. Patton, &
W. Sanders (Eds.), Political theory and the rights of Indigenous peoples. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Sinclair, R. (2004). Aboriginal social work education in Canada: Decolonizing pedagogy for the seventh generation. In First Peoples
Child & Family Review, 1(2): 49-61.
Tuhiwai Smith, L. T. (2002). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples (5th ed.). London, UK: Zed Press.
Tully, J. (2000). The struggles of Indigenous peoples for and of freedom. In D. Ivison, P. Patton, & W. Sanders (Eds.), Political theory
and the rights of Indigenous peoples. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
© Thomas & Green

2019
Aboriginal Youth Talk About Structural
Determinants as the Causes of Their
Homelessness
Cyndy Baskin
Ph.D., Associate Professor, Ryerson University, School of Social Work, Ontario, Canada
Corresponding author: cbaskin@ryerson.ca
Abstract
This article explores structural determinants as possible causes of the homelessness of Aboriginal youth in
Toronto, Ontario, Canada. It includes a brief literature review and provides some of the findings of a
recent research project, which implemented an Aboriginal research methodology with homeless youth in
Toronto. These findings point to a strong link between Aboriginal children growing up in poverty and
involvement in child welfare and becoming homeless as a youth. Suggestions for positive change at the
policy-level are offered in order to prevent the next generation of Aboriginal children growing up to
become homeless youth.
Keywords: homelessness, youth, child protection system, Medicine Wheel
1
The original version of this article was published in: Baskin, B. (2007). Aboriginal youth talk about structural determinants as
the causes of their homelessness. First People Child & Family Review, 3(3), 31-42.
2
Author note: Chi meegwetch to Lori Mishibinijima, the research assistant on this project, the youth workers who helped to set it
up, and the inspiring youth who participated. I hope I get to sit in future research circles with you.
Aboriginal youth talk about structural determinants as the causes of their homelessness 95
Introduction
This article, which is based on a research project, explores the structural factors that may have led
to the homelessness of Aboriginal youth in an urban centre. It begins with definitions of homelessness,
examines the prevalence of homelessness for Aboriginal youth, and then turns to a brief discussion of
colonization and the role of child welfare in this process. The article then reports on the findings of the
project that was conducted with homeless Aboriginal youth in Toronto, Ontario, Canada using a culture-
based research methodology.
This research project was conducted by myself, as the principal investigator, and a youth who is
currently attending university as the research assistant. I am of Mi’kmaq and Irish descent and a
professor in a school of social work. The research assistant is a young Ojibway woman with a social work
degree who is now in law school. We are both active participants in Toronto’s Aboriginal community and
have many relatives who have been/are homeless youth and who have had involvement with child
welfare.
Toronto was chosen as the site for this research project as both the principal investigator and
research assistant reside there and have connections to several Aboriginal agencies that provide services
to youth. In addition, Toronto has a large Aboriginal population and represents many diverse Nations
(Statistics Canada, 2003). The Medicine Wheel was selected as the research methodology for the project
after consulting with Aboriginal youth workers and youth themselves. They confirmed that the majority of
youth were familiar with the Medicine Wheel and it is a teaching tool used by many Nations such as the
Cree and Ojibway.
While there does appear to be some overlap between Eurocentric models of structural
determinants and those presented by Aboriginal scholars (DuHanmel, 2003; Thomas, 2003), such as
education, income, and diet, this article proposes that to adequately address determinants faced by
Aboriginal youth, a framework that is culturally appropriate and addresses colonization needs to be
implemented. It further proposes that an arm of colonization which is likely related to homelessness
among youth is their involvement in state institutional child welfare (Cauce & Morgan, 1994; Fall & Berg,
1996; Fitzgerald, 1995; Lindsey, Kurtz, Jarvis, Williams, & Nackerud, 2000; Maclean, Embry, & Cauce,
1999).
Current research on Aboriginal youth is minimal, especially in the area of homelessness. Available
statistics do not illustrate the extent of the problem, although most advocates have suggested that the rate
of homelessness for this population is dramatically increasing (Abrahams, 2000; United Native Nations
Society [UNSS], 2001). The purpose of this research project, then, was to explore with homeless
Aboriginal youth the conditions under which they became homeless, how they may be assisted today, and
what can be done to prevent homelessness from continuing in the future. The significance of this project
is connected to the fact that Aboriginal youth are the fastest growing group in Canada, while the non-
Aboriginal population is ageing (Hick, 2007; Hoglund, 2004; Statistics Canada, 2003). It asserts that it
will become increasingly important to Canada’s future, especially in terms of our workforce, to ensure that
Aboriginal youth can be healthy and productive members of society. This article contributes suggestions
for change to social policies and direct practice focusing on the control of child welfare by and with
Aboriginal peoples.
© Baskin
Definitions
Common definitions of homelessness include people that live on the street, stay in emergency
shelters, and spend more of their income on rent or live in crowded conditions which keep them at serious
risk of becoming homeless (Golden, Currie, Greaves, & Latimer, 1999).
The Toronto Disaster Relief Committee (1998) stated that homelessness means simply not having
secure housing. This committee expanded on the definition by contending that homelessness “means
being exiled from the mainstream patterns of day-to-day life” (para. 5).
The Canadian federal New Democratic Party leader, Jack Layton (2000), described homelessness
as socially constructed. In particular, he contended that homelessness is usually defined to fit a specific
political agenda, or certain stereotypes, which eventually becomes the definition in the eyes of the public.
The UNNS (2001) of British Columbia, which is one of the provincial organizations of the
Congress of Aboriginal Peoples that advocates for the inherent rights of Aboriginal peoples, stated that
Aboriginal homelessness includes “those who have suffered from the effects of colonization and whose
social, economic, and political conditions have placed them in a disadvantaged position” (p. 20). The
UNNS (2001) acknowledged that there is a high rate of Aboriginal peoples at risk of homelessness and,
therefore, the effects of colonization should be included as a major part of an Aboriginal-specific
definition.
With particular attention to youth, homelessness is usually defined as those youth aged 15 to 24
who are not living with a family in a home or not in the care of child protection agencies. Homeless youth
are also described as those living “in an unsafe or temporary living environment” (Fitzgerald, 1995, p. 7).
The Canadian Mortgage and Housing Corporation (2001) and Golden et al. (1999) described homeless
youth as those youth with no permanent address.
Prevalence
Many sources have stated that there is no accurate data regarding homeless Aboriginal peoples,
let alone Aboriginal youth (Golden et al., 1999; Layton, 2000; Native Counseling Service of Alberta, 2000;
UNNS, 2001). In Layton’s book, Homelessness: The Making and Unmaking of a Crisis (2000), what
statistics exist show that Aboriginal peoples, in general, do have a high rate of homelessness as compared
to the rest of Canadian society. The Native Counselling Services of Alberta (2000) stated, “The Aboriginal
homeless rate is at about 40% Canada wide” (p. 3). Golden et al. (1999), in their major report for the City
of Toronto, reported that Aboriginal peoples make up 15% of the homeless population in Toronto and that
“many Aboriginal Canadian youth from reserves and urban communities end up on the streets of
Toronto” (p. 75). If this 15% figure is correct, it means that Aboriginal peoples are overrepresented in the
homeless population by more than a factor of three, considering they make up only 4.4% of the Canadian
population (Statistics Canada, 2001).
It is also important to note that the rate of homelessness is usually derived from the number of
people who use shelters. However, the UNNS (2001) indicated that shelter users do not represent the
entire Aboriginal homeless population, as many do not utilize the shelter system. Furthermore, the
Aboriginal community is estimated to have a high rate of concealed homelessness and these numbers are
not included in the official data. This category includes those in transition homes, jails and detox centres,
© Baskin
and those who live in overcrowded, unstable, or inadequate housing. It also includes “couch surfing,”
which is when people stay at a friend or family members’ dwelling for a short period of time then move on
to another persons’ home. Another category that often goes unnoticed is those who are at high risk of
becoming homeless. This category includes many Aboriginal peoples who live in poor housing conditions
and pay more than 25% of their income for rental accommodations. Therefore, to completely capture the
Aboriginal homeless population, all of these categories of homelessness must be included (UNNS, 2001).
It is also significant to note that Aboriginal youth are the fastest growing segment within the
Canadian population. In the 1996 census, Aboriginal peoples constituted 3.8% of the population, while in
the 2001 census, this figure rose to 4.4%. The median age for non-Aboriginal peoples was 37.7, while
Aboriginal peoples had a median age of 24.7. The birth rate for Aboriginal peoples was also one-and-a-
half times higher than for non-Aboriginal peoples. This population will continue to grow because,
currently, 33% of the Aboriginal population is under the age of 14, as opposed to only 19% of non-
Aboriginal peoples (Statistics Canada, 2003). Similarly, Castellano (2002) found that over 50% of the
Aboriginal population is under the age of 25. Thus, not only is there a high rate of Aboriginal-specific
homelessness, but there may be a substantially higher rate of youth homelessness within this population,
given the demographics.
Factors Associated with Homelessness

Within the literature, the most frequently cited cause of homelessness for all peoples in Canada is
lack of affordable housing (Golden et al., 1999; Hulchanski, 2004; Shapcott, 2001; Toronto Disaster Relief
Committee, 1998). Some authors (UNNS, 2001) have argued that personal factors, such as fetal alcohol
spectrum disorder, addictions, poverty, poor health, and/or dysfunctional family relations, are the cause
of Aboriginal homelessness. Other literature has stated that socio-economic status and the lack of
resources on reserves are also causes of homelessness (Beavis, Klos, Carter, & Douchant, 1997).
However, UNNS (2001) argued that even what appear to be personal factors are, in fact, the
effects of structural barriers. UNNS (2001) stated that the homelessness of Aboriginal peoples is rooted in
“structural factors such as unemployment, low wages or lack of income, loss of housing, colonization,
racism, discrimination (systemic or otherwise), patriarchy, cultural and geographic displacement, and the
reserve system” (p. 2). Other authors contend that the historical introduction of foreign systems such as
education, justice, health, and child protection have left Aboriginal peoples in a “cycle of economic
dependency, including high rates of poverty and unemployment” (Morrissette, McKenzie, & Morrissette,
1993, p. 94).
Based on the literature outlined above, we assert that the factors associated with homelessness
are connected to the omnipresent concept of colonization. Colonization did not only create the
relationship between Aboriginal peoples and mainstream society, but it is also experienced personally.
Thus, we emphasize that the history of colonization and its current impacts explain, in large part, why
some Aboriginal peoples are homeless in their own lands. We also believe that a framework which
addresses the negative impacts of colonization on Aboriginal peoples and emphasizes our strengths needs
to be developed. A Eurocentric lens fails to do this as it tends to frame Aboriginal peoples as social and
economic disadvantages to the rest of Canadian society while negating our political power.
© Baskin
Institutional Child Protection

The distinctive factor between homeless adults and homeless youth is that the latter is forced to
leave home at an early age before they have a chance to fully develop into healthy adults (Cauce &
Morgan, 1994; Fitzgerald, 1995; Golden et al., 1999; MacLean et al., 1999). In general, many youth that
are homeless come from the care of the child protection system, such as adoptive homes, foster homes, or
group homes (Cauce & Morgan, 1994; Fall & Berg, 1996; Fitzgerald, 1995; Lindsey et al., 2000; Maclean et
al., 1999). According to one study, between 25% and 50% of homeless youth were previously in the care of
foster homes (Lindsey et al., 2000). This may be connected to the fact that these systems are designed to
care for young children (under 15), so youth encounter barriers to service because they are too old for
children’s services and not old enough for adult services. Therefore, they are often left with no choice but
to live on the street (Fitzgerald, 1995).
The child protection system, historically a tool of colonization, continues to the present day
(Anderson, 1998; Du Hamel, 2003; Hudson, 1997; McKenzie & Seidl, 1995; Report of the Aboriginal
Justice Inquiry of Manitoba, 1998). Although there have been some Aboriginal child welfare agencies
developed throughout Canada (Anderson, 1998; Hudson, 1997; McKenzie & Seidl, 1995), Aboriginal
children are still over-represented in the child protection system (Hudson, 1997; Mckenzie & Seidl, 1995;
Thomas, 2003). This may be due to the restrictions placed on Aboriginal child welfare organizations.
These organizations do have some control over the policies and procedures within their agencies;
however, they are still usually required to comply with the federal and provincial laws and policies.
As researchers in the area of Aboriginal child welfare, Bennett, Blackstock and De La Ronde
(2005) wrote,
Up to this day, provisions in both federal and provincial legislation dictate how child
welfare will be governed, administered, and, often, delivered by the over 120+ Aboriginal
Child and Family Services Agencies in Canada. This would not be so controversial if the
provincial and federal systems were meeting the needs of Aboriginal children and youth
but the evidence overwhelmingly indicates that the current legislation, policy, and
practice of child welfare are not making meaningful differences in supporting the well-
being of Aboriginal children and youth. The question is thus raised why Canadian
governments have not recognized tribal authority that sustained child well-being for
millennia (p. 45).
For anyone to take an institution, such as child welfare, that has left a challenging legacy for many
Aboriginal peoples and turn it into something appropriate for Aboriginal communities is an enormous
task. Yet it is obviously the goal of Aboriginal child protection services. As Hoglund (2004) advocated,
both research and policies developed within an Aboriginal context by Aboriginal peoples are crucial
because
Understanding how contextual mechanisms foster as well as challenge Native children’s

healthy social development is essential for generating informed, strengths-based research
priorities and supporting Native sponsored policy and program development . . .
researchers, educators, service providers, and policymakers need to look beyond Western
European models of successful development to adequately understand favoured
socialization and developmental processes within the sociocultural, historical, political,
© Baskin
legal and socioeconomic contexts of Native children’s lives and the families and
communities in which Native children live (pp. 165-168).
We stress that insider views are necessary in order to develop social policies that reflect
Aboriginal worldviews and values. Thus, this research project explored the following questions with
insiders – Aboriginal youth affected by homelessness:
• What is appropriate parenting within Aboriginal perspectives?

• What supports do Aboriginal parents, families, and communities need to raise children?
• How does prevention become a priority?
• How do we frame “neglect” within the realities of poverty?
Aboriginal Youth Research Circles

In this research project with Aboriginal youth, which we (and an Aboriginal student research
assistant) designed and conducted, one research circle took place at two youth programs within Toronto
that provide services to youth who are homeless or at risk of becoming so. A total of 24 youth participated.
Basic information was obtained from the participants through a standard form that all of the youth filled
out. Next, within the research circles, youth were invited to discuss specific areas about their past and
current situations. They were free to decide for themselves which areas they wanted to contribute to. The
research methodology was based on Aboriginal cultural protocols and integrated a tool known as the
Medicine Wheel (Figure 1).
Figure 1
© Baskin
The youth were from a variety of Nations across Canada; however, the majority was of Ojibway
and Cree descent. Approximately one-fourth was Ojibway and another one-fourth was Cree. There was
also youth who had mixed Aboriginal heritage in their Nations, again, approximately one-fourth. About
62% of the participants were male. None of the participants identified as transgendered or transsexual.
The majority of the youth reported as heterosexual. One youth reported being Two-Spirited (gay, lesbian,
or bisexual). The age range spanned 10 years, from 15-years-old to 25-years-old.
The youth participants were from many diverse towns and reserve communities across Canada,
from Alberta to New Brunswick. The major trend in the place of origin was that three-quarters of the
participants were originally from reserve communities. The remainder was from small towns in northern
areas of the country. Few participants were from large urban centres and only one was born in Toronto.
The length of time they had lived in Toronto also varied, with some living here for 11 days and others for
20 years. At the time of this project, just over one-third of the participants lived with a relative. Only four
youth had lived in the same place for more than one year. The rest of the 20 youth had lived at their
current address for less than a year. Thus, there was a dominant trend of temporary living conditions with
the youth who participated in this project.
Sixteen youth had completed grades eight through eleven. This illustrates that many of the youth
had a high incompletion rate for academic studies. This is especially significant considering that many of
the participants were in their early twenties. One particular question on the information form was: What
grade are you currently completing? Six youth answered that they were not completing any grade at the
time and that they had not completed grade 12 (needed for a high school diploma). This shows that in this
group of Aboriginal youth in their early twenties, many have not completed high school and were not in
the process of doing so. Of the 24 youth, only three were currently completing a college education and
none were attending university. This information demonstrates a great need for more comprehensive
educational resources and greater access to education that addresses the worldviews and needs of
Aboriginal youth.
Eastern Direction: Looking Back

The first topic raised with the youth was: Who did they grow up with? It was suggested to them
that they talk about who their family was/is, how they grew up, and what their homes were like before
they moved on. Most of the youth stated that they grew up in the care of the Children’s Aid Society (CAS),
which included foster homes and group homes. More than half of all of the respondents mentioned having
to relocate more than once. Those that stated they relocated said they moved to and from several different
families and, in some cases, these homes or families were spread across the country. Four youth
mentioned being in trouble with the law, were incarcerated, or always “getting into trouble.” Seven youth
mentioned living in a lone parent and female-headed family. Two of the youth lived with their mother but
later moved in with their father. One participant stated that he lived with his grandparents for a while.
Only two youth stated that they lived in two-parent families, one of whom was later placed in the care of
CAS. Hence, only one of the 24 participants had lived with both parents for a significant amount of time.
Many of the participants had also moved back and forth between their biological families and foster care
while growing up.
The predominant theme in the youths’ profiles is that the majority were not living with their
biological parents. Their responses illustrate that many of them did not have what mainstream society
© Baskin
considers as the “traditional” family. This in itself is not negative. What is negative is the fact that many of
the youth were in the care of the state and placed in unstable homes, meaning that they resided with
families or in group homes where they experienced psychological, emotional, physical, sexual and
spiritual abuse, neglect, and acts of racism (e.g., one female youth was given the nickname of “squaw” in
her foster home). Those who lived in lone parent families also lived with an element of instability. Many
moved from home-to-home, both biological and otherwise, without consistency in their lives.
Southern Direction: Between Then and Now

Youth were invited to talk about the move from their homes into homelessness and how they lived
after this move. The responses of the youth were varied. Each had a different story to tell. Some came to
Toronto with their caregivers or relatives to look for work or to obtain an education. One youth was
passing through Toronto, but experienced a crisis and was forced to stay. One stated that her adoptive
parents were abusive, which forced her to move out on her own. She stated that the street life was easier
because she could make her own rules. Although this life was preferable in comparison to her home life, it
was tough living on the streets. Resources were difficult to access because of her young age. One
participant stated that she was “sick of group homes . . . too many rules” and that she was constantly
moving from one group home to another. Two other participants explained how they lost their apartments
due to lack of funds. Some of the youth that were in care, adopted, or in group homes stated that they
lived in small towns and experienced a great deal of overt racism. They had believed that they could
escape this by moving to a multicultural city like Toronto. A few of the youth explained how they were just
released from jail and how they were often in and out of jail. Three youth stated that they came to Toronto
for opportunities; they wanted to change their lives around.
The major theme in these stories illustrates that growing up in the care of, or being involved long
term with, CAS – whether that is adoptive homes, foster homes, group homes, or moving between
biological and foster families – is often a profoundly negative experience. When asked about the reasons
for moving back and forth between biological and foster homes, the youth explained that when a
biological parent complied with the demands of child welfare, such as staying in counselling for a long
enough time period or attending a substance abuse treatment program, they were able to go back to these
parents. However, when the parent stopped complying, such as by starting to drink again or getting back
with an abusive partner, the child would once again go to a foster home.
In a number of ways, this response on the part of child welfare authorities can be linked to
looking at Aboriginal parents only through a Eurocentric lens. Often, when Aboriginal parents are placed
in a position of complying with demands to get their children back into their care, intentionally or not, it
is a set up for failure. For example, they may not be voluntarily participating in programs, these programs
may not be relevant in terms of examining structural reasons for their situations or they may not be
culturally applicable, there may not be enough emphasis on support of and resources for the parent, or the
values and worldviews of Western society are being applied to Aboriginal parents, which skew
assessments.
Few of the youth who participated in this project experienced a positive home life. Many
participants felt that they were forced to leave their homes. This was explained as, for example, not being
wanted any longer by adoptive parents because they were rebelling, getting into trouble, or questioning
© Baskin
the rules. Even though some expressed how difficult street life was, none of them regretted their decisions
for this was better than what they left behind. Among other things, this demonstrates that interventions
need to be implemented before youth feel forced to leave their homes.
Western Direction: Help Along the Journey

The next area youth were asked to discuss was how they were able to receive help from social
services agencies and how they were able to find a place to live once in Toronto. Some youth explained
that they asked other Aboriginal peoples they did not know where they could stay for the night. Other
youth stated that their friends or family members informed them of Aboriginal agencies in Toronto. One
mentioned walking by a building that had an Aboriginal logo painted on the front, so he walked in. Four
youth said that they were referred to an Aboriginal agency by mainstream organizations that provide
services to youth. Most of the participants agreed that they felt more comfortable at an Aboriginal agency.
However, they also stated that it was good to get served by both Aboriginal and mainstream agencies.
There were a few who expressed some dislike for certain Aboriginal organizations because of their
experiences there regarding other peoples’ behaviours, such as intoxication and violence, but they still
utilized them.
For the most part, the youth expressed a great sense of community amongst themselves, both
within youth programs and on the streets. They spoke about helping each other out by sharing
information about resources, agencies, and service providers within Toronto that were considered to be
non-judgmental of them and some of their behaviours, such as substance using. Many of the youth talked
about sticking together when on the streets for greater protection from both other people on the street
and the police and letting others know about safe places to sleep. When they had something to share,
whether that was money, alcohol, cigarettes, or food, they tended to share it with other youth. Some of
them referred to each other as brothers and sisters even though they were not related by blood. They also
shared secrets, stories, emotions, and laughter.
Northern Direction: Looking Towards the Future

The participants then explored what they would do to make the system better for future youth.
They talked about what they would like to teach social workers and policymakers, especially with regards
to the child protection system. To put this in context for themselves, the youth chose an Aboriginal child
and family services agency becoming mandated as a child protection authority as an example to discuss
what they would like social workers and policymakers to know. There were mixed feelings from the youth
about the agency’s change from offering voluntary services to taking on the responsibility of child
protection. Many of the youth felt that bringing an Aboriginal perspective to child protection was vital.
Others felt that it was a negative move because, in their opinions, the Aboriginal agency was too
concerned with minor issues. One youth gave the example that “[a worker from the agency] stripped my
kids because they had diaper rashes.” Another young mother stated that the agency forced traditional
ways on her when she just wanted some emotional support. Another youth stated that other Aboriginal
services were just as likely to involve child protection and related the example of an Aboriginal daycare
centre calling the Aboriginal child protection agency because her child had a “running nose.” Some youth
felt that the Aboriginal agency is “too quick to jump on rumours.” Some of the participants who made
these comments about the agency also expressed dislike for mainstream CAS, saying that they often felt
© Baskin
like they were under “a microscope” and that they did not believe that child protection – either
mainstream or Aboriginal – would be so cautious with older adults. Thus, they felt like they were being
discriminated against specifically because they were Aboriginal youth.
Although some youth disagreed with Aboriginal family services agencies becoming mandated,
their suggestions for change did express some common themes. One raised a great difficulty with child
protection, stating that children have to be protected, but at the same time, Aboriginal families have
different needs that are often neglected by these services. Next, they talked about the importance of
incorporating Aboriginal culture into the lives of youth, no matter who their families are. The majority of
the youth agreed that even though Aboriginal family services becoming mandated is an empowering
concept, it does not work if these services have to use the same legislation as mainstream CAS. Although
mandated Aboriginal child welfare agencies employ Aboriginal peoples as workers to varying degrees and
incorporate some practices such as involving extended families as caregivers of children, they must follow
the same legislation – the Child and Family Services Act, in Ontario – like all other mandated child
welfare authorities. This Act is not inclusive of Aboriginal values, particularly around collective
responsibilities for raising children, nor does it acknowledge the impacts of colonization or the inherent
strengths of Aboriginal peoples and communities. It does not make clear distinctions between neglect and
poverty nor does it include aspects of prevention which is crucial to the wellbeing of the future of our
children and youth. In keeping with these points, some youth spoke about how mainstream Canadian
society decides what is acceptable child rearing for Aboriginal peoples and this is where the conflict lies.
Other participants expressed that there is a need for more Aboriginal policymakers to change child
welfare legislation or the cycle of oppression will continue. They explained that if this is not done, then it
will simply mean “putting a brown face on it” (Aboriginal control of child welfare). They further explained
that this may “soften the blow” for some, but continue to oppress many.
The youths’ suggestions about the need for more Aboriginal policymakers and changing child
welfare legislation are brilliant. Since the current Child and Family Services Act does not address the
sovereignty of Aboriginal peoples, what is necessary, then, is an Aboriginal family and child services act.
Such an act could address many of the concerns that the youth raised in this research project. For
example, it would be developed by Aboriginal peoples according to our definitions of family, child care,
and parenting. This act could clearly differentiate between poverty and neglect. It would reflect the values
of Aboriginal peoples, such as collective responsibility for children, communal sharing of resources, and
assisting families when they are struggling, rather than taking their children away from them. Perhaps
most importantly, an aboriginal family and child services act would recognize the impacts of colonization
upon all of us and focus our resources, both human and financial, on the wellbeing of everyone in our
communities and on the prevention of further internalized oppression which leads to the harm of all.
The next major issue that the youth discussed was the policies governing who is allowed to be a
customary care (foster) or adoptive parent and how these need to be transformed to better fit the
circumstances of Aboriginal peoples. First, youth concurred that permanency planning should be key,
ensuring that workers try to keep children with family members. Another point was to have more
customary care homes and adoptive families in reserve communities. Overall, the youth expressed their
belief that there must be more Aboriginal families willing to adopt or care for children and that the
government needs to encourage and support this process through funding and legislation. Some of the
© Baskin
examples they introduced were that some Aboriginal families may not have a lot of money but that should
not be a deciding factor in caring for children. They pointed out that many lower-income families can do a
good job of raising children. Furthermore, the youth took the stand that if being poor is such a concern,
then the government should provide the necessary funds to foster families. They adamantly stated that,
after all, the government is the reason why so many Aboriginal peoples are living in poverty in the first
place. Moreover, these youth believe that preference should not be given to two-parent families. Many
Aboriginal families are headed by one parent who can raise children in a positive environment. Youth also
stated that, if non-Aboriginal families are going to take in Aboriginal children, it needs to be mandatory
that the children be connected to their cultures. They also believe that more effort needs to be put into
keeping siblings together if families have to place their children into care. However, all of the youth were
adamant that keeping families together must be of the greatest importance. One promising suggestion
made to help keep families together was that there could be a group of parents that can be used as an
information resource for other parents who need it during times when they struggle with raising their
children.
The participants also addressed the issue of child protection workers. They suggested that
workers should be Aboriginal or, if not, have intensive training on issues affecting Aboriginal peoples.
They stressed the need for greater consistency in training and education for helpers and how workers
need to take into account what the client wants. They want workers to realize that everyone is different
and what is “normal” for an Aboriginal family may not be normal for a mainstream one. In conclusion, the
theme for youth regarding the future was that for real positive change to occur, adding in a few cultural
pieces is not enough, rather legislation and social policies have to be completely changed to better suit the
needs of Aboriginal families.
Coming Full Circle: Analysis

The depth of analysis these young people demonstrate both in terms of their knowledge and
understanding of the reasons for their homelessness and the critical lens from which they view the world
is amazing. They are insightful and articulate. They call it the way they see it and no one is fooling them.
These youth were easily able to comprehend their life experiences, which were, for the most part,
contact with child protection and separation from their biological families and home communities within
the realities of colonization and oppression. A comment that stands out most, perhaps, is from a young
man who said, “Mostly we’re taken away by child welfare because of poverty and this translates into
neglect by them.” For Aboriginal peoples, poverty is a direct result of colonization which destroyed the
original economic basis of our communities. In contemporary society, breaking out of poverty is, in a large
part, dependent on acquiring formal education and employment. However, education has been
historically genocidal and is currently alienating for many Aboriginal peoples so that 68.5% of youth do
not complete high school (Hick, 2007; Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples [RCAP],
1996). According to RCAP, both youth and parents are adamant that education does not prepare them for
life in understanding themselves as Aboriginal peoples nor does it prepare them for life in the modern
world. In fact, according to this report, youth stated that they left school because they were made to feel
ashamed of being Aboriginal, they experienced racism, and there was no recognition of Aboriginal
perspectives in history or respect for their cultures.
© Baskin
Certainly, low educational attainment affects peoples’ future employment and income levels.
However, according to the results of a study conducted by Kunz, Milan, and Schetagne (2000), Aboriginal
peoples also have difficulty finding employment because of racism in the workplace. They found that
compared to white Canadians, Aboriginal peoples with university degrees are less likely to have
managerial and professional jobs. In addition, they are over-represented in the bottom 20% and
underrepresented in the top 20% of income earners. Even with the same level of higher education, white
Canadians are three times as likely as Aboriginal peoples to be in the top 20% of income earners. These
results are confirmed by Hick (2007) as well. Clearly, these studies reveal that even with university
degrees, job opportunities are out of reach for many Aboriginal peoples.
Unlike the generation before them, this group of youth usually has a roof over their heads at night
but they do not have homes. Thanks to Aboriginal agencies that provide services to youth, most of these
young people are housed and have access to some health services. However, most struggle with poverty,
have not completed high school, are transient, and, in the case of many female youth, are single mothers
involved with child welfare who are often concerned that their children will be removed from them. This
concern seems to come from a belief in the tendency for social service workers to “blame the victim”
(Anderson, 1998; Hudson, 1997; Thomas, 2003). Even within Aboriginal child welfare agencies,
internalized oppression has caused some Aboriginal peoples to believe the negative stereotypes about
some members of their community and, thus, they treat them just as the dominant society does.
From a structural perspective, for the most part, Aboriginal child protection agencies continue to
be mandated to operate within the framework of legislation and social policies not based on Aboriginal
values and perspectives. Since these policies do not incorporate the distinct needs of Aboriginal peoples, a
major focus needs to be the creation of legislation and policies that are compatible with Aboriginal
worldviews in general while taking into consideration the great diversity of our Nations. In addition to
this, the legislation and policies must also take into account past injustices and the effects they have on
the health and behaviours of Aboriginal peoples today. To simply add in “culturally based practice”
without any change to oppressive legislation is clearly detrimental for it changes little (Anderson, 1998;
Hudson, 1997; Report of the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba, 1998).
Furthermore, mainstream legal and political discourses regarding self-government, Aboriginal

rights, and treaties are grounded in Western constructions of nationhood that originate from European
history and cultures. Such discourses inevitably marginalize Aboriginal worldviews in the construction of
nationhood in self-government and treaty negotiations. This approach, then, continues to entrench
Eurocentric-Canadian structural power imbalances rather than creating positive economic, political, and
social change for Aboriginal peoples. I emphasize that until constructs of nationhood can be examined
from both an Aboriginal and a Eurocentric lens equally, self-government that creates inclusive and
sustainable Aboriginal communities is impossible.
The preliminary work from this research project also has many encouraging messages. These
youth are greatly concerned about the next generation. When they spoke about their experiences and
recommendations, they did not do so in ways that will necessarily benefit them, but rather because they
hope to make contributions to the future of both their children and all Aboriginal children in general.
These youth also view positive change as centring on re-structuring child welfare legislation and social
policy. They identified that change simply by creating Aboriginal child protection agencies with Aboriginal
workers is not enough.
© Baskin
Aboriginal child and family services agencies are to be commended for picking up the
responsibility of child welfare and attempting to incorporate traditional knowledges into their work.
However, many colonial legacies have been passed on to their shoulders, such as internalized oppression,
family violence, poverty, and suicide, which they are expected to heal. They also must face unrealistic
expectations placed upon them by both the Aboriginal communities they serve and mainstream society
and governments (Hudson & Taylor-Henley, 1995; Bennett et al., 2005). Aboriginal peoples, including
those who work in the area of child welfare, must reclaim the knowledge that prior to colonization we
lived as autonomous groups and our inherent right to self-determination – which included controlling the
affairs affecting our families and children – was never abdicated, despite the policies and actions forced
upon us by Canadian governments (Association of Native Child and Family Services Agencies of Ontario,
2001; Bennett et al., 2005; First Nations Child and Family Task Force, 1993). Aboriginal responsibility
and control must go beyond child welfare service delivery to the creation of legislation and policies that
will restore traditional forms of government. This is crucial since present legislation and social policies
related to child welfare are based on Eurocentric values and worldviews, thereby making them an ongoing
tool of colonization. Hence, as the youth pointed out, Aboriginal peoples must become policymakers in
this area. Without significant changes to social policies, the major request to keep families together and
concentrate heavily on prevention, which one youth described as “eliminating poverty,” cannot possibly
happen.
According to the voices of this group of youth, holistic good-health rests largely on the value of
supporting families through equitable access to resources to care for the wellbeing of their children. Such
resources include inclusive education that is representative of Aboriginal youth, job opportunities based
on merit, and anti-colonial and anti-racist policies and legislation, all of which aim to eliminate poverty
caused by colonization.
Expanding the Circle: Future Research

This paper reflects the responses of only 24 youth and so it cannot be said that they are
representative of homeless Aboriginal youth in Toronto. Further research needs to be conducted. This
preliminary work can be used as a template in terms of the Aboriginal research methodologies
implemented and the framework for examining the structural causes of homelessness for Aboriginal
youth. Thus, these templates can be incorporated into future projects involving more youth in Toronto,
other cities in Ontario, and urban centres across Canada. The implications of this project provide evidence
that Aboriginal research methodologies are legitimate ways of conducting research with youth, that
colonization lies at the root of social ills such as homelessness, and that state intervention in the lives of
Aboriginal families must end in order to realize self-determination and self-government. In order for
radical social change to occur, it must become unacceptable that Aboriginal peoples are homeless in their
own homeland.
A few youth workers, several Aboriginal agencies that work with homeless youth, and some of the
youth themselves have indicated a strong interest in being involved with a larger research project as
partners. Thus, the findings from this project are being used to submit research proposals to possible
funders for future research which would include both Aboriginal students and other youth as research
assistants. In this way, these youth will have the opportunity to develop research skills while making
significant contributions to this work. Their goal of creating a better world for the next generation is
possible.
© Baskin
References
Abrahams, P. (2000). The Toronto report card on homelessness 2000. Toronto, ON: City of Toronto.
Anderson, K. (1998). A Canadian child welfare agency for urban Natives: The clients speak. Child Welfare, 77(4), 441 - 461.
Association of Native Child and Family Services Agencies of Ontario. (2001). Pre-mandated Native child and family service
agencies: Issues and recommendations. Thunder Bay, ON: Author.
Beavis, M., Klos, N., Carter, T., & Douchant, C. (1997). Literature review: Aboriginal peoples and homelessness. Ottawa, ON:
Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation.
Bennett, M., Blackstock, C., & De La Ronde, R. (2005). A literature review and annotated bibliography on aspects of Aboriginal
child welfare in Canada (2nd ed.). Ottawa, ON: First Nations Child & Family Caring Society of Canada.
Canadian Mortgage and Housing Corporation. (2001). Environmental scan on youth homelessness. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Castellano, M. (2002). Aboriginal family trends: Extended families, nuclear families, families of the heart. Ottawa, ON: The
Vanier Institute of the Family.
Cauce, A., & Morgan, C. J. (1994). Effectiveness of intensive case management for homeless adolescents: Results of a three month follow-
up. Journal of Emotional and Behavioural Disorders, 2(4), 219-227. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F106342669400200404
Du Hamel, P. (2003). Aboriginal youth: Risk and resilience. Native Social Work Journal, 5(1), 213-224.
Fall, K. A., & Berg, R. C. (1996). Behavioural characteristics and treatment strategies with homeless adolescents. Journal of
Individual Psychology, 52(4), 431-440.
First Nations Child and Family Task Force. (1993). Children first, our responsibility: Report of the First Nations Child and
Family Task Force. Winnipeg, MB: Queen’s Printer.
Fitzgerald, M. D. (1995). Homeless youth and the child welfare system: Implications for policy and service. Child Welfare,
74(3), 717-731.
Golden, A., Currie, W. H., Greaves, E., & Latimer, E. J. (1999). Taking responsibility for homelessness: An action plan for
Toronto: Report of the Mayor’s Homelessness Action Task Force. Toronto, ON: City of Toronto
Hick, S. (2007). Social welfare in Canada: Understanding income security. Toronto, ON: Thompson Educational Publishing Inc.
Hoglund, W. L. (2004). Navigating discrimination: The interplay of contexts on Native children’s social development. In C. A.
Nelson & C. A. Nelson (Eds.), Racism, eh? A critical inter-disciplinary anthology of race and racism in Canada (pp.
153-171). Concord, ON: Captus Press Inc.
Hudson, P. (1997). First Nations child and family services: Breaking the silence. Canadian Ethnic Studies, 29(3), 161-173.
Hudson, P., & Taylor-Henley, S. (1992). Interactions between social and political development in First Nations communities.
Winnipeg, MB: University of Manitoba, Faculty of Social Work.
Hulchanski, D. (2004). Question and answer: Homelessness in Canada. Toronto, ON: Toronto Disaster Relief Committee.
Kunz, J. L., Milan, A., & Schetagne, S. (2000). Unequal access: A Canadian profile of race differences in education, employment
and income. Toronto, ON: Canadian Race Relations Foundation.
Layton, J. (2000). Homelessness: The making and unmaking of a crisis. Toronto, ON: Penguin Random House Canada.
Lindsey, E. W., Kurtz P. D., Jarvis, S., Williams, N. R., & Nackerud, L. (2000). How runaway and homeless youth navigate
troubled waters: Personal strengths and resources. Child and Adolescent Social Work Journal, 17(2), 115-
140. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1007558323191
Maclean, M. G., Embry, L. E., & Cauce, A. M. (1999). Homeless adolescents paths to separation from family: Comparison of
family characteristics, psychological adjustment, and victimization. Journal of Community Psychology, 27(2), 179-
187. https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1520-6629(199903)27:2%3C179::AID-JCOP5%3E3.0.CO;2-S
Mckenzie, B., & Seidl, E. (1995). Child and family service standards in First Nations: An action research project. Child Welfare,
74(3), 633-653.
Morrissette, V., McKenzie, B., & Morrissette, L. (1993). Towards an Aboriginal model of social work practice. Canadian Social
Work Review, 10(1), 91-108.
© Baskin
Native Counseling Services of Alberta. (2000). Community consultation on homelessness report. Edmonton, AB: Author.
Report of the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba. (1998). The justice system and Aboriginal people. Winnipeg, MB: Province of
Manitoba
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. (1996). Volume 1: Looking forward, looking back. In Final Report of the Royal
Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (pp. 1-695). Ottawa, ON: Canada Communication Group.
Shapcott, M. (2001). Housing, homelessness, poverty and free trade in Canada. Toronto Disaster Relief Committee. Retrieved
from http://tdrc net/resources/public/Report-01-04-MS htm
Statistics Canada. (2003). Aboriginal peoples of Canada: A demographic profile. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Thomas, W. (2003). The social determinants of Aboriginal health: A literature review. Native Social Work Journal, 5(1), 270-286.
Toronto Disaster Relief Committee. (1998). State of emergency declaration: An urgent call for emergency humanitarian relief &
prevention measures. Toronto Disaster Relief Committee. Retrieved from http://tdrc net/resources/public/Report-98-
TDRC htm
United Native Nations Society [UNNS]. (2001). Aboriginal homelessness in British Columbia. Vancouver, BC: Author.
© Baskin
2019
A Review of the Literature on the Benefits and
Drawbacks of Participatory Action Research
Marlyn Bennett
Ph.D., Assistant Professor, University of Manitoba, Faculty of Social Work, Manitoba, Canada
Corresponding author: Marlyn.Bennett@umanitoba.ca
Abstract
This paper reviews Participatory Action Research as a methodology. It maps the origins of
Participatory Action Research and discusses the benefits and challenges that have been identified by
other researchers in utilizing Participatory Action Research approaches in conducting research.
Keywords: Participatory Action Research, methodology, knowledge production
1
The original version of this article was published in: Bennett, M. (2004). A review of the literature on the benefits and
drawbacks of participatory action research. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 1(1), 19-32.
A review of the literature on the benefits and drawbacks of Participatory Action Research 110
Introduction
Aboriginal people’s view of researchers in general and anthropologists in particular often extends
beyond mere skepticism to contempt and distrust. In particular, the field of anthropology (and arguably
others as well) is viewed by Aboriginal peoples as being largely esoteric, irrelevant, and incapable of
contributing to solutions for the myriad of problems faced within Aboriginal communities (Warry, 1990).
Research findings are often cloaked in academic jargon, are often unintelligible to communities,
and have largely been irrelevant to community needs. Academic reputations, so the argument goes, have
been built on the backs of Aboriginal subjects and at the political and economic expense of Aboriginal
communities. Aboriginal communities are now advocating research that is more collaborative and
meaningful to their communities.
Awareness concerning the potential value of research varies enormously between Aboriginal
communities (Warry, 1990). Warry speculated that many communities have neither the inclination nor
the local expertise to generate research agendas or standards for local research (64). This is particularly
true in the north, where, despite licensing by the Science Institute of the Northwest Territories, there still
is, each summer, a massive influx of natural and social scientists. Inuit community inquiry groups often
lack the time or the expertise to gauge the potential usefulness of the research or are unable to generate
their own research agendas. Warry (1990) stated that in contrasting the North with the South, a number
of southern First Nations communities routinely enter into contractual relationships before allowing
researchers to enter their communities. Aboriginal leaders clearly recognize that the information needs of
their communities are obvious, but they denounce the monopolistic control of academia over the research
process. Specifically, when the analysis and interpretation of research findings must take account of
Indigenous science, which is based on experiential and humanistic interpretation, rather than academic
needs (Colorado, 1998; Warry, 1990; Stevenson, n.d.). In the quest to learn more about Indigenous
Peoples and cultures, the resulting process and product of research has become a commodity – it can be
exchanged with universities, colleges, and publishers for a host of values, including advanced degrees,
professional reputation, career mobility, and book revenues (Richer, 1988). Indigenous Peoples
themselves have rarely capitalized on the commodification of their own cultural background and
knowledge. When information appropriated by researchers from Indigenous sources becomes a
commodity for private ends, it inherently becomes a process of alienation (Richer, 1988) and ultimately,
oppressive (Stevenson, n.d.).
Today, many Aboriginal communities will not indulge research that benefits only the researcher
(Richer, 1988). Indigenous Peoples believe they have been “researched to death” and will no longer
tolerate colonial intrusion by researchers (Smith, 1999; Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1996;
Richer, 1988; Flaherty, 1995). Indigenous Peoples and communities are becoming more aggressive and in
some areas, particularly now in the Northwest Territories and in Nunavut, researchers are required to
apply for a license in order to conduct research in the North (Stevenson, n.d.; Ward, 1996). These new
research measures make it clear that Indigenous peoples now increasingly seek an equal relationship in
the research process and will no longer accept researchers who do not respect and honour that equality.
Research, whether it is formal or informal, should not perpetuate the status quo. Non-intrusive
methods that are most conducive to the needs of the community should be advocated for which assists in
© Bennett
the research process but at the same time is mindful not to continue to re-colonize participants in the
process. Research methods chosen must include a process whereby members of the communities are
given an opportunity to voice their opinions and be involved (but not superficially) in the research process
throughout the life of any proposed project (St. Denis, 1992). Participatory Action Research or PAR has
been identified as one such method that is most conducive to doing research with Aboriginal peoples and
communities. Participatory Action Research is seen as a flexible method that complements the ideals held
by many academic researchers in the various fields of anthropology, social sciences, history, theology,
economics, philosophy, social work, community, and economic development (Fals-Borda, 1992; Frideres,
1992; Gayfer, 1992; Reimer, 1994; Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995). This paper provides a generic overview of
the origins of Participatory Action Research and in doing so also looks at the various definitions as well as
discusses some of the advantages and disadvantages associated with this research approach.
Origins of Participatory Action Research

There has long been a growing interest in alternative research paradigms. The search for new
alternatives came from professionally trained researchers who found their paradigms inadequate to
answer all the questions they had (Tandon, 1981). With the development of alternative research
paradigms, common folk (such as the poor, illiterate, and rural people) began to initiate many successful
development efforts (Tandon, 1981). Many of these alternative initiatives led to the creation of what would
later be called Participatory Action Research. The term Participatory Action Research (hereafter referred
to as PAR) is an umbrella term that includes several traditions of theory and practice. Definitions vary
according to traditions and users (Brown, 1993). St. Denis (1992) notes that often authors coin their own
terms to describe their methods and methodologies, even though they are basically similar to one another.
Other terms that are used in the literature to describe PAR include participatory research, action research,
praxis research, participatory inquiry, collaborative inquiry, action inquiry, and cooperative inquiry
(Whyte, 1991).
According to two early architects of PAR (Tandon, 1981; Hall, 1975), two interrelated forces
became instrumental in the emergence of PAR:
• Dominant research paradigms were seen as being insufficient and oppressive, and
• dominant research paradigms exploited a large majority of people in underdeveloped
countries.
Classical or dominant research paradigms are premised upon notions of neutrality and
objectivity. In the dominant paradigms’ ongoing exploitation, it assigned the title of “professional
expertise” to researchers, which implies that only professionally trained individuals can undertake to do
research. Neutrality and objectivity became the hallmark of the research process. According to these
paradigms, only professionally trained persons have the capacity to be neutral and objective (Tandon,
1981; Hall, 1975). Those considered to be professionally trained usually come from sectors of society that
“have it all” (Tandon, 1981, p. 21). All of these reasons (and many others too numerous to mention)
precipitated the need for finding an alternative research method that would replace the exploitative
elements of the dominant research paradigms. It had to provide an avenue for those people traditionally
underrepresented in society the opportunity to gain access to knowledge and action for improving their
situations (Tandon, 1981; Almeida, Sanchez, Soto, Felix, & Perez, 1983).
© Bennett
The origins of PAR emerged out of development projects by oppressed people in Third World
countries and entered English-language awareness during the 1970s (Brown & Tandon, 1983; Gayfer,
1992; Frideres, 1992; Fals-Borda, 1992). Much of PAR was driven by humanistic urges to assist the
“victims of oligarchies” and their “development” policies (Fals-Borda, 1992). One of the earliest influences
on PAR approaches came from the Brazilian adult educator, Paula Freire. Freire is well known for his
support of the liberation struggles of colonized peoples in the rural areas of Latin America (Brown &
Tandon, 1983; Jackson, McCaskill, & Hall, 1982; Hall 1981; Frideres, 1992; Gayfer, 1992; Cornwall &
Jewkes, 1995; Cain, 1977). Friere’s ideas have in turn influenced many generations of adult educators in
many parts of the world. It is rare to read a book, article, or thesis on literature, population, education, or
social transformation that does not acknowledge Friere, directly or indirectly (Gayfer, 1992, p. 19). Budd
Hall (1981) noted that “Freire was the first to articulate the connection between learning and political
transformation and to validate that the work of socially aware educators and others were not marginal,
but a key to transformation” (Gayfer, 1992, p. 19). Friere’s approach to adult education engaged
individuals in critical analysis and organized action to improve their dismal situations (Brown & Tandon,
1983). His work affirmed that peoples’ own knowledge is valuable to community development and the
research process (Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995).
Freire first came to the attention of English readers in 1969 through the Harvard University
(Heaney, 1993). Today, Freire’s writings are commonly included in required bibliographies of graduate
programs in adult education. His books, once banned in his native Brazil, are now used to guide the
training of those in the Brazilian military and local universities (Heaney, 1993). Although PAR came later
and developed independently of Freire, today Freire would be considered one of PAR’s staunchest
supporters (Gayfer, 1992).
At first PAR was either ignored or roundly condemned by other researchers the world over
(Heaney, 1993; Gayfer, 1992). But by the 1970s and early 1980s, PAR not only became an interesting topic
of discussion but it also quickly became the subject of academic discourse in graduate programs and a
favorite topic at respectable conferences around the world (Heaney, 1993). One university even
established a “center” for participatory action research (Gayfer, 1992). A major advocate of PAR since
1975 has been the International Council for Adult Education (ICAE) (Frideres, 1992). ICAE is an
international network of participatory researchers, which held the first international forum on
participatory research in Yugoslavia in April 1980 (Gayfer, 1981). PAR as an alternative or collective
approach to social investigation was introduced to readers in a 1975 issue of Convergence (Vol. 8, No. 2).
In this issue, Budd Hall called for assistance to develop this methodology, which brought forward both an
enthusiastic international response as well as blasts of hostility and criticism from the elite and dominant
professional circles (Hall, 1981; Gayfer, 1992). These responses gave rise to the development of a
participatory network during 1977 and 1978 as a program of ICAE. This partnership with ICAE came
about because it appeared that PAR, with its emphasis on “people as experts,” shared a common premise
with adult education (Hall, 1981). According to Gayfer (1981), who was the editor of Convergence at the
time, and Hall (1981), this network was comprised of autonomous centers from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin
America, and North America, with an increased interest shown by educators in the Caribbean and Arab
regions. Convergence provided an update on PAR in a 1981 edition (Vol. 14, No. 3) and continues to
publish numerous articles on PAR discourse (Gayfer, 1992).
© Bennett
Although PAR had its origins in Third World countries, Third World countries are not the only
countries where PAR methodology is being conducted. By the late 70s, participatory research work was
well underway throughout the world. Subsequent projects brought participatory research from the
developing countries to urban and rural North America and to various disciplines, including public health,
sociology, economics, anthropology, history, community development initiatives, theology, philosophy,
and social work (Fals-Borda, 1992; Frideres, 1992; Reimer, 1994; Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995). This
awareness increased the realization of knowledge as power, an idea first espoused by Paulo Freire in his
major publication Pedagogy of the Oppressed (Gayfer, 1992; Frideres, 1992).
The shift of PAR into North America created opportunities to work with traditionally
disadvantaged peoples and social movements, such as Latin American immigrants and First Nations
Councils (Hall, 1993). PAR has addressed women’s issues (Hall, 1981; Maguire, 1987; Gayfer, 1992;
Barnsely & Ellis, 1992) as well as the issues of peoples with disabilities (Barnsley & Ellis, 1992). PAR has
also served as a tool of the Aboriginal movement in Canada, particularly with concerns surrounding
health, social, and economic issues (Jackson et al., 1982).
In Canadian social work, Brant-Castellano (1986) noted its usefulness in resolving the widespread
crisis experienced by Aboriginal families and communities in relation to the reform of Aboriginal Child
welfare during the early 1980s. According to Brant-Castellano, PAR was initiated because the surrounding
society pre-empted the community’s right to work out their own solutions respecting family matters and,
in attempting to help, compounded their problems (p. 52). With the help of PAR, a healing process began
that was initiated by Aboriginal Peoples, and with the determination that their own knowledge would
never again be overridden by outside expertise.
Activist researchers in the Tanzanian Bureau of Resource Allocation and Land Use Planning
Project are considered, in the literature available, to be the first to use the term “participatory research”
(Gayfer, 1992). This term was used to describe an experimental pilot project survey with 46 villages in
Tanzania, as part of the self-reliance campaign on village development. Their approach scoffed at the
social science research myth of objectivity and neutrality as well as the sanctity of survey methods with a
simple principle: “Villagers themselves as active participants in a research plan that would ultimately
motivate them to evaluate their own strengths and needs for the development of their villages” (Gayfer,
1992, p. 20). The Tanzanian experience foreshadowed some basic tenets of PAR:
faith in the capacity of ordinary people to learn, to name their reality, to become their
own researchers in seeking answers to the questions of their daily lives and survival; the
inquiry as a collective and educative process; participation in agenda-setting, data
collection and analyses; and control over outcomes (Gayfer, 1992, pp. 20-21).
Defining Participatory Action Research

No one owns PAR nor is a step-by-step “cookbook of recipes” for doing PAR available (Gayfer,
1981; Hall, 1975). Because there are no hard and fast rules respecting how PAR should be implemented, it
is a process easily adaptable to many researchers and research situations. Some of the common values
underlying PAR, as identified by Hall (cited in Ryan & Robinson, 1990; Cain, 1977, pp. 11-12) include:
• The problem originates in the community itself and the problem is defined, analyzed and
solved by the community.
© Bennett
• The ultimate goal of the research is the radical transformation of social reality and the
improvement of the lives of the people involved. The beneficiaries of the research are the
members of the community itself [rather than researchers].
• Participatory research involves the full and active participation of the community in the entire
research process [from beginning to end].
• Participatory research involves a whole range of powerless groups of people: the exploited, the
poor, the oppressed, the marginal, [including Aboriginal peoples], etc.
• The process of participatory research can create a greater awareness in the people of their own
resources and mobilize them for self-reliant development.
• It is a scientific method of research in that the participation of the community in the research
process facilitates a more accurate and authentic analysis of social reality.
• The researcher is a committed participant and learner in the process of research, which can lead to
militancy on his/her part, rather than detachment (Ryan & Robinson 1990; Cain, 1977, pp. 11-12).
Many researchers (Hoare, Levy, & Robinson, 1993; Ryan & Robinson, 1990; Simonson & Bushaw,
1993; Readon, Welsh, Kreiswirth, & Forrester, 1993; Lammerick, 1994) have described PAR as being an
integrated approach to research that involves the participation of community members. Maguire (1987),
in particular, described PAR as an alternative style of research, which uses a three-part process of social
investigation, education, and action to share in the creation of social knowledge with oppressed people. In
more detail, Maguire described PAR as a method of social investigation of problems, involving the
participation of oppressed and ordinary people in problem posing and solving. It is an educational process
for the researcher as well as the participants, who analyze the structural causes of named problems
through collective discussion and interaction. Maguire recognized that PAR is a way for researchers and
oppressed peoples to join in solidarity to take collective action, from both a short and long term basis,
toward radical social change. Maguire notes that participatory research aims at three types of change:
• Development of critical consciousness of both researcher and participants,

• improvement in the lives of those involved in the research process, and
• transformation of fundamental societal structures and relationship (Maguire, 1987, p. 29).
Barnsley and Ellis (1992) in their publication Research for Change: Participatory Action
Research for Community Groups, defined PAR as being a “community directed process of collecting and
analyzing information on an issue or situation for the purposes of taking action and making change” (p.
90). A community-directed approach means that community members assist the researcher while at the
same time empower themselves in the ongoing investigation of the social reality of their community. PAR
helps the participants build local skills and the capacity to increase their community’s autonomy
(Maguire, 1987; St. Denis, 1992; Hoare et al., 1993).
PAR is often illustrated in the literature as involving the full and active participation of the
community in the entire process from start to finish (Maguire, 1987; Barnsley & Ellis, 1992; Hoare et al.,
1993; Simonson & Bushaw, 1993; Lammerick, 1994). Fals-Borda (1992) characterized PAR as “part of
social activism, with an ideological and spiritual commitment to promote people’s (collective) praxis. That
informally or formally, the life of everybody, as part of the PAR research is a kind of praxis” (p. 15).
Community members have a role to play in setting the agenda of enquiry; they also participate in
the data collection and the analysis of documentation generated over the course of the research and more
© Bennett
importantly, participants have more control over the use and outcome of the whole research process. In a
nutshell, PAR means doing research “with” rather than “on” people (Maguire, 1987).
At least five fields of practice have made contributions to PAR approaches: Action Research in
Organizations, Participatory Research in Community Development, Action Research in Schools, Farmer
Participatory Research and Technology Generation, and Participatory Evaluation. According to the
literature review of PAR by Deshler and Ewert (1995) PAR has also been used in conjunction with
architecture and community planning, landscape ecology design, and environmental and land use
planning. The fields of practice that have contributed to PAR are discussed briefly below as an introduction.
Action Research in Organizations is extensively used in the field of organizational behavior and
organizational development in industry and business organizations by management embracing human
resource theories, specifically associated with the socio-technical systems perspective that has focused on
the fit between technical and social systems (Deshler & Ewert, 1995). This tradition has its roots in Latin
America and was strongly influenced by concepts such as critical thinking, critical consciousness,
conscientization, and empowerment by Paulo Freire in the late 1960s (Deshler & Ewert, 1995). Among the
major authors representing this tradition are Brown (1992); Readon et al. (1993); and Whyte (1992).
Participatory Research in Community Development is considered to be a process of combining

education, research, and collective action on the part of oppressed groups working with popular educators
and community organizers. The knowledge that is generated is intended to help solve practical problems
within a community and, ultimately, contribute to a fairer and juster society. Its primary purpose is to
encourage the poor and oppressed and those that work with them to generate and control their own
knowledge. It assumes that knowledge generates power and that people’s knowledge is central to social
change (Deshler & Ewert, 1995). Authors that represent Participatory Research in Community
Development include Fals-Borda (1992); Hall (1975, 1981); McCall (1981); Tandon (1981); Brown and
Tandon (1983); Maguire (1987); Readon et al. (1993); and Barnsley and Ellis (1992).
Action Research in Schools advocates that teachers should control the educational research agenda
and participates in conducting inquiries to test the worth of educational knowledge (Deshler & Ewert,
1995). Some of the authors identified with Action Research in Schools include Simonson and Bishaw (1993)
and Husen (1988).
Farmer Participatory Research and Technology Generation is also known as Participatory

Technology Development. Mainly agricultural researchers and other instrumental rural development
workers developed this approach gradually as an alternative to the traditional “transfer of technology” or
“top-down” approach to agricultural research and extension. It emerged from farming systems research
and emphasizes the participation of farmers in technology generation, testing, and evaluation to increase
or promote sustainable agricultural production and natural resource management (Deshler & Ewert, 1995).
Another form within this tradition is Participatory Rural Appraisal, a process that involves villages in a
situation analysis that can lead to further participatory documentation of local knowledge and agriculture
and natural management experiments. The acknowledgement of the value and importance of Indigenous
or local knowledge accompanied the formulation of participatory technology generation (Deshler & Ewert,
1995). Major authors associated with this approach include Schensul (1987) and Cornwal and Jewkes
(1995).
© Bennett
Lastly, Participatory Evaluation as described by Deshler and Ewert (1995) emerged out of
responses to concerns that program evaluations were being under-utilized and that participation on the
part of stakeholders would increase their use. Reflection on the relationship of program evaluation
practice as a way of serving the public’s interest led to participatory evaluation that could serve
democratic ideals of social justice and equity. A similar recognition occurred in the evaluation of
international programs of community health, rural development, literacy, agriculture, and natural
resource management that involving people who are on the receiving end of development in evaluations is
likely to assure the most efficient allocation of scarce resources and early identification of ineffective or
wasteful use of those resources. This tradition emphasizes that people on the receiving end are ultimately
the best judges of whether or not benefits have been produced. Among the major authors representing
this approach are Uphoff (1992) and Reimer (1994).
The Challenges of Participatory Action Research

While participatory methodologies seem to be all the rage these days, many researchers (Hall,
1981; Conchelos & Kassam, 1981; Pigozzi, 1982; Simonson & Bushaw, 1993; Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995)
have expounded upon some of the possible negative elements and pitfalls associated with PAR. While
conventional research strategies have been identified as being inadequate, researchers (Tandon 1975;
Hall, 1981; Conchelos & Kassam, 1981; St. Denis, 1992; Reimer, 1994; Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995) agree
that PAR, while preferable, is not a simple alternative.
Some academics, most notably Cornwall and Jewkes (1995), have noted that when engaged in
PAR that “working with local people is far from easy” (p. 1673). Some of the factors that make it difficult
for researchers to conduct participatory research include the fact that not everyone within the community
will want to partake in participatory research. Add to this the fact that local people may be skeptical about
the perceived benefits of the research and as such, may not want to invest their time and energy into any
research project. In relation to this, Cornwall and Jewkes (1995) noted that community participation often
carries more significance for outsiders than it does for those within the community. Even if there is
interest by community members in the research project, there may be the added barriers of time as
participation in any research related activity is time-consuming. Most individuals, especially those living
within oppressed economies, are too busy trying to secure the basic necessities of life to participate in
research activities (Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995).
Cornwall and Jewkes (quoting Madan [1987]) reminded researchers that participating
communities are “made” rather than “born.” Further, that involvement by the community members may
not always be continuous or predictable. Participants can experience task exhaustion and the composition
of the research group(s) can fluctuate over time. Researchers must be careful to tread softly between the
need to generate sufficient interest for the research project and at the same time avoid raising false hopes
within the community. They also suggest that the limitations of the research should be honestly identified
at the outset so that the establishment of trust within the community is not compromised. Trust can be
compromised if participation leads to frustration for participants if they think benefits might be available
through participation but then find that knowledge about benefits in no way translates into or guarantees
access to benefits (Pigozzi, 1982). St. Denis (1992) warns that if people do not understand the research
being conducted and/or do not have the opportunity to negotiate a direction for the research to take; they
will be reluctant to participate in the research. She further postulates that community people are not
© Bennett
academics, and they will not take seriously or get involved in a research project that they do not
understand. Even the concept of research as something that can benefit the community, in of itself may be
an alien concept to the community (St. Denis, 1992).
Hall (1981) recognized early that there are some dangers for participants under PAR. Hall noted
that social science researchers often gravitate toward participatory research as a way to get people to agree
to a position, an action, or a policy, which others (e.g. social workers, adult educators, etc.) feel is
important to their purposes. These purposes are not necessarily the same purposes of the participants or
communities. In this way, PAR can be used as an effective and manipulative “tool” for getting the
predominant views of the state into the heart and minds of those that oppose the predominant views (Hall
1981; St. Denis, 1992). A good example of such an approach is the consultation approach the Department
of Indian Affairs in Canada endorsed through the much-anticipated revision of the Indian Act by Minister
Nault’s promotion of the First Nations Governance Act. In such instances, PAR is used as a coercive
instrument, which governments can use to subtly brainwash those who resist the dominant position.
Researchers who utilize participatory methods must be very careful to recognize that no two
groups of peoples or communities are ever homogenous. Within groups and/or communities, there exists
a multitude of interrelated axes of differences, including wealth, gender, age, religion, health, ethnicity,
and power (Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995). Researchers, as a result, must be cognizant of competing,
contested, and changing versions of what constitutes “community needs” and/or “values.” Added to this is
the need to be aware that different definitions will emerge depending upon which interest group is
consulted and accordingly to the way in which these groups or communities interpret the researchers’
intentions (Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995).
In utilizing PAR methodologies, researchers can be caught in a catch-22 situation depending

upon whom they align themselves with upon initial contact with communities and/or groups. Research
has been noted to be more easily facilitated if it is organized through the medium of dominant
stakeholders or “leaders,” who are often most able to mobilize resources, interest, and articulate concerns
about the research project. However, the problem with utilizing these individuals may mean, “inviting
manipulation of the research according to the agendas of the powerful” (Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995, p.
1673). On the other hand, working outside the power structures can weaken both the potential impact of
the project at a wider level, as well as invite continued marginalization of the people and goals of the
project (Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995).
PAR can also bring other unintended negative consequences to those who participate.
Participants may become alienated from their community by virtue of their association with the research
project. For instance, heightened awareness by a marginal group of its oppression can increase
unhappiness (Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995). In the extreme opposite, participants might come to view
themselves as, or align themselves with, the elite. Some projects have resulted in the creation of a
participating elite among the local people. That is, participants come to believe that his or her newly
gained skills or knowledge somehow make them superior to non-participating members within their
communities (Pigozzi, 1982). Pigozzi (1982) noted that in one participatory situation, those participating
in the research project “considered non-participants as stupid, at best” (p. 11). Researchers must be
conscious of these kinds of attitudes that which, when cultivated under the participatory process, can
foster factionalism within a community.
© Bennett
Factionalism sometimes exists irrespective of the introduction of participatory research activities.

For instance, Pigozzi (1982) pointed out that within some participatory relationships (especially in Third
World countries), there already exist class structures (whether they be real or perceived) which
researchers should be aware of. Researchers must be aware of the local constraints that enable class
systems to exist. And further, that the participatory process can be affected by such factors as class
tensions, factionalism, and ethnicity, which can have a direct impact upon participatory research. In
acknowledging that these factors have relevance, researchers might benefit from understanding how these
factors might be affected by project activities and vice versa (Pigozzi, 1982, p. 10). To bring home this
point, Pigozzi (1982) highlighted a story about rickshaw pullers and how participation contributed to
factionalism rather than eradicating unfair structures that previously existed:
Within the cooperative program of the Comilla Project rickshaw pullers were one of the
disadvantaged groups. Each puller rented a rickshaw at a high daily rate, which he paid to
the owner from his daily earnings. A group of pullers asked help in forming a cooperative.
Each contributed a portion of daily earnings to the cooperative so that each member
could eventually own a rickshaw. It worked. Within the relatively short period of time,
each puller had become his own master through following simple cooperative principles
(p. 10).
As successful as this story sounds, Pigozzi states that it failed to capture the negative outcomes that
resulted from this participatory endeavor. The rickshaw pullers, becoming themselves owners, ended up
repeating the very same exploitative cycle all over again. By hiring out their newly acquired rickshaws at
high rates to other pullers less fortunate than themselves, they perpetuated the same exploitative
mentality (Pigozzi, 1982, p. 10). Pigozzi (1982) stresses that it is important researchers recognize what
participatory research and the education associated with it can do to participants and what its limitations
are (p. 11).
There are other parties that have direct involvement in participatory activities. The role of these
third parties has remained silent in most of the literature on PAR. However, some scholars (Hall, 1981;
Conchelos & Kassam, 1981; Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995) have identified their concerns with the role of third
parties in PAR. Third parties can include funding and sponsoring agencies as well as government officials
and its bureaucracy. Funders of research projects can play a major part in wielding influence over the
research project and process. For instance, Hall (1981) noted influence can be exercised by utilizing
funding policies to expand procedures that regulate certain groups within society and he cites two
examples such as immigrants and Aboriginal peoples. Intervention and influence are especially
predominant in situations where the research is funded by government sources. In such situations, the
researcher is rarely given complete discretion to carry out research in the manner he or she sees fit. The
third party may intervene in a variety of ways from demanding practical results of a certain sort at a
certain time or demand project documentation at awkward moments and points of time during the life of
the research project. Thus, the results generated by the research can ultimately run the risk of becoming a
programmed product of the third party or sponsoring agency rather than being owned by the researcher
and the participants of the research project (Conchelos & Kassam, 1981).
It is important to note that the participatory process has political dimensions attached to it as
well. Participation, especially when it is linked to decision-making, is political because change through
© Bennett
participation often demands change in the distribution of power (Pigozzi, 1982). Under such
circumstances, Pigozzi (1982) elucidated that,
those who are threatened by a redistribution of power have, in their own best interest,
responded in predictable ways. Usually they try to prevent loss of power (or resource
control) by making it difficult to operate or continue research or development projects
that facilitate the confrontation of power structures by the disadvantaged (p. 12).
Thus, researchers who advocate participatory methods must be cognizant and aware that the response of
the rich and/or powerful might not always be one of accommodation to the project, the researcher, or the
participants in the project. Again, Pigozzi (1982) cites an extreme example of non-accommodation by the
local elite to attempts by the powerless to lessen the gap between the rich and the powerless. In this
example, 15 peasant participants were killed when a project-meeting center was burned down. The fire
was attributed to a coalition of local elites who allegedly were threatened by the power that the
cooperating participants might be able to wield (p. 13). Pigozzi concludes that participatory projects that
are political by virtue of their goals may run into difficulties imposed from the outside during
implementation. However, Pigozzi also states that participatory projects need not always have such dire
effects to be problematic. He states that if participation His supposed to enhance benefits in some way, then
the very absence of outcomes and benefits can be considered to be a negative result of participation (p. 13).
It is primarily through the participatory venue that researchers have been provided with insights
and views that they ordinarily would not have access to or know about. One of the earliest proponents of
PAR, Budd Hall (1981) had this to say about PAR: “It would be an error to assume that naive or uncontrolled
use of participatory research results in strengthening the power of the powerless, for experience has shown
that power [under PAR methods] can easily accrue in those already in control” ( p. 15). As a result,
researchers have gained more power for themselves within the academic status quo and this has fed
ideological control by giving more power to the institutions that researchers do research for (Hall, 1981, p.
15). Moreover, most academic researchers are ill prepared to do participatory research simply because
they have been taught to consider themselves and Western scientific knowledge as superior (Colorado,
1988; Cornwall & Jewkes, 1995). Within this milieu, research is given artificial neutrality. Training instills
in researchers notions of “objectivity” and the “purity” of science that numbs them to the political realities
of life in the real world of those they conduct research on and/or with (Colorado, 1988; Cornwall &
Jewkes, 1995). On the other hand, it has also been highlighted by some academics (Cornwall & Jewkes,
1995) that the participants drawn from local communities, like academics, carry their own biases,
prejudices, and beliefs into participatory research. While their local knowledge and connectedness into
local networks can enhance communication and commitment, in some contexts it may be inappropriate to
engage local people in certain types of participatory research projects. Cornwall and Jewkes (1995)
highlighted an example of research being done in Uganda on HIV/AIDS, where it was necessary to
employ non-local individuals to collect sensitive data so as not to further stigmatize the local people who
had contracted HIV/AIDS (p. 1674). In this project, it was necessary to shelter the privacy of these people
from the community members who did not have the HIV/AIDS virus/disease.
Another disadvantage highlighted by Reimer (1994) as to community impressions of PAR, relate

to the inherent relationship outside researchers have with local individuals that are hired to assist in the
research process. Individuals that are hired under the rubric of “co-researcher” may have ambivalent
© Bennett
feelings about their role in the research process. He or she may know that his or her role encompasses
more than just interpreting for the principal researcher. However, to other community members, he or
she may not be seen as being a “researcher” simply because he or she has not received the formal
education or training to become a “researcher.” As a result, those community members who have not yet
had direct participation in the research project will see these individuals as merely “helpers” rather than
legitimate “co-researchers.” Reimer (1994) points out that the history of colonialism within the research
enterprise and the relationship of research dynamics is impossible to eradicate. Much work remains to be
done to “decolonize” and “de-mystify” social science research being done particularly in Aboriginal
communities (Reimer, 1994).
Conclusion
This piece has attempted to define PAR and map its origins. It has outlined advantages and
disadvantages as identified in the prevailing literature that has evaluated PAR as a primary research
method. As highlighted there are benefits coupled with weaknesses in choosing PAR as a method of doing
research. PAR attempts to undo the monopoly over knowledge production by universities (Hall, 1999) and
within the hands of Aboriginal peoples, in particular, it can be used as a powerful tool among many
methods that empower and reflect ways of knowing, being, and doing that are culturally endemic to the
diverse Aboriginal societies in Canada. This article merely offers readers and Aboriginal communities as
well as researchers an opportunity to choose for themselves whether the advantages as outlined above
outweigh the disadvantages or vice versa. While PAR as a research method has been around for close to 35
years, its use in the Aboriginal context of research is still relatively uncultivated. However, there are many
research initiatives undertaken by Aboriginal communities and researchers which have since taken
advantage of this powerful approach.
© Bennett
References
Almeida, E., Sanchez, M. E., Soto, B., Felix, L., & Perez, V. (1983). Development of a participatory research centre as part of an
ongoing rural development program. The Journal of Applied Behavioral Science, 19(3), 295-
306. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F002188638301900307
Barnsley, J., & Ellis, D. (1992). Research for change: Participatory Action Research for community groups. Vancouver, BC: The
Women’s Research Centre.
Brant-Castellano, M. (1986). Collective wisdom: Participatory research and Canada’s Native people. Convergence: International
Journal of Adult Education, 19(3), 50-53.
Brown, L. D. (1985). People-centered development and participatory research. Harvard Educational Review, 55(1), 69-75.
Brown, L. D. (1993). Becoming a PAR practitioner. In J. Forester, J. Pitt, & J. Welsh (Eds.), Profiles of participatory action
researchers. Ithica, NY: Cornell University, Einaudi Centre for International Studies and Department of City, &
Regional Planning.
Brown, L. D., & Tandon, R. (1983). Ideology and political economy in inquiry: Action research and participatory research. The
Journal of Applied Behavioural Science, 19(3), 277-294. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F002188638301900306
Cain, B. (1979). Participatory research: Research with historic consciousness (Working paper 3). Toronto, ON: Participatory
Research Project.
Colorado, P. (1988). Bridging Native and Western science. Convergence: International Journal of Adult Education, 21(2), 49-67.
Conchelos, G., & Kassam, Y. (1981). A brief review of critical opinions and responses on issues facing participatory research.
Convergence: International Journal of Adult Education, 14(3), 52-64.
Conchelos, G. (1985). Participatory oral history research in native communities: Some problems and emerging guidelines for
doing it. Convergence: International Journal of Adult Education, 8(2).
Cornwall, A., & Jewkes, R. (1995). What is participatory research?. Social Science & Medicine, 41(12), 1667-
1676. https://doi.org/10.1016/0277-9536(95)00127-S
Deshler, D., & Ewert, M. (1995). Participatory Action Research: Traditions and major assumptions. The PAR tool box: Part
#001. Retrieved from http://www.PARnet.org/parchive/docs/deshler_95/
Fals-Borda, O. (1992). Evolution and convergence in Participatory Action Research. In J. S. Frideres (Ed.), A world of
communities: Participatory research perspectives (pp. 14-19). North York, ON: Captus University Publications.
Flaherty, M. (1995). Freedom of expression or freedom of exploitation?. Northern Review, 14, 178-185.
Frideres, J. (1992). Participatory research: An illusionary perspective. In J. S. Frideres (Ed.), A world of communities:
Participatory research perspectives (pp. 1-13). North York, ON: Captus University Publications.
Gayfer, M. (1981). Participatory research: Developments and issues. Convergence: International Journal of Adult Education, 14(3), 1.
Gayfer, M. (1992). The sound of people learning and organizing for change. Convergence: International Journal of Adult
Education, 25(4), 17-25.
Hall, B. (1975). Participatory research: An approach for change. Convergence: International Journal of Adult Education, 8(2), 24-31.
Hall, B. (1981). Participatory research, popular knowledge and power: A personal reflection. Convergence: International Journal
of Adult Education, 14(3), pp. 5-17.
Hall, B. (1999). Poor people do not use money as a weapon: Reflections on the beginnings of participatory research. Opening
remarks at the International Participatory Development Conference, Ottawa, ON.
Heaney, T. W. (1993). If you can’t beat ‘em: The professionalization of participatory research. In P. Park, M. Bydon-Miller, B.
Hall, & T. Jackscon (Eds.), Voices of change: Participatory research in the United States and Canada (pp. 27-46).
Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey
Hoare, T., Levy, C., & Robinson, M. P. (1993). Participatory Action Research in Native communities: Cultural opportunities and
legal implications. The Canadian Journal of Native Studies, 13(1), 43-78.
Husén, T. (1988). Research paradigms in education. Interchange, 19(1), 2-13. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF01815504
© Bennett
Jackson, T., McCaskill, D., & Hall, B. (1982). Learning for self-determination: Community based options for Native training and
research. The Canadian Journal of Native Studies, 2(1), 1-9.
Lammerink, M. P. (1994). People’s participation and action research in community development: Experiences from Nicaragua.
Community Development Journal, 29(4), 362-368. https://doi.org/10.1093/cdj/29.4.362
McCall, B. (1981). Popular participation, research and new alliances. Convergence: International Journal of Adult Education, 14(3), 65-73.
Mandan, T. N. (1987). Community involvement in health policy: Socio-structural and dynamic aspects of health beliefs. Social
Science & Medicine, 25(6), 615-620. https://doi.org/10.1016/0277-9536(87)90086-4
Maguire, P. (1987). Doing participatory research: A feminist approach. Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Amherst.
Masuzumi, B., & Quirk, S. (1993). A participatory research process for Dene/Métis communities. Yellowknife, NWT: Dene Nation
Miller, G. D. (1997). Knowledge-sharing institutions: A movement to transform change agents into exchange agents. In E. Shragge
(Ed.), Community economic development: In search of empowerment (pp. 19-28). Montreal, QC: Black Rose Books.
Patton, M. Q. (1982). Practising with and without goals. In M. Q. Patton (Ed.), Practical Evaluation (pp. 100-138). London,
LDN: Sage Publishing
Pigozzi, M. J. (1982). Participation in non-formal education projects: Some possible negative outcomes. Convergence:
International Journal of Adult Education, 25(3), 6-19.
Readon, K., Welsh, J, Kreiswirth, B, & Forrester, J. (1993). Participatory Action Research from the inside: Community
development practice in East St. Louis. The American Sociologist, 24(1), 69-91. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF02691946
Richer, S. (1988). Fieldwork and the commodification of culture: Why the Natives are restless. The Canadian Review of
Sociology, 25(3), 406-420. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1755-618X.1988.tb00112.x
Reimer, G. D. (1994). Community participation in research and development: A case study from Pangnirtung, Northwest
Territories (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved from MacSphere: McMaster University Libraries Institutional Repository
(http://hdl handle.net/11375/7725).
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP). (1996). Rekindling the fire. In Volume 1: Looking forward, looking back (pp.
592-642). Ottawa, ON: Canada Communication Group.
Ryan, J., & Robinson, M. P. (1990). Implementing Participatory Action Research in the Canadian north: A case study of the
Gwich’in Language and Cultural Project. Culture, 10(2), 57-71.
Schensul, J. J. (1987). Perspectives on collaborative research. In D. D. Stuff & J. J. Schensul (Eds.), Collaborative research and
social change: Applied anthropology in action, (pp. 211-219). Boulder, CO: Westview Press.
Seymour-Rolls, K., & Hughes, I. (1995). Participatory Action Research: Getting the job done. Retrieved
from http://www.aral.com.au/arow/rseymour html
Simonson, L. J., & Bushaw, V. A. (1993). Participatory Action Research: Easier said than done. The American Sociologist, 24(1),
27-37. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF02691943
St. Denis, V. (1992). Community-based participatory research: Aspects of the concept relevant for practice. Native Studies
Review, 8(2), 51-97.
Stevenson, S. (n.d.). In search of Inuit ecological knowledge: A protocol for its collection, interpretation and use. Yellowknife,
NWT: Department of Renewable Resources.
Tandon, R. (1981). Participatory research in the empowerment of people. Convergence: International Journal of Adult
Education, 8(2), 44-53.
Ward, S. (1996). Collaborative research in Nunavut: The case of the Mallik Islands part study (Unpublished Masters practicum).
University of Manitoba, Winnipeg: MB.
Warry, W. (1990). Doing unto others: Applied anthropology, collaborative research and Native self-determination. Culture, 10(1), 61-73.
Westerman, F. (1985). Here come the anthros. In J. I. Prattis (Ed.), Reflections: The anthropological muse, Washington, DC:
American Anthropological Association.
Whyte, W. F. (1991). Participatory Action Research. London, LDN: Sage Publishing
© Bennett
2019
Conversational Method in Indigenous
Research
Margaret Kovach
Ph.D., Professor, University of Saskatchewan, Educational Foundations, Saskatchewan, Canada
Corresponding author: m.kovach@usask.ca
Abstract
In reflecting upon two qualitative research projects incorporating an Indigenous methodology, this
article focuses on the use of the conversational method as a means for gathering knowledge through
story. The article first provides a theoretical discussion which illustrates that for the conversational
method to be identified as an Indigenous research method it must flow from an Indigenous paradigm.
The article then moves to an exploration of the conversational method in action and offers reflections
on the significance of researcher-in-relation and the inter-relationship between this method, ethics,
and care.
Keywords: conversational method, knowledge transmission, Indigenous research
1
The original version of this article was published in: Kovach, R. (2010). Conversational method in Indigenous research. First
People Child & Family Review, 5(1), 40-48.
Conversational method in Indigenous research 124
Introduction
Indigenous knowledges comprise a specific way of knowing based upon the oral tradition of
sharing knowledge. It is akin to what different Indigenous researchers, the world over, identify as
storytelling, yarning, talk story, re-storying, re-membering (Absolon & Willett, 2004; Bishop, 1999;
Thomas, 2005). In this article, I refer to this same approach as the conversational method. The
conversational method is a means of gathering knowledge found within Indigenous research. The
conversational method is of significance to Indigenous methodologies because it is a method of gathering
knowledge based on oral storytelling tradition congruent with an Indigenous paradigm. It involves
dialogic participation that holds a deep purpose of sharing story as a means to assist others. It is relational
at its core. In exploring the conversational method, this article first sets the context through a theoretical
discussion of Indigenous methodologies as a paradigmatic approach. It then proceeds to a concerted focus
on conversation as a method. To highlight the practical application of the conversational method, I offer a
commentary on two research projects I have carried out using this method. The article concludes with a
reflection on the implications arising from the inter-relationship between method, ethics, and care when
using the conversational method.
Why a focus on method? In reflecting upon research methods generally, Wilson (2001) pointed
out that there are methods that are “useful from an Indigenous perspective” and some which “are really
built on the dominant paradigms, and they are inseparable from them” (p. 177). In making this claim,
Wilson’s argument supports the notion that Indigenous methodologies are a paradigmatic approach
based upon an Indigenous philosophical positioning or epistemology. Thus, it is not the method, per se,
that is the determining characteristic of Indigenous methodologies, but rather the interplay (the
relationship) between the method and paradigm and the extent to which the method itself is congruent
with an Indigenous worldview. From this perspective, one could argue that the focal discussion of
Indigenous methodologies ought to be a deep concentration of worldview or paradigm. As an Indigenous
academic situated within a western university setting, I cannot argue the political and pedagogical
significance of this point. Yet, locating my professional identity as that of a research instructor in first
Social Work then Education, I am often engaged with matters of method. In further reflecting upon the
experiential aspect of Indigenous approaches to learning and knowing, I recognize that our doing is
intricately related to our knowing. We need only to look to the importance of protocol within Indigenous
communities to recognize that it matters how activities (i.e., methods) are carried out. Protocols are a
means to ensure that activities are carried out in a manner that reflects community teachings and are
done in a good way. The same principle ought to apply to research.
As Indigenous methodologies (and its methods) are relatively recent to western research
methodological discourse, presenting ideas herein is meant to contribute to a critically reflective
participatory dialogue of what it means to bring old knowledges as Indigenous into places that are new to
them as academic research. It is a critically reflective “think piece” inspired by reflections upon my
experience with research involving Indigenous research frameworks.
Manu Aluli Meyer (2001) proposed there is an abundance of “10-dollar words” (p. 101) within
academia. Given this particular, and oft perilous, situation defining terms can never hurt. This article
includes reference to four specific terms: paradigm, ontology, epistemology, and methodology. The term
paradigm as used within a research context includes a philosophical belief system or worldview and how
© Kovach
that belief system or worldview influences a particular set of methods. A paradigm is both theory and
practice. Ontology is a theory or set of beliefs about the world (Mertens, 2005; Strega, 2005). The term
epistemology is defined as knowledge nested within the social relations of knowledge production. It has
been a term used by Indigenous researchers to express Indigenous worldview or philosophy (Ermine,
1995; Meyer, 2001; Wilson, 2008). It most closely approximates the term of “self-in-relation” as put forth
by Graveline (2000, p. 361). Lincoln and Guba (as cited in Mertens, 2005) described methodology as the
process of gathering knowledge by stating that “the methodological question asks, ‘How can the knower
go about obtaining the desired knowledge and understandings?’” (p. 8).
Indigenous Methodologies as Paradigmatic Approach to Research

Because Indigenous methodologies are relatively emergent within western qualitative research
(Absolon & Willett, 2004; Kovach, 2005), it is useful to explain what exactly is meant by the claim that
Indigenous methodologies are a paradigmatic approach. Within a paradigmatic approach to research, the
paradigm influences the choice of methods (i.e., why a particular method is chosen), how those methods
are employed (i.e., how data is gathered), and how the data will be analyzed and interpreted. As Neuman
(2006) reminded us, a paradigm is a basic orientation to theory and thus, impacts method. Within this
approach, significant attention is paid to assumptions about knowledge. This is differentiated from a more
pragmatic approach (or applied research) which is “not committed to any one system of philosophy and
reality” (Creswell, 2003, p.12). In a paradigmatic approach to research, be it Indigenous or otherwise,
methods ought to be congruent with the philosophical orientation identified in the research framework to
show internal methodological consistency. If a researcher chooses to use an Indigenous methodological
framework, the methods chosen should make sense from an Indigenous knowledges perspective.
In clarifying a paradigm itself, discussion of both form and substance are important because they
influence each other. In research design, the academic community has adopted an organizational
language that gives form/structure to aid in defining knowledge assumptions. Such definitions are
commonly expressed through the language of ontology, epistemology, and methodology (Creswell, 2003;
Neuman, 2006). The expectation is that a researcher will define the ontology, epistemology, and
methodology according to his or her perspective and then clearly articulate that particular positioning (of
course, what appears as a straightforward and definitional task gets deep and messy fast).
The organizational form becomes akin to a series of boxes to be filled with labels marked
ontology, epistemology, and methodology. Lincoln and Guba (as cited in Denzin & Lincoln, 2003)
expanded upon traditional definitions of research paradigms and suggest that a paradigm must include
seven considerations: ethics, accommodation, action, control, truth, validity, and voice; boxes within
boxes. These categorical definitions further assist the researcher in clarifying, and hopefully making
visible, the belief system guiding the research. Metaphorically, I see a paradigm as similar to a nest
holding chicks/hatchlings within it. For example, in a research project which incorporates an Indigenous
methodology, the paradigm (nest) would be Indigenous knowledges with specific contextual knowledge
assumptions emerging from a particular tribal knowledge base. Thompson’s (2008) doctoral research is a
case in point. She identified her research as incorporating an Indigenous methodology, as shared among
many Indigenous peoples, but based upon the contextual specifics of her Tahltan tradition.
© Kovach
In their writing, Indigenous researchers have, to a certain extent, engaged in conversation on

paradigm as form. In articulating the theoretical assumptions of the theory of Tsawalk, which underlies
oosumich, a Nuu-chah-nulth research method, Atleo (2004) differentiated knowledge assumptions from
knowledge organizing systems. He pointed out that the theory of Tsawalk does not necessarily challenge
the organizational form (or language) of paradigm and methodology itself but rather that the theory of
Tsawalk holds knowledge assumptions alternative to that found within existing physical sciences (Atleo,
2004). In this sense, he is referencing the substance of a paradigm. In her research on Native health,
Stewart (2009) articulated the relational assumption underlying research methodology. She stated that
from an Indigenous research perspective the relational is viewed as an aspect of methodology whereas
within western constructs the relational is viewed as bias, and thus, outside methodology. As with Atleo,
Stewart has not contested the paradigmatic structure per se and is focusing specifically on paradigmatic
substance. However, Stewart can be interpreted as having stated that within Indigenous methodologies
the categorical units (ontology, epistemology, and methodology) are not simply more elastic but
shapeshift to accommodate a worldview outside of western tradition. While certain western research
paradigms frown upon the relational because of its potential to bias research, Indigenous methodologies
embrace relational assumptions as central to their core epistemologies.
One could argue that Lincoln and Guba’s (as cited in Denzin & Lincoln, 2003) seven
considerations of a research paradigm (i.e., ethics, accommodation, action, control, truth, validity, and
voice) described above, can accommodate the relational assumption of Indigenous research. However, the
relational assumption of Indigenous methodologies seeks equal focus to that which connects the parts as
much as the parts in and of themselves (whether it is two, four, or eight considerations). It is the oft
ephemeral and non-discrete moments that form a lasting inter-relationship of the hatchlings/chicks in the
nest that offer knowledge in understanding the chicks themselves, the chicks as a family/community, the
nest itself, and the world outside of the nest. For some, this is experienced as the spiritual aspect of
Indigenous knowledges. Indigenous scholars (Castellano, 2000; Deloria 2004; Little Bear 2000) have
effectively utilized this especially western-influenced knowledge organizing system to bring forward
Indigenous worldviews. As a result, Indigenous knowledges have arrived in mainstream post-secondary
research contexts. The nuances and complexities of an Indigenous paradigm may not be fully understood
(or viewed as legitimate) by all members of the academy, but few would openly contest, at least in public
spaces, that an Indigenous paradigm exists.
When using the term paradigmatic approach in relation to Indigenous methodologies, this means
that this particular research approach flows from an Indigenous belief system that has at its core a
relational understanding and accountability to the world (Steinhauer, 2001; Wilson, 2001). Indigenous
epistemologies hold a non-human centric relational philosophy (Deloria, 2004; Ermine, 1995) and while
tribal groups hold differing relationships with place, as evident in local protocol and custom (Battiste &
McConaghy, 2005), there is a shared belief system among tribal groups (Littlebear, 2000). This
distinctive Indigenous paradigmatic orientation is a theory of how knowledge is constructed and as such it
guides assumptions about what counts as knowledge (Kirby, Greaves, & Reid, 2006) and offers guidance
for research methods. Such methods include sharing knowledge based on oral history and storytelling
tradition (Hart, 2002; Henderson, 2000; Smith, 1999) and are collectivist (Deloria, 2004). It assumes
that knowledge is transferred through oral history and story (Archibald, 2008) and that knowledge is co-
created within the relational dynamic of self-in-relation (Graveline, 1998). The relational dynamic
between self, others, and nature are central.
© Kovach
An Indigenous paradigm welcomes a decolonizing perspective. One could (and ought to) argue
that a decolonizing theoretical perspective is necessary within Indigenous research given the existing
social inequities that Indigenous peoples continue to experience. A decolonizing perspective is significant
to Indigenous research because it focuses on Indigenous-settler relationships and seeks to interrogate the
powerful social relationships that marginalize Indigenous peoples (Nicoll, 2004). Interrogating the power
relationships found within the Indigenous-settler dynamic enables a form of praxis that seeks out
Indigenous voice and representation with research that has historically marginalized and silenced
Indigenous peoples (Smith, 1999). However, paradigmatically speaking, a decolonizing perspective and
Indigenous epistemologies emerge from different paradigms. Decolonizing analysis is born of critical
theory found within the transformative paradigm of western tradition (Mertens, 2005). It centres the
settler discourse, whereas an Indigenous paradigm centres Indigenous knowledges. While a decolonizing
perspective remains necessary and can be included as a theoretical positioning within research, it is not
the epistemological centre of an Indigenous methodological approach to research.
An understanding of the relational nuances of an Indigenous paradigm is critical to moving

forward with an Indigenous methodological approach. Further, it is central in understanding why the
conversational method, which is inherently relational, is congruent with Indigenous methodologies.
The Conversational Method

The conversational method aligns with an Indigenous worldview that honours orality as a means
of transmitting knowledge and upholds the relational, which is necessary to maintain a collectivist
tradition. Story is a relational process that is accompanied by a particular protocol consistent with tribal
knowledge identified as guiding the research (Kovach, 2009; Thompson, 2008). Indigenous scholars
within and outside the Canadian context have referenced the use of story, through conversation, as a
culturally organic means to gather knowledge within research (Bishop, 1999; Thomas, 2005).
Reflecting upon story as a method within research, Wilson (2001) suggested that story is
congruent with the relational dynamic of an Indigenous paradigm. He goes on to say that when you
consider the relationship that evolves between sharing story and listening, “it becomes a strong
relationship” (p. 178). Thomas (2005) utilized a storytelling methodology in her graduate research on the
experiences of individuals who attended Kuper Island Residential School. In reflecting why she chose
stories as a method for her research, she reminisced on the stories her grandmothers passed along to her,
how these stories shaped Thomas’s core being, and that such stories were “cultural, traditional,
educational, spiritual, and political” (p. 240). Thomas goes on to state that storytelling has a holistic
nature that provides a means for sharing remembrances that evoke the spiritual, emotional, physical, and
mental. In reflecting upon story as a dialogic method that evokes the relational, Maori researcher Russell
Bishop (1999) introduced the notion of “collaborative storying” (p. 6), which positions the researcher as a
participant. As both parties become engaged in a collaborative process, the relationship builds and
deepens as stories are shared.
In a presentation at the Fourth International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry, the University of

Illinois, Bessarab (2008) presented on yarning as a method. In her presentation, she shared that yarning
is a Noongar term for having a conversation or talk. She goes on to say that that there are different forms
of yarning which include social yarning, research yarning, collaborative yarning, and therapeutic yarning.
© Kovach
She identified research yarning as that which is directed around a particular area of curiosity with a
specific purpose in mind. From a Native Hawaiian perspective, Kahakalua (2004) commented on the
flexibility inherent within a conversational method that aligns with the Native Hawaiian epistemology:
“Many of these conversations were informal, conversational interviews – what Hawaiians call talk story”
(p. 24). Certainly, the conversational method is not unique to Indigenous methodologies. It can be found
within narrative inquiry. As Barrett and Stauffer (2009) stated, narrative is viewed as story and is seen as
a “mode of knowing” that is involved in knowledge construction and has recently been accepted as a
“method of inquiry” (p. 7). Thus, the conversational method is found in western qualitative research.
However, when used in an Indigenous framework, a conversational method invokes several distinctive
characteristics: a) it is linked to a particular tribal epistemology (or knowledge) and situated within an
Indigenous paradigm; b) it is relational; c) it is purposeful (most often involving a decolonizing aim); d) it
involves particular protocol as determined by the epistemology and/or place; e) it involves an informality
and flexibility; f ) it is collaborative and dialogic, and g) it is reflexive. The following two research projects
illustrate how these characteristics work in tandem with a conversational method to form an Indigenous
approach to research.
Two Research Projects Using the Conversational Method

The remainder of this article focuses on two qualitative research projects that I conducted using a
conversational method for gathering data and are situated within an Indigenous research framework. The
first study presented (Project One) was completed in 2006; the second study (Project Two) is currently in
the data analysis phase. After presenting the studies, I will offer a reflection on implications arising from
using this particular method.
(Project One) Searching for arrowheads: An inquiry into approaches to

Indigenous research using Plains Cree ways of knowing
Purpose
Project One was completed in 2006. This research explored the challenges facing Indigenous
doctoral researchers of engaging Indigenous knowledges in their research methodology. This study
explored whether this group was applying cultural knowledge into their research methodology and if they
felt that there was a distinctive methodological approach that could be described as Indigenous. This
study sought further clarity into the characteristics of Indigenous methodologies, including choice of
method congruent with an Indigenous paradigm.
Research question
To prompt conversation on this topic there were three main research questions posed: a) How do
Indigenous researchers understand cultural aspects of Indigenous research; b) how do Indigenous
researchers incorporate cultural knowledges into their research methodology; and c) what are the
challenges that Indigenous researchers face in integrating Indigenous ways of knowing within western
research methodologies?
Sampling and participants

Criterion sampling was used. Criteria included Indigenous individuals who have carried out
research at a doctoral level within the fields of Education and Social Work, representation of participants
© Kovach
who conducted human subject research for their doctoral studies, and representation of participants who
had recent graduate school experience. The participants in the sample included three in-progress Ph.D.
candidates, one participant just prior to defense, and two participants who completed their studies. Four
participants were of Cree ancestry, one was Anishnaabe, and one was Maori. Three participants were in
the field of Education and three were in the field of Social Work. Three were men and three were women.
With this sample, all participants were given the choice to waive confidentiality and all did.
Methodology
The methodology for this study was a mixed qualitative approach that utilized an Indigenous
methodology based upon Plains Cree epistemology for gathering knowledge and interpretation and a non-
Indigenous approach of thematic analysis for organizing data. It incorporated a decolonizing theoretical
lens. A conversational method, congruent with Plains Cree epistemology, was utilized. The conversational
method employed is best described as a dialogic approach to gathering knowledge that is built upon an
Indigenous relational tradition. It utilized open-ended and semi-structured interview questions to prompt
conversation where participant and researcher co-created knowledge. It was the symbiotic relationship
between the Indigenous epistemology, method, and interpretation that qualifies it as an Indigenous
methodology (Kovach, 2009). Congruent with Plains Cree tribal epistemology, relational accountability,
and respect for local protocol, this method involved a small gift and tobacco to show acknowledgement of
the relationship and respect for the insights being offered. This signified a commitment by the researcher
that the research will be used purposefully (Kovach, 2009).
Findings
Findings were presented in two forms. First, the findings were presented as condensed stories
which provided context and voice of the participants. To make meaning, each condensed story was
followed by a reflective narrative by the researcher indicating key teachings received from the
conversations and stories. Secondly, through a qualitative coding process, the findings were thematically
analyzed. Though different processes were employed, the reflective narrative and the thematic grouping
emerged with similar findings. The study found that an Indigenous methodology includes evidence of a
tribal epistemology, integration of a decolonizing aim, acknowledgement of preparations necessary for
research, space for self-location, a clear understanding of purposefulness and motivation of the research,
guardianship of sacred knowledges, adherence to tribal ethics and protocol, use of Indigenous methods
(as conversation and story), and giving back (Kovach, 2006).
(Project Two) A pilot study of support required by non-Indigenous

faculty to integrate and enhance Indigenous knowledges within course
content at the College of Education, University of Saskatchewan
Purpose
Project Two is currently active. Recent provincial curricular reform in Saskatchewan is moving
toward the integration of an Indigenous perspective throughout kindergarten to grade-12 (K-12) and has
recently integrated mandatory Treaty education throughout the K-12 curriculum (Saskatchewan Ministry
of Education, 2009). In part, this move is a means to improve high school completion rates among
Indigenous students, a concern that has been documented in the literature (Kanu, 2005, Wotherspoon,
2006). Research shows that a pedagogical approach toward integrating Indigenous perspectives that is
© Kovach
beneficial to Indigenous students in the K-12 school system requires an anti-racist and decolonizing
knowledge of Indigenous worldviews, community, and cultural norms (St. Denis & Schick, 2005; Weenie,
2008). Given the move toward mandatory integration of Indigenous perspectives, as in Saskatchewan, it
is anticipated that post-secondary teacher education programs will have the responsibility of preparing
teacher candidates to competently integrate Indigenous perspectives into their teaching practice. Through
their instructional choices and actions, teacher educators powerfully influence the extent to which teacher
candidates’ teaching practices uphold Indigenous culture and work to decolonize. Adequately preparing
teacher candidates to confidently integrate Indigenous perspectives in their teaching is dependent upon
the Indigenous academic community and the involvement of the non-Indigenous faculty. This cannot be
done solely by Indigenous post-secondary education faculty nor should this group own the full
responsibility for this task. Without the involvement of non-Indigenous faculty, many of whom teach core
courses in pre-service teacher training programs, movement forward will be stymied.
Research question
This research question asked non-Indigenous faculty within the College of Education, University
of Saskatchewan, the following questions: a) how did they understand Indigenous knowledges and
support of Indigenous knowledges; b) how did they see themselves as being a facilitator and/or support to
Indigenous students and non-Indigenous students who wish to explore Indigenous knowledges in course
work; c) what supports, materials, and resources did they find useful, as faculty, in nourishing Indigenous
knowledges in their classrooms; d) what did they require from Indigenous faculty, non-Indigenous
faculty, and administration; and e) what did they see as personal and systemic challenges to integrating
Indigenous knowledges into course content?
Sampling and participants

Criterion sampling was used. Participants were selected with the goal of seeking a participant
sample from the College of Education, University of Saskatchewan, with representation from faculty who
currently instruct undergraduate and/or graduate courses. Because the study was asking for specific
insight into non-Indigenous faculty experience, this particular group was the focus. Prospective
participants were recruited through a letter of invitation from the researcher, inviting participation in the
research. The letter of invitation was circulated by email to faculty members through a College listserve.
In the research design, the goal was to have four-to-six participants in the study. However, the response
was double and in the spirit of inclusivity, all participants who wished to participate were involved. Eleven
faculty members participated in the study.
Methodology
As with Project One, this research design is based upon a mixed qualitative method approach
including Indigenous methodology (Wilson, 2001), born of place, based on a Plains Cree worldview
(Kovach, 2009) for gathering and interpreting data and grounded theory for data organization. As with
Project One, a conversational method congruent with an Indigenous paradigm was used. This project
incorporated a bi-cultural theoretical perspective for interpreting and making meaning of the participant
stories. This included a decolonizing theoretical lens to analyze the power dynamic inherent in the
research curiosity. In conjunction, an Indigenous relational theoretical approach was used to offer a
relational analysis given that the research curiosity has as a focus on western culture’s relational
intersection with Indigeneity.
© Kovach
Preliminary findings
This project is at the data analysis phase with preliminary findings suggesting several intersecting
relational aspects (self, colleagues, content, students, institution, and community) influencing the
integration and enhancement of Indigenous knowledges into the core curriculum. The goal of this
research is to provide insight on this research question from this group, then to develop recommendations
of how to support non-Indigenous faculty in enhancing and integrating Indigenous knowledges in the
core curriculum in a way that works to decolonize.
Discussion
In reflecting upon the use of the conversational method within an Indigenous methodological
approach for the above research projects, it is helpful to identify several similarities and differences
between the two projects. Identifying the similarities of each is useful in illustrating how a conversational
method used within an Indigenous paradigm can adapt to the beliefs and values of that particular
paradigm. By articulating the differences of the conversational method in two unique contexts, one can
see the flexibility of this method in accommodating the particulars of any given research project.
A consistent similarity in both projects was the rationale of using a conversational method
because it served a belief about knowledge as a “self-in-relation” (Graveline, 2000, p. 361) process. This
included an Indigenous holistic sensibility about what self-in-relation means. Using a conversational
method within a focus group, Lavellee (2009) offered an interpretation of a holistic approach, “In a
research setting, although both the focus group and the sharing circle are concerned with gaining
knowledge through discussion, the principles behind a sharing circle are quite different. Circles are acts of
sharing all aspects of the individual. . .” (p. 29). In preparing for both interviews and inviting participants,
all participants were from a larger Indigenous academic community to which I belonged. I had either met
or had already known the individuals that I interviewed and would continue to have collegial relationships
with the participants engendering a clear sense of “relational accountability” (Wilson, 2008, p. 97).
Dialogue was an effective method to co-create knowledge in the relational context of a conversation.
Engaging in conversation with individuals who knew me and whom I knew created a certain level of trust
and reciprocity within the dialogue. The majority of participants had a sense of me as a researcher,
including my perspective on colonialism and its impact on Indigenous peoples. While there were semi-
structured questions developed to guide and prompt questions, there was flexibility for both the
participants and researcher to participate in the form of a dialogue. It was, as Bessarab (2008) stated, a
form of yarning. In both projects, there was room for the research participants to tell their story on their
own terms (Thomas, 2005). Interspersed as the researcher, I also shared my story. At times, this meant
that the conversation veered away from the prompt questions. In both instances, participants had
opportunities to approve transcripts and remove or revise any information they did not feel comfortable
including in the transcript. Because the methodologies in both projects were grounded in Plains Cree
knowledge, the protocol of gifting was in place to acknowledge the teachings that were shared. It also
signified a relationship of responsibility on part of both the researcher and participants. Other similarities
also existed in both projects. Both groups of participants in the two different projects were part of the
academic community and both groups of participants chose the sites and times for interviews. In each
context, the conversational method, congruent with an Indigenous paradigm, honoured core Indigenous
research values of respect, relevancy, reciprocity, and responsibility.
© Kovach
While the two projects shared similarities, there were a couple of contrasts that are worth
mentioning as they impacted decisions about analysis. For Project One, the research participants were all
Indigenous, whereas, in Project Two, all of the participants were non-Indigenous. While both groups
belonged to the academic community, the participants in Project One were members of the larger
Indigenous academic community with only two out of six participants employed by the same university at
the time of the interview. In Project Two, all of the participants were faculty members of the same College
of Education in one university. In Project One, participants were given the option of waiving
confidentiality, of which all did. In Project Two, confidentiality was maintained. In Project One, the
research participants’ stories were presented in two ways. The first was through providing a condensed
presentation of the participants’ stories followed by reflective analysis by the researcher. This provided for
a more Indigenous contextual presentation of knowledge. Given that the research was inquiring into the
nature of Indigenous knowledge, and given that Indigenous knowledge is “personal and particular”
(Battiste & Henderson, 2000, p. 36), a contextual presentation of findings was appropriate. Secondly, the
knowledge gathered in Project One was thematically grouped. This allowed for a succinct (though non-
contextual) analysis of findings. In Project Two, the knowledge gathered through the conversational
method was solely thematically grouped using grounded theory. A reason for using grounded theory was
to build a theory on infusing Indigenous knowledges into western core academic curriculum. A further
reason for this approach was to aggregate the data as a means of ensuring all identifying information was
removed.
In considering the similarities and differences of each project using the same data gathering
method, I would like to reflect on some insights I gained along the way. This is presented in less of an
academic analysis and more along the lines of “signposts on the research journey,” as it relates to
employing a conversational method congruent with an Indigenous paradigm.
The use of a conversational method within an Indigenous research framework has several
implications for the researcher- in-relation. For the conversational method, the relational factor – that I
knew the participants and they knew me – was significant. In each case, I had known or met the
participants prior to the research. With this method, the researcher must have a certain amount of
credibility and trustworthiness for people to participate in the research. With more trust, there is the
likelihood of deeper conversations and consequently, the potential for richer insights to the research
question. The conversations were dialogic, relational, and reflective. As a result, I found that I had to work
to be an active listener. As an active listener and participant in the research, the process felt less extractive
and one-sided (even with the general rule that research is inevitably an extractive process). Because I was
a co-participant, my own self-knowledge deepened with each conversation. After the conversations, in
reading through the transcripts and post-conversation notes, I was able to identify areas that were of
concern to me which I was not fully cognizant of prior to the research. The conversation itself helped to
deepen my relationships with the research participants who also comprised my collegial community. In all
cases, participants shared stories from their lives resulting in a highly contextualized and powerful source
of knowledge. In receiving the gift of story, I was ever mindful of the responsibility inherent in research
and the reciprocity it entails.
In reflecting upon the conversational method, there is a direct inter-relationship between this
form of method, ethics, and care. With respect to research conducted in an Indigenous community, there
© Kovach
are specific ethical guidelines that include, but are not limited to: a mutually respectful research
relationship; that the research benefit the community; that appropriate permission and informed consent
is sought; that the research is non-exploitive and non-extractive; and that there is respect for community
ethics and protocol. As a means to ensure ethical conduct in research involving Indigenous communities,
there have been several guideline documents developed. Such guidelines include the Canadian Institute of
Health Research (2007) Guideline for Health Research Involving Aboriginal Peoples; the principles of
Ownership, Control, Access, and Possession that are applied to research in Aboriginal communities
(Schnarch, 2004); and the Draft 2nd Edition of the Tri-Council Policy Statement: Ethical Conduct for
Research Involving Humans (Chapter 9) (Interagency Advisory Panel on Research Ethics & Interagency
Secretariat on Research Ethics, 2009). These provisions offer guidelines to ensure respect, reciprocity,
and transparency for all aspects of a research project. Method is one aspect of the research that carries
with it its own ethical considerations.
In reflecting on the conversation as a method, Haig Brown (1995) made this important point:
“Perhaps because it is only rarely that people have the full attention of another adult human being; the
interviews often became very intimate . . . . This sense of intimacy may lead the study participant to take
some risks” (p. 30). In concluding this article, I offer several reflections on the ethics of using a
conversational method in research. Some may apply to some research contexts and not others, but I
believe they are important considerations particularly for research in areas as social work, health, and
education. Preparation for the research is important when using the conversational method. Within
Indigenous methodologies, the preparation may take many forms including western traditional
preparation of research that includes a review of the literature, decisions about design, and so forth.
However, within Indigenous methodologies, preparation also includes interpersonal and relational
preparation (e.g., participation in ceremonies, visiting the community, etc.). In using a conversational
method, that is inherently relational, the preparation is critical to preparing the researcher and
prospective participants. Reciprocity, so integral to Indigenous methodologies, begins at the preparation
phase (not completion) and it is here where there can be discussions of how the research (and researcher)
will give back to the community.
Preparation is particularly important when the research involves sensitive inquiries, such as child
abuse or family violence studies. Individuals may become emotionally triggered. If it is indeed a sensitive
topic, the researcher needs to be aware of the supports in the community and how to support research
participants if the need arises. In both Project One and Project Two, the topic did not elicit strong deep-
seated emotional responses, but this method (particularly if there is a level of trust) has the potential to
evoke strong emotions. In situations where the topic is sensitive, a pre-research discussion could help to
prepare research participants. It is also a good opportunity to review consent forms. If emotions do arise
in the research, the researcher needs to be prepared to respond accordingly. This may mean turning off
the audio-tape, sitting with the participant, and being knowledgeable of support services in the
community to suggest to the participant. Again, depending upon the research context, it is important to be
knowledgeable about professional codes around disclosure of child abuse and neglect and to inform
participants if it might be an issue.
In addition to supporting others, it is important to bear in mind that as the researcher you may be
triggered. Self-care is important, which means taking the time needed between interviews and having
© Kovach
one’s own support system in place. Research with Indigenous peoples is holistic for both researcher and
participant: One respects self and others by being prepared. This was important for me in both Project
One and Project Two. Because each project dealt with colonialism, I often had to have quiet time by
myself between interviews to process the feelings that emerged for me as a result of the discussion. The
conversational method evokes stories, our own and others. As Lynne Davis (2004) stated, “Stories cement
together generations of collective memory, embodying the historical, spiritual, social, and spatial” (p. 3).
Stories have the power to holistically engage. Allowing time to process stories is a way of respecting self
and others. It is respectful and ethical. It was important to have general support systems in place while
conducting research; this is a part of preparation and care.
Prior to concluding this article, I would like to add a brief note about analysis. The conversational
method (whether it is in one-to-one discussions or research circles) has the means to generate highly
contextualized stories. In using a conversational method that is guided by an Indigenous paradigmatic
approach, I struggle in decontextualizing and fragmenting the data. However, in situations where
confidentiality is not waived, it can be difficult to present highly contextual data while maintaining
confidentiality. Further, to thematically group stories works to fragment data. In this process, the
researcher maintains the power in determining the analysis, whereas in presenting a story as data the
research participant’s story is intact and speaks for itself. Within Indigenous methodologies, the
organization of data for purposes of analysis requires ongoing conversation.
In concluding this article, my final thought references back to the inter-relationship between
paradigm and method. If the conversational method is to serve an Indigenous methodology (or
Indigenous research framework), that has at its core an Indigenous paradigm, then the researcher needs
to consistently reflect back upon the inter-relationship between the philosophical values of an Indigenous
paradigm and the method being used. So long as both paradigm and method are front-and-centre (and
congruent), the researcher will be effective in serving the research and the research community, which
includes Indigenous peoples.
© Kovach
References
Absolon, A., & Willett, C. (2004). Aboriginal research: Berry picking and hunting in the 21st century. First Peoples Child &
Family Review, 1(10), 5-17.
Archibald, J. (2008). Indigenous storywork: Educating the heart, mind, body, and spirit. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Atleo, E. R. (2004). Tsawalk: A Nuu-chah-nulth worldview. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Barrett, M., & Stauffer, S. (2009). Narrative inquiry: From story to method. In M. Barrett & S. Stauffer (Eds.), Narrative inquiry
into music (pp. 7-17). Netherlands: Springer.
Battiste, M., & Henderson, J. Y. (2000). Protecting Indigenous knowledge and heritage: A global challenge. Saskatoon, SK: Purich.
Battiste, M., & McConaghy, C. (2005). Thinking places: Indigenous humanities and education. Australian Journal of Indigenous
Education, 34(1), 156-161. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1326011100003914
Bessarab, D. (2008, May). Yarning about different types of yarning in the doing of Indigenous research. Paper presented at the
Fourth International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry, Illinois, USA.
Bishop, R. (1999, June). Collaborative storytelling: Meeting Indigenous people’s desires for self-determination. Paper presented
at the World Indigenous People’s conference, Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA.
Canadian Institutes of Health Research. (2007). CIHR Guidelines for Health Research Involving Aboriginal People. Ottawa, ON:
CIHR Ethics Office.
Castellano, M. B., Davis, L., & Lahache, L. (2000). Aboriginal education: Fulfilling the promise. Vancouver, BC: University of
British Columbia.
Creswell, J. W. (2003). Research design: Qualitative, quantitative and mixed methods approaches. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Davis, L. (2004). Risky stories: Speaking and writing in colonial spaces. Native Studies Review, 15(1), 1-20.
Deloria, V., Jr. (2004). Philosophy and the tribal peoples. In Anne Waters (Ed), American Indian thought: Philosophical essays
(pp. 3-11). Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing
Denzin, N., & Lincoln, S (Eds). (2003). The landscape of qualitative research: Theories and issues. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
Ermine, W. (1995). Aboriginal epistemology. In Battiste (Ed.), First Nations education in Canada: The circle unfolds (pp. 101-
112). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Graveline, F. J. (2000). Circle as methodology: Enacting an Aboriginal paradigm. Qualitative Studies in Education, 13(4), 361-
370. https://doi.org/10.1080/095183900413304
Graveline, F. (1998). Circle works: Transforming Eurocentric consciousness. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing.
Haig-Brown, C. (1995). Power and contradiction in First Nations adult education. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Hart, M. A. (2002). Seeking Mino-Pimatisiwin: An Aboriginal approach to healing. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing.
Henderson, J. Y. (2000). Ayukpachi: Empowering Aboriginal thought. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous voice and
vision ( pp. 248-278). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Interagency Advisory Panel on Research Ethics, & Interagency Secretariat on Research Ethics. (2009). Chapter 9: Research
involving Aboriginal peoples. In Draft 2nd edition of the Tri-Council policy statement: Ethical conduct for research
involving humans. Ottawa, ON: Interagency Secretariat on Research Ethics.
Kahakalau, K. (2004). Indigenous heuristic action research: Bridging western and Indigenous research methodologies. Hulili:
Multidisciplinary research on Hawaiian well-being, 1(1), 19-33.
Kanu, Y. (2005). Teachers’ perceptions of the integration of Aboriginal culture into the highschool curriculum. Alberta Journal
of Educational Research, 51(1), 50-68.
Kirby, S., Greaves, L., & Reid, C. (2006). Experience research social change: Methods beyond the mainstream. Peterborough,
ON: Broadview Press.
Kovach, M. (2005). Emerging from the margins: Indigenous methodologies.In L. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as
resistance: Critical, Indigenous and anti-oppressive approaches (pp. 19-36). Toronto, ON: Canadian Scholars’ Press.
© Kovach
Kovach, M. (2006). Searching for arrowheads: An inquiry into approaches to Indigenous research using a tribal methodology
with a Nêhiýaw Kiskêyihtamowin worldview (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of Victoria, Victoria, BC.
Kovach, M. (2009). Indigenous methodologies: Characteristics, conversations, and contexts. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press.
Lavellee, L. (2009). Practical application of an Indigenous research framework and two qualitative Indigenous research methods:
Sharing circles and Anishnaabe symbol-based reflection. International Institute for Qualitative Methodology,
8(10). https://doi.org/10.1177%2F160940690900800103
Little Bear, L. (2000). Jagged worldviews colliding. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous voice and vision (pp.77-86).
Mertens, D. M. (2005). Research and evaluation in education and psychology: Integrating diversity with quantitative,
qualitative, and mixed methods (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
Meyer, M. A. (2001a). Our own liberation: Reflections on Hawaiian epistemology. The Contemporary Pacific, 13(1): 124-
148. https://doi.org/10.1353/cp.2001.0024
Meyer, M. A. (2001b). Acultural assumptions of empiricism: A Native Hawaiian critique. Canadian Journal of Native
Education, 25(2), 188-198.
Neuman, W. L. (2006). Social research methods: Qualitative and quantitative approaches (6th ed.). Boston, MA: Pearson Education.
Nicoll, F. (2004). “Are you calling me a racist?”: Teaching critical whiteness theory in Indigenous sovereignty. Borderlands, 3(2).
Saskatchewan Ministry of Education. (2009). Inspiring success building towards student achievement. Retrieved
from http://www.education.gov.sk.ca/inspiring-success
Schnarch, B. (2004). Ownership, control, access, and possession (OCAP) or self-determination applied to research: A critical
analysis of contemporary First Nations research and some options for First Nations communities. Journal of Aboriginal
Health, 1(1), 80-94. https://doi.org/10.3138/ijih.v1i1.28934
Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples. London, ON: Zed Books.
St. Denis, V., & Schick, C. (2005). Troubling discourses in anti-racist curricular planning. Canadian Journal of Education, 28(3),
295-317. http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/4126472
Steinhauer, P. (2001). Situating myself in research. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 25(2), 183-187.
Stewart, S. (2009) One Indigenous academic’s evolution: A personal narrative of Native health research and competing ways of
knowing. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 4(1), 57-65.
Strega, S. (2005). The view from the poststructural margins: Epistemology and methodology reconsidered. In L. Brown & S.
Strega (Eds.), Research as resistance: Critical, Indigenous and anti-oppressive approaches (pp. 199-254). Toronto,
On: Canadian Scholars’ Press.
Thomas, R. (2005). Honouring the oral traditions of my ancestors through storytelling. In L. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as
resistance: Critical, Indigenous and anti-oppressive approaches (pp. 237-254). Toronto, ON: Canadian Scholars Press.
Thompson, J. (2008). Hede kehe’hotzi’kahidi’: My journey to a Tahlatan research paradigm. Canadian Journal of Native
Education, 31(1), 24-39.
Weenie, A. (2008). Curricular theorizing from the periphery. Curriculum Inquiry, 38(5), 545-557. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-
873X.2008.00435 x
Wilson, S. (2001). What is Indigenous research methodology?. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 25(2), 175-179.
Wilson, S. (2008). Research is ceremony: Indigenous research methods. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Press.
Wotherspoon, T. (2006). Teachers’ work in Canadian Aboriginal communities. Comparative and Education Review Journal,
50(4), 672-694. https://doi.org/10.1086/507060
© Kovach
2019
The Occasional Evil of Angels: Learning
From the Experiences of Aboriginal Peoples
and Social Work
Cindy Blackstock
Ph.D., Professor, McGill University, School of Social Work, Quebec, Canada
Corresponding author: reception@fncaringsociety.com
Abstract
This paper explores how the propensity of social workers to make a direct and unmitigated
connection between good intentions, rational thought, and good outcomes form a white noise
barrier that substantially interferes with our ability to see negative outcomes resulting directly or
indirectly from our works. The paper begins with outlining the harm experienced by Aboriginal
children before moving to explore how two fundamental philosophies that pervade social service
practice impact Aboriginal children: 1) an assumption of pious motivation and effect and 2) a desire
to improve others. Finally, the paper explores why binding reconciliation and child welfare is a
necessary first step toward developing social work services that better support Aboriginal children and
families.
Keywords: social work, residential schools, child welfare, Jordan’s Principle, Touchstones of Hope
1
The original version of this article was published in: Blackstock, C. (2006). The occasional evil of angels: learning from the
experiences of Aboriginal peoples with social work. World Indigenous Nations Higher Education Consortium Journal. 2. A
version of this article was later published in: Blackstock, C. (2009). The occasional evil of angels: learning from the experiences
of Aboriginal peoples with social work. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 4(1), 22-31.
The occasional evil of angels 138
What’s the Harm?

Herwitz (2003) argued the first step in reconciliation is to understand the harm in a way that
cannot be rationalized or abided. This is a fundamental first step for social work. We must learn from
our professional past in order to avoid replicating past mistakes with Aboriginal peoples and other
groups. Elder Wilma Guss (2004) suggested that those who did the harm do not have the right to
define it or define the solutions to redress it – the definition of harm and the solutions to the harm are
the first property of those who experienced it. The following historical summary of the harms is
provided to contextualize a later discussion of possible factors eroding effective and respectful social
work with Aboriginal peoples.
Aboriginal peoples have lived on the lands now known as Canada for thousands of years (Muckle,
1999). These diverse and complex societies embrace different linguistic, cultural, political, and spiritual
systems which reflected their distinct ecological settings. Despite their diversity, Aboriginal peoples share
a common belief in the interdependence of all living, spiritual, and physical forms; a preference for
communal rights; and high regard for knowledge handed down in a sacred trust from one generation to
another (Auger, 2001). These beliefs influenced all ways of knowing and being, including systems for
caring and educating children and youth (Auger, 2001; Sinclair, Bala, Lilles, & Blackstock, 2004). No
society was ever without its challenges and each community had laws and responses to help children who
were receiving inadequate care. These responses included placement of the child with other community
members, conflict resolution, and redistribution of community resources to ensure parents had what they
needed to care for their children (Blackstock, 2003). Unlike today’s social work practice, placement
outside of the home never resulted in a complete severance of parental responsibilities to the child –
parental roles were simply redefined so that the parent could safely and properly support their child to the
degree they were able (Auger, 2001). To my knowledge, no Aboriginal language in Canada has a word for
child removal or apprehension as we understand it in contemporary child welfare law.
Aboriginal concepts and systems of care sustained generations of Aboriginal children until the
arrival of the British and French on the Eastern shores in the late 1400s and early 1500s. At the time, both
colonial powers were feudal monarchies interested in expanding their respective empires with limited
compromise or respect for the “savages” who lived on the new lands (Royal Commission on Aboriginal
Peoples [RCAP], 1996). Although the earliest of contact was described as mutually beneficial as Europeans
traded survival information and trade access for goods, it soon changed as European motivations shifted to
settlement and resource extraction. Colonial powers initiated efforts to eradicate the Indians 2 through the
intentional introduction of diseases such as smallpox and tuberculosis, removal of Indians from their
traditional lands, imposition of restrictions of Indian movements, reckless harvesting of natural resources
and, upon confederation, the regulation of Indians and lands reserved for Indians by the federal
government’s Indian Act (RCAP, 1996).
Deaths from disease, starvation, and willful murder related to colonization resulted in the
complete eradication of some Indian communities such as the Beothuck of Newfoundland and an overall
80% (approx. 400,000) reduction in the Indian population from the time of contact until 1871 (RCAP,
2
The term “Indian” used in this article is used to describe Aboriginal peoples who are defined as Indian pursuant to the Indian Act.
© Blackstock
1996). This loss of life was most significantly experienced by Aboriginal children who, along with being
the most vulnerable to death by disease, also experienced the profound grief and loss associated with
losing so many members of their family and community.
This harm was compounded by Canada’s introduction of compulsory attendance at residential

schools designed to assimilate Indian children and thereby eliminate what senior government officials
termed “the Indian problem.” 3 These schools, run by Christian churches and funded by the federal
government operated from the time of Confederation until 1996 when the last one closed in Saskatchewan
(Department of Indian and Northern Affairs Canada, 2003). The Indian Act authorized Indian Agents to
remove every Indian child aged 5-15 years from their parent’s care and place them in, often distant,
residential schools. The schools themselves were poorly constructed using the cheapest possible material
and workmanship and thus they were prolific incubators for the spread of tuberculosis and smallpox. In
fact, Duncan Campbell Scott, Superintendent of Indian Affairs for the first three decades of the 20th
century estimated that up to 50% of Indian children died in the schools from disease or maltreatment
(Milloy, 1999). The federal government was advised of the problem by Dr. P. H. Bryce, Indian Affairs
Medical Officer, as early as 1907 but their efforts to rectify it were inadequate and lacked any sustained
effort. In fact, the lack of government action motivated Bryce to publish his findings in magazines and
newspapers hoping that the public would become enraged and force the government into positive action.
Sadly, despite Bryce’s best efforts, the reports were met with silence and had little effect on government
policy and practice (Milloy, 1999). This inaction prompted Queens Council S. H. Blake to note a year later
that “in that the government fails to obviate the preventable causes of death it brings itself in unpleasant
nearness to manslaughter” (Milloy, 1999, p.77).
There was child maltreatment as well. Throughout the history of residential schools, dating back
as early as 1896, Indian Agents and others were advising the federal government of life-threatening
incidents of physical abuse, emotional abuse, neglect, and servitude (RCAP, 1996; Milloy, 1999). Even
after several deaths were reported due to child maltreatment, the federal government and the churches
failed to implement measures necessary to protect Indian children (Milloy, 1999). Residential schools
began closing in the mid-1940s with the last federally run school finally closing its doors in 1996.
There is very little evidence that the voluntary sector, including human rights groups, did
anything significant to disrupt residential schools or the colonial policies of government overall
(Blackstock, 2009). Even though children’s aids societies were operating in Ontario since the early 1900s
(Sealander, 2003) and thus logically must have been aware of Bryce’s frequent public statements about
the preventable deaths of children in the schools – there is no record of children’s aid ever intervening.
Even as reports of abuse and neglect at the schools mounted across the country, I know of no records
suggesting children’s aid organizations took note of the reports or did anything meaningful to intervene. A
joint submission to the Senate and House of Commons in 1946, the Canadian Association of Social
Workers (CASW), and the Canadian Welfare Council (CWC) indicates that social workers were well aware
of the residential schools (Special Joint Committee of the Senate and House of Commons, 1946). The
CASW and CWC joint submission suggested that Aboriginal peoples should be assimilated into Canadian
3
Duncan Campbell Scott, Superintendent of Indian Affairs for the first three decades of the 20th Century.
© Blackstock
society and although shortcomings with the residential schools were noted, the CASW and CWC stated
that “we feel they [residential schools] have a place in a well-rounded system of Indian education,
particularly in so far as they meet special needs” (Special Joint Committee of the Senate and House of
Commons, 1946, p. 158). Even if one argued that the CASW and CWC did not, for some reason, know
about the prolific and preventable deaths from tuberculosis and other factors at the time of their
testimony, it was clearly outlined in other parts of the report where their own evidence is reproduced and
yet there is no evidence that CASW or CWC took up any meaningful campaigns to address the problems.
To be fair, CASW and CWC did successfully advocate with the federal government to ensure child
welfare services were provided to Indian children on reserves 4 but this advocacy was not accompanied by a
persistent campaign to close the residential schools themselves. In fact, social workers were active
participants in the placement of Aboriginal children in the residential schools as late as the 1960s (Caldwell,
1967; RCAP, 1996).
The professional oversight bodies did not effectively monitor the quality of child welfare services
mainstream social workers began providing on reserves. This lack of invigilation, accompanied by a
systemic ignorance of the impacts of colonization often resulted in the mass removals of Aboriginal
children and their placement in non-Aboriginal homes – often permanently (Caldwell, 1967). This pattern
of mass removals became known as the “60’s scoop.” It was not unusual for so many children to be
removed that a bus would be hired by child welfare workers to transport them out of the reserve (Union of
British Columbia Indian Chiefs, 2002).
Upon completing his investigation into the impacts of 60’s scoop practice on Aboriginal
communities in Manitoba, Judge Edwin Kimmelman said these mass removals amounted to “cultural
genocide” (Balfour, 2004). Some provinces and territories responded to Kimmelman’s concerns by setting
temporary moratoriums on the adoptions of Aboriginal children in non-Aboriginal homes but little was
done to redress the poverty, social exclusion, and impacts of colonization that resulted in these children
being removed from their families in the first place.
In the early 1980s, the federal government began to respond to First Nations demands to operate
their own child welfare programs to stem the tide of children leaving the community. These programs,
known as First Nations child and family service agencies, operate pursuant to provincial legislation and
are funded by the federal government (MacDonald & Ladd, 2000). Although the agencies have made
substantial gains in ensuring that services are culturally based and children are given the best chance to
stay in their communities, they express concern regarding inequitable funding, and the imposition of
provincial legislation and standards that have substantially failed Aboriginal children (Blackstock, 2003).
A national policy review conducted in 2000 confirmed First Nations concerns that the current funding
structure from the federal government does not provide sufficient resources for children to stay safely in
their homes – although there is no funding cap on resources for children removed from their homes
(MacDonald & Ladd, 2000). A more recent and detailed analysis found that the funding inequality is in
the order of 109 per annum (Loxley et al., 2005; Auditor General of Canada, 2009). This means that at
home child maltreatment prevention services, which are broadly available to other Canadian children, are
4
Lands set aside by the Crown for the use of Indians pursuant to the Indian Act.
© Blackstock
not provided to First Nations children on-reserve resulting in an astronomical over-representation of

Status Indian 5 children in care (Blackstock, 2009). Child in care data from three provinces indicates that
0.67% of non-Aboriginal children were in child welfare care as of May 2005 as compared to 10.23% of
Status Indian children. Overall, Status Indian children were 15 times more likely to be placed in child
welfare care than non-Aboriginal children (Blackstock, Prakash, Loxley, & Wien, 2005).
As Maclean’s magazine (2004) noted,
the numbers of Status Indians taken into care has jumped by 71.5% between 1995-2001 –
something experts put down to the general level of poverty and relative under funding of
First Nations child welfare agencies – the situation can only fuel racial inequality and
discord. In a verdict shared by adoption advocates across the country, ACC [Adoption
Council of Canada] chair Sandra Scarth calls the overall situation “appalling” (Ferguson,
2004, para. 6).
By 2007, the federal government had done little to redress the drastic funding shortfalls
prompting the Assembly of First Nations and the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada
to file a complaint with the Canadian Human Rights Commission alleging that the federal government’s
conscious underfunding of child welfare amounted to racial discrimination within the meaning of the
Canadian Human Rights Act. The federal government has not actively disputed the central claim that
child welfare funding is inequitable and yet has pursued a plethora of technical objections in an apparent
effort to derail or delay the hearing of this important case on its merits (Blackstock, 2009). Although this
case was broadly covered in the Canadian press and the engagement of social workers is growing, there
has been only modest support from non-Aboriginal social work organizations.
Responding to the Harm: The Search for Social Work

One would think that responding to the needs of First Nations children and families would be a
national priority for social work – the reality is that they still are not. Whilst social work authorities,
academics, and professional bodies acknowledge the over-representation of Aboriginal children, they
typically devote very limited financial resources or sustained effort to redress it. For example, in 2004 a
provincial child welfare authority allocated only 20% of its family support budget to Aboriginal families
despite the fact that Aboriginal children composed over 80% of all children in care (Flette, 2005). Another
province only placed 2.5% of Aboriginal children in care with culturally matched homes despite a
statutory obligation to do so (British Columbia Children’s Commission, 1998). Additionally, although
several non-Aboriginal social work regional and national umbrella organizations will identify Aboriginal
children as an organizational priority, an examination of programs, budgets, and outcomes rarely reflect
any significant and sustained focus that is proportionate to the scope of the problem. From a research
perspective, investment in national Aboriginal child welfare research is modest, representing
approximately $350 thousand in 2004 whereas the cost of keeping Status Indian children on reserve in
care cost the federal government over $300 million. By 2009, the reality was even bleaker with an
approximate investment of $100 thousand nationally whilst the child welfare expenditures for First
Nations children on reserves had grown to well over $400 million due to rising rates of children in care.
5
The term “Status Indian” refers to a person who is registered or is entitled to be registered pursuant to the Indian Act.
© Blackstock
There are, of course, promising exceptions where social workers and social work organizations have
meaningfully worked with First Nations to redress the over-representation of children in care but these
continue to remain the exception. These positive examples need to be recognized and supported – but
they should spur us on to further progressive action and not reinforce a professional slumber.
Despite the indications that social work requires courageous invigilation of its impacts on
Aboriginal families, mainstream social work largely considers itself to have taken the steps necessary to
insulate itself from its egregious actions of the past. We talk about the residential school and 60’s scoop
eras as if they were safely packed away to ensure they do not shape current practice. But is this true? Have
we as social workers really learned from our past mistakes?
The following sections explore how professional notions of improvement, professional piety,
mandates and borders, knowledge, and culturally appropriate services may have contributed to social
work’s largely poor history with Aboriginal peoples in Canada. This list is not exhaustive and is meant to
inspire broad-based conversation to promote professional learning.
Both Sides of Improvement

The notion of improving other people is endemic to social work. It is both a source of moral
nobility and trepidation. It implies an ability to define accurately another’s deficit, to locate its importance
in his/her life and assumes the efficacy of external motivations and sensibilities to change. As
interventions with Aboriginal children by non-Aboriginal helping professionals testify, it is a delicate
balance between freedom and dignity of individuals and societies at one end and cultural arrogance and
oppression on the other.
Research suggests that social workers should avoid drumming up solutions to “Aboriginal issues”
by themselves and instead invest in a relationship where the right of Aboriginal peoples to make the best
decisions affecting them is affirmed and supported. The wisdom of this approach is documented in
research by Chandler and Lalonde (1998) who found that although First Nations children in British
Columbia have one of the highest suicide rates in the world, more than 90% of the suicides occurred in
10% of the First Nations communities. In fact, some First Nations reported a zero percent suicide rate
over the 13 years prior to the study. Chandler and Lalonde (1998) wanted to know what differences
between communities that could account for such wide variation in suicide. Findings indicate that First
Nations communities with a low suicide rate or no suicide rate had substantial community-based decision
making as represented in community-based service such as child welfare, health, education, and fire and
police services. Moreover, women in government and advanced stages of self-government were also
factors. The work of Cornell and Kalt (1992) compliments Chandler and Lalonde’s findings in that they
found that communities with sustained socio-economic development also had highly developed
community decision making authorities. They argued that effective capacity building falls after decision
making has passed to Aboriginal peoples. This finding challenges the assumption that Aboriginal peoples
must build capacity to have decision-making capacity passed to them.
As Chandler and Lalonde (1998) observed, in many cases Aboriginal communities already have
systems in place that prevent youth suicide that are so effective youth suicide rates are substantially lower
than in non-Aboriginal communities. What is needed is to ensure that other Aboriginal communities have
access to the information and resources needed to implement their own solutions.
© Blackstock
This does not mean that non-Aboriginal social service providers get to walk away. As many Elders
have said, “we did not get here alone and we are not leaving alone.” It does mean shifting the philosophy
of our current social work practice away from one of solution holder and service deliverer to one where
Aboriginal peoples make the best decisions for themselves. Non-Aboriginal peoples must play a critical
and active role in making space for those decisions and ensuring adequate resources are available to
implement them.
As the following section argues, it will also require a critical analysis of other factors influencing
the profession such as the assumption of pious motivation and effect.
Understanding the Occasional Evil of Angels

The assumption of piety in social work blinds us from considering the need for anything along the
lines of a Hippocratic Oath. The concept that we can do harm or even do evil rarely appears on the optical
radar screen of professional training, legislation, or practice in anything other than a tangential way
through procedural mechanisms such as codes of ethics. This is particularly true for those of us who work
with children – believing that those who want to do good, trained to do good – could do harm to children
is astonishing and upsets our sensibility of the world. Talking about it even seems too much as it breathes
life into its possibility so often we are silent.
On the rare occasions when there are discussions of harm in social work, and helping professions
more broadly, they are predominated by inaccurate assumptions that incidents of harm will be obvious,
that it is done by others, social workers will act out against it, and when it does occur we will learn from it.
It also wrongly assumes incidents are singular rather than systemic and that codes of ethics, professional
training and standards, and anti-oppressive social work paradigms prevent its insurgence and
persistence.
When evidence surfaces that harm did arise directly from the actions or inactions of social work
or other helping professions we often default to rationalizing the occurrence as exceptional, using one of
these predominant arguments: 1) they acted based on the sensibilities of the day – we know better now; 2)
they did not know about the harm; 3) it was outside of their mandate, and; 4) if the harm is so appalling
that it cannot be rationalized as coming from a place of good intentions, they were immoral or bad
individuals who are exceptions to the group. We have also developed systemic approaches such as the
emphasis on culturally appropriate services that whilst holding great promise for supporting Aboriginal
families – have also been misused as a means of limiting critical systemic analysis and professional action.
This section deconstructs these rationalizations to try to understand why social workers, and others, have
demonstrated very limited, if any, sustained activism against the multiple harms experienced by
Aboriginal children.
Sensibilities of the day

Some rationalize the lack of social work efforts to stop residential schools by noting that child
abuse just recently surfaced on the societal radar screen as a problem deserving attention. The argument
goes that “we had different standards back then – no one talked about child abuse” and thus it went
unnoticed. But as John Milloy (1999) noted, the reports of child abuse at residential schools were made by
people of the period who, given the sensibilities of those times, found the treatment of these children
© Blackstock
unacceptable. And yet, despite having received the reports, government officials typically did little to stop
the abuse, and in some cases deaths of children.
Today we have a significant evidence base to suggest that Aboriginal children and young people
face pervasive risk in a way not experienced by other Canadians and yet our professional response has
been lukewarm (Blackstock, Clarke, Cullen, D’Hondt, & Formsma, 2004; Blackstock, 2009). We are now
the people of the period who should find such disproportionate risk unacceptable – but our professional
actions are not, in my view, in keeping with the crisis before us. It is as if we have edged our collective
tolerance for the risks experienced by Aboriginal children upwards to a degree where it is difficult to
imagine what threshold needs to be reached for the profession to take action in a meaningful way.
We did not know

Another way to rationalize the mediocre response of social work to residential schools is to argue
that information on the deaths and abuses were, not until recently, widely known. As John Milloy (1999)
noted, this argument is weak as there was significant information on the abuse and deaths of children in
residential schools and this information was available to governments, academics, and the public media.
The availability of this information failed to inspire progressive action to redress the abuse and murders at
residential schools.
The Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) (RCAP, 1996) found that social workers
knew about residential schools and routinely served on admissions committees adjudicating child welfare
placements in residential schools. In addition to serving on placement committees, social workers actually
placed substantial numbers of Aboriginal children in the residential schools. As RCAP noted, “residential
schools were an available and apparently popular option within the broader child care system” (RCAP,
1996, Chapter 10, p.21). According to Caldwell (1967), child welfare placements accounted for over 80% of
the admissions in six residential schools in Saskatchewan. Caldwell’s reports outline a number of
shortcomings in the residential school program but even he, a social worker by training, does not
recommend the closure of these schools. Caldwell did, however, go further than most other social workers
of his time by at least recommending improvements to the residential school system.
The temptation to believe “if we had only known – we would have acted differently” may provide
some false comfort but in the case of social work – it did know and acted as it acted – largely in complicit
support of the residential school system.
The application of the “if we only knew we could act differently” has very little merit in today’s
context as well. Even with the multiple sources of information documenting the relationship between
structural risks such as poverty, substance misuse, poor housing, and child maltreatment (Trocmé,
Knoke, & Blackstock, 2004; Auditor General of Canada, 2009; Blackstock, 2009) active efforts by social
workers and others to prioritize, protest, and redress the harms experienced by Aboriginal children
continue to be inadequate and piecemeal.
We continue to confine our assessments of child risk to the family which fetters our ability to
identify risk factors that impact the child, but are sourced outside the sphere of influence of their parents
and we have done little to address the longstanding inequitable child welfare funding provided to First
Nations children on reserves (Blackstock, 2009; Office of the Auditor General of Canada, 2009). In
missing these structural risks, we set a situation in play where Aboriginal parents are held responsible for
© Blackstock
things outside their control and we deprive Aboriginal families of the same access to services as other
Canadians to redress risk to children.
We are needed
So, if information on its own is not enough to mobilize social workers, is it possible that by
entrenching in the idea that social workers are positive agents for social wellbeing, we have
unintentionally built a barrier that rebuffs or rationalizes information suggesting we are perpetrating
harm? Take for example the assumption that social work is in the best position to respond to child
maltreatment and neglect in Aboriginal communities. Increasing evidence suggests that Aboriginal
communities, when provided with adequate supports, develop the most sustainable socio-economic
improvements for children and yet as a profession, we continue to believe, almost at the exclusion of other
options, that we are the best response. This should be a touchstone question for our profession but it is
rarely asked, instead, we are busy developing programs and services to offer abused and neglected
children and families instead of providing communities and families with the resources to implement
their own best solutions (Blackstock & Trocmé, 2005).
Mandates and borders

Another way of rationalizing the harm is to say it was outside of the mandate of the various
helping professions or organizations to intervene. Take the case of Jordan River Anderson, a First Nations
boy from Norway House Cree Nation who was born with complex medical needs in 1999. His family
placed him in child welfare care – not because he was abused or neglected but because that was the only
way the provincial and federal governments would provide the money needed for Jordan’s special needs
(Lavallee, 2005). In a policy that baffles common sense, the federal government will not provide adequate
supports for special needs children on-reserve – unless they are in child welfare care. Shortly after
Jordan’s second birthday, doctors agreed to allow him to return home, however, as Noni MacDonald and
Amir Attaran (2007) of the Canadian Medical Association Journal noted, “bureaucrats ruined it.” Jordan
was a First Nations boy whose family lived on-reserve and unfortunately, provincial and federal
governments do not agree on which level of government is responsible for payment of services for
children on-reserve. The standard practice by both levels of government has been to defer or deny First
Nations children government services that are routinely available to other Canadian children until the
dispute can be resolved, with little consideration of the child’s safety or wellbeing. For Jordan, provincial
and federal bureaucrats argued over every item related to his at home care while he stayed in the hospital
at about twice the cost (Lavallee, 2005). Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and Jordan
saw the seasons change outside of his hospital window. All the while, bureaucrats would be meeting
somewhere, likely feeling good about doing “something about Jordan’s situation” while privileging their
respective government’s desire to not pick up the tab. It seems that they became ethically blind to
Jordan’s fate, and sadly Jordan died waiting at five years of age having never spent a day in a family
home.
This sad example shows just how easy it is for something as insignificant as a mandate to
overshadow the precious life of a young boy. This astounding story is not unique. A recent study found
that in 12 sample First Nations agencies there were 393 jurisdictional disputes in the past year alone
between governments around children’s services (Blackstock et al., 2005). Government’s put their needs
ahead of children’s needs far too often. Jordan’s passing prompted the development of Jordan’s Principle
© Blackstock
which is a child first principle to resolving government jurisdictional disputes. Although it is supported by
over 1,900 individuals and organizations, including growing numbers of social work organizations and
governments, the reality is that as of December 2009, no provincial, territorial, or federal government in
Canada has fully implemented it and I continue to receive reports of First Nations children who are being
denied lifesaving and wellness government services available to other children because of jurisdictional
wrangling.
I have often wondered what the provincial and federal officials involved were thinking when they
allowed Jordan to languish in the hospital. I have decided to believe that they were not evil people and yet
their collective actions had devastating consequences for Jordan. I have no good answers as every
rationale I come up with that would help me understand what the bureaucrats were thinking seems so
very small in the face of Jordan’s needs.
Mandates are both a necessary act of pragmatism and a cop out. They are pragmatic because no
profession or institution can manage it all and a cop out because it should not support inaction in the face
of gross and demonstrated immorality. Perhaps part of the reason that good people can do such immoral
things in the name of mandates is explained by the work of Zygmunt Bauman (1989) who argues that too
often our personal morality is usurped by our need to comply with what is deemed morally good by
institutions we affiliate with or work with. He argues that there is a reason why whistleblowers are the
exception – because they accomplish what is too rare – to break through the institutional moral code
calling for company or professional loyalty to act on the basis of their moral conscience. In social work, we
talk about social change but not as honestly about how our bureaucracies often prefer conformity versus
courageous conversation and innovation in child welfare (Blackstock, 2009). Social change is what we do
externally – but not as often internally.
The power of mandates and borders can also be more subtlety shaped by interfaces between our
national, professional, and personal ideology and assumptions which locate harm outside of what has
already been deemed to be good. This partially explains why Canada, considered a bastion of human
rights, was able to sign the Universal Declaration on Human Rights in the same year it operated
residential schools, did not recognize Indians as people under the law, and invited South African
apartheid delegates to learn about its Indian pass system without any public protest by human rights
organizations or institutions. It also partially explains why the British Columbia government was able to
run a referendum on Aboriginal treaty rights in 2002 while refusing to educate the public on the treaty
process. This, the first referendum on minority rights, was held with only moderate intervention by
human rights groups and only modest disapproval of the federal government. As this example illustrates,
too often, nongovernment organizations (NGOs) and human rights organizations do not think to look
within Canada for human rights transgressions; instead, they focused abroad. As Aziz Choudry explained
“many social justice campaigns, NGOs and activists in these countries operate from a state of colonial
denial and refuse to make links between human rights abuses overseas, economic injustice and the
colonization of the lands and peoples where they live” (Choudry, 2001, para. 5).
It is easier to believe some other society is perpetrating human rights abuses than to believe that
your own country and society is – because that frames the accountability on a more personal level to do
something or own the responsibility of remaining silent and still. There are few things more courageous
than to stand up to people or a government that you respect and care for – especially for interest outside
of oneself. P. H. Bryce did it and should be celebrated as one of the great Canadian heroes.
© Blackstock
Evil: A domain of the well intentioned?

Another rationalization hinges on the propensity to believe that if we as social workers are well
intended our actions, regardless of consequences, are substantially absolved from moral responsibility. As
Zygmunt Bauman (1989) noted, the idea that evil is obvious and is the league of crazy individuals serves
to absolve us all of being evil and affords false security that we will know it when we see it. As a child
protection worker, I have seen evil in its many faces and it has rarely been obvious or predictable. It is
more often grey than black and white. It can be multi-dimensional, rationalized, and normative and
carried out by many instead of one. It often has benefits for someone and the benefits can seductively
legitimize the costs experienced by another. As John Milloy (1999) noted, the motivations of staff at the
Department of Indian Affairs and those of the churches were not always evil in the way they understood
them to be – they used words like “civilizing,” “integrating,” and “educating” to describe what they were
doing. RCAP echoes Milloy’s findings, having noted that,
politician, civil servant and, perhaps most critically, priest and parson felt that in
developing the residential school system they were responding not only to a
constitutional but to a Christian “obligation to our Indian Brethren” that could be
discharged only “through the medium of children” and therefore “education must be
given its foremost place” (RCAP, Chapter 10, p. 3).
This created a moral cushion that blinded them to the end result of their actions which some of their
contemporaries such as P. H. Bryce and S. H. Blake found repugnant if not criminal.
This moral cushion was strengthened by limited acts that workers would carry out to redress the
harm. These acts were often perfunctory and unmonitored but it served to liberate them from the moral
responsibility to do something. For example, upon hearing reports of child deaths and maltreatment,
staffers would often issue edicts saying it was not to happen again but nothing was done to ensure these
edicts were followed up – even in the face of substantial evidence that the abuse was continuing.
These cushions have served to comfort thousands of Canadians, including those active in human
rights, the voluntary sector, and academia that either contributed to the harm or stood silently in its wake.
Some lived proximal to the residential schools, some read P. H. Bryce’s article in Saturday Night
Magazine, others saw the graveyards on residential school grounds or the buses collecting children from
reserves to be placed in foster homes and yet, except for some courageous instances, there was silence.
Evil happens in degrees – there are those who beat children to death, those who issued edicts
without following up, and those who lived next door and said nothing (Neiman, 2002). Are they all
accountable? If so – how, and why? To what standard of courage and compassion should we hold social
workers – are we willing to support them when they identify acts that upset our sensibilities or are we as a
society willing to tolerate their silence in the face of atrocities. These are difficult questions that have
remained underground in social work and need to be unearthed if we are to deconstruct our past reality in
a way that makes obvious the thinking that fuels colonization.
Culturally Appropriate Services: A Step Forward?

In the absence of recognition of Aboriginal child welfare laws, a subsidiary movement has been
underway to deliver “culturally appropriate” services. This sounds good – it feels like we are moving in the
© Blackstock
right direction as a profession but the problem is that very few of us really understand what being
culturally appropriate means. This is due in part to the fact that few services are analyzed for their cultural
value underpinning in order to determine what program elements are culturally predicated and on what
culture. Too often services are proclaimed culturally neutral, often by those for whose cultures are
embodied in the service, in the absence of any thorough analysis or search for perspective from other
cultural groups. In the absence of this analysis, social workers can wrongly assume that nothing needs to
be changed in the fundamental elements of the service – it just needs to be made “culturally appropriate”
by adding in Aboriginal symbols or ceremonies. I am open to debate on this issue but in my own
experience I have yet to see a Euro-Western program of any stature deconstructed from a value
perspective by Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples and then reconstructed on an Aboriginal value
base.
What we do know is that this movement toward culturally appropriate services has gained
increasing authority as governments amended their internal operational guidelines as well as contract
service guidelines to require child welfare service providers to ensure Aboriginal children receive
culturally appropriate services. As a result, large numbers of organizations began redefining their services
as culturally appropriate. However, as there was an absence of guidelines and monitoring bodies for
culturally appropriate services, what began as an earnest attempt to better support Aboriginal children
has largely degenerated to a movement that gains culturally ascribed organizations social capital and
funder recognition without having to critically evaluate the cultural efficacy and relevance of their
programs. I argue that the focus on culturally appropriate services takes attention away from the real need
to affirm Aboriginal ways of knowing and caring for children. After all, the basic assumption underlying
culturally appropriate services is that one can adapt a mainstream model for application to Aboriginal
children – without compromising the basic integrity of the service – including the values and beliefs that
drive it. As Aboriginal values and beliefs respecting children are very divergent from Euro-Western
understanding marrying the two into a coherent and effective program for Aboriginal children would be
difficult. This difficulty has been well recorded by Aboriginal child welfare agencies who describe the
problems inherent in delivering child welfare services to Aboriginal children within the realm of Euro-
Western legislation. Until there are effective evaluation and monitoring mechanisms developed to
measure the efficacy of culturally appropriate services we need to be vigilant about the usage of such
terms and any conclusions we may draw between said services and the wellbeing of Aboriginal children.
Reconciliation and Social Work

After the Prime Minister’s apology for the wrongs done by the Government of Canada during the
residential school era, reconciliation between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Canadians sounds like just
the thing social work should be involved in – and it should. But not before it courageously engages in
reconciliation itself. This means that social work must look in the professional mirror to see its history
from multiple perspectives, including that of those who experienced the harm. We must look beyond our
need to not feel blamed so we can learn and change our behavior. It sounds trivial to write about the
power of blame and shame among social workers but I have seen its power. I have seen many bright and
compassionate non-Aboriginal social workers raise walls of rationalization and distance to insulate
themselves from it. As the doers of good, we have not been trained to stand in the shadow of our harmful
actions so we ignore or minimize them. It is a privilege to put up those walls – to be able to insulate
© Blackstock
yourself from what happened. When Aboriginal people put up the wall they are left alone to deal with the
harm. When social workers put up the wall they can pretend the pain does not exist at all and go about
doing their daily business. The problem is that putting up the walls does not change the reality –
Aboriginal peoples lost in colonization and social work did too.
Social work misplaced its moral compass and in doing so perpetrated preventable harms to
Aboriginal children. It denied itself the opportunity to learn from Aboriginal cultures and make a
meaningful contribution to the safety and wellbeing of Aboriginal children. As social workers, we must
understand that our failure to engage in an internal process of reconciliation has immobilized our
strength and efficacy.
It is not enough to issue a statement on Aboriginal peoples from time to time or tinker with
services if what social workers really want is justice, respect, and equality for Aboriginal children and
young people. We must courageously redefine the profession using reconciliation processes and then
move outwards to expand the movement into society. In 2005, over 200 Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal
experts in child welfare came together to develop a process for reconciliation in child welfare and five
principles to guide the process known as Reconciliation in Child Welfare: Touchstones of Hope for
Indigenous children, youth and families (Blackstock et. al., 2006). The reconciliation process is described
as having four phases: truth-telling, acknowledging, restoring, and relating and having five principles to
guide the process: self-determination, holistic approach, structural interventions, culture and language,
and non-discrimination. The touchstone principles are constitutional in nature in that they are intended
to be interpreted by both Aboriginal peoples and social workers within the context of the unique culture
and context of different Aboriginal groups. To be effective, entire systems of child welfare need to engage
in the process and embed the principles in all aspects of the work. To date, a number of First Nations and
provincial/state child welfare authorities in the USA and Canada have begun implementing the
Touchstones of Hope framework but social work more broadly has done little to embed the process in its
own work.
Conclusion
So although there has been some marginal progress, the lived experience of Aboriginal children
and youth in Canada continues to be predominated by social exclusion, discrimination, and oppression.
The significant body of evidence regarding the disproportionate risk faced by Aboriginal children has been
inadequate to motivate the actions needed to move them out of the categories of marginalized, at risk, and
vulnerable. Nor has it promoted substantial internal reflection within social work or other helping
professions on what our role has been in perpetrating the harm and our concordant responsibility to
understand and reconcile the harm. There is a need to affirm and support traditional ways of helping that
have sustained Aboriginal communities for generations.
I look forward to a time when talking about justice for Aboriginal people is no longer an unusual
or courageous conversation but is instead one that is encouraged and recognized by all Canadians as being
important and necessary to affirm our national values of freedom, democracy, justice, and equality. A
time when the conversation of reconciliation is just as likely to be initiated by non-Aboriginal people as by
Aboriginal people themselves. It is only when we, as Canadians, share what Michael Walzer (1983)
described as “collective consciousness.” In creating common understanding of culture, history, and
© Blackstock
language, through conversation and political action, a veracious challenge to inconsistencies in our
professional social work values and concepts of justice becomes possible ensuring that democracy,
freedom, and equality become the real experience of every Canadian – not just a privileged few standing
on one side of a one way mirror of justice (Blackstock, 2003).
To get there we must collectively make loud the legislation, values, regulations, systems, and
actions that perpetuate colonization and its concordant impacts on Aboriginal children and their families,
including those harmful and colonial philosophies and practices that are embedded in social work itself. It
means understanding the harm from those who experienced it, it means setting aside the instinct to
rationalize it or to turn away from it because it is too difficult to hear – or we feel blamed. It means having
conversations about some of the basic values and beliefs that shape our concepts of what social work is. It
means working with, versus working for, Aboriginal peoples. It means understanding that good intentions
and conviction are not enough. It is about what we do in our actions that is most important. It is about
embedding the reconciliation process set out in the Touchstones of Hope document throughout the social
work profession.
Most of all it means not standing still – or moving just a little – it means social work takes the
long journey of reconciliation. And as we walk and grow tired of the journey let the images of children like
Jordan River Anderson flash across our consciousness and urge us firmly forward.
© Blackstock
References
Auger, D. (2001). The Northern Ojibwe and their family law (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved from York University Library
Catalogue. (KF 8210 D6 A84 2001 OSG).
Balfour, M. (2004). A brief history of Aboriginal child removal in Canada. Retrieved
from http://www.allmyrelations.ca/north/time/time html
Bauman, Z. (1989). Modernity and the Holocaust. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.
Blackstock, C. (2003). Restoring peace and harmony in First Nations communities. In K. Kufeldt & B. McKenzie (Eds.), Child
welfare: Connecting research, policy and practice. Waterloo, ON: Wilfred University Press.
Blackstock, C. (2009). Reconciliation means not saying sorry twice: Lessons from child welfare. In M. B. Castellano, L.
Archibald, & M. DeGagné (Eds.), From truth to reconciliation: Transforming the legacy of residential schools.
Ottawa, ON: The Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
Blackstock, C., Clarke, S., Cullen, J., D’Hondt, J., & Formsma, J. (2004). Keeping the promise: The Convention on the Rights of
the Child and the lived experience of First Nations children and youth. Ottawa, ON: First Nations Child and Family
Caring Society of Canada.
Blackstock, C., & Trocmé, N. (2005). Community based child welfare for Aboriginal children: Supporting resilience through
structural change. In M. Unger (Ed.), Handbook for working with children and youth: Pathways to resilience across
cultures and contexts. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publishing.
Blackstock, C., Cross, T., Brown, I., George, J., & Formsma, J. (2006). Reconciliation in child welfare: Touchstones of hope for
Indigenous children youth and families. Ottawa, ON: First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada.
British Columbia Children’s Commission. (1998). Annual report of the Children’s Commission 1996/1997. Victoria, BC: Author.
Caldwell, G. (1967). Indian residential schools: A research study of the child care programs of nine residential schools in
Saskatchewan. Ottawa, ON: Canadian Welfare Council.
Chandler, M., & Lalonde, C. (1998). Cultural continuity as a hedge against suicide in Canada’s First Nations. Transcultural
Choudry, A. (2002). Bringing it all back home: Anti-globalization activism cannot ignore colonial realities. Retrieved
from http://www.coloursofresistance.org/424/bringing-it-all-back-home-anti-globalisation-activism-cannot-ignore-
colonial-realities/
Cornell, S., & Kalt, J. P. (1992). Reloading the dice: Improving the chances for economic development on American Indian
reservations. In S. Cornell & J. P. Kalt (Eds.), What can tribes do? Strategies and institutions in American Indian
economic development (pp. 1-59). Los Angeles, CA: American Indian Studies Center.
Department of Indian and Northern Affairs Canada. (2003). Backgrounder: The residential school system. Ottawa, ON: Indian
and Northern Affairs Canada.
Ferguson, S. (2004, July 26). Hard sell adoption. In Macleans (pp. 18-20). Toronto: Rogers Media Inc.
Flette, E. (2005). Personal communication with Elsie Flette, Chief Executive Officer of the Southern First Nations Authority of Manitoba.
Guss, W. (2004). Personal communication with Elder Wilma Guss.
Herwitz, D. (2003). Race and reconciliation. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.
Lavallee, T. (2005). Honouring Jordan: Putting First Nations children first and funding fights second. Paediatrics & Child
Health, 10(9), 527-529. https://doi.org/10.1093/pch/10.9.527
Loxley, J., De Riviere, L., Prakash, T., Blackstock, C., Wien, F., & Thomas Prokop, S. (2005). Wen: de: The journey continues.
Ottawa, ON: First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada.
© Blackstock
MacDonald, R. -A. J., & Ladd, P. (2000). First Nations child and family services joint national policy review: Final report, June
2000. Ottawa, ON: Assembly of First Nations
Milloy, J. (1999). A national crime: The Canadian government and the residential school system, 1879-1986. Winnipeg, MB:
University of Manitoba Press.
Muckle, R. (1998). The First Nations of British Columbia: An anthropological overview. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Neiman, S. (2002). Evil in modern thought. Woodstock, GA: Princeton University Press.
Office of the Auditor General of Canada. (2008). Chapter 4: First Nations Child and Family Services Program: Indian and
Northern Affairs Canada. In 2008 May Report of the Auditor General of Canada. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP). (1996). Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Ottawa, ON:
Canada Communication Group.
Sealander, J. (2003). The failed century of the child: Governing Americas young in the twentieth century. Cambridge, CAM:
Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511511608
Sinclair, M., Bala, N., Lilles, H., & Blackstock, C. (2004). Aboriginal child welfare. In N. Bala, M. K. Zapf, R. J. Williams, R. Vogl, &
J. P. Hornick (Eds.), Canadian child welfare law (2nd ed.). Toronto, ON: Thompson Educational Publishing Inc.
Trocmé, N., Knoke, D., & Blackstock, C. (2004). Pathways to the overrepresentation of Aboriginal children in Canada’s child
Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs. (2002). Calling forth our future: Options for the exercise of Indigenous peoples
authority in child welfare. Vancouver, BC: Author.
Walzer, M. (1983). Spheres of justice: A defence of pluralism and equality. New York City, NY: Basic Books.
© Blackstock
2019
Contemporary Practice of Traditional
Aboriginal Child Rearing: A Review
a b
Nicole Muir and Yvonne Bohr
a
MA, Graduate Student, Simon Fraser University, Department of Psychology, British Columbia, Canada
b
Ph.D., Associate Professor, York University, Faculty of Health, Ontario, Canada
Corresponding author: nicole muir@sfu.ca
Abstract
There is a dearth of literature available on traditional Aboriginal child rearing. This review paper
explores Aboriginal child rearing to determine if traditional practices are still in use, how these may
differ from mainstream child rearing and may have been modified by mainstream influences and
colonialism. Traditional Aboriginal parenting is discussed in the context of colonialism and historic
trauma, with a focus on child autonomy, extended family, fatherhood, attachment, developmental
milestones, discipline, language, and ceremony and spirituality. This review was completed using the
ancestral method, i.e., using the reference list of articles to find other relevant articles and more
structured literature searches. In light of the high number of Aboriginal children in foster care, this
research may serve to highlight the role that historical issues and misinterpretation of traditional
child rearing practices play in the apprehension of Aboriginal children. It may also assist non-
Aboriginal professionals when working with Aboriginal children and their families.
Keywords: Aboriginal, child rearing, residential schools, parenting
1
The original version of this article was published in: Muir, N. M., & Bohr, Y. (2014). Contemporary practice of traditional
Aboriginal child rearing: A review. First People Child & Family Review, 9(1), 66-79.
Contemporary practice of traditional Aboriginal child rearing: A review 154
Introduction
The quality of parenting has a significant effect on the physical and emotional health of children
throughout their development. When inadequate parenting results in unhealthy family relationships, and
deteriorates to the point where it is neglectful or abusive, children in Canada are generally placed into the
care of child welfare agencies. The National Household Survey (NHS) of Aboriginal Peoples in Canada
found that, in 2011, while Aboriginal people represented 4.3% of the total population of Canada, almost
half (48.1%) of the 30,000 children in foster care in Canada were Aboriginal (Statistics Canada, 2011). In
2011, 3.6% of Aboriginal children were in foster care in contrast to 0.3% of non-Aboriginal children.
Trocme, Knoke, and Blackstock (2004) noted that Aboriginal families are led by significantly younger
parents who have experienced more maltreatment when they themselves were children. These parents’
histories of abuse, especially the abuses experienced in residential schools, may have negatively affected
their capacity to parent and are likely responsible for overrepresentation of Aboriginal children in the
foster care system in Canada (Trocme, Knoke, & Blackstock, 2004). Historical trauma and, possibly,
significant misinterpretations of traditional Aboriginal ways of parenting may play a role in these
apprehensions.
Cheah and Chirkov (2008) noted that there is little research on Aboriginal parenting and
Aboriginal child development. Much of the scant past research on Aboriginal families has focused on the
“deficient,” non- mainstream parenting which was practiced by Aboriginal parents (Red Horse, 1997),
while espousing a kind of pan-Aboriginalism or over-generalizations about Aboriginal people. Loppie
(2007) stated that there is no universal Aboriginal paradigm, but does concede that despite geographical,
language, and social structure differences, there are shared values that are philosophically different from
Euro-North American cultural norms. Thus, while researchers must be careful in making generalizations
about Aboriginal child rearing, they should also understand cultural literacy pertaining to Aboriginal
practices is essential for professionals who work with Aboriginal families.
Colonialism, historical and intergenerational trauma as inflicted by the residential school system,
has doubtlessly affected traditional child rearing techniques. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission
Interim report (2012), noted that residential school survivors specifically asked for support to both regain
and teach traditional parenting values and practices as a means of improving their parenting skills. Thus,
it would be useful to look at how colonialism has affected Aboriginal parenting and to examine any
available scholarly information relating to Aboriginal ways of parenting in order to better understand, and
potentially remedy, the significant overrepresentation of Aboriginal children in foster care. In this paper,
historical factors are examined to provide a background to contemporary Aboriginal child rearing and to
highlight how traditional practices may have been altered. Child autonomy, extended family, and
Aboriginal fatherhood in particular characterize the parenting of Aboriginal children. In addition, distinct
ways of addressing attachment, developmental milestones, discipline, language, and finally spirituality
and ceremony will be discussed, as these are facets of Aboriginal parenting that may have been or
continue to be misinterpreted by mainstream professionals.
© Muir & Bohr

Method
The literature on Aboriginal ways of parenting is relatively scant, but what little exists covers a
broad range of Aboriginal cultures, most notably: Australian communities, the Sami,2 and many nations
from the United States and Canada. The existing research is grounded in diverse disciplines including
sociology, nursing, anthropology, social work, psychology, and occupational therapy. The current
literature review was done using both key word searches (e.g., Aboriginal, child rearing) in many different
scholarly areas and using the ancestral method, i.e., using the reference list of articles to find other
relevant articles and more structured literature searches. The reviewed articles span 19 years from 1993 to
2012.
Historical Factors
Colonialism and its impact on parenting
Aboriginal cultures around the world share a history of colonialism which has likely had a
significant effect on parenting practices. In Canada, colonialism, through an insidious assimilation
process, has gradually pared away the identity of Aboriginal children and youth who subsequently became
parents themselves (Simard & Blight, 2011). Colonialism regarding the Inuit in Canada, for example,
caused profound changes in the former’s lives due to language suppression, residential school enrolment,
and loss of self-determinism (McShane, Hastings, Smylie, Prince & The Tungasuvvingat Inuit Resource
Centre, 2009).
Critical examination of the effects of colonialism on current Aboriginal child rearing practices is
important, as colonialism has brought with it dysfunctional behaviors, beliefs, and values (Dorion, 2010).
Dysfunctional values have come to be part of modern child rearing in many Aboriginal communities both
on- and off-reserve (Dorion, 2010). For example, colonialism may have caused traumatic bonding and/or
the inability to express love (Chansonneuve, 2005). Colonialism, residential schools, racism, and poverty
have marked family relationships in a multitude of destructive ways that are only beginning to be
understood (Neckoway, Brownlee, & Castellan, 2007). Thus normative, unidimensional ways of assessing
the quality of parenting may be quite inadequate in these contexts, and may need to be replaced by a more
multi-dimensional and ecologically-oriented approach.
Intergenerational transmission of trauma

The social-historical context created by colonialism includes both acute and chronic stressors,
resulting in symptoms related to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (Evans-Campbell, 2008). However
Evans-Campbell contended that Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder classification is of limited use to
Aboriginal people because it does not address intergenerational trauma, the compounding effect of
multiple stressors, only focuses on the individual (and not the family), and its definition does not
incorporate the ways historical and present-day traumas interact or are interpreted. Historical trauma is
collective, compounding, and although the abuses of colonialism were perpetrated over many years and
generations, these abuses still continue to impact individuals, families, mental health, and cultural
identity (Evans-Campbell, 2008).
2
The Sami are internationally recognized as an Indigenous peoples residing in present-day Norway.
© Muir & Bohr

Aboriginal children have inherited the significant traumas that their ancestors were forced to
endure. These traumas were caused by government policies purposefully designed to disrupt cultural
practices and family relationships (Sarche & Whitesell, 2012). Brave Heart (1999) has written extensively
on historical trauma in the Lakota people in the United States and noted that the impairment of
traditional parenting styles was one of the intergenerational effects of this trauma. Wesley-Esquimaux
and Smolewski (2004) wrote that historical trauma caused symptoms such as domestic violence because
historical trauma corrupts adaptive social and cultural patterns. The maladaptive behaviours, in turn, may
be passed on to the next generation as socially learned patterns of conduct which children internalize. It is
important for researchers in the areas of child development and parenting to understand these historical
effects of trauma, which may directly affect risk for both psychopathology and negative health outcomes
(Galliher, Tsethlikai, & Stolle, 2012), and, by extension, parenting.
Residential schools
One of the most devastating components of colonialism, and one that caused extensive trauma,
was the residential school system. In the late 19th century in Canada, the government instituted Sections
113 to 122 of the Indian Act, which legally took away the rights of Aboriginal parents to their children and
instead gave the government control (Chansonneuve, 2005). Taking Aboriginal children away from their
families and enrolling them into residential schools was encouraged by the government whose stated
purpose was to assimilate Aboriginal children (Lafrance & Collins, 2003). Approximately 130 residential
schools were run jointly by Christian churches and the federal government from 1892 to 1996, and 30% of
Canadian Aboriginal children spent the majority of their childhoods in those institutions during that
period (Chansonneuve,2005). As just one example of the suffering these children experienced, Fournier
and Crey (1997) reported that deaths in Residential schools in the early 1900s ranged from 11% (Alberni
School, British Columbia) to 69% (File Hills in Saskatchewan) mostly due to tuberculosis. One-third of
Aboriginal children lost the experience of traditional family life, many attained adulthood not having had
any model of parenting (Lafrance & Collins, 2003), and many experienced much trauma.
Boarding schools (as residential schools were called in the United States) separated children from
their community’s social structures (Fitzgerald & Farrell, 2012) including family. Within the Lakota
nation, children who were sent to boarding schools only learned punitive discipline as a means to parent,
and were thus put at risk of becoming a generation of uninvolved, non-nurturing parents (Brave Heart,
1999). They learnt how to parent primarily in the way that they themselves were parented (Lafrance &
Collins, 2003). The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2012) reported that clearly, the
greatest impact of the residential schools was the breakdown of family relationships because these
children were denied parenting knowledge and skill transmission. Lisa, an Aboriginal parent in Canada,
who confessed to abusing her children, noted that she “never learned any parenting skills, not at
residential school, not with the childhood [she] had” (Fournier & Crey, 1997, p. 131). Anecdotal stories
from residential schools survivors showed that residential schools impacted generations of their families
in very significant ways, resulting in the inability to express love or nurturance, a loss of communication,
emotional abuse and traumatic bonding, and having children taken into foster care (Chansonneuve,
2005). It was not just the children who attended residential schools who were affected. Descendants of
children raised in boarding schools recounted experiencing childhood neglect and abuse themselves and,
when they became parents, had feelings of parental inadequacy and feeling confusion about to how to
© Muir & Bohr

parent in healthy ways (Lafrance & Collins, 2003). Residential schools interrupted and corrupted
traditional child rearing by separating Aboriginal children from their parents, extended family, and
culture, and by raising them instead within punitive and often abusive institutions.
Traditional Aboriginal Child Rearing: Is it Still Practiced?

Aboriginal child rearing has ostensibly been significantly disrupted by colonialism. One question
that arises is why some aspects of traditional Aboriginal parenting are still being practiced while other
aspects have disappeared. Few studies have examined this query (Javo, Alapack, Heyerdahl, & Ronning,
2003). Cheah and Chirkov’s (2008) research, established that present-day Aboriginal mothers still
emphasized the importance of family, respect for Elders, and maintained cultural values significantly
more than European-Canadian mothers. As well, Javo, Ronning, and Heyerdahl’s (2004) study showed
that Indigenous Sami child rearing practices differ from the dominant Norwegian culture even following a
long period of assimilation. Ryan (2011) asserted that many studies from contemporary Australian
Aboriginal urban, regional, and remote communities suggest that Aboriginal parents have retained
unique traditional child rearing behaviors, expressions of sensitivity, sociability, emotional self-
regulation, self-expression, and competence. Likewise, van de Sande and Menzies’ (2003) evaluation of
Ojibway parenting programs proposed that there continues to be significant distinctiveness in ideas on
how to raise Ojibway children, in spite of generations of influence by the mainstream culture. Many
explanations have been offered as to why so many Aboriginal cultures are still thriving in spite of
government policies designed to systematically eradicate them. A spiritual and genetic explanation was
provided by Simard and Blight (2011) who maintained that cultural memory is carried inside Aboriginal
DNA and has waited to be awakened to inspire connection to the spirit. Simard and Blight contended that
the rich cultural makeup and knowledge systems of Aboriginal peoples in Canada have survived over 500
years of colonialism. Another way that traditional child rearing practices were maintained is that not all
Aboriginal children went to residential schools as some parents resisted this. Although these children
stayed with their family, other forms of colonization still likely affected the transmission of child rearing
practices. It does appear that traditional child rearing methods, although perhaps altered by colonialism
and trauma, are still being widely practiced and transmitted by Aboriginal peoples.
Traditional Child Rearing in Contemporary Practice

Child autonomy
Research showed that Aboriginal communities continue to exhibit many distinctive values related
to child rearing. One such value is respect for the child. Aboriginal children are openly recognized and
respected as persons and are thus encouraged to make their own decisions about how they wish to explore
their environment (McPherson & Rabb, 2001 as cited in Neckoway et al., 2007). The concept of child
autonomy implies allowing children the freedom to make their own decisions which leads to
independence (Javo et al., 2003). This is a quality that the Sami also saw as essential for survival and
hardship endurance (Javo et al., 2003). Indeed, in order to encourage independence, Sami parents
nurtured exploration and risk taking in their children despite the possibility of danger (Javo et al., 2003).
The Sami balanced this independence with emotional responsiveness and affection; it seems that the
more Sami parents valued independence and autonomy, the more affectionate and physically close they
became with their children (Javo et al., 2003). Further, Javo et al. (2003) found the western value of time
© Muir & Bohr

organized around a clock was recognized by the Sami, but that they still tried to adhere to their cultural
value of allowing their children to eat and sleep, to decide when and what they eat and when, how long
and with which family member to sleep according to the child’s own rhythm (Javo et al., 2003; Javo et al.,
2004). The modern Sami still value child autonomy although they also recognize and made concessions to
western values, such as time.
The concept of autonomy was honoured by Aboriginal people from Canada, Australia, and the
United States as well. Sheperd (2008) found that Aboriginal parents from Canada more often than Euro-
Canadian mothers, allowed their children to decide how much to explore their environment. The Inuit in
Canada also viewed autonomy and independence as vital to parent and child interactions and as such,
Inuit parents looked for indications from their children to guide their own responses (McShane et al.,
2009). Australian Aboriginal children also traditionally self-directed their skill development, including
relatively dangerous activities like knife handling and climbing trees (Kruske, Belton, Wardaguga, &
Narjic, 2012) and this early independence was encouraged for children by setting few limits (Nelson &
Allison, 2000). Allowing children to make their own decisions may not, in itself, be an indication of
neglect, as often perceived by non-Aboriginal people (Ryan, 2011). Similar to the Sami, in Australian
Aboriginal remote communities, children were not expected to follow routines and were allowed to eat
when hungry and to sleep when tired (Kruske et al., 2012). The Alaskan Yup’ik allowed their children the
freedom to move around the home before coming back to the mother to eat the bites of food that were
offered (MacDonald-Clark & Boffman, 1995). The Yup’ik had no fixed feeding schedule for their children
but instead, fed the children when they were hungry (MacDonald-Clark & Boffman, 1995). Furthermore,
McShane and Hastings (2004) commented that Indigenous children in the United States are raised in a
world that is more adult-centred than that of other Americans, and were thus more encouraged to develop
adult skills such as showing responsibility for self-care to ensure survival. The prevalent focus on child
autonomy was tied in with the Aboriginal preference for non-interference which can be expressed by
Aboriginal people through a resistance to giving instruction, correcting, coercing, or trying to persuade
another to do something (Neckoway, 2010). In many Aboriginal cultures, autonomy is an ideal based on
independence (and thus survival) but is counterbalanced by strong affection for the child.
Extended family
Even though risk-taking and independence were encouraged, extended family was traditionally
greatly involved with Aboriginal children. Australian Aboriginal children, for example, were highly
regarded and valued members of their extended family network (Kruske et al., 2012). Inuit children were
also given much affection, attention, and tenderness and seen as the centre of attention for their
immediate and extended family (McShane et al., 2009). The Navajo culture was both matrilocal and
matrilineal and as such, maternal grandmothers and aunts were very involved with young children as are
other family members (Hossain et al., 1999). In Anishnaabe (Ojibway) communities, family included the
nuclear family, the extended family, the community family (connected by a treaty), a Nationhood family
(all Anishnaabe people, regardless of province or country), clan family (such as Deer or Turtle Clan: a
spiritual aspect of family), and a cultural family (linked to Anishnaabe ceremonial practices) (Simard &
Blight, 2011). There are many levels of family in Anishnaabe cultures. A fundamental and traditional value
of Aboriginal peoples is that of kin, the interconnection of family and non-family community members
who were involved in children’s socialization (McShane & Hastings, 2004). In the research, Aboriginal
extended families were highly valued, interconnected and structured.
© Muir & Bohr

Neckoway et al. (2007) noted that bonds between an Aboriginal child and adults (including many
caregivers) in these extended families were multi-layered and not dyadic (between two people only).
Aboriginal parents from Australia commented that in an Aboriginal family, siblings and extended family
members had a designated role in raising the children (Nelson & Allison, 2000). Furthermore, Koorie
women from Australia, who were not the biological mother to the child, actively mothered; this concept of
allomothering set the Koorie apart from mainstream child rearing (Atkinson & Swain, 1999). In many
Indigenous nations in the United States, grandparents have historically played an important role in
socializing, providing physical care, and training for their grandchildren (Fuller-Thomson, 2005). In this
context of allomothering, the mother could afford to be less vigilant because she knew that others in her
extended family and community were also attending to the child (Neckoway et al., 2007). Extended family
can have extensive roles in child rearing in some Aboriginal cultures. This is important to acknowledge
when professionals are working with and assessing Aboriginal families. Professionals should ask families
which individuals interact and care for the child and never assume that it would only be the mother.
Aboriginal fatherhood
One area that has received very little attention in the literature is traditional Aboriginal fathering.
Javo et al. (2004) studied gender differences in Sami parenting, specifically the similarities in patterns of
response in Sami mothers and fathers. In Ryan’s (2011) study of urban Nunga and Koorie mothers in
Australia, the researcher observed that men’s roles in their children’s lives was missing. Similarly to many
other Aboriginal communities, because of policies introduced by the state, Koorie men’s supportive family
roles changed as they were offered only menial and erratic jobs which ultimately resulted in prolonged
absences and shortened life spans (Atkinson & Swain, 1999). Ball (2009) remarked that by 2020, if no
effective interventions take place, half of the rapidly growing population of Aboriginal children will still be
growing up without a father. In Ball’s study of Aboriginal fathers from Canada, many men acknowledged
that they did not know how many biological children they had, while several admitted that they had at
least one child that they were not, nor had not, ever been involved with. This was a familiar pattern for
many men who had grown up either without a father, or with an abusive father or father figure, including,
in some cases, abusive priests in residential schools. Many men in Ball’s study reported that actively
parenting their own children brought up painful childhood memories of abuse or family violence, a
parent’s death, being taken away to residential school, or going into foster care. Eighty-six percent of the
men in Ball’s study talked about their experiences of what Ball themed a disruption in the transmission of
intergenerational fathering. Aboriginal fathers may not be involved in parenting because of historical
trauma and government policies resulting from colonialism.
Other issues affected research on Aboriginal fathers. Hossain (2001) considered off-reservation
Navajo fathers to be a hard to reach sample because they were scattered over the southwest region of the
United States and also, because traditionally, Navajo did not encourage outsiders to research their family
patterns. Hossain’s 2001 study and Hossain et al.’s 1999 study both used western assessment tools which
were not validated for use with Aboriginal peoples, and samples that included only Navajo fathers who
were not living on-reservation. Nonetheless, both studies showed that Navajo men had higher levels of
family involvement compared to other cultures and spent more time with infant caregiving, with fathers
spending 60% of the time the mothers did. Aboriginal fathers may also be understudied because of
cultural values. Fathering in Aboriginal communities remains an under-researched area with much
diversity and numerous interesting questions remaining to be answered.
© Muir & Bohr

Attachment
Mainstream Attachment Theory posits that how sensitively parents respond to their child when
the child is distressed will likely affect the child’s expectations for subsequent relationships, world view,
and ultimately social and emotional health (Ainsworth, Blehar, Waters & Wall, 1978). However, there is
diversity in the manifestations of attachment behaviours across cultures and Aboriginal cultures are no
exception. Carriere and Richardson (2009) commented that “connectedness” may be a better description
of Aboriginal attachment as it looks more broadly to an individual’s total environment and not just to one
or two central caregivers. Attachment in Aboriginal cultures may present somewhat differently from the
mainstream in the areas of extended family response, secure base, and distress response.
When looking at extended family response, Kruske et al. (2012) looked at 15 northern Australian
Aboriginal families’ experiences with their infants in the first year of life. These researchers found that all
participating family members felt an obligation to respond when an infant cried or whimpered and that
not to respond and letting a baby cry was considered cruel and was frowned upon (Kruske et al., 2012). If
another family member responded, this might be interpreted, within traditional Attachment Theory, as
insensitivity by the mother because it might signal that the mother-infant dyad was not synchronous
(Neckoway et al., 2007). Neckoway et al. (2007) commented that, when assessments were conducted with
tools based in western Attachment Theory, it may appear that Aboriginal mothers were less sensitive and
that the child may not have a healthy attachment to her mother. As well, the dynamic between child and
adults may move in both directions. Extended family may respond to an infant but also, the infant or
toddler may seek out alternative caregivers (even for breastfeeding) or peers (Ryan, 2011). This dynamic
might be misunderstood as an indiscriminate attachment by western-trained researchers (Ryan, 2011).
Other attachment concepts, such as security, may also look different in Aboriginal cultures.
Bowlby’s concept of secure base in attachment stated that an infant will use one or two primary caregivers
as a safe place to explore from and retreat to (Waters, Crowell, Elliot, Corcoran, & Treboux, 2002). In
Aboriginal cultures, the circle of caregivers may go well beyond one or two individuals. In the central and
western desert regions of Australia for example, older children were encouraged to look out for other
children and siblings (Ryan, 2011). Aboriginal children may seek other caregivers, have other caregivers
respond to them, may be routinely cared for by an older sibling or peer, and thus, may have many
caregivers providing them with a secure base.
One assessment tool that is commonly used to assess parental sensitivity in the parent-child
interaction is the Nursing Child Assessment Screening Tests (NCAST) (Barnard, 1986). The Feeding Scale
(for birth to 12 months) and the Teaching Scale (for birth to 36 months) of the NCAST both assess the
primary caregiver’s sensitivity to cues, response to stress, both social-emotional and cognitive growth
fostering, the clarity of cues, and the infant’s responsiveness to the parent (MacDonald-Clarke & Boffman,
1995). The scales have been normed on non-Aboriginal, African American, and Hispanic populations.
MacDonald-Clarke and Boffman (1995) used the NCAST to study the interaction between mother and
infant (93% of the dyads were mother-infant) in Alaskan Yup’ik. Generally, the Yup’ik had similar overall
scores on both the Feeding and Teaching scales as other groups, but some subscale scores differed. In
both the Feeding and Teaching scales (with different aged infants/toddlers), the Yup’ik scored
significantly higher than the norm in parental sensitivity to child cues. As a result, 93% of the
infants/toddlers in this study did not ever become distressed (MacDonald-Clarke and Boffman, 1995). It
© Muir & Bohr

would have been interesting had the researchers also assessed another adult or sibling who also cared for
the infant to see if high sensitivity was also shown by other caregivers. Another researcher, Ryan (2011),
found that minimization of distress was a cultural norm in Aboriginal peoples from northern Australia
who appear to address distress in infants before it happens. One has to wonder whether a faulty
interpretation of minimizing, if not fully understood in its cultural context, may result in inaccurate
assessments of attachment when evaluating a caregiver’s response to distress (Ryan 2011).
Another cultural norm for select Australian Aboriginal peoples is the discouragement of negative
emotion as the latter may be seen as disrespectful of Elders (Ryan, 2011). Ryan noted that this squelching
of negative emotion could be construed by non-Aboriginals as promoting avoidant attachment, i.e.,
resulting in the child’s not being responsive to the mother when the mother is present, and not showing
distress when the mother leaves and a stranger is present (Berk & Roberts, 2009). The child may be
repressing distress signals because this is what they have been taught and if this occurred during an
assessment such as the NCAST, the results might be confusing.
Aboriginal connectedness may thus differ from mainstream attachment manifestations in the
areas of extended family response, the notion of secure base, and distress. Thus, mainstream Attachment
Theory may not fully reflect an Aboriginal infant’s socialization experience, which is embedded in the
parenting practices shared by many Aboriginal communities (Neckoway et al., 2007).
Developmental milestones
Aboriginal cultures may understand developmental milestones differently than other groups. For
instance, the Inuit looked at each child individually and then tailored their approach to developing
autonomy and respecting the distinct ability of that child, instead of assuming identical levels of
development for all children of the same age (McShane et al., 2009). In Kruske et al.’s (2012) study,
Aboriginal parents from Australia did not attribute as much importance to the age of their infants as
mainstream Australian families did. These researchers inferred that because there are differences in
exposure to skill development and parental cues and encouragement, that children from remote
Aboriginal communities may meet developmental milestones at different ages than mainstream children.
Within Inuit and Aboriginal families from Australia, children were not compared to other children the
same age; rather, they were allowed to have their own path for development of milestones. When western
assessment tools are used to assess Aboriginal children, these children may appear to be delayed in their
skill development because the yardstick used to measure Aboriginal child development is mainstream
western child development and thus, Aboriginal children are deemed to fall short. This in turn may be a
contributing factor when children are placed in foster care.
Discipline
Discipline was another family value that has been studied in the context of Aboriginal versus
mainstream parenting. In many Aboriginal communities, it appeared that parents did not readily use
physical punishment with their children. In a study of Indigenous children from two southern California
counties, Dionne, Davis, Sheeber, and Madrigal (2009) found that the disciplining of children was used
cautiously with aforethought and patience. Strict discipline was seen as very strong “medicine,” whereas
positive play, affection and praise, or “good medicine” might be used more frequently so as to strengthen
the child. In Cheah and Sheperd’s (2011) study, Aboriginal mothers were less likely than European-
© Muir & Bohr

Canadian mothers to force the child to behave appropriately, threaten with negative consequences, or use
punishment when responding to proactive aggression in their children. The Aboriginal mothers in that
study were more likely to respond to aggression in their children with goals that teach values, societal
rules, or important life lessons which could benefit the child (Cheah & Sheperd, 2011). One Indigenous
culture that reported the use of physical discipline was the Sami, where mothers described more slapping
and use of threats than mainstream Norwegian mothers (Javo et al., 2004). Sami mothers also used more
threatening with supernatural beings, tricking, and teasing of the child than did mainstream families
(Javo et al., 2004). Interestingly, the Inuit used interpersonal games (which may be perceived by
outsiders as teasing) but this type of “teasing” was used to provide practice for the children in how to use
appropriate emotions in specific interpersonal situations (McShane et al., 2009). Thus Indigenous
parents seemed to focus more on each child’s individual abilities and to generally use much less physical
discipline.
Language
How children are spoken to and expected to speak may be another feature of parenting that
differs from Aboriginal to mainstream cultures. There are prevailing misconceptions about culture and
language differences among Aboriginal peoples that can at times be perceived to be deficits in both
communication and parenting (Ball, 2009). Adolescent Aboriginal mothers who identified with their
Aboriginal culture were found to have low verbal initiation, low responsiveness, and low spontaneous
conversations with their children (McDonald Culp & McCarthick, 1997). In a study of Alaskan Yup’ik, it
was found that Yup’ik parents scored lowest on engaging in social play and praising the child or making
positive comments about the child (MacDonald-Clark & Boffman, 1995). These researchers did note that
the communication between Yup’ik mother and child depended largely on nonverbal cues which the
mother-child dyad handled very well. Although Aboriginal adults may speak less to their children, there is
evidence that there is more unspoken body language being used between child and adults.
Crago, Annahatak, and Ingiurwik’s (1993) study of Inuit language socialization was a two-year
long ethnographic study which looked at the language patterns of two older Inuit mothers (who had been
born in igloos, never gone to school, and only spoke Inuktitut) and two younger Inuit mothers (who had
only ever lived in houses) and also interviews with another 20 Inuit women (both older and younger) in
northern Quebec. What these researchers found were three cultural language practices called aqausiit
(traditionally sung or chanted rhythmical verses sung in a parent-child dyad with each dyad having a
unique song), nilliujuusiq (a form of affectionate talk that the women used with their children which
sometimes included a string of nonsense syllables) and piaruujuusiit (a specialized, consistent across
households, vocabulary of “baby words” which have phonologically simpler roots used both to and by the
children). Aqausiit, at the time of the study, was only used by a few of the younger and older women while
nilliujuusiq seemed to be used more extensively. The majority of older women in one of the communities
commented that they knew a child had learned language not by the child’s speaking ability, but rather, by
the child’s understanding of directives. The study also revealed that an Inuit child’s ability to understand
and to follow directions is a culturally valued behaviour. One major difference between the older and
younger Inuit women is how they valued silence in children. The younger Inuit women did speak more to
their children and tried to elicit language from them and explained that they did this because this was
valued by non-Aboriginal people and in schools. On the other hand, the older Inuit women commented
© Muir & Bohr

that the younger women did not seem to know how to eat silently with their children. Traditionally,
children were often ignored when they asked questions because Inuit children were not encouraged to
have conversations with adults. This study gives the kind of background cultural information on parenting
values that allows professionals and non-Aboriginal people to understand why language may be less
central in the interactions between Aboriginal children and their parents. The latter study also shows how
traditional values are changing and what may be causing these changes. Having an understanding that
more non-verbal language may be used and also understanding different cultural values (e.g., not
encouraging questioning from children) need to be understood by professionals who may view the lack of
verbal language as a deficit in Aboriginal parents.
Spirituality and ceremony

There is mention of Aboriginal spirituality and its connection to child rearing in the literature,
although it is somewhat sparse. Red Horse (1997) noted that naming ceremonies organized kinship
obligations in terms of meeting the child’s physical and emotional needs. As the children got older, there
were more ceremonies which increased their spiritual and community responsibilities. Simard and Blight
(2011) noted that Spirit is the foundation from which all other developmental areas (spiritual, mental,
emotional, and physical realms) stemmed, providing the child’s cultural identity. The fact that in
Aboriginal theories of child development, such importance is attributed to the Spirit is another difference
between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal approaches to child rearing.
Discussion
While Aboriginal child rearing practices may have been modified because of historical events such
as colonialism, residential schools, and foster care – and traditional parenting may have been corrupted
by this history – many aspects of traditional Aboriginal child rearing continue to be apparent in the ways
in which Aboriginal families organize their family life. Thus, it is important to consider the cultural, social,
and historical realms of Aboriginal communities when assessing Aboriginal children, especially in the
context of child protection, as identifiable differences may exist between the parenting norms in
Aboriginal communities and those of mainstream groups. A better understanding of these differences is
hampered by the dearth of research on Aboriginal child rearing, especially when considering the diversity
of Aboriginal cultures. Thus, it is imperative that more comprehensive examinations of parenting and
child development in diverse Aboriginal cultures be undertaken, so as to more usefully inform decisions
made by professionals in the areas of child welfare and child and family mental health. When
professionals have a better understanding of the cultural differences in child rearing that can occur in
Aboriginal families, they will be better equipped to make decisions to ensure the safety and wellbeing of
the child, and to tend to the cultural needs of not only the youth, but their families and communities.
Limitations
One of the main limitations of this review is the lack of nation-specific research. Another research
gap exists around Aboriginal fatherhood and extended family. A future research consideration would be to
look at whether differences exist when assessing attachment with Aboriginal mothers and then with the
infant’s other caregivers. Other future research endeavors could be to begin documenting traditional
Aboriginal child rearing practices from Elders and Grandmothers.
© Muir & Bohr

References
Ainsworth, M. D., Blehar, M., Waters, E., & Wall, S. (1978). Patterns of attachment: A psychological study of the strange
situation. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Atkinson, S., & Swain, S. (1999). A network of support: Mothering across the Koorie community in Victoria, Australia.
Women’s History Review, 8(2), 219-230. https://doi.org/10.1080/09612029900200208
Ball, J. (2009). Aboriginal young children’s language development: Promising practices and needs.Canadian Issues, winter 2009, 37-44.
Berk, L. E., & Roberts, W. L. (2009). Child development. Toronto, ON: Pearson.
Barnard, K. E. (1986). Nursing child assessment satellite training: Learning resource manual. Seattle, WA: University of Washington.
Carriere, J., & Richardson, C. (2009). From longing to belonging: Attachment theory, connectedness, and Indigenous children in
Canada. In S. McKay, D. Fuchs, & I. Brown (Eds.), Passion of action in child and family services: Voices from the
prairies (pp. 49-67). Regina, SK: Canadian Plains Research Centre.
Chansonneuve, D. (2005). Reclaiming connections: Understanding residential school trauma among Aboriginal people. Ottawa,
ON: The Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
Cheah, C. S. L., & Chirkov, V. (2008). Parents’ personal and cultural beliefs regarding young children: A cross-cultural study of
Aboriginal and Euro-Canadian mothers. Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 39(4), 402-
423. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0022022108318130
Cheah, C. S. L., & Sheperd, K. A. (2011). A cross-cultural examination of Aboriginal and European Canadian mothers’ beliefs
regarding proactive and reactive aggression. Infant and Child Development, 20(3), 330–
346. https://doi.org/10.1002/icd.701
Crago, M. B., Annahatak, B., & Ingiurwik, L. (1993). Changing patterns of language socialization in Inuit homes. Anthropology
& Education Quarterly, 24(3), 205-223. https://doi.org/10.1525/aeq.1993.24.3.05x0966d
Dalla, R. L., & Gamble, W. C. (1997). Exploring factors related to parenting competence among Navajo teenage mothers: Dual
techniques of inquiry. Family Relations, 46(2), 113-121.
Dionne, R., Davis, B., Sheeber, L., & Madrigal, L. (2009). Initial evaluation of a cultural approach to implementation of evidence
based parenting interventions in American Indian communities. Journal of Community Psychology, 37(7), 911–
921. https://doi.org/10.1002/jcop.20336
Dorion, L. M. (2010). Opikinawasowin: The life long process of growing Cree and Métis children (Unpublished paper).
Evans-Campbell, E. (2008). Historical trauma in American Indian/Native Alaska communities: A multilevel framework for
exploring impacts on individuals, families, and communities. Journal of Interpersonal Violence, 23(3), 316-
338. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0886260507312290
Fitzgerald, H. E., & Farrell, P. (2012). Fulfilling the promise: Creating a child development research agenda with Native
communities. Child Development Perspectives, 6(1), 75–78. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1750-8606.2011.00216 x
Aboriginal communities. Vancouver, BC: Douglas & McIntyre.
Fuller-Thomson, E. (2005). American Indian/Alaskan Native grandparents raising grandchildren: Findings from the Census 2000
Supplementary Survey. Social Work, 50(2), 131-139. https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/50.2.131
Galliher, R.V., Tsethlikai, M. M., & Stolle, D. (2012). Perspectives of Native and non-Native scholars: Opportunities for
collaboration. Child Development Perspectives, 6(1), 66–74. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1750-8606.2011.00200 x
Hossain, Z. (2001). Division of household labor and family functioning in off-reservation Navajo Indian families. Family
Relations, 50(3), 255-261. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1741-3729.2001.00255 x
Hossain, Z., Chew, B., Swilling, S, Brown, S., Michaelis, M., & Philips, S. (1999). Fathers' participation in childcare within Navajo
Indian families. Early Child Development and Care, 154(1), 63-74. https://doi.org/10.1080/0030443991540106
Javo, C., Alapack, R., Heyerdahl, S., & Ronning, J. A. (2003). Parental values and ethnic identity in Indigenous Sami families: A
qualitative study. Family Process, 42(1), 151-164. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1545-5300.2003.00151 x
Javo, C., Ronning, J. A., & Heyerdahl, S. (2004). Child-rearing in an Indigenous Sami population in Norway: A cross-cultural
comparison of parental attitudes and expectations. Scandinavian Journal of Psychology, 45(1), 67–
78. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9450.2004.00380.x
© Muir & Bohr

Kruske, S., Belton, S., Wardaguga, M., & Narjic, C. (2012). Growing up our way: The first year of life in remote Aboriginal
Australia. Qualitative Health Research, 22(6), 777–787. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F1049732311432717
Lafrance, J., & Collins, D. (2003). Residential schools and Aboriginal parenting: Voices of parents. Native Social Work Journal,
4(1), 104-125.
Loppie, C. (2007). Learning from the Grandmothers: Incorporating Indigenous principles into qualitative research. Qualitative
Health Research, 17(2), 276-284. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F1049732306297905
MacDonald-Clark, N. J., & Boffman, J. L. (1995). Mother-child interaction among the Alaskan Eskimos. Journal of Obstetric,
Gynecologic, & Neonatal Nursing, 24(5), 450-457. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1552-6909.1995.tb02502.x
McDonald, C. A., & McCarthick, V. (1997). Chickasaw Native American adolescent mothers: Implications for early intervention
practices. Journal of Community Psychology, 25(6), 513–518. https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1520-
6629(199711)25:6%3C513::AID-JCOP2%3E3.0.CO;2-Q
McShane, K. E., & Hastings, P. D. (2004). Culturally sensitive approaches to research on child development and family practices
in First peoples communities. First Peoples Child and Family Review, 1(1), 33-48.
McShane, K. E., Hastings, P. D., Smylie, J. K., Prince, C., & The Tungasuvvingat Inuit Resource Centre. (2009). Examining
evidence for autonomy and relatedness in urban Inuit parenting. Culture Psychology, 15(4), 411-
431. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F1354067X09344880
Statistics Canada. (2011). 2011 National Household Survey: Aboriginal peoples in Canada: First Nations people, Métis and Inuit.
Retrieved from https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/daily-quotidien/130508/dq130508a-eng htm
Neckoway, R. (2010). The role of culture in parenting: Some Ojibway parents' perspectives (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved
from Memorial University Research Repository. (12285)
Neckoway, R., Brownlee, K., & Castellan, B. (2007). Is attachment theory consistent with Aboriginal parenting realities?. First
Nelson, A., & Allison, H. (2000). Values of urban Aboriginal parents: Food before thought. Australian Occupational Therapy
Journal, 47(1), 28–40.
Priest, K., King, S., Brown, W. N., Nangala, I., & Nangala, M. (2007). Warrki Jarrinjaku Jintangkamanu Purananjaku “Working
together everyone and listening”: Aboriginal child rearing in remote central Australia. Canadian Journal of Native
Education, 30(1), 61- 74.
Red Horse, J. (1997). Traditional American Indian family systems. Family Systems & Health 15(3), 243-250.
Ryan, F. (2011). Kanyininpa (Holding): A way of nurturing children in Aboriginal Australia. Australian Social Work, 64(2), 183-197.
Sarche, M. C., & Whitesell, N. R. (2012). Child development research in North American Native communities: Looking back
and moving forward: Introduction. Child Development Perspectives, 6(1), 42–48.
Sheperd, K. A. (2008). Determinants of parenting among Aboriginal and European Canadian young mothers. (Doctoral
dissertation). ProQuest, UMI: 1456440.
Simard, E., & Blight, S. (2011). Developing a culturally restorative approach to Aboriginal child and youth development:
Transitions to adulthood. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 6(1), 28-55.
Trocmé, N., Knoke, D., & Blackstock, C. (2004). Pathways to the overrepresentation of Aboriginal Children in Canada’s child
welfare system. Social Service Review, 78(4), 577-600.
Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. (2012). Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada: Interim report.
Winnipeg, MB: Author.
van de Sande, A , & Menzies, P. (2003). Native and mainstream parenting: A comparative study. Native Social Work Journal, 4(1), 126-139.
Yellow Horse Brave Heart, M. (1999). Oyate Ptayela: Rebuilding the Lakota Nation through addressing historical trauma among
Lakota parents. Journal of Human Behavior in the Social Environment, 2(1-2),109-126.
Waters, E., Crowell, J., Elliot, M., Corcoran, D., & Treboux, D. (2002). Bowlby’s secure base theory and the social/personality
psychology of attachment styles: Work(s) in progress. Attachment & Human Development, 4(2), 230–242.
Wesley-Esquimaux, C. C., & Smolewski, M. (2004). Historic trauma and Aboriginal healing. Ottawa, ON: The Aboriginal
Healing Foundation.
© Muir & Bohr

2019
Historical Trauma, Race-Based Trauma, and
Resilience of Indigenous Peoples: A
Literature Review
a b
Elizabeth Fast and Delphine Collin-Vézina
a
Ph.D., Assistant Professor, Concordia University, School of Community & Public Affairs, Quebec, Canada
b
Ph.D., Associate Professor, McGill University, School of Social Work, Quebec, Canada
Corresponding author: elizabeth.fast@concordia.ca
Abstract
This literature review examines the various responses to trauma suffered by Indigenous peoples as a
result of governmental policies geared toward assimilation. Both traumatic and resilient responses
are demonstrated at the individual, family, and community levels. Much of the research that has
been done in the United States to develop theories around historical trauma and race-based traumatic
stress may also be applied to Canada’s First Nations due to similar histories of oppression and
colonization. Overall, the research finds that self-government and a connection to culture and
spirituality result in better outcomes for Indigenous peoples.
Keywords: Indigenous peoples, resilience, trauma, self-government, culture, spirituality
1
The original version of this article was published in: Fast, E., & Collin-Vézina, D. (2010). Historical trauma, race-based trauma
and resilience of Indigenous peoples: A literature review. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 5(1), 126-136.
Historical trauma, race-based trauma, and resilience of Indigenous peoples: A literature review 167
Introduction
The focus on negative outcomes facing Indigenous peoples may mask the diversity of responses to
the challenges facing Aboriginal, First Nations, and American Indian persons. Both resilient and negative
outcomes for Indigenous persons are well documented but negative outcomes seem to get more attention
in the media, which may contribute to both overt and more subtle forms of discrimination. This is for a
number of reasons: The disparities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples in countries like
Canada, the United States, and Australia when regarded as a whole are so striking that effective
arguments for change in policy need to highlight these disparities to demonstrate the need for policy
changes (Armitage, 1995; Cornell, 2006). As a consequence, the literature becomes fragmented between
those who are trying to bring to light the devastating impacts of colonialism and those that focus on
resilient peoples, communities, and Nations. This paper will seek to bridge the literature that attempts to
explain the disparities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples while taking into account the
enormous cultural variation among tribes and Nations. Trauma models should be expanded and
diversified to take into the historical and current day experiences of Indigenous peoples. Some types of
trauma that can be applied to Indigenous peoples include intergenerational trauma, historical trauma,
and race-based trauma. Given the enormous challenges faced by many Indigenous cultures to survive,
resilient responses to trauma are especially notable and take many forms. Resilience models that are
found at the individual, family, and community levels will be explored in more detail.
Disparities Between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Peoples

The United Nations’ Human Development Report 2006 found that if the Aboriginal population in
Canada were taken out as a sub-group they would rank 48th out of 174 countries for their level of overall
development and 71st for education, whereas the rest of Canada consistently ranks in top 5 (United
Nations, 2006). Canada has been admonished by the United Nations Economic and Social Council who
expressed serious concern over the significant disparities between Canada’s First Nations and non-
Aboriginals with regards to access to water, health, education, and housing (United Nations, 2006).
Almost 50% of off-reserve Aboriginal children under the age of six live in low-income families, compared
to 18% of non-Aboriginal children and 57% of Aboriginal children that live in large urban centres are
living in low-income families (Statistics Canada, 2008). When using the community well-being index,
which takes into account education, income, housing, and labor force participation, among the “bottom
100” Canadian communities, 92 are First Nations. Only one First Nation community ranks among the
“top 100” Canadian communities in 2001. Inuit communities are typically distributed towards the middle
of the community well-being index range (Beavon, 2006).
In addition to these more commonly used measures of well-being, some sub-groups of Aboriginal
peoples are inflicted with very high rates of suicide, drug and alcohol dependence, and the resulting high
rates of out-of-home placement of children (Assembly of First Nations, 2007; Kirmayer, 1994; Trocmé et
al., 2005). The Regional Longitudinal Health Survey, in their sample of over 20,000 First Nations people
from 10 regions across Canada, found that over 15% of those surveyed had attempted suicide in their
lifetime and 30% had thought about suicide. Furthermore, 16% of the respondents consume five or more
drinks of alcohol at least once a week (Assembly of First Nations, 2007). Although this paper cannot
adequately cover the history of discriminatory policies targeted towards Aboriginal people by the
Canadian government, a short summary below will help shed light on the differences between Aboriginal
© Fast & Collin-Vézina

and non-Aboriginal people described above and the resultant need for more research on both traumatic
and resilient responses to these policies.
Assimilation and the Canadian Government

Before the arrival of European settlers, all of the First Nations governed themselves and had their
own economic systems for ensuring that the needs of members of the nation were met (Duran & Duran,
1995; Milloy, 1999). In some Nations, the potlatch ceremony allowed for families that had greater success
in hunting, fishing, or cultivation in a particular season to share with families that had less success.
Although Nations differed one to the next, it was uncommon for tribes to claim specific pieces of land as
their own. Instead, it was generally believed that land belonged to everyone and was not a possession to
be claimed. European settlers with ambitions of making money off the land decided that they would claim
it for themselves, despite international laws, which stated that the first people to find and inhabit land had
ownership over it. The settlers used a clause in the law that allowed them to override this rule if the
persons occupying the land were found to be too “savage” and thus forced many Nations to confine
themselves to portions of land that the imperial government deemed suitable (Royal Commission on
Aboriginal Peoples, 1996). These portions of land were often far removed from other populations and
above the frost line, making it difficult to grow food and establish businesses. The government wanted
Nations to prove that they could be self-sufficient and contribute by “European standards” such as
farming, industry, and other business models of production, but this went against the way they had been
supporting themselves since time immemorial and furthermore, most reserve lands were unsuited to
agriculture or other economic enterprises. The Indian Act of 1876 and all of its amendments had as an
explicit goal to control every facet of life on reserves and the agents that monitored Aboriginal peoples on
reserves severely limited trading and other economic enterprises with neighboring Aboriginal and non-
Aboriginal communities (Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1996).
In order to further goals of making Aboriginal people follow European values, the Bagot
Commission Report of 1842 and the Davin Report of 1879 were turning points in the history of residential
schools. Both of these documents described a process whereby removing native children from their
parents and schooling them outside of their communities would help the children to adapt to European
values and Christian belief systems. The model was suggested based on schools that had already been
opened in the United States for similar purposes. The Davin Report was based on observations of
boarding schools in the United States and four that were already in operation in Ontario. The report made
it clear that day schools were not adequate for assimilating children and that ongoing contact with their
family members would only enable them to maintain their cultural values, beliefs, and language –
precisely what the government wanted to destroy (Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1996). By
1890, dozens of schools, which were partnerships between the federal government and churches, were in
full operation. Residential schooling thus became mandatory wherever it was available and school officials
removed children from their homes if they did not come willingly (Milloy, 1999). The schools were
chronically underfunded from the outset, leading to unsanitary conditions, health epidemics, and
hundreds of child deaths. Milloy (1999) recounts that in many instances, inspectors found raw sewage in
sleeping and eating quarters of the children and that despite being reported to the authorities, little
change occurred. Reports of inadequate standards of clothing and food were also common and demands
by parents to return their children home to live in better conditions went unanswered. Underfunding also

meant poorly trained and underpaid staff that used harsh physical discipline of children, often leading to
physical abuse. Residential schools started to close down throughout the 1960s and 1970s, although the
last one in Saskatchewan did not close until 1984. Widespread sexual abuse came to public awareness in
the late 1980s when adult survivors began coming forward (Milloy, 1999; Royal Commission on
Aboriginal Peoples, 1996). Given the lack of parental role modeling and widespread physical and sexual
abuse while attending residential schools, generations of survivors have likely lost the capacity to engage
in nurturing social interaction with young children that promotes attachment and intimacy (Wesley-
Esquimaux & Smolewski, 2004).
The “sixties scoop” is a widely-used term that refers to a period of time when thousands of First
Nations children were removed from their parents and placed them in non-Aboriginal homes. Many
scholars refer to this time period as a continuation of the residential school system because removal of
Aboriginal children from their homes and communities continued, only under a different pretense. The
justifications for removing children from their homes were largely due to cultural differences in parenting
practices that were misunderstood as neglect by non-Aboriginal social workers or due to poor living
conditions caused by governmental underfunding of housing and essential services on-reserve (Royal
Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1996). Despite the gradual expansion of First Nations run child
welfare organizations, the overrepresentation of Aboriginal children in out-of-home care continues to this
day due to funding formulas dictated by the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs that provide
funding to child welfare organizations based on a head count of children in placement. This leaves little
flexibility in the ability of organizations to provide prevention services that keep children and families
together (Blackstock, Prakash, Loxley, & Wien, 2005; Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1996).
Thus, Aboriginal children continue to be placed and adopted by non-Aboriginal families, which, in turn,
further disconnects them from their communities, languages, livelihoods, and cultures (Ball, 2008). The
2003 Canadian Incidence Study of Reported Child Abuse and Neglect found that Aboriginal children
continue to be reported to child welfare authorities more often, have their files substantiated and kept
open more often, and are brought into care more often than non-Aboriginal children. The primary reason
for intervention is what social workers call “neglect” and is often closely tied to poverty, addictions, and
structural issues such as poor housing conditions (MacLaurin et al., 2008).
On March 31, 1998, the Canadian federal government provided a one-time grant of $350 million
to the Aboriginal Healing Foundation, which was given an eleven-year mandate, ending March 31, 2009.
According to their website, the Foundation was intended to encourage and support, through research and
funding contributions, community-based Aboriginal directed healing initiatives which addressed the
legacy of physical and sexual abuse suffered in Canada’s Indian Residential School System, including
intergenerational impacts. By admitting that widespread abuse and neglect occurred in the residential
school systems, the government took one step in the direction of reconciliation, but by limiting the scope
of the healing foundation to victims of physical and sexual abuse, it fails to take responsibility for the
perverse nature of the schools in the first place. The impact of having attended residential school began
the moment that the Davin Report’s intent was to “take away the Indian in the child.” Removing
thousands of children from their caregivers, prohibiting cultural practices, cutting off children’s hair, and
prohibiting contact between children and parents for long periods of time was in and of itself hugely
traumatic (Brubaucher, 2006; & Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, 1996). The Foundation only
recognizes children that were victims of overt physical or sexual abuse but does not consider the

emotional impact of denying children of their cultures and families as abuse. Furthermore, the residential
schools settlement offers token amounts of money to any current survivor of a residential school, but not
to family members of survivors if they are deceased, thereby failing to recognize any form of
intergenerational trauma.
This is not to say that the children who were victims of abuse and neglect while in government
care do not deserve special mention. In addition to the trauma inflicted on all children who were removed
from their homes to attend residential schools, these experiences were greatly compounded by acts of
child abuse and neglect. With the recognition of the widespread abuse that occurred, it is hopeful that the
Canadian public will become more cognizant of the devastating impacts of colonialist policies that
continue to this day.
Although these policies have irrefutably contributed to existing disparities between Indigenous
and non-Indigenous peoples across the globe, Aboriginal scholars have cautioned against non-Aboriginal
scholars attempting to find “linear causalities” between specific events or situations and poor outcomes
for some Native people or communities (Fleming & Ledogar, 2008). Instead, they assert the need for a
more holistic and integrated understanding of what has led to these differences. Some scholars have
drawn on literature from other cultural groups – such as studies on intergenerational trauma among
Holocaust survivors - to explain the community level consequences of certain traumas (Brave Heart,
1998; Evans-Campbell, 2008). At a family level, widespread abuses suffered in residential schools most
probably have led to intergenerational cycles of abuse and neglect that persist to this day (Evans-
Campbell, 2008). In addition, daily assaults of racism and discrimination, referred to by some scholars as
“microaggressions,” likely exacerbate the impact of other traumas (Carter, 2006; Whitbeck, Adams, Hoyt,
& Chen, 2004a). The following section will explore the need for a more holistic understanding of trauma
and conclude with an examination of the many varieties of resilient responses to trauma.
Trauma and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Some groups of trauma researchers have called for both an expansion of what is considered
trauma and for an alternative diagnostic or screening tool that does not label individuals as pathological
or mentally ill (Brave Heart, 1998; Carter, 1999; Danieli, 1998). The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of
Mental Disorders defines Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) as,
The person has been exposed to a traumatic event in which both of the following have
been present: (1) The person experienced, witnessed, or was confronted with an event or
events that involved actual or threatened death or serious injury, or a threat to the
physical integrity of self or others (2) the person’s response involved intense fear,
helplessness, or horror (American Psychiatric Association, 2000).
In order to expand this definition, alternative types of trauma have been put forward by researchers and
communities including intergenerational trauma, historical trauma, and race-based or insidious trauma
(Brave Heart, 1998; Carter, 1999; Danieli, 1998). The common thread amongst these three theories is that
historical factors interact with current day stressors and can result in either problematic or resilient
outcomes in individuals, families, and communities.

Intergenerational Trauma
Most of the literature on intergenerational trauma refers to the work that has been done with the
offspring of survivors of the Holocaust. The Holocaust has been seen as a relevant comparison to policies
against Indigenous persons in Canada, the United States, and Australia that were genocidal in intent and
in effect (Brave Heart & deBruyn, 1998). Grubich-Simitis (1984) worked with hundreds of descendants of
Holocaust survivors and began to form a clinical impression that many suffered from “transposition” or
acting out the uncompleted mourning processes of their parents, who had not been able to adequately
mourn the many losses they suffered during the Holocaust. Some clients appeared to be simultaneously
living in their own realities and in the fantasy life of one of their ancestors and feeling just as vulnerable to
persecution as someone living during this time period. It is not difficult to see the parallel between these
observations and specific historical moments for groups of Native peoples. Brave Heart & deBruyn (1998)
recall the Massacre at Wounded Knee in 1890 where hundreds were killed and their bodies were thrown
into mass graves. In 1881, there was a governmental ban placed on traditional burials, spirit keeping, and
“wiping the tears,” therefore grief was compounded and became pathological resulting in elevated rates of
suicide, whereby the living are “unconsciously motivated to join the deceased.”
Several studies have attempted to empirically demonstrate the intergenerational transmission of

trauma, parenting deficits, and other dificulties. Felsen and Erlich (1990), in their study of 25 second-
generation Holocaust survivors and 24 control subjects who were also Jewish but whose parents had no
direct experience of the Holocaust, found that there are certain character organization traits found with
the descendants of survivors including a lower sense of self-worth and an unwanted identification with
their mothers. The authors attribute the latter characteristic to the greater responsibility for meeting
emotional needs that are generally attributed to the mother and the mother’s difficulty in meeting the
children’s needs due to being overly critical of herself as a survivor (survivor’s guilt). The subjects all
indicated an over-identification with their mother and rated themselves as being self-critical, a highly
undesirable identification by all subjects.
Bar-On et al. (1998) criticized the underdevelopment of theories that explain the transmission of
trauma from one generation. The authors assert that in contrast to clinical descriptions of second-
generation survivors, most empirical studies to date have failed to find significant differences between
descendants of Holocaust survivors and control groups. They proposed that a more fully developed theory
will aid in understanding some of the more subtle findings between experimental and control groups and
used attachment theory to guide their analyses in three studies based in Canada, Israel, and the
Netherlands. Several important factors disrupted the process of mourning in Holocaust survivors,
including time gaps in ascertaining the status of loved ones, the uncertainty of the exact time, date, and
location of death, and the abandonment and betrayal experienced by children who lost parents. These
children then grew up with a disrupted attachment and may have inadvertently passed this on to
generations to come, treating children as adults that were capable of providing emotional comfort and
support (Bowlby, 1951). The studies found what appeared to be disruptions in healthy attachments. In the
Netherlands study, children of Holocaust victims (n = 30) were more “parentified,” or felt more
responsibility for taking care of their parents than the control group (n = 30) whose parents were Jewish
but not war victims. In the Canada study, responses of 57 adult children of Holocaust survivors were
analyzed and found that overall, children were preoccupied with their parent’s sadness and tried to please

them by only bringing home good marks or avoiding asking questions about the Holocaust. Furthermore,
these respondents did not feel entitled to happiness because their parents were not able to be happy. The
Israeli case study of one man found that it was difficult for him to tell a coherent story that linked his past
and their present because he felt obliged to move beyond the experiences of his parents as a symbol of the
future, and yet were so wrapped up in the past because of untold secrets and memories that he always felt
were present for his parents (Bar-On et al., 1998).
Once again, parallels between second-generation Holocaust survivors and the experiences of
many Indigenous people are evident. Survivors of residential schools were often separated from their
parents for years at a time. They likely felt abandoned by their parents and wondered why they did not
come and take them away and save them from those that stole them from their communities. When these
children became parents, they were likely preoccupied with memories of their traumatic pasts (of being
abandoned or abused) and may have expected their children to provide them with the comfort and
security that they did not get growing up in an institutionalized setting. Furthermore, this pattern of
parenting will carry across several generations – until children have caregivers that have models of
healthy and nurturing care, they will be forever robbed of breaking this cycle.
Historical Trauma
Brave Heart (1998) was the first to apply the concepts of intergenerational trauma to the Lakota
people, naming it historical trauma. She related that because the Lakota have an extended sense of family,
their grief is also expanded to include larger numbers of deceased. Traditional outward signs of grief
included cutting one’s hair and sometimes one’s body, symbolizing the loss of the part of oneself. At the
end of the mourning period, called “spirit keeping” (usually one year), the Lakota would “release the
spirit” and “wipe the tears” to resolve the grief and allow the mourned to come back and participate in
society. Brave Heart (1998) argued that with the 1881 ban on traditional practices, Lakota grief was
inhibited and compounded. She wrote that,
Lakota grief differs from the process described by Freud and Pollock – the degree of
decathexis is different because the Lakota seek continued involvement with the spiritual
world after the death of their loved ones, this makes them further predisposed to
pathological grief because even partial decathexis (the ability to disengage from another
spirit emotionally) is limited.
In 1890, a massacre occurred against the Lakota people killing thousands, in what is referred to as
the Wounded Knee Massacre. The bodies of the dead were thrown into mass graves and the survivors
were left to deal with the aftermath without being permitted to grieve or bury the bodies in a way that
allowed them to release the spirits. Brave Heart (1998) believed that this was the beginning of an
overreliance on alcohol and elevated rates of suicide, which were ways of coping with unresolved feelings.
She tested her hypotheses on 45 service providers during a four-day psychoeducational intervention
which was designed to initiate the resolution of grief. She employed a pre-and-post-test using the Lakota
Grief experience questionnaire, self-reports at the end of the intervention, and a follow-up questionnaire
after six weeks. The findings of the study included the following: 1) Education about historical trauma led
to an increased awareness of the impact and associated grief of the traumatic Lakota history, 2) sharing
the effects with other Lakota people in a traditional context provided cathartic relief, and 3) grief
resolution was initiated for individuals, including a reduction in grief effects, a more positive identity and

a commitment to individual and community healing. Differences between men and women were found,
suggesting that men were at an earlier stage of grief resolution (denial and trauma fixation) at the pre-test
stage than women who were living with more guilt and shame. At the end of the intervention, women
blamed themselves less and had lower grief scores, whereas men as a group felt more sadness, grief,
anger, hopelessness, shame, and guilt. However, men’s joy and pride simultaneously increased by 50%
(Brave Heart, 1999).
Denham (2008) used the concept of historical trauma in his ethnographic fieldwork with a four-
generation family living in Northern Idaho. His research consisted of seven formal interviews with the
family patriarch and informal observations of family interactions. Denham contended that this family
honours their ancestors by the passing of narratives from one generation to the next in a sharing fashion.
The way that the past is framed, however, is where other families may differ one from the next. The Coeur
d’Alène family reframes their narrative in a strengths-based approach which focuses on their assets
despite the adversities they have endured. Denham wrote that because trauma memories are different
than other memories – in that they lack a cohesive plot - they are capable of shattering one’s sense of self.
This self then requires someone to help them make sense of what has happened to them so they are able
to overcome resulting obstacles. By passing a resilient narrative from one generation to the next, this
family helps future generations make sense of their past and gives them strength and knowledge to
overcome discrimination and to educate others that are more ignorant than themselves. The author
concluded that historic trauma needs to be separated from responses to trauma, which can be both
pathological and resilient (Denham, 2008).
Abadian (2006) made a similar argument as Denham (2008) in her presentation at the Healing
our Spirits Worldwide conference. She argued that cultural renewal can be as dangerous as it can be
rehabilitative. She referred to the Lakota people’s historical attempts to renew culture that ended
tragically – as in the 1890 Massacre of Wounded Knee. Furthermore, other so-called cultural renewals,
such as Hitler’s attempts to renew the “great Aryan nation” or Serbia’s attempt at cultural resurgence have
all ended horribly and have been toxic to survivors. Abadian argued that cultural renewal requires paying
attention to the stories that one tells themselves in relationship to others and who is responsible for the
way things currently are. She referred to these stories as meta-narratives – and asserted that toxic cultural
renewal is an outcome of toxic cultural narratives. In turn, these cultural narratives are the outcome of
past traumas. The first step in the regeneration of healthy and affirming cultures is the telling of life-
affirming and healthy narratives. She drew on the example of a young child who was sexually abused by
an extended family member. Because the child only has “pre-operational thinking” (Piaget, 1928), or
believes that everything that happens is as a direct result of what they have done, they come to believe that
any harm that occurs is their fault. This child thus goes through his life believing he is damaged,
unlovable, and unworthy of healthy relationships. These post-traumatic narratives tend to be habitual,
frozen in the past, self-referential, and self-reinforcing.
In the same way, entire communities can pass on unhealthy narratives to future generations.
Healthy traditional communities were able to deal with trauma through the sweat lodge, rituals to support
those left behind by loved ones, and through the adoption of orphaned children as a regular practice. But
when entire communities experience the same traumas for generations, the very mechanisms that helped
them to cope become destroyed in the process. The whole group becomes frozen in time and the collective

narratives become post-traumatic. Abadian (2006) pointed to religious doctrine as another example of
toxic narratives that get past on through time and that label people as “better than” or “worse than”
anyone else based on their commitment to religion. She called these beliefs falsely empowering and
argued that doctrines of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam emerged from their own historical traumas and
have carried these forward and traumatized millions of people worldwide into believing that any one
person can be more important or worthy of God’s love. Cultural renewal thus requires a cleansing of the
elements of post-traumatic subcultures that no longer serve people and communities and keep them stuck
in a traumatic past.
Evans-Campbell (2008) suggested that the concept of historical trauma could be applied to all
colonized, Indigenous peoples. The author argued that the diagnoses such as PTSD do not address multi-
generational traumas; as the focus is too individualized and does not take into account the social aspects
of reactions to trauma, nor does it address the way that historical traumas may interact and compound
currently experienced traumas such as intrafamilial abuse, suicide of family members, and daily racism
and discrimination. She suggested that the criteria for historical trauma should include the following: 1)
Many people in the community experienced it, 2) the events generated high levels of collective distress
(demonstrated both empirically and narratively), and 3) the events were perpetrated by outsiders with a
destructive intent – often a genocidal intent, making them particularly devastating. Instead of focusing on
the individual impact of trauma, Evans-Campbell proposed a multi-level framework for understanding
overlapping causes. She argued that trauma is best understood as impacting at three levels: the individual,
the family, and the community. At the individual level, trauma manifests itself in mental and physical
health problems - PTSD, guilt, anxiety, and depression. At the family level, symptoms may include
impaired communication and stress around parenting (or attachment problems seen in children). The
entire community may suffer from the breakdown of traditional culture and values, the loss of traditional
rites of passage, high rates of alcoholism, physical illness (obesity), and internalized racism (Duran &
Duran, 1995).
Whitbeck et al. (2004a), in conjunction with tribal elders from nine reserves in both Canada and
the United States, developed two scales: the Historical Loss Scale and the Historical Loss Associated
Symptom Scale Latent construct in an attempt to empirically capture the impacts of historical trauma.
The first scale consists of 12 items, each of which lists a type of loss identified by focus groups of elders.
These include loss of: land, language, culture, spiritual ways, family and family ties, self-respect, trust,
people through early death, children’s loss of respect for elders, and traditional ways. The Historical Loss
Associated Symptom Scale is also made of 12 items and specifies symptoms identified by focus group
members and other participants. These include sadness, depression, anger, anxiety, nervousness, shame,
loss of concentration, isolation or distance from other people, loss of sleep, rage, feeling uncomfortable
around white people, fear or distrust of the intentions of white people, feeling as though it is happening
again, and feeling like avoiding places or people. Both items have high internal reliability, with Cronbach’s
alpha scores of .94 for historical loss and .90 for historical loss associated symptoms. In a subsequent
study of 452 American Indian parents of children 10-12 years old, almost three-quarters of the sample
met the criteria for lifetime alcohol abuse and of those, 15% met the criteria for 12-month alcohol abuse.
Historical loss mediated the effects of perceived discrimination, suggesting that historical loss and the
resolution of these losses have impacts on alcohol abuse. The authors cautioned that this is exploratory
work done only with one Nation, but that the scales may be adapted to reflect the losses and symptoms of
other groups as well (Whitbeck, Hoyt, Chen, & Adams, 2004b).

Clinicians that work with Indigenous peoples around manifestations of trauma should also be
aware of culturally appropriate treatment models. Duran and Duran (1995) argued for a shift in the
counselor’s worldview when working with Indigenous populations. The authors related that based on
their experience working with several different tribes in the United States, most Indigenous peoples’ belief
systems about mental health and healing are very different from euro-centric viewpoints. For example,
the concept of time is generally used by western mental health counselors to set goals for treatment. For
Indigenous peoples, it may not be a length of time that is required to heal, but rather the intensity in
which they engage in the process. Dancing intensely during a traditional ceremony may provide as much
cathartic relief as discussing problems over a longer period of time. Furthermore, western notions of well-
being such as employment, income levels, and ownership of property are not necessarily applicable to
standards that Native peoples aspire to. Traditionally, capitalist models were not part of Native culture
and instead ceremonies to share the wealth among members of tribes or clans were an important way of
creating balance and harmony in communities. Standard notions of functioning and well-being should be
continually questioned and modified depending on what goals the person has for themselves (Duran &
Duran, 1995).
Although the transmission of trauma from one generation to the next may explain some of the
current mental health problems and other disparities between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people, it is
likely only one piece of the story. There are several other compounding factors that need to be examined
in order to begin to have a holistic understanding of the disparities.
Race-Based Trauma and Discrimination

Carter (2007), in his major contribution article, proposed that race-based traumatic stress injury
should be recognized as an “emotional or physical pain or the threat of emotional or physical pain
stemming from racism in the form of harassment, discrimination or discriminatory harassment (aversive
hostility).” Racial encounters can be interpersonal, institutional, or cultural. The trauma resulting from an
event should be determined by the severity of the individual’s reaction to the event (and the cluster of
symptoms that accompanies it), because severity may be a consequence of the cumulative effects of
racism throughout the person’s life. The event that causes symptoms to manifest may be less serious than
other events, but the additive factor causes the person to feel they cannot take any more. Carter asserted
that although race-related stress has been studied, trauma researchers do not generally consider racism in
the diagnosis of PTSD. Carter also argued that discrimination can stem from historical policies and can
infiltrate into current day myths and misconceptions about people of color or ethnic minorities. Histories
of colonization and oppression cannot be separated out from everyday acts of racism and discrimination.
Bryant-Davis (2007) responded to and expanded on Carter’s argument for the recognition of
race-based trauma. She argued that clinicians and those who work with the public need to be sensitized to
the multiple and overlapping types of trauma that people experience in their lifetimes and should
specifically assess ethnic minorities for instances of race-based trauma. The author feels that it is
irresponsible to try and avoid issues of race and discrimination due to the counselor or psychologist
feeling uncomfortable with the topic. She also wrote that race-based trauma should not be pathologized,
but that any kind of trauma will inevitably lead to victim blaming by a public that is not educated or
sensitized. Therefore, it is not enough to keep race-based trauma separate from the Diagnostic and
Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders; work on educating the public needs to be done at multiple levels

to support traumatized persons. There is some ambivalence in Bryant-Davis’ argument because she
nevertheless found the work of trauma experts helpful in using the same cluster of symptoms when
assessing race-based trauma as PTSD. She asserted that attention should be paid to reports of intrusive
thoughts, hyperarousal, numbing, intense emotional reactions, difficulty concentrating, difficulty with
memory, feelings of destructiveness towards self or others, and psychosomatic reactions (Bryant-Davis,
2007; van der Kolk, McFarlane, & van der Hart, 1996).
A handful of researchers have attempted to measure the relationship of perceived discrimination

with other mental health outcomes such as depression, suicide attempts, and alcoholism among American
Indians (Walls, 2007; Whitbeck, 2002/2004a). Whitbeck (2002), in concert with an advisory committee
comprised of American Indian elders and tribe members from one Nation, developed an 11 item scale to
measure how often respondents had been insulted, treated disrespectfully, hassled by police, ignored,
recipients of a racial slur, threatened with physical harm, suspected of doing something wrong, treated
unfairly, expected not to do well by whites, discouraged to achieve an important goal, and treated unfairly
in courts as a consequence of their American Indian minority status. The response categories ranged from
one (never) to four (always). The authors found that the scale has high internal reliability (Cronbach’s
alpha of 0.90). The studies found that discrimination was correlated with higher alcohol use and suicide
attempts and protective factors such as involvement in traditional activities disappeared when
respondents had suffered from high levels of perceived discrimination. Thus, discrimination may lead to a
broader range of symptoms than those officially recognized by a diagnosis of PTSD, as Bryant-Davis
(2007) suggested.
Both race-based trauma and historical trauma are only beginning to be recognized as legitimate
frameworks by which to address mental health problems with Native peoples. Although Carter (2007)
made an important argument against pathologizing a trauma that is a result of society’s ignorance, official
recognition of suffering by the American Psychiatric Association would go a long way towards sensitizing
the thousands of clinicians that work with ethnic minorities and Indigenous peoples on a regular basis.
Resilient Responses to Trauma and Discrimination

Fleming and Ledogar (2008) provided a summary of resilience models and argued that although
early models of resilience-focused on the individual’s ability to succeed despite adversity, there has been
an ongoing search by researchers to find models that reflect resilience at not only the level of the
individual, but also the family, community, and cultural levels. Research completed on resilience in
Indigenous communities has examined both individual factors that contribute to positive outcomes, and,
more recently, community-level variables that may prove beneficial for large numbers of people within
the community. Because the causes of many problems were widespread governmental policies and
practices that affected whole nations of peoples, it is logical to study resilience at a community level –
even if many of the problems have now spread to families and individuals.
Resilience as Self-Government
There is strong evidence to believe that Aboriginal quality of life would increase with the greater
expansion of self-governed nations. Chandler and Lalonde (1998/2004) found that of 196 First Nations
communities surveyed in British Colombia, 111 had not a single suicide. Self-government was the greatest
protective factor against suicide and all markers of cultural continuity (land claims, education, health

services, cultural facilities, police and fire services, women in government, and community-run child
welfare services) were associated with lower suicide rates. In communities that had only one or a few of
these services, the rates of associated suicide were as great as six times that of the overall population.
Cornell (2006), as part of the Harvard University Economic Development Project, argued that
Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and the United States have much in common - including the fact that all
four countries are predominantly European-settler societies, English-speaking, have legal and political
systems that share a primarily English heritage, and also share a particular pattern of relationships with
Indigenous peoples. In all four countries, European settlement often violently dispossessed Indigenous
peoples, but Indigenous peoples remain today on remnant lands and have all engaged to one degree or
another in movements for Indigenous self-determination. Furthermore, Cornell (2006) asserted that the
central governments have tended to be more willing to address issues of Indigenous poverty than issues of
Indigenous self-determination.
Overall disparities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous persons mask the fact that some
Nations are outperforming not only other Indigenous communities but also non-Indigenous
communities. Tribes and Nations in the United States that have successfully implemented self-
government in one facet or another have seen reduced reliance on social assistance, reduced
unemployment, the emergence of diverse and viable economic enterprises on reservation lands, more
effective management of social services and programs (including language and cultural components) and
improved management of natural resources (Jorgenson, 1997/2000, & Krepps, 1992).
Cornell and Kalt (2007) described two approaches to economic stimulation in American Indian
nations. The authors wrote that the standard approach that began in the 1920s has five main
characteristics:
(1) decision making is short term and non-strategic; (2) persons or organizations other
than the Native nation set the development agenda; (3) development is treated primarily
as an economic problem; (4) Indigenous culture is viewed as an obstacle to development
and (5) Elected leadership serves primarily as a distributor of resources.
The approach doesn’t always have all five of these elements but in general, it has been wrought with
corrupt leadership, an economy highly dependent on money from the federal government, and ongoing
poverty and an impression of incompetence that undermines future attempts to regain sovereignty of their
Nation. In contrast, the Nation-building approach sees Native nations make all the decisions, governing
institutions adhere to Indigenous political culture, and decision making is strategic and long-term. In many
communities, governing institutions are the remnants of colonialism and the electoral system is based on
the British model. When Cornell and Kalt referred to governance structures that adhere to Indigenous
culture, they are referring to structures that have meaning and significance for that particular tribe or
Nation and therefore, will inevitably be less prone to corruption and failure (Milloy, 1999).
Examples of prosperous Nations in the United States are the Citizen Potawatomi in Oklahoma,
the Mississipi Choctaw, and the Salish and Kootenai. All three Nations built themselves up from minimal
assets and reliance on federal money to being fully self-governed – in some cases with their own Supreme
Court system – and with diversified economies consisting of banks, golf courses, casinos, farms, and retail
food chains. The Citizen Potawatomi Nation funnels their profits into services for citizens including health

and wellness, early childhood development programs, and an award-winning small business development
program. Unemployment is virtually non-existent, the community members are healthier mentally,
physically, and culturally. Cornell and Kalt (2007) asserted that these experiences are applicable to
Indigenous peoples across Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and the United States, but also caution that
self-determined Indigenous governance in these countries is likely to be diverse, and that a single form of
self-governance is unlikely to work across groups or across countries.
Resilience as Cultural and Spiritual Renewal

A small number of researchers have begun to work with tribe members to develop tools that
measure traditional spiritual commitments or cultural connection and the relationship to resiliency
among Indigenous populations. Although there are distinct interpretations of these concepts that vary by
tribe and culture, American Indians and the First Nations of Canada share a history of massacre,
colonialism, and high rates of out-of-home placement of children. Whitbeck et al. (2004a) were the first
to employ the term enculturation using three separate measurements: traditional spirituality, traditional
activities, and cultural identification. The Healing Pathways Project used these measures for their three
years lagged sequential study on four American Indian and five First Nations reservations (Walls,
Johnson, Whitbeck, & Hoyt, 2006; Whitbeck, et al., 2004b). In one set of analyses, 746 youth aged 10-12
were asked about suicidal thoughts and behaviors, discrimination, negative life events, alcohol use,
depressive symptoms, delinquency, anger, self-esteem, and enculturation. Enculturation and
traditionality were negatively associated with suicidal behaviors, whereas discrimination and negative life
events were positively associated with suicidal behaviors (Walls, 2007). This combination of three
measurements appears promising for several reasons: It was developed in consultation with tribal
members and elders, the measures contain many cultural components specific to both Native American
and First Nations people, and the traditional activities component, although not exhaustive, includes a
large variety of traditional activities (19 in total) that span across cultures. In addition, the incorporation
of elements that measure beliefs, actions, and identification is a more holistic way of capturing cultural
connection.
A cross-sectional survey of 1,456 American Indian Tribal members aged 15-54 years old used a
cultural spiritual orientation scaled and found that those who were more culturally or spiritually oriented
were half as likely to report a history of attempting suicide than those with a low score (Garroutte, 2003).
Anderson and Ledogar (2008) provided a summary of 15 studies that have been completed in
Canada that examine protective factors among youth across a wide range of issues including suicide
prevention, tobacco use, risky sexual behavior, prenatal health, and domestic violence prevention. Some
of the different constructs used to measure contribution to resiliency were: spirituality, sense of
coherence, history of abuse, knowledge of consequences, pride in one’s heritage, self-esteem, subjective
norms, agency or self-efficacy, level of distress, involvement in traditional ways, church attendance, level
of support, parental care, parental monitoring, parental attitudes, influence of peers, and community
influence. Associations were found between resilience and mastery, self-esteem, low levels of personal
distress, and pride in one’s heritage. Although these were the only associations that were found to be
significant, the authors asserted that limitations, such as small sample sizes in many of the studies, may
have contributed to the lack of association. Nevertheless, a common finding across these studies is that
belief in traditional culture and values and participation in cultural practices provides some kind of a

buffer against adversity and risk-taking. The very element that governmental policy sought out to destroy
has turned out to be vital to the physical and emotional well-being of Indigenous peoples.
Future Directions
Research that has been done thus far clearly supports the theoretical frameworks of
intergenerational, historical, and race-based trauma. Furthermore, the notion of culture, be it at an
individual, family, or community level is clearly a protective factor for many Indigenous people. The
developments in the theoretical literature on historical trauma as first described by Brave Heart (1998)
are gaining some recognition, but more measures are needed to test the construct of historical trauma
among a greater variety of cultural groups in order to confirm its applicability to different cultures.
Whitbeck et al. (2002/2004) have begun to examine the interplay between a number of factors that both
contribute to and undermine resiliency, including perceived discrimination, enculturation, historical
trauma, historical loss, alcohol use, and suicidality.
What continues to be lacking is the ability to study resiliency of Aboriginal or Native American
people living in urban and isolated rural areas. Like other cultural groups, enormous differences may be
evident from one generation to the next and depending on whether someone has ever lived on a reserve
community or not. Most of the studies examining the relationship between resiliency and community
well-being are done with people living on-reserve. How can some of the positive findings from the studies
cited above be translated into work with Aboriginal peoples living off-reserve? One area of future research
may be to work with families that reside in communities or cities with a greater access to cultural
resources (such as urban Native friendship centres) or with ongoing connections to friends or family
members living on-reserve to see how their level of involvement with such resources serves as a protective
factor against the increased stressors of living in a city, including discrimination, negative stereotyping,
and greater levels of financial stress.
No scale or measure can be thought to measure the countless losses suffered by Aboriginal
peoples in Canada and Indigenous peoples across the globe. The one time grant of $350 million to be
spread over 11 years from the Canadian federal government is a first step in addressing the multiple losses
endured by Aboriginal peoples. However, this money, without any kind of permanent structure or
ongoing funding will not likely scratch the surface of the multiple and competing needs of generations of
Aboriginal peoples affected by institutional racism and discrimination. Furthermore, only the measurable
act of attendance in residential schools is being compensated. The loss of lands, gender roles, traditional
family patterns, and governance structures (to name only a few of the losses) are in no way being
recognized as contributing to the suffering that continues for many Indigenous peoples. Although more
Canadian research would further the argument, there appears to be no legitimate reason against further
stalling by the government to settle land claims and reestablish the inherent right of First Nations to self-
govern. If this transition is done properly (i.e., First Nations led, respecting traditional governance
structures, etc.) self-government would likely decrease disparities between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal
peoples, and result in healthier individuals, families, and communities.

References
Abadian, S. (2006). Cultural healing: When cultural renewal is reparative and when it is toxic. Pimatisiwin: A Journal of
Aboriginal and Indigenous Community Health, 4(2), 5-28.
American Psychiatric Association. (2000). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (4th ed.). Washington, DC: Author.
Andersson, N., & Ledogar, R. J. (2008). The CIET Aboriginal youth resilience studies: 14 years of capacity building and methods
development in Canada. Pimatisiwin: A Journal of Aboriginal and Indigenous Community Health, 6(2), 65-88.
Armitage, A. (1995). Comparing the policy of Aboriginal assimilation. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Assembly of First Nations. (2007). First Nations regional longitudinal health survey (RHS) 2002/03: Results for adults, youth
and children living in First Nations communities. Ottawa, ON: Assembly of First Nations/First Nations Information
Governance Committee.
Ball, J. (2008). Promoting equity and dignity for Aboriginal children in Canada. IRPP Choices, 14(7), 1-28.
Bar-On, D., Eland, J., Kleber, R., Krell, R., Moore, Y., Sagi, A., . . . & van IJzendoorn, M. H. (1998). Multigenerational perspectives
on coping with the Holocaust experience: An attachment perspective for understanding the developmental sequelae of
trauma across generations. International Journal of Behavioral Development, 22(2), 315-
338. https://doi.org/10.1080%2F016502598384397
Beavon, D. (2003). An application of the United Nations Human Development Index to registered Indians in Canada, 1996.
Bowlby, J. (1952). Maternal care and mental health: A report prepared on behalf of the World Health Organization as a contribution
to the United Nations programme for the welfare of homeless children (2nd ed.). Geneva: World Health Organization.
Brave Heart, Y. H. M. (1998). The return to the sacred path: Healing the historical trauma and historical unresolved grief response
among the Lakota through a psychoeducational group intervention. Smith College Studies in Social Work, 68(3), 280-
305. https://doi.org/10.1080/00377319809517532
Brave Heart, Y. H. M. (1999). Gender differences in the historical trauma response among the Lakota. Journal of Health and
Social Policy, 10(4), 1-21. https://doi.org/10.1300/J045v10n04 01
Brave Heart, Y. H. M., & Debruyn, L. (1998). The American Indian Holocaust: Healing historical unresolved grief. American
Indian and Alaska Native Mental Health Research, 8(2), 56-78.
Brubaucher, M. (2006). Coming home: The story of Tikinagan Child and Family Services. Sioux Lookout, ON: Tikinagan Child and
Family Services.
Bryant-Davis, T. (2007). Healing requires recognition: The case for race-based traumatic stress. The Counseling Psychologist,
35(1), 135-143. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0011000006295152
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP). (1996). Volume 1: Looking forward, Looking back. Ottawa, ON: Canada
Communication Group.
Carter, R. T. (2007). Racism and psychological and emotional injury: Recognizing and assessing race-based traumatic stress. The
Counseling Psychologist, 35(1), 13-105. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0011000006292033
Chandler, M., & Lalonde, C. (2004). Transferring whose knowledge? Exchanging whose best practices? On knowing about
Indigenous knowledge and Aboriginal suicide. In J. White, P. Maxim, & D. Beavon (Eds.), Aboriginal policy research:
Setting the agenda for change (Vol. 2) (pp. 111-123). Toronto: Thompson Educational Publishing.
Cornell, S. (2006). Indigenous peoples, poverty and self-determination in Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and the United
States. Tucson, AZ: Native Nations Institute for Leadership, Management, and Policy.
Cornell, S., & Kalt., J. (2007). Two approaches to the development of Native nations: One works, the other doesn’t. In M.
Jorgensen (Ed.), Rebuilding Native Nations (pp. 3-33). Tucson, AZ: The University of Arizona Press.

Danieli, Y. (1998). Intergenerational handbook of multigenerational legacies of trauma. New York City, NY: Plenum.
Denham, A. (2008). Rethinking historical trauma: Narratives of resilience. Transcultural Psychiatry, 45(3), 391-
414. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F1363461508094673
Duran, E., & Duran, B. (1995). Native American postcolonial psychology. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
Evans-Campbell, T. (2008). Historical trauma in American Indian/Native Alaska communities: A multi-level framework for
exploring impacts on individuals, families and communities. Journal of Interpersonal Violence, 23(3), 316-
38. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0886260507312290
Felsen, I., & Erlich, S. (1990). Identification patterns of offspring of Holocaust survivors with their parents. American Journal of
Orthopsychiatry, 60(4), 506-520. http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/h0079205
Fleming, J., & Ledogar, R. (2008). Resilience, an evolving concept: A review of literature relevant to Aboriginal research.
Pimatisiwin: A Journal of Aboriginal and Indigenous Community Health, 6(2), 7-23.
Aboriginal communities. Toronto, ON: Douglas &MacIntyre.
Garroutte, E., Goldberg, J., Beals, J., Herell, R., Manson, S., & the AI-SUPERPFP Team (2003). Spirituality and attempted suicide
among American Indians. Social Science and Medicine, 56(7), 1571-1578. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0277-9536(02)00157-0
Grubich-Simitis, I. (1981). Extreme traumatization as cumulative trauma: Psychoanalytic investigations of the effects of
concentration camp experiences on survivors and their children. Psychoanalytic Study of the Child, 36(1), 415-
450. https://doi.org/10.1080/00797308.1981.11823352
Jorgensen, M., & Taylor, J. (2000). Patterns of Indian enterprise success: A statistical analysis of tribal and individual Indian
enterprise performance. Report to the National Congress of American Indians. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Project on
American Indian Economic Development, John F. Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University.
Kirmayer, L. (1994). Suicide among Canadian Aboriginal peoples. Transcultural Psychiatry, 31(1), 3-
58. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F136346159403100101
Krepps, M. B. (1992). Can tribes manage their own resources? The 638 program and American Indian Forestry. In S. Cornell and
J. P. Kalt (Eds.), What can tribes do? Strategies and institutions in American Indian economic development. Los
Angeles, CA: American Indian Studies Center, UCLA.
MacLaurin, B., Trocmé, N., Fallon, B., Blackstock, C., Pitman, L., & McCormack, M. (2008). A comparison of First Nations and
non-Aboriginal children investigated for maltreatment in Canada in 2003. Toronto, ON: Factor-Inwentash Faculty of
Social Work, University of Toronto.
Milloy, J. (1996). A National Crime: The Canadian government and the residential school system 1879 to 1986.Winnipeg, MB:
Naumetz, T. (2009). Thousands suffered sexual abuse in residential schools. Canoe News. Retrieved
from http://cnews.canoe.ca/CNEWS/Politics/2009/01/17/8057196-cp html
Piaget, J. (1928). The child’s conception of the world. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Statistics Canada (2008). First Nations children under six years old living off reserve. Ottawa, ON: Statistics Canada.
Trocmé, N., Fallon, B., MacLaurin, B., Daciuk, J., Felstiner, C., Black, T., . . . & Cloutier, R. (2005). Canadian incidence study of reported
child abuse and neglect 2003: Major findings. Ottawa, ON: Minister of Public Works and Government Services Canada.
United Nations (2006). Consideration of reports submitted by states parties under Articles 16 and 17 of the Covenant. Geneva:
United Nations Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, Economic and Social Council.
van der Kolk, B. A., McFarlane, A. C., & van der hart, O. (1996). A general approach to treatment of post-traumatic stress
disorder. In. B.A. van der Kolk, A.C. McFarlane, & L. Weisaeth (Eds.), Traumatic stress: The effects of overwhelming
experience on mind, body and society (pp. 417-440). New York City, NY: Guilford Press.
Walls, M. (2007). A mixed methods examination of Indigenous youth suicide (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved from ETD
collection for University of Nebraska – Lincoln. (AAI3271918).
Walls, M., Johnson, K., Whitbeck, L., & Hoyt, D. (2006). Mental health and substance abuse services preferences among
American Indian people of the northern Midwest. Community Mental Health Journal, 42(6), 521-
535. https://dx.doi.org/10.1007%2Fs10597-006-9054-7

Wesley-Esquimaux, C. C., & Smolewski, M. (2004). Historic trauma and Aboriginal healing. Ottawa, ON: Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
Whitbeck, L., Adams, G., Hoyt, D., & Chen, X. (2004a). Conceptualizing and measuring historical trauma among American
Indian people. American Journal of Community Psychology, 33(3-4), 119-
130. https://doi.org/10.1023/B:AJCP.0000027000.77357.31
Whitbeck, L., Chen, X., Hoyt, D, & Adams, G. (2004b). Discrimination, historical loss and enculturation: Culturally specific risk and
resiliency factors for alcohol abuse among American Indians. Journal of Studies on Alcohol, 65(4), 409-
418. https://doi.org/10.15288/jsa.2004.65.409
Whitbeck, L., McMorris, B., Hoyt, D., Stubben, J., & Lafromboise, T. (2002). Perceived discrimination, traditional practices and
depressive symptoms among American Indians in the upper Midwest. Journal of Health and Social Behavior, 43(4),
400-418. http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/3090234

2019
Healing Through Culture for Incarcerated
Aboriginal People
Ashley Hyatt
MA, University of Toronto, Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, Ontario, Canada
Corresponding author: ashley.e.hyatt@gmail.com
Abstract
Statistically, Aboriginal people in Canada are over-represented in prisons throughout the country.
While representatives from the Canadian government recognize that the Aboriginal incarceration
rates are an issue, they have failed to find a solution. A link has been found to demonstrate how the
erosion of Aboriginal culture through the legacy of residential schools has contributed to the current
inflated Aboriginal incarceration statistics (Waldram, 1997). As such, cultural healing in prisons may
be a crucial factor for Aboriginal inmates’ rehabilitation. Cultural healing can be implemented in
prisons by: providing inmates with access to Elders, allowing Elders to perform ceremonies, providing
inmates with access to sacred medicines, and increasing the number of healing lodges and sacred
circles.
Keywords: Aboriginal, incarceration, culture, cultural healing
1
The original version of this article was published in: Hyatt, A. (2013). Healing through culture for incarcerated Aboriginal
people. First People Child & Family Review, 8(2), 41-53.
Healing through culture for incarcerated Aboriginal people 183
Contextualizing the Reviewer’s Position

I am writing from the perspective of a non-Aboriginal person who is presently focused on learning
and immersing myself in the area of Aboriginal psychology. My work and position come from that of a
non-Aboriginal student who is working towards becoming a mental health professional. As such, my work
presented here does not represent the voice of Indigenous people, and only represents my personal
thoughts and interpretations of the discussed content.
Before proceeding, I want to clarify where my perspective comes from. I am predominately of

English, Irish, and Scottish descent. I was raised in the city of Brantford in South-Western Ontario.
Brantford is in the heart of Six Nations territory, right along the Grand River, and as a result, I was
introduced to Aboriginal people, cultures, and issues at a young age. My Six Nations acquaintances
instilled in me an interest to become more involved in the Aboriginal community. As a result, I am
presently studying and researching in the area of Aboriginal psychology for my graduate work at the
University of Toronto. I am deeply interested in creating and nurturing respectful relationships with the
Aboriginal community both as an aspiring counsellor and researcher. In addition, I aspire to further
benefit the community through my work in these areas. My research involvement with the Aboriginal
community in Toronto has expanded my research interests to include the areas of education and
employment issues, cultural identity, and culturally appropriate programs and resources. Thus, this work
is important to me as I aspire to become a counsellor and researcher in the Aboriginal community.
Introduction
It is well documented that Aboriginal people are over-represented in prisons across Canada
(Hayman, 2006; Perreault, 2009; Rymhs, 2008; Waldram, 1997). Statistics Canada reported in 2008 that
adult Aboriginal people made up 18% of the provincial/territorial prison population (but only 3.1% of the
national population) and this number continues to rise (Perreault, 2009). In fact, the Aboriginal prison
population exceeds their general representation in all of the provinces and territories (Perreault, 2009).
In Perreault’s 2009 report, he cited three factors as the basis for the over-representation of Aboriginal
people in prisons: age, education, and unemployment. The Aboriginal population is one of the youngest
and fast-growing populations in Canada (Statistics Canada, 2013a). Thus, age is a key factor as most
incarcerated Aboriginal people are between 20-years and 34-years (Perreault, 2009). In general, people
with lower completion levels of education are more likely to be incarcerated (Brennan, 2012) and many
Aboriginal people in prison have not completed high school (Perreault, 2009). Finally, many Aboriginal
people who are incarcerated are unemployed (Perreault, 2009) but employment also contributes to the
incarceration of non-Aboriginal inmates (Brennan, 2012). In fact, age, education, and employment are
also factors that contribute to the incarceration of non-Aboriginal populations (Brennan, 2012). As the
three factors outlined in Perreault’s 2009 report to explain the over-representation of Aboriginal people in
prisons are also key factors in the incarceration of non-Aboriginal people, it appears that age, education,
and unemployment alone do not adequately address nor explain why Aboriginal people are
disproportionately incarcerated. What Perreault (2009) does not explain is the historical role of
stigmatized oppression and colonization and how these factors contribute to the over-representation of
Aboriginal people in prisons. Thus, the question remains, how is it that Aboriginal people became so over-
represented in Canadian prisons?
© Hyatt
Factors That Contribute to Incarceration

The legacy of residential schools
To begin, many Aboriginal people have lower educational levels than non-Aboriginal people. The
obstacle to educational achievement originated with residential schools, which were in operation from the
mid-1800s until the end of the 1990s (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2002; Blackburn, 2012;
Chansonneuve, 2007; Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples [RCAP], 1996). Aboriginal children were
forcibly removed from their families and communities and were required to attend residential schools
(Schissel & Wotherspoon, 2003; RCAP, 1996). The residential schools were used as a form of cultural
genocide, oppression, and exploitation (Schissel & Wotherspoon, 2003). To elaborate, the goal of the
residential schools was to achieve cultural assimilation (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2002; Blackburn,
2012). In order to eradicate Aboriginal cultures, Aboriginal children were prohibited from speaking in
their native languages, many children were isolated from their families and communities, any acts of
Aboriginal spirituality were banned, as were all activities associated with Aboriginal culture and tradition
(Blackburn, 2012). If children were caught engaging in any traditional activities, they were forcibly
punished (Blackburn, 2012; RCAP, 1996). Furthermore, education was not the goal or focus of the
residential schools. Very few students advanced past a grade six level and the quality of education the
students received was subpar (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2002). Instead, children trained for
employment in the areas of domestic work, agriculture, and manual labour (Blackburn, 2012; Milloy,
1999). Physical, sexual, and emotional abuse was also rampant within residential schools (Aboriginal
Healing Foundation, 2002; Blackburn, 2012; RCAP, 1996; Schissel & Wotherspoon, 2003).
The damage incurred through residential schools is pervasive. Presently, the negative effects of
residential schools impact those who attended these schools as well as those who did not attend via
intergenerational trauma (Bombay, Matheson, & Anisman, 2009; Chansonneuve, 2007; Menzies, 2008).
Intergenerational trauma is best understood as a continuation of the negative effects of the residential
schools, which are passed down to other family members in a cycle (Bombay et al., 2009; Chansonneuve,
2007; Menzies, 2008). The impact of intergenerational trauma is typically felt throughout entire
communities and can include, but is not limited to: poor parenting skills (which can negatively impact
mental health), neglect, abuse, hopelessness, inability to feel/express love, inability to trust others, loss of
cultural identity and connections to the cultural community, addictions, and loss of cultural pride
(Bombay et al., 2009; Chansonneuve, 2007).
However, Aboriginal people in the Canadian mainstream education system continue to encounter
barriers that prevent them from participating equally in the education system by means of having non-
Aboriginal people set the standards for education (Preston, Cottrell, Pelletier, & Pearce, 2011; Schissel &
Wotherspoon, 2003). As a result, the present educational system does not support Aboriginal ways of
knowing, creates isolation between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal students, further erodes Aboriginal
culture and identity, leads to the devaluation of Aboriginal culture, and creates an environment where
Aboriginal students face discrimination and racism (Preston et al., 2011; Schissel & Wotherspoon, 2003).
Thus, schools both historically and presently continue to be negative environments for some
Aboriginal people in Canada. While it has been acknowledged that education is key for successful
integration into the workforce and society (Schissel & Wotherspoon, 2003), the fact remains that there
© Hyatt
are still several barriers to education for Aboriginal people. As a result of the legacy of the residential
school system, most of the incarcerated Aboriginal population has not completed high school (Perreault,
2009). This failure is a reflection of mainstream society by way of producing toxic education
environments, which have negatively impacted Aboriginal people for hundreds of years.
Employment barriers
Coinciding with educational outcome is employment potential. It has been observed that
employment, income, and job prospects increase with education levels (Schissel & Wotherspoon, 2003).
Furthermore, education credentials are commonly used as screening tools for employers so that even if
the job does not require higher levels of educational attainment (i.e., high school diploma is required, not
a university degree), applicants who have additional education credentials are more likely to be employed
(Schissel & Wotherspoon, 2003). The practice of employers hiring applicants with more education occurs
because mainstream society tends to regard educational attainment as “a mark of social capability and,
conversely, hold less regard for persons who have limited educational attainment” (Schissel &
Wotherspoon, 2003, p. 114). However, Statistics Canada reported in 2009 that the unemployment rate
among Aboriginal people was 43% and for non-Aboriginal people 31.9% (Statistics Canada, 2011).
Many Aboriginal communities have relied on resource-based industries, including fishing,

forestry, and mining, for employment opportunities. However, the recent decline in these resource-based
industries has resulted in diminishing employment opportunities for Aboriginal people (Ommer, 2007;
White, Maxim, & Gyimah, 2003). The dwindling work opportunities have left many families struggling to
get by on a day-to-day basis, while the cost of living continues to climb.
The fact that Aboriginal people are under-employed is not surprising as only 9.8% of Aboriginal
adults between the ages of 25-years and 64-years have a university degree (Statistics Canada, 2013b). In
comparison, 25% of Canadian adults between the ages of 25-years and 64-years have a university degree
(Statistics Canada, 2012). Furthermore, the Aboriginal population is much younger (average age 25.5-
years) than the non-Aboriginal population (average age 35.4-years) (Kirmayer, Simpson, & Cargo, 2003).
In fact, recent research by Stewart and Marshall (2011a; 2011b) examined Aboriginal youth’s experiences
of the supports, challenges, and barriers they have faced in their quest to find sustainable work. Obstacles
in the workplace, such as systemic racism and job training, are reported barriers to Aboriginal people
obtaining meaningful employment (Stewart & Marshall, 2011a, 2011b) and as limiting factors to
succeeding in the workplace (Juntunen et al., 2001). Furthermore, participants expressed solutions to
employment challenges that would build on their existing strength of cultural identity to help them resist
the colonial oppression they experienced systemically.
Thus, when the legacy of the residential schools, oppressive work conditions, and the young age of
the Aboriginal population are considered in accord with the history of colonialism, it becomes clearer that
systemic barriers are contributing to unemployment and the Aboriginal incarceration statistics.
Systemic barriers
A key factor to the disproportionate incarceration rate of Aboriginal people, which is not
mentioned in the Perreault report, is the loss of Aboriginal culture (Martel, Brassard, & Jaccoud, 2011;
Martel & Brassard, 2008; Waldram, 1997). In 1884, the Canadian government passed legislation that
made participating in Aboriginal ceremonies illegal (Martel et al., 2011; Waldram, 1997). The legislation
© Hyatt
was expanded upon in the following years and prohibited participation in potlatch feasts, sweat lodges,
and the sun dance (Waldram, 1997). This legislation was part of an effort to assimilate as well as “civilize”
Aboriginal peoples (RCAP, 1996; Waldram, 1997). Although these laws were repealed in 1951, the cultural
damages were already incurred (Waldram, 1997). The combination of this detrimental legislation and the
residential schools means that some Aboriginal people today have “no knowledge of traditional
spirituality, language, and in some instances, culture. The Elders who harboured traditional knowledge,
have dwindled in number and fewer young people have been inclined to pick up their mantle” (Waldram,
1997, p. 8). Thus, some Aboriginal inmates enter Canadian prisons with more concerns than non-
Aboriginal inmates including: unhealthy communities, lack of positive role models, little understanding of
Aboriginal cultural and spirituality, loss of pride in their Aboriginal identity, the need to heal from direct
traumatic experiences and intergenerational traumatic experiences of emotional, physical, and sexual
abuse, troubled interpersonal and familial relationships, lack of formal education, and a lack of job skills
(Champagne, Torjesen, & Steiner, 2005; McMaster, 2011; Nielsen, 2003; Rugge, 2006). As such, for some
Aboriginal inmates, developing the tools to succeed outside of prison includes re-connecting to their
Aboriginal culture to heal and to be rehabilitated (Nielsen, 2003).
Spirituality in Prisons
Despite the recognition that healing needs to occur through reacquainting Aboriginal people with
their cultural traditions (Nielsen, 2003; Waldram, 1997), this has been difficult to implement within
Canadian prisons. The year 1983 was the first year that Aboriginal spirituality, in the form of a sweat
lodge, was permitted to be practiced within the walls of a Canadian prison (Waldram, 1997). However, it
was not until the late 1980s that Aboriginal spirituality and Elders were given equal status with other
religions (Martel et al., 2011; Waldram, 1997). Despite the fact that Aboriginal spirituality has been given
equal status, Elders still face challenges in the prisons. To begin, for security purposes, some Elders have
their sacred objects searched before they are granted entry into the prison (Waldram, 1997). The practice
of searching through Elders’ sacred objects is problematic; sacred objects should not be handled by
anyone, except the owner (Correctional Service of Canada, 2015). Additionally, several Aboriginal
spiritual practices occur in natural surroundings, and many Elders have struggled to adapt these
ceremonies to occur within the confines of the prison walls (Waldram, 1997). Many ceremonies require a
significant amount of preparation (e.g., food and fasting), in addition to the ceremony itself (Huber, 2010;
Waldram, 1997). As such, Aboriginal ceremonies do not conform to the idea of one-hour Sunday worship
as it can take several hours or days to carry out (Huber, 2010; Waldram, 1997). For example, it is
traditional for members of the Ojibwa First Nation to participate in a four-day spring fast in solitude
(Huber, 2010). For Ojibwa inmates, preparation is necessary in order to follow traditional protocols. This
includes spending time thinking about themselves and their lives without consuming any food or water,
starting four months before the spring fast occurs (Huber, 2010). While the prisoners are able to spend
four days with the Elder leading the spring fast, they are not able to leave the prison’s grounds or be in
isolation (Huber, 2010). Furthermore, Aboriginal youth inmates in the Burnaby Youth Secure Custody
Centre must wear leg shackles when attending sweat lodges (Grosse, 2006). The reasoning behind the
shackles is due to the fact that in 1999 a prisoner escaped (Grosse, 2006). Additionally, the sweat lodge is
located outside the prison’s secure perimeter and is contained only by an eight-foot-tall barbed wire fence
(Grosse, 2006). Despite the use of shackles, there is a policy of having a minimum of one prison guard
present in the sweat lodge during the ceremony (Grosse, 2006).
© Hyatt
Financial barriers present additional difficulty in terms of carrying out Aboriginal spirituality in
prisons. Across Canadian prisons, there are not enough Elders and spiritual leaders available to inmates
and those who are available tend to be underpaid (Makin, 2012; Waldram, 1997). Elders also struggle to
hold spiritual ceremonies as “sweat lodge ceremonies are scheduled around other programming; the
resources to acquire wood and rocks run out . . . [which] leads to a high turnover among Elders and
spiritual leaders” (Waldram, 1997, p. 219). The lack of funding has been attributed to the fact that
Aboriginal inmates are so over-represented in Canadian prisons (Makin, 2012). As a result, the sheer
number of Aboriginal inmates has created a shortage of funding to provide proper cultural services across
Canada (Makin, 2012).
Furthermore, there are some Elders who are opposed to conducting ceremonies in prisons. Some
of this hesitation stems from adherence to cultural protocols which outlines how ceremonies are to be
conducted, especially the outdoor ceremonies, and who can handle sacred objects (Waldram, 1997). Thus,
the prison system has created an environment which some Elders believe is inappropriate for these sacred
objects and ceremonies (Waldram, 1997). Finally, some Elders may be reluctant to perform these
ceremonies in prisons as many inmates are struggling with substance abuse and may not be able to
adhere to cultural protocols regarding abstinence (Stewart, Elliott, Kidwai, & Hyatt, 2013). The alternative
to cultural programming offered by Elders is cultural programming offered by non-Aboriginal employees
(Martel, Brassard, & Jaccoud, 2011). The non-Aboriginal staff who run these programs undergo training
and receive certification (Martel, Brassard, & Jaccoud, 2011). However, the process of learning Aboriginal
culture from someone who is not Aboriginal has been met with skepticism in terms of questioning how
well non-Aboriginals can understand the shared history of living in isolated communities as well as
understanding how spiritual ceremonies should be conducted (Martel, Brassard, & Jaccoud, 2011).
Healing From Trauma

Unfortunately, substance abuse, addiction, and mental health concerns based on traumatic
experiences are some of the most common problems among Aboriginal inmates (Butler, Allnutt,
Kariminia, & Cain, 2007; Krieg, 2006; LaPrairie, 1996; Putt, Payne, & Milner, 2005; Thakker, 2013).
However, there are ways to facilitate healing of both addictions and mental health concerns in prisons via
cultural healing, which involves a combination of cultural practices and learning the history of
colonization (Duran, 2006; Waldram, 1997). To begin, Elders play a large role in the cultural healing
process. Elders are frequently reported to be the reason that many Aboriginal inmates reconnect to their
cultural identities, by providing cultural histories and traditional teachings (Wilson, 2002; Nielsen,
2003). In prisons, Elders are the gateway to spiritual ceremonies, such as sweat lodges, pipe ceremonies,
or sun dances (Nielsen, 2003). The Elders also offer guidance to the inmates on ways to prepare for the
ceremonies, such as fasting requirements, an explanation of what will happen during the ceremony, and
the ceremony’s purpose (Nielsen, 2003). Likewise, the Elders provide medicines for the ceremonies, such
as tobacco and sweetgrass, and lead the ceremonies (Nielsen, 2003).
Much of the healing that Elders provide is considered soul healing, which is a culturally
appropriate approach to healing mental health and addictions by addressing the historical trauma
(Duran, 2006). This type of healing differs from the biomedical model as it teaches people to understand
how their experience of trauma and intergenerational trauma has led to their current experiences (Duran,
2006; Waldram, 1997). In contrast, the biomedical model pathologizes and diagnoses individuals by
© Hyatt
labelling the problem as something within the individual that should be eliminated (Duran, 2006). In
other words, only once the absence of symptoms occurs is the individual considered healed. However,
sometimes those who receive a diagnosis are not provided with the details as for how this occurred and
how it can be eradicated (Duran, 2006). Thus, the biomedical model can be confusing as individuals tend
to assume diagnoses as part of their identities (Duran, 2006). Soul healing teaches ways to understand
experiences and transform them into something that can be understood, mastered, and transcended
(Duran, 2006; Waldram, 1997) and works by incorporating the assistance of the Elders, the Creator, and
other spirits (Duran, 2006; Waldram, 1997). More specifically, soul healing is a process whereby
Aboriginal people are taught how their history of cultural oppression has injured their soul (Duran,
2006). In order to overcome and surpass personal problems caused by the history of colonization,
Aboriginal people need to understand the history of systemic oppression (Duran, 2006). Thus, the goal is
to heal the soul by coming to an understanding of Aboriginal culture and spirituality through learning and
partaking in ceremonies (Duran, 2006).
It is widely acknowledged that struggles with addictions stem from experiences of trauma or
intergenerational trauma (Chansonneuve, 2007; Duran, 2006; Nabigon, 2006; Waldram, 1997). This is
attributed to the fact that substance abuse is a means to attempt to escape or ease the pain caused by the
trauma Aboriginal people have experienced (Chansonneuve, 2007; Duran, 2006; Nabigon, 2006;
Waldram, 1997). As a great deal of this trauma centres on a loss of cultural identity, it makes sense that an
effective way to help facilitate healing from addictions is to use cultural healing techniques. Many cultural
practices, such as learning knowledge about ceremonies, using sacred medicines, and learning the history
of colonization can be easily carried out in prisons. To begin with, there is a great deal of ancient wisdom
contained with understanding the Medicine Wheel path, such as daily rituals and ceremonies (McCabe,
2008; Nabigon, 2006). The Medicine Wheel is also holistic, as it incorporates a balance between
spirituality, emotions, the body, and the mind (Nabigon, 2006). The Seven Grandfather Teachings also
contain the seven natural healing methods: crying, yelling, sweating, yawning, talking, laughing, and
shaking (Nabigon, 2006). By learning the teachings associated with creating balance within the Medicine
Wheel, it is possible to understand what aspects of the self are out of balance, and enables individuals to
listen to these parts of the self that are out of balance in order to take the next steps towards restoring
balance (McCabe, 2008; Nabigon, 2006).
Cultural Practices
Sweat lodge
Another form of cultural healing occurs in the form of participating in ceremonies. One ceremony
that is becoming increasingly accessible to Aboriginal inmates is the sweat lodge (Martel & Brassard,
2008; Nielsen, 2003; Waldram, 1997; Yuen, 2008). For many inmates, the first time they participate in a
sweat lodge is at the prison (Waldram, 1997; Yuen, 2008). Sweat lodges allow individuals to purify the
mind, body, and soul via prayer (Huber, 2010; McCabe, 2008; Nabigon, 2006; Grosse, 2006). In
relationship to healing from substance abuse, sweat lodge ceremonies allow the individual to reflect on
the past and examine their weaknesses as well as their strengths in order for the individual to develop and
focus on becoming balanced (Nabigon, 2006).
© Hyatt
Many inmates who participated in sweat lodges indicated that the ceremony allows them to heal
both physically and mentally (Waldram, 1997). For example, some inmates have reported that, through
participating in sweat lodges, they experienced a cleansing whereby a negative spirit or energy was
removed from their body (Waldram, 1997). Additionally, the sweat lodges have been reported to help
reduce stress in the inmates as it allows the inmates to cleanse themselves of the negativity that they are
constantly absorbing in their mind, heart, body, and spirit and are metaphorically reborn into a person
who projects positivity (McCabe, 2008; Waldram, 1997). Sweat lodge protocols also work harmoniously
with mandatory Alcoholics Anonymous meetings (for those struggling with alcohol abuse), as the inmates
are taught to make amends through prayer, especially for those they have harmed through drinking
(Waldram, 1997). Thus, healing inmates’ substance abuse within prisons requires two-fold spiritual
healing. First, spiritual healing helps inmates understand the imbalances within the body, mind,
emotions, and spirit (Thakker, 2013; Waldram, 1997). Once the imbalances in the body, mind, emotions
and spirit are understood, the inmates then learn how these imbalances impact themselves and the
community (Thakker, 2013; Waldram, 1997). Second, the inmates learn how the history of colonization
has led to substance abuse as a means of coping (Duran, 2006; Thakker, 2013). Spiritual healing focuses
on providing avenues to partake in ceremonies and allows inmates to reconnect to these cultural
ceremonies, as well as learning that sobriety is a core value in traditional spirituality (Waldram, 1997).
Furthermore, inmates also learn the history of colonization through residential schools (Aboriginal
Healing Foundation, 2002). In prisons, this most often occurs through access to Elders who help the
inmates learn more about cultural identity and their community’s history to foster an understanding of
the conditions that led them to prison (Waldram, 1997). As such, Elders are invaluable in facilitating
healing of the mind, body, emotions, and spirit.
Elders approach soul healing through “cultural and spiritual education with the goal of rebuilding
self-esteem and pride as an Aboriginal person” (Waldram, 1997, p. 111). One of the keys to the success of
this healing approach is that Elders establish a relationship of trust with the inmates. For example, all
discussions and activities conducted by and with inmates are not shared with the correctional staff
(Waldram, 1997). Another important element is that the Elders uphold the cultural standard of not
forcing individuals to participate; it is voluntary (Hayman, 2006; MacDonald & Watson, 2001; Nielsen,
2003; Waldram, 1997). For example, Aboriginal women who are sentenced to federal prisons can choose
to serve their sentence at a women’s prison, or at Okimaw Ohci Healing Lodge (Hayman, 2006;
MacDonald & Watson, 2001). It is reported that by granting this choice, it fosters an environment for
positive changes within the inmates, as they are treated with respect and empowered to make a choice
(MacDonald & Watson, 2001).
Healing Lodge
Healing Lodges are a unique alternative to traditional prisons as the focus is on healing in order
to adequately prepare inmates for release (Hayman, 2006; Nielsen, 2003; Thakker, 2013). Healing
Lodges achieve healing by allowing inmates to connect with nature, to participate in traditional
ceremonies, to connect with Elders, and in the case of Okimaw Ohci, even the inmates’ children are
allowed to live with their mothers in the Healing Lodges (Hayman, 2006; Nielsen, 2003; Thakker, 2013).
Healing Lodges focus on healing and harm reduction through the provision of cultural teachings and
engaging in spiritual practices (Correctional Service Canada, n.d.; Hayman, 2006; Nielsen, 2003). Within
© Hyatt
the Healing Lodge, a sense of community is further established as the inmates live in shared units where
they cook and clean together (Hayman 2006; Nielsen, 2003). As the number of inmates within each
Healing Lodge is quite small, inmates are able to receive individualized programming, including job
training, parenting classes, and education (Hayman, 2006; Thakker, 2013). As such, upon release,
inmates have had the opportunity to heal spiritually, and also to be empowered by increasing their skill
set to help them obtain meaningful employment (Hayman, 2006).
Sacred Circle
Sacred Circles are another form of soul healing that occurs within some prisons (Nielsen, 2003;
Waldram, 1997). Sacred Circles are used by many different Aboriginal Nations (Sanderson, 1991). Sacred
Circles are a way to acknowledge the link between all life forces and the influence life forces, including
people past and present, have on each other (Sanderson, 1991). In a Sacred Circle, people connect and
share with others in a space where everyone is equal and equally important (Sanderson, 1991). The Sacred
Circles allow inmates to explore their soul wounds with Elders through individual counselling, group
counselling sessions with other Aboriginal inmates, and participating in ceremonies to aid in healing
(Nielsen, 2003). This teaches the inmates to respect themselves, others, the community, and the spirits
(Waldram, 1997). Group Sacred Circles begin with a traditional opening in the form of smudging and
prayer (Waldram, 1997). Each inmate is granted the opportunity to discuss any issues they are
experiencing and the Elder offers guidance by relating the problem to traditional teaching and principles
(Waldram, 1997).
Sacred medicines
Another way in which prisons facilitate cultural practices is through allowing inmates to use
sacred medicines, such as tobacco or sweetgrass (Hayman, 2006; Nielsen, 2003; Waldram, 1997). These
sacred medicines are important for healing as they allow individuals to communicate and connect with
the Creator 2 and help purify the individual’s mind, body, emotions, and spirit (McCabe, 2008; Waldram,
1997). The use of sacred medicines empowers the inmates as it allows them to use these cultural tools
whenever necessary and not just when they have access to an Elder (Waldram, 1997). It has also been
reported that these sacred medicines allow inmates to practice self-care when they are feeling stressed or
upset as it helps them alleviate these feelings and focus on more constructive things (McCabe, 2008;
Waldram, 1997).
Cultural Healing and Rehabilitation

The benefit of cultural healing for inmates extends beyond the prison cell; cultural healing can be
used as a rehabilitation tool to prevent recidivism upon release (Cox, Young, & Bairnsfather-Scott, 2009).
To begin, Sacred Circles can also have a positive impact when former prisoners participate in community
Sacred Circles (Cox et al., 2009). Cox and her colleagues have documented that prisoner participation in
community Sacred Circles reduces the likelihood of reoffending by demonstrating to the former inmate
2
Creation stories and the relationship to the Creator vary from Nation to Nation, but many Nations believe the Creator is
responsible for creating the land and the people on the land. Many Aboriginal people also believe in many spirits and the
connection to the spirit world (Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Canada, 2013).
© Hyatt
how their behaviour has impacted their victim(s), family, and the community (Cox et al., 2009). This is
achieved through the Sacred Circle discussions, which allows former prisoners to take accountability for
their actions in a holistic environment where it meets the healing needs of the prisoners (Cox et al., 2009).
In fact, the healing effects of the Sacred Circles have been so profound that the Canadian justice system
has created several community-based Sacred Circles for those who have been released from prison
(Nielsen, 2003; Waldram, 1997). These community Sacred Circles further the healing process for both the
perpetrator and the victim as they both have the opportunity to come together in the safety of the Sacred
Circle to address their pain and suffering (Cox et al., 2009).
While the community based Sacred Circles focus more so on healing the victim rather than the
perpetrator, both the victim and the perpetrator report that this environment facilitates holistic healing
and is more effective at facilitating healing than the legal system (Cox et al., 2009). Additionally, Sacred
Circles are viewed as beneficial to the community, the families of the victim, and the perpetrator (Cox et
al., 2009). Sacred Circles are beneficial because they present the opportunity for the victim(s) and
perpetrator to address each other, provide closure, and allow them to move forward in a positive manner
by restoring balance to the mind, body, emotions, and spirit thorough discussion and spiritual practices
(Cox et al., 2009). It has also been reported that Aboriginal inmates who attend healing lodges, such as
the Okimaw Ohci Healing Lodge, instead of traditional prisons have lower rates of recidivism than
Aboriginal inmates who are released from traditional prisons (Nielsen, 2003).
Some Aboriginal inmates who have participated in the cultural healing programs offered in
prisons reflect that it allows them to reconnect to their cultural heritage which was missing or lost before
they entered the prison and now that they have had the opportunity to learn the traditional teachings and
ceremonies, they have been re-born (Yuen, 2008). It has been further suggested by some Aboriginal
inmates that having gained this new identity, they have hope for the future as they could act as the
positive, proud Aboriginal role models that they never had (Yuen, 2008). These programs also
encouraged the inmates to want to maintain a connection to their culture by becoming active in
Aboriginal cultural centres (Yuen, 2008).
Conclusion
While Canadian prisons are evolving and making an effort to provide Aboriginal people with
accessible ways to access their culture and practice their traditions, more can be done to improve the
healing for Aboriginal inmates. For example, some Aboriginal inmates perceive the cultural programming
that is offered throughout the prisons, such as the Sacred Circles, Healing Lodges, and sweat lodges, as
another form of colonialism (Martel et al., 2011; Yuen, 2008). This colonialized perspective on Aboriginal
culture is felt in three very distinct ways. First, the Aboriginal cultural programming does not directly
address the history of colonization and oppression, how colonization has negatively impacted the
individual, and how the individual can heal, despite the fact that this is crucial to their healing (Duran,
2006; Yuen, 2008). While some Elders may take it upon themselves to provide a history of colonization of
Aboriginal people and how this continues to impact Aboriginal people, this is not required as part of the
cultural programming offered to Aboriginal inmates (Yuen, 2008). The second problem with these
cultural programs is the fact that it is provided by the Canadian government, which presents its viewpoint
on Aboriginal culture and traditions, instead of coming exclusively from an Aboriginal perspective (Cox et
al., 2009; Yuen, 2008). Thirdly, the cultural programming selected certain ceremonies and aspects of
© Hyatt
Aboriginal culture to use within the prisons, however, Aboriginal culture is not homogenous and while
some of these teachings may be part of some cultures, they may be irrelevant to other Aboriginal cultures
(Martel & Brassard, 2008). For example, sweat lodges are commonly provided at prisons with large
Aboriginal populations but they do not exist in Inuit culture (Martel & Brassard, 2008). Thus, the cultural
programming has been described as “an oversimplified, over-generalized version of Aboriginal identity
and it imposes it on its Aboriginal populations” (Martel & Brassard, 2008, p. 344).
Perhaps this is why a recent investigation into Aboriginal corrections stated, “If I were releasing a
report card on Aboriginal corrections today, it would be filled with failing grades” (CBC News, 2013).
While the inclusion of the current cultural programming is a better alternative to the past where
Aboriginal culture was suppressed in prisons, more needs to be done, including increasing the funding to
ensure that all eligible Aboriginal prisoners who want to serve their sentences in Healing Lodges are able
to and to provide Aboriginal inmates with cultural programming that is representative of their Nation’s
cultural practices and traditions. However, in order to facilitate the rehabilitation of Aboriginal inmates,
cultural healing needs to occur, and this healing cannot occur without recognizing the impact of
colonialism on Aboriginal people. As such, cultural programming should be modified to ensure that
teachings are consistent and relevant to the teachings of the inmates’ Nation. Furthermore, additional
Aboriginal staff members should be hired so that cultural programming is not being taught via non-
Aboriginal people. Finally, the additional cultural programming needs to be expanded to include a
dialogue regarding the impacts of colonization on Aboriginal culture, education, employment, addictions,
and incarceration. Some areas of focus for future research could include: an investigation into the
effectiveness of having cultural programming taught by Aboriginal staff verses non-Aboriginal staff, how
effective Aboriginal inmates perceive cultural programming to be on their healing journey, and an
investigation into the long term benefits of cultural programming for Aboriginal people upon release from
prison (e.g., the likelihood of reoffending, transition from prison to society, work outcomes, etc.).
Thus, in order to achieve the goal of healing incarcerated Aboriginal people, the current cultural
practices must be extended upon to include the history of colonization of Aboriginal people and its impact
on Aboriginal culture, education, employment, addictions, and incarceration. Without the knowledge of
why culture was taken away and an understanding of its impact today, healing and reduced recidivism
cannot occur.
© Hyatt
References
Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Canada. (2013). Part 1, Early First Nations: The six main geographical groups. In
First Nations in Canada. Retrieved from https://www rcaanc-cirnac.gc.ca/eng/1307460755710/1536862806124#chp1
Aboriginal Healing Foundation. (2002). The healing has begun: An operational update from the Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
Ottawa, ON: Author.
Blackburn, C. (2012). Culture loss and crumbling skulls: The problematic injury in residential school litigation. Political and
Legal Anthropology Review, 35(2), 289-307. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1555-2934.2012.01204 x
Bombay, A., Matheson, K., & Anisman, H. (2009). Intergenerational trauma: Convergence of multiple processes among First
Nations peoples in Canada. International Journal of Indigenous Health, 5(3), 6-47.
Brennan, S. (2012). Police-reported crime statistics in Canada, 2011. Ottawa, ON: Ministry of Industry.
Butler, T., Allnutt, S., Kariminia, A., & Cain, D. (2007). Mental health status of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Australian
prisoners. Australian and New Zealand journal of psychiatry, 41(5), 429-
435. https://doi.org/10.1080%2F00048670701261210
CBC News. (2013). Prison system failing Aboriginal inmates: Report. CBC News. Retrieved
from https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/prison-system-failing-aboriginal-inmates-report-1.1372467
Champagne, D., Torjesen, K., & Steiner, S. (Eds.) (2005). Indigenous peoples and the modern state. Walnut Creek, CA:
AltaMira Press.
Chansonneuve, D. (2007). Addictive behaviours among Aboriginal people in Canada. Ottawa, ON: Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
Correctional Service of Canada. (2015). Searches of Aboriginal items and other sacred items. In Commissioner’s Directive 566-
8: Searching of staff and visitors. Retrieved from https://www.csc-scc.gc.ca/acts-and-regulations/566-8-cd-eng.shtml
Correctional Service of Canada. (n.d.). Correctional Service Canada Healing Lodges. Retrieved from https://www.csc-
scc.gc.ca/aboriginal/002003-2000-eng.shtml
Cox, D., Young, M., & Bairnsfather-Scott, A. (2009). No justice without healing: Australian Aboriginal people and family
violence. The Australian Feminist Law Journal, 30(1), 151-161. https://doi.org/10.1080/13200968.2009.10854421
Duran, E. (2006). Healing the soul wound: Counseling with American Indians and other native peoples. New York, NY:
Teachers College Press.
Grosse, M. (2006, March 02). Prison youths shackled for sacred aboriginal ceremony. WestEnder.
Hayman, S. (2006). Imprisoning our sisters: The new federal women's prisons in Canada. Montreal, QC: McGill-Queen's University Press.
Huber, C. (2010, February 11). William head inmates heal with Aboriginal culture. Goldstream Gazette, p. 3.
Juntunen, C. J., Barraclough, D. J., Broneck, C. L., Seibel, G. A., Winrow, S. A., & Morin, P. M. (2001). American Indian perspective
on the career journey. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 48(3), 274-285. http://dx.doi.org/10.1037//0022-0167.48.3.274
Krieg, A. S. (2006). Aboriginal incarceration: Health and social impacts. Medical Journal of Australia, 184(10), 534-
536. doi:10.5694/j.1326-5377.2006.tb00357 x
Kirmayer, L., Simpson, C., & Cargo, M. (2003). Healing traditions: Culture, community and mental health promotion with
Canadian Aboriginal peoples. Australianasian Psychiatry, 11(1), 15-23. https://doi.org/10.1046/j.1038-
5282.2003.02010 x
LaPrairie, C. (1996). Examining Aboriginal corrections in Canada. Ottawa, ON: Ministry of the Solicitor General. Retrieved
from https://www.publicsafety.gc.ca/cnt/rsrcs/pblctns/xmnng-brgnl-crrctns/index-en.aspx
MacDonald, M., & Watson, L. (2001, February 1). Creating choices, changing lives: The transformation of women's corrections
in Canada. Corrections Today, 127, 70-73.
Makin, K. (2012, November 19). Aboriginal sentencing rules ignored due to lack of funding, interest. The Globe and Mail.
Retrieved from https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/aboriginal-sentencing-rules-ignored-due-to-lack-of-
funding-interest/article5459491/
Martel, J., & Brassard, R. (2008). Painting the prison ‘red’: Constructing and experiencing Aboriginal identities in prison. British
Journal of Social Work, 38(2), 340–361. https://doi.org/10.1093/bjsw/bcl335
© Hyatt
Martel, J., Brassard, R., & Jaccoud, M. (2011). When two worlds collide: Aboriginal risk management in Canadian Corrections.
British Journal of Criminology, 51(2), 235-255. https://doi.org/10.1093/bjc/azr003
McCabe, G. (2008). Mind, body, emotions and spirit: Reaching to the ancestors for healing. Counselling Psychology Quarterly,
21(2), 143-152. https://doi.org/10.1080/09515070802066847
McMaster, J. (2011, May 21). What can we do to keep Aboriginals out of prison? The Merritt Herald.
Menzies, P. (2008). Developing an Aboriginal healing model for intergenerational trauma. International Journal of Health
Promotion and Education, 46(2), 41-48. https://doi.org/10.1080/14635240.2008.10708128
Milloy, J. (1999). A national crime: The Canadian government and the residential school system, 1879 to 1986. Winnipeg, MB:
Nabigon, H. (2006). The hollow tree: Fighting addiction with traditional native healing. Montreal, QC: McGill-Queen's University Press.
Nielsen, M. O. (2003). Canadian Aboriginal Healing Lodges: A model for the United States? The Prison Journal, 83(1), 67-
89. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F0032885502250394
Ommer, R. E. (2007). Coasts under stress: Restructuring and social ecological health. Montreal, QC: McGill-Queen’s University Press.
Perreault, S. (2009). The incarceration of Aboriginal people in adult correctional services. Retrieved
from http://www.statcan.gc.ca/pub/85-002-x/2009003/article/10903-eng.htm
Preston, J. P., Cottrell, M., Pelletier, T. R., & Pearce, J. V. (2011). Aboriginal early childhood education in Canada: Issues of
context. Journal of Early Childhood Research, 10(1), 3-18. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F1476718X11402753
Putt, J., Payne, J., & Milner, L. (2005). Indigenous male offending and substance abuse. Trends & Issues in crime and criminal
justice, 293. Canberra: Australian Institute of Criminology.
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP). (1996). Volume 1: Looking forward, looking back. In Report of the Royal
Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Ottawa, ON: Minister of Supply and Services Canada.
Rugge, T. (2006). Risk assessment of male Aboriginal offenders: A 2006 perspective. Retrieved
from https://www.publicsafety.gc.ca/cnt/rsrcs/pblctns/rsk-ssssmnt-ml/index-en.aspx
Rymhs, D. (2008). From the iron house: Imprisonment in First Nations writing (2nd ed.). Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press.
Sanderson, J. L. (1991). Aboriginal pedagogy: An adult education paradigm (Unpublished paper). University of Saskatchewan, Regina, SK.
Schissel, B., & Wotherspoon, T. (2003). The legacy of school for Aboriginal people: Education, oppression, and emancipation.
Don Mills, ON: Oxford University Press.
Statistics Canada. (2011). Canada yearbook 2011: Aboriginal peoples. Retrieved from https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/11-
402-x/2011000/chap/ap-pa/ap-pa-eng.htm
Statistics Canada. (2012). Education indicators in Canada: Fact sheets. Retrieved from https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/81-
599-x/81-599-x2012008-eng htm
Statistics Canada. (2013a). Aboriginal peoples in Canada: First nations people, Métis and Inuit. Retrieved
from https://www12.statcan.gc.ca/nhs-enm/2011/as-sa/99-011-x/99-011-x2011001-eng.cfm
Statistics Canada. (2013b). The educational attainment of Aboriginal peoples in Canada. Retrieved
from https://www12.statcan.gc.ca/nhs-enm/2011/as-sa/99-012-x/99-012-x2011003 3-eng.cfm
Stewart, S., & Marshall, A. (2011a). Traditional cultural perspectives and interventions for supporting Indigenous youth in
employment: Work-life as mental health and healing. Presented at the Annual Native Mental Health Association
Conference, Victoria, BC.
Stewart, S., & Marshall, A. (2011b). Cultural Aspects? Contexts? For emerging adult work-life narratives. Presented at the
Emerging Adulthood Conference, Providence, RI, USA.
Stewart, S., Elliott, N., Kidwai, A., & Hyatt, A. (2013). Aboriginal homelessness and mental health: Exploring the supports and
challenges of Aboriginal peoples on the street. Presented at Ontario Shores 2nd Annual Research Conference, Whitby, ON.
Thakker, J. (2013). The role of cultural factors in treatment. In L. A. Craig, L. Dixon, & T. A. Gannon (Eds.), What works in offender
rehabilitation: An evidence-based approach to assessment and treatment (pp. 387-407). Oxford: Wiley Blackwell
© Hyatt
Waldram, J. B. (1997). The way of the pipe: Aboriginal spirituality and symbolic healing in Canadian prisons. Peterborough,
ON: Broadview Press.
White, J., Maxim, P., & Gyimah, S. O. (2003). Labour force activity of women in Canada: A comparative analysis of Aboriginal and
non-Aboriginal women. Canadian Review of Sociology, 40, 391-415. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1755-618X.2003.tb00254 x
Wilson, G. (2002).Working together: Enhancing the role of Aboriginal communities in federal corrections. Retrieved
from http://www.csc-scc.gc.ca/aboriginal/002003-3003-eng.shtml
Yuen, F. (2008). Walking the red road: Aboriginal federally sentenced women’s experiences in healing, empowerment, and re-
creation (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of Waterloo, Waterloo, ON.
© Hyatt
2019
Reflections on Intergenerational Trauma:
Healing as a Critical Intervention
Ashley Quinn
Ph.D., Assistant Professor, University of British Columbia, School of Social Work, British Columbia, Canada
Corresponding author: ashley.quinn@ubc.ca
Abstract
The high numbers of Aboriginal children placed in provincial and territorial care demonstrate the need
for effective interventions that directly address the legacy of trauma from colonialization. This paper
argues that healing is a critical component of any intervention seeking to help Aboriginal Peoples and
their children. Research on healing and recent government initiatives and legislation directed at
preserving traditional Aboriginal healing practices are discussed. This article concludes with
recommendations for various community members involved in the healing of Aboriginal Peoples.
Keywords: healing, child welfare, traditional healing practices
1
The original version of this article was published in: Quinn, A. (2007). Reflections on intergenerational trauma: Healing as a
critical intervention. First People Child & Family Review, 3(1), 78-82.
Reflections on intergenerational trauma: Healing as a critical intervention 197
Introduction
It has been documented that even before the first treaties were signed, Aboriginal peoples had the
ability and collective will to determine their own path in all aspects of their culture and had control over
their own political, economic, religious, familial, and educational institutions (Keeshig-Tobias & McLaren,
1987; Lee, 1992). 2 Years of colonialization have led to the devastation and almost complete genocide of
Native culture (Lee, 1992; Patterson, 1972; Red Horse, 1980). Residential schools operated in Canada,
opening as early as 1894, with the last remaining residential schools closing in 1984 in British Columbia
(Barton, Thommasen, Tallio, Zhang, & Michalos, 2005) and in 1996 in Saskatchewan (Department of
Indian and Northern Affairs, 2003). 3 Approximately 20 to 30 percent (approximately 100,000 children)
of Aboriginal Peoples attended residential schools (Thomas & Bellefeuille, 2006). Numerous residential
school staff across Canada have pleaded guilty to various types of sexual, physical, psychological, and
spiritual abuse towards Aboriginal children placed in their care (Gagne, 1998; Royal Commission on
Aboriginal Peoples [RCAP], 1996b). Many children also died from preventable diseases (Milloy, 1999;
Trocmé, Knoke, & Blackstock, 2004). Gagne (1998) proposed that most of the family violence, alcoholism,
and suicidal behaviour among First Nations citizens originated either directly or indirectly from the abuse
suffered by residential school students.
Residential schools do not only have effects on the students who attended but also their children
and their grandchildren (Gagne, 1998). Barton et al. (2005) examined differences in quality of life
between Aboriginal residential school survivors, Aboriginal non-residential school attendees, as well as
non-Aboriginal Bella Coola Valley residents. Based on a sample of 687 residents from the Bella Coola
Valley area in British Columbia, Canada, the researchers conducted a retrospective review. Data obtained
from 33 questions in the 2001 Determinants of Health and Quality of Life Survey was examined, utilizing
a series of descriptive, univariate, and Pearson Chi-square analyses. Aboriginal participants included 47
(27%) residential school survivors and 111 (63%) non-residential school attendees. Ten percent of
participants did not answer this question (Barton et al., 2005).
Statistically significant differences emerged between Aboriginal Peoples and non-Aboriginal

peoples concerning the overall quality of life (p = 0.05). It is important to note that both Aboriginal
residential school survivors and Aboriginal non-residential school attendees reported statistically
significantly poorer health on most of the outcomes measures, compared with non-Aboriginal peoples.
These results demonstrated the intergenerational pervasiveness of the residential school experience. The
authors of this study suggested that Aboriginal residential school survivors may have a higher prevalence
of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) (Barton et al., 2005). This suggestion is validated by research
that has found that approximately two-thirds of Aboriginal Peoples have experienced trauma as a direct
result of the residential school era (Manson, 1996; 1997; 2000).
2
Throughout this article, the terms Aboriginal Peoples and/or First Peoples is used to collectively encompass First Nations, Inuit,
and Métis people in Canada. The term Indigenous is used when discussing First Peoples internationally. Other terms, such as
Native, Indian, Status Indian, and non-status Indian are used in order to maintain the original language of the specific literature
that is referenced.
3
The earliest documentation of people being forced to send their children to residential school is from the year 1894.
© Quinn
Yellow Brave-Heart (2003) identified various effects of PTSD. Possible effects include, but are not
limited to, the following: identifying with the dead; depression; psychic numbing; hypervigilance; fixation
to trauma; suicide ideation and gestures; searching and pinning behaviour; somatic symptoms; survivor
guilt; loyalty to ancestral suffering and the deceased; low self-esteem; victim identity; anger; distortion
and denial of Native genocide; re-victimization by people in authority; mental illness; triggers, flashbacks
and flooding; fear of authority and intimacy; domestic and lateral violence; inability to assess risk; and re-
enactments of abuse in disguised form.
Residential schools and the trauma that was experienced has been described as a “de-feathering
process,” stripping Native Peoples of their knowledge, spirituality, physical and emotional well-being, and
most sadly, has led to the loss of community (Locust, 2000). Native Peoples’ connection with the spiritual,
emotional, physical, and mental realms has been abruptly and chronically disrupted (Locust, 2000).
Gagne (1998) hypothesized that colonialism is at the root of trauma because it has led to the dependency
of Aboriginal Peoples to settlers and then to cultural genocide, racism, and alcoholism.
This trauma is associated with Aboriginal Peoples’ loss of culture. Aboriginal Peoples were forced
to relinquish something valuable – cultural identity – that is difficult, if not impossible, to regain (Ing,
1991). In the residential school system, Aboriginal children were forbidden to speak their own languages,
practice their spiritual traditions, or maintain their cultural traditions (Trocmé et al., 2004). Oral
transmissions of child-rearing practices and values were also lost as a result of suppressed language
(Gagne, 1998; Ing, 1991). Residential school included parenting models based on punishment, abuse,
coercion, and control. Children in residential schools did not experience healthy parental role models and
without appropriate parenting models, many Aboriginal parents lacked the necessary knowledge to raise
their own children (Bennett & Blackstock, 2002; Grant, 1996).
The devastating effects of this loss of culture can be seen in the high numbers of Aboriginal
children who are removed from their homes and placed in provincial care. The United Nations has stated,
“Indigenous children continued to be removed from their families by welfare agencies that equated
poverty with neglect” (United Nations, 2003, p. 5). In British Columbia, the number of First Nations
children in care increased from a total of 29 children in provincial care in 1955 to 39% of the total number
of children in care in 1965 (Kline, 1992). By 1977, 20% (15,500) of children in care across Canada were
First Nations (Hepworth, 1980). The highest numbers of First Nations children in care appear in the
western provinces, specifically in British Columbia (39%), Alberta (40%), Saskatchewan (50%), and
Manitoba (60%) (Hudson & McKenzie, 1981). In 1981, 85% of children in care in Kenora, Ontario, were
First Nations. First Nations only make up 25% of the population in Kenora. In this study, it was
determined that status Indian children were placed in care at a rate of 4.5 times than that of other
children in Canada (Kline, 1992). By the end of 1999, 68% of children in provincial care were First Nations
(both status and non-status) (Farris-Manning & Zandstra, 2003). Unfortunately, Indian children are less
likely to be adopted (Hudson & McKenzie, 1981; Kline, 1992). According to the Department of Indian
Affairs, over 11,132 children of Indian status were adopted between 1960 and 1990 (RCAP, 1996b). This
does not include all other types of non-Status Indian children. It has been documented that as low as 2.5
percent of Aboriginal children are placed in race-matched families (Blackstock & Bennett, 2003).
It is estimated that there are currently over 25,000 Aboriginal children in child welfare systems
across Canada (Blackstock, 2003). This is approximately three times the highest enrolment figures of the
© Quinn
residential school in the 1940s (Philp, 2002). Between 2000 and 2002, approximately 76,000 children
and youth were placed in provincial/territorial care (Farris-Manning & Zanstra, 2003). Thirty to 40
percent of children in care are Aboriginal (Blackstock & Bennett, 2003) when less than 5% of the total
children in Canada are Aboriginal (Statistics Canada, 1996). Between 1995 and 2001 the number of Status
Indian children entering into care rose 71.5% across Canada (McKenzie, 2002). The United Nations
Committee on the Rights of the Child specifically raised concerns regarding the disproportionate risks
faced by Aboriginal children in Canada and urged the Canadian government to eliminate all forms of
inequalities (United Nations, 2003).
Although lengthy, the introduction of this paper has been used to demonstrate how colonization
and forced cultural assimilation of Aboriginal Peoples, through the use of residential schools and then
child welfare, has taken a substantial toll on Aboriginal communities across Canada. This is evidenced by
the overrepresentation of Aboriginal children in care (Blackstock & Trocmé, 2005; Trocmé et al., 2001).
The purpose of this article is to demonstrate that healing is an essential component of any intervention
aimed at improving the lives of Aboriginal Peoples and their children. As schools of social work in Canada
work towards providing interventions that are evidence-based, it is important to consider evidence and
science from the perspectives of Aboriginal Peoples. I will begin with a brief discussion of the concept of
knowledge and a comparison of Aboriginal and Western scientific practices. Following this discussion,
qualitative research regarding the effectiveness of traditional healing practices will be presented. Various
legislative impacts on the protection of traditional knowledge will also be discussed. This paper concludes
with brief recommendations for the federal and provincial governments, professional associations and
organizations, academic institutions, and various health care providers.
Knowledge and Evidence

Battiste and Youngblood Henderson (2000) defined knowledge in the Report on the Protection of
Heritage of Indigenous People as “a complete knowledge system with its own epistemology, philosophy,
scientific and logical validity . . . the plurality of Indigenous knowledge engages a holistic paradigm that
acknowledges the emotional, spiritual, physical, and mental well-being” (p. 41). The authors claimed,
“Traditional ecological knowledge of Indigenous people is scientific; in the sense it is empirical,
experimental, and systematic” (p. 44). Aboriginal perspectives on knowledge differ in two important
respects from Western science: it is highly localized (geographically) and it is social. The focus of
Aboriginal science is the web of relationships between humans, animals, plants, natural forces, spirits,
and landforms in a particular locality, as opposed to the discovery of universal laws (Battiste &
Youngblood Henderson, 2000). The following chart (Table 1) notes some important differences between
Aboriginal and Western science. There are considerable differences in regards to the purpose of research,
methodologies, outcome measures utilized, and issues pertaining to control and ownership of research.
While keeping these differences in mind, it is important to remember that the diversity of Indigenous
Peoples’ cultures, histories, and knowledges should not be a barrier but used as an opportunity to
demonstrate the strength of plural knowledges in contemporary contexts (Martin Hill, 2003).
D. Dubie (personal communication, 2007), founder of Healing of the Seven Generations in the
Kitchener/Waterloo area, wrote a grant proposal requesting funding for Aboriginal healing programs. The
requested document, which she submitted to the federal government, had a section for “evidence”. The
“evidence,” from a Western perspective, was likely looking for numbers, data, and statistical analysis of
© Quinn
findings. D. Dubie wrote, “I’m sorry it would take me years and years to explain to you how healing works
and how we know it works . . . you will just have to take my word” (D. Dubie, personal communication,
2007). This quote represents the complexity of the study of healing and its associated practices. Her
proposal was successful and in 1998, the Government of Canada established a $350 million fund that is
administered by the Aboriginal Healing Foundation, operated by Aboriginal Peoples (Department of
Justice, 2005).
Table 1
Aboriginal science Western science
Purpose: to understand why or the ultimate causality. Purpose: to describe how or the immediate causality.
Methods: talking with Elders, prayer, fasting, and traditional Methods: measurement, breaking things down to their smallest
ceremonies. parts, and analyzing data.
Outcomes measures: balance within and with the natural Outcomes measures: a report of the findings and analysis.
world.
Subjective: the scientist/researcher puts themselves into their Objective: the scientist/researcher separates themselves and
study. their feelings from what they study.
Spiritual: spirituality is in everything and everything is Separate religions from science.
interconnected.
Community control Expert control
Colorado, 1998
Healing
Aspects of healing are closely guarded by oral traditions and specific techniques are received
directly from Elder healers, from spirits encountered during vision quests, and as a result of initiation into
a secret society. It is believed that to share healing knowledge indiscriminately will weaken the spiritual
power of the medicine (Herrick & Snow, 1995, p. 35). The Aboriginal Healing and Wellness Strategy
(AHWS) provided a framework that can be used in developing community-appropriate guidelines for
traditional healing programs. The AHWS does not support the recording or documentation of the
practices of Healers, the medicines, the ceremonies, and the sacred knowledge for any purpose (AHWS,
2002). This is done in order to preserve the integrity of sacred knowledge and out of respect for the
practitioners who hold this wisdom.
Community members have stated that healing work needs to be intimately aligned to
relationships with Elders and other cultural leaders, as well as ceremonies and protocols designed for
personal development (Lane, Bopp, Bopp, & Norris, 2002, pp. 2-3). Western/European interventions of
mental health have been identified as generally ineffective in responding to the needs of Aboriginal
Peoples (McCormick, 1997; O’Neil, 1993; Warry, 1998). It is also well documented that Aboriginal Peoples
avoid using mainstream mental health services (McCormick, 1997) and have unusually high dropout rates
when such services are utilized (Sue, 1981). Healing is an essential component in addressing the fact that
both the federal and provincial governments have inflicted Aboriginal Peoples with many various forms of
systematic abuse and discrimination, over several generations, in an attempt to assimilate Aboriginal
Peoples into the dominant society through education, religion, law, and theft of land (Morrissette,
McKenzie, & Morrissette, 1993; Waldram, 1990).
Aboriginal Peoples argue that supporting and enhancing Aboriginal culture is a prerequisite for
positive coping (Peters, 1996). This process of regaining our cultural heritage is essential for survival. Our
© Quinn
ancestors have prescribed interventions for many generations and these teachings need to be revived and
integrated into current practices. It is essential that we are able to get in touch with our Indigenous
identities and ways of being in the world. Until traditional Indigenous therapies are implemented and
considered legitimate, there will remain the struggle and suffering of a historical legacy and ongoing
trauma will continue (Duran, Duran, Yellow Horse Brave Heart, & Yellow Horse-Davis, 1998). The
Aboriginal Healing Foundation (2007) believed that culture is the best medicine.
Research on Healing
The best available evidence for Aboriginal healing is derived from qualitative studies. Thomas and
Bellefeuille (2006) conducted a formative qualitative study exploring a Canadian cross-cultural Aboriginal
mental health program in Winnipeg, Canada. A recruitment notice was circulated among Aboriginal
organizations inviting people, who had prior residential school experience, within the city to participate.
Methods utilized were conversational-style interviews (non-scheduled format) and a focus circle/group.
Traditional Aboriginal healing circles and focusing (a psychotherapy technique comprised of self-
awareness and empowerment practices) were the interventions being evaluated. Traditional healing
circles refer to the coming together of Aboriginal Peoples for the purpose of sharing their healing
experiences and to further their healing journey (Heilbron & Guttman, 2000; Latimer & Cassey, 2004).
Focusing refers to a body-based awareness technique that involves turning one’s attention to the various
sensations of the body. It allows people the opportunity to be safe observers of their bodily experiences of
trauma and to experience this sensation at their own pace (Gendlin, 1996).
Results demonstrate that the traditional healing circle created a safe environment for the
participants, emphasized the sacredness of each story shared, and gave the opportunity, to each of its
members, to share without being interrupted. Storytelling, teaching, and sharing within healing circles
promoted a spirit of equality in the counselling relationship, empowered the participants, and eliminated
hierarchy. Focusing was found to be effective in helping people to overcome self-criticism, overcome
feelings of being stuck in life, deal with unsure feelings, get what they are seeking from within themselves,
better handle emotions, shift out of old routines, and deal with past traumatic events. It was suggested
that focusing could be appropriate for Aboriginal Peoples, as it is a humanistic, person-centred approach
to healing, which reflects the core values of respect and non-interference (Thomas & Bellefeuille, 2006).
Kishk Anaquot Health Research collected data from participants of various healing projects
funded by the Aboriginal Healing Foundation from September 2002 to May 2003. They utilized a
national survey, individual questionnaires, and focus groups. Participation requests were sent out to
active grants projects and 826 participants from 90 different healing programs across Canada responded.
Challenges affecting more than half of the participants in this study were: denial; grief; history of abuse as
a victim; poverty; and addictions (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2003). Western interventions
identified as helpful were: individual, group, couples, and family therapy; art therapy; narrative therapy;
attachment theory; and genograms. Traditional interventions included sharing circles, sweats,
ceremonies, fasting, Métis wailers, and traditional teachings. Alternative interventions were also noted,
such as energy release work, breath work, and acupuncture (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2003, p. 68).
It was stressed that these various approaches were balanced and/or used simultaneously (Aboriginal
Healing Foundation, 2003, p. 95). This literature suggests that a choice of intervention approaches be
offered, with the flexibility to meet special needs.
© Quinn
The participants of this in-depth study identified individual therapy sessions as helpful to
improving their self-esteem and finding personal strengths. Individuals found healing programs helpful in
the following ways: ability to handle difficult issues (71%, n = 726); ability to resolve past trauma (75%, n
= 726); ability to prepare for and handle future trauma (78%, n = 731); and ability to secure family
supports (64%, n = 675) (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2003). The most helpful aspects of healing
programs were: Legacy education, opportunities for learning (specifically, relationship skills and
processing intense emotions), bonding or connecting with other participants, and cultural celebration.
Legacy education refers to information regarding residential schools and has been noted for its particular
usefulness as it “explains that the reactions to the residential school experience are normal and
predictable consequences of institutional trauma and not an individual character flaw or weakness”
(Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2003, p. 76).
The focus group participants also identified several key characteristics of a healer: a good track
record of ethical conduct supported by references; humble; honest; gentle; has worked through their
anger; are recognized by others as a healer; listens intently; hears clearly; has reconciled with mother
earth; absolute self-acceptance; respected in the community; fearless; free from the need to control;
understands professional limitations and makes referrals; and is spiritually grounded (Aboriginal Healing
Foundation, 2003).
Duran and Duran (2000) conducted a study using a combination of culturally-based dream
interpretation and Western psychotherapy techniques. First Peoples found these techniques to be helpful
in treating PTSD symptoms, with a focus on how they are transmitted across generations. The most
promising aspect found was reconnecting clients with their Native identity, which improved self-esteem
and sense of identity, which, in turn, was correlated with healthy functioning (Duran & Duran, 2000, p.
89). Within counselling, clients are helped to reconnect with their culture, as well as to understand and
cope within the dominant white environment, while still maintaining their cultural sense of identity
(Duran & Duran, 2000).
Chandler and Lalonde (1998) examined cultural continuity as a protective factor against suicide
among First Nations Peoples. Six factors of cultural continuity were examined: evidence of self-
government; evidence that bands had tried to secure Aboriginal title to their traditional lands; the
majority of students attend a band-run school; band-controlled police and fire services; band-controlled
health services; and established cultural facilities. Data for the study was taken from suicide information
(both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal) and was gathered from several sources: Statistics Canada, the
British Columbia Ministry of Health, Health Welfare Canada, the Canadian Centre for Health
Information, Indian Registry, and the Band Governance Database from Indian and Northern Affairs
Canada. They hypothesized that when communities have a strong sense of their own historical continuity
and identity, vulnerable youth have access to resources in the community that acts as a buffer in times of
despair. Therefore, in communities where cultural transmission has been disrupted, vulnerable youth
may be at increased risk of suicide due to the lack of such buffers (Chandler & Lalonde, 1998). The
researchers found that the rate of suicide was strongly associated with the level of these factors. They
discovered lower suicide rates where efforts were being made within the community to preserve and
rebuild their culture. Communities with all of the cultural continuity factors had no suicides, while those
with none had significantly higher suicide rates (p = .002). They noted that there is no clear reason to
© Quinn
label death as a suicide and therefore, deaths are typically recorded as accidental (Chandler & Lalonde,
1998). Accidental death rates are substantially higher within First Nations populations. This suggests a
massive underestimation of true suicide rates.
Brave Heart-Jordan (1995) conducted a group intervention among the Lakota, with the primary
purpose of grief resolution and healing. Key features of this intervention are congruent with treatment for
Holocaust survivors and descendants. Catharsis, abreaction, group sharing, testimony, opportunities for
expression of traditional culture and language, and ritual and communal sharing were included in the
intervention model. Results demonstrate that 100% of participants found the intervention helpful in the
area of grief resolution and felt better about themselves after the intervention. Ninety-seven percent of
participants were able to make constructive commitments to memories of their ancestors following the
intervention. Seventy-three percent of participants rated the intervention as very helpful (Brave Heart-
Jordan, 1995).
It has been found that healers help clients overcome their fear of change, help to clarify their
vision, and strengthen their motivation. It was also found that no specific healing technique was better
than another but rather appeared to be a vehicle for giving clients the power to access something they
already possess (Carlson & Shield, 1990).
Davis-Berman and Berman (1989) conducted an evaluation of wilderness camps and found
participation in the camps to foster a strong sense of cultural pride, renew a sense of belonging, and
increase trust in relationships. Wilderness camps address physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental
aspects of the lives of the youths who attended. These camps were found to foster increased self-esteem in
participants because these programs are flexible and diverse, allowing every participant to find a different
activity in their area of strength (Davis-Berman & Berman, 1989).
Fuchs and Brashshur (1975) found that Native Peoples believe that Western medical care treats
the symptoms of the disease but does not deal with the cause (p. 918). Two hundred and seventy-seven
families were interviewed and completed the survey and 170 families (33%) who completed the survey
were not interviewed, due to a variety of factors. Results demonstrate that one-third of Native families (in
a United States-random sample) used traditional Native medicine in combination with the use of modern
Western medicine. A strong relationship between the use of traditional medicine and returning to the
reserve was found and it was suggested that this association reflects an unmet need for traditional
Aboriginal medicines in urban areas (Fuchs & Brashshur, 1975). Suggestions are made for urban centers
to preserve Native culture and promote the availability of traditional health treatments (Fuchs and
Brashshur, 1975, p. 925).
Traditional healing practices have also been found to have profound effects on individuals who
have sexually offended in the community. For example, counsellors taking part in traditional healing
practices with Aboriginal men reported an increased openness to treatment, an enhanced level of self-
disclosure, and a greater sense of grounding or stability. “Having attended sweats, I do know that during
the ceremony people are able to talk about their own victimization because of the safe and secure nature
of the Sweat” – the quote is an expression from a therapist (Solicitor General Canada, 1998, p. 76).
There is a diverse range of traditional healing practices that have roots in Indigenous values and
cultures. Some core values of healing practices (holism, balance, and connection to family and the
© Quinn
environment) are common to Aboriginal worldviews across cultures, while others are clearly rooted in
local customs and traditions. For Indigenous peoples, the concept of holism extends beyond the mental,
physical, emotional, and spiritual aspects of individual lives and includes relationships with families,
communities, the physical environment, and the spiritual realm. These values are seen in traditional
interventions in Greenland, Australia, and the United States of America (Archibald, 2006, pp. 39-53).
Over time, some of these practices have grown to incorporate Western values and practices. It has been
well documented that a cross-cultural approach will allow for both traditional Western clinical practices
and Aboriginal healing practices (Culley, 1991; Graveline, 1998; McGovern, 1998; Thomas & Bellefeuille,
2006).
The Aboriginal Healing Foundation published a report of the history of Aboriginal Peoples in
Canada in order to enable a future in which Aboriginal people have fully addressed the legacy of historical
trauma suffered in the residential school system (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2006). The Foundation
stated that healing is a long-term process that occurs in stages. They projected that it takes an average of
ten years of sustained work for a community to reach out to individuals and create a trusting and safe
environment while disengaging denials of the past and engaging participants in direct therapeutic healing.
Healing goals are best achieved through services provided by Aboriginal practitioners and long-term
involvement in a therapeutic setting. Participants of services provided by the Aboriginal Healing
Foundation rated Elders, healing and talking circles, and traditional ceremonies and practices as the most
effective. During a discussion with the commissioners of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples
(RCAP), Orten (as cited in Peters, 1996) elucidated the relationship between culture and healing with this
quote:
Recovering our identity will contribute to healing ourselves. Our healing will require us to
rediscover who we are. We cannot look outside for self-image; we need to rededicate
ourselves to understanding our traditional ways. In our songs, ceremony, language and
relationships lie the instructions and directions for recovery (p. 320).
For many Aboriginal Peoples, healing means addressing approaches to wellness that draw on culture for
inspiration and means of expression (Thomas & Bellefeuille, 2006).
The Aboriginal Healing Foundation provided detailed information on best healing practices and
stated that healing and reconciliation are central to First Peoples’ ability to address other pressing social
issues and to move to better relationships (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2007). Traditional healing
practices have demonstrated effectiveness and should be incorporated in all possible interventions
involving First Peoples and their children. These practices should be evident in both professional practices
and in the development of social policies.
Legislation: Aboriginal Culture and Research

Protection and promotion of existing knowledge
In January 1998, as part of its response to the report of the RCAP, the Government of Canada
issued a Statement of Reconciliation. This document acknowledged the contributions made by Canada’s
Aboriginal Peoples to the development of Canada. It also recognized the impact of actions that suppressed
Aboriginal language, culture, and spiritual practices, which resulted in the erosion of the political,
economic, and social systems of Aboriginal Peoples. It acknowledged the role that the Government of
© Quinn
Canada played in the development and administration of residential schools and stated that we need to
work together on a healing strategy to preserve and enhances the collective identities of Aboriginal
communities. This statement is important because offering an apology and acknowledgement of the
wrongs of the past is an important first step to building the foundation for a new relationship with
Canada’s Aboriginal Peoples, one founded on trust and respect (Department of Justice, 2005).
The Canadian Medical Association has called on its members to show “openness and respect for
traditional medicine and traditional healing practices, such as sweat lodges and healing circles” (RCAP,
1996a). This is in line with the RCAP, which promoted “openness and respect for traditional medicine and
traditional healing practices” (RCAP, 1996b).
The Canadian Association of Social Workers (2004) stated that the institutions responsible for
providing mental health services to Aboriginal Peoples are embedded in westernized models. They argue
that these models do not correspond with the realities of First Peoples and call upon Canadian schools of
social work to support the development of culturally appropriate social work education and models of
practice.
Recent government initiatives

The Government of Canada has made a five-year commitment of $125 million in order to sustain
critical work of healing the legacy of abuse suffered in Canada’s Indian residential school system.
Although this is cause for hope and celebration, this funding will only sustain current programming for up
to three years and does not allow for funding any new projects. This greatly appreciated financial gift
barely touches the tip of the iceberg. The Aboriginal Healing Foundation projected that it will take $600
million, over the next 30 years, to fully address the effects of abuse resulting from the residential school
system (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2005).
Aboriginal research
Aboriginal research is comprised of research committees, a research ethics board (REB), and a
code of research ethics. James Bay Cree Health and Social Services Commission and the Assembly of
Manitoba Chiefs have research committees that review proposals to ensure that they are acceptable to
their member communities. All funding agencies in Canada require approval from an REB before they will
grant funds for research. For research involving First Nations, an REB has to consult with a First Nations
expert or with people from the First Nations communities concerned. This is important because the REB
and First Nations may have different ideas about what constitutes harm, benefits, and confidentiality
(First Nations Centre, 2003a).
The development of ethical guidelines is critical to prevent further exploitation of Aboriginal
communities and to protect their knowledge. First Nations Centre at the National Aboriginal Health
Organization provided extensive information and tool kits about understanding research, ethics in health
research, privacy, and OCAP: ownership, control, access and possession. The OCAP principles can be
applied to all research initiatives involving First Nations (First Nations Centre, 2007). Codes of ethics
developed by First Peoples’ communities are also very clear about issues of community rights.
Community rights
It is of the utmost importance that the community being researched also benefits from the
research and its findings. Community consent must be obtained from representatives of the people
© Quinn
concerned (such as a Band Council or a regional First Nations organization). Oral consent and gift giving
are traditional and acceptable for First Peoples. Community control over the research process and how
the results are used are very important to First Peoples. There is often an agreement on the sharing of
results; the originating community has the right to know the research results. At a minimum, this means
that research results should be returned to the community or the participants in a format that they can
understand, such as plain-language flyers, radio broadcasts, or public presentations. Ideally, the people
involved in the research should be the first to see the results. Community ownership refers to the shared
ownership of information collected from a community. The information should remain collectively owned
by the community from which it was taken (First Nations Centre, 2007). This is critical in developing
strong relationships and rebuilding trust.
Mainstream research organizations consider it good practice, but not mandatory, to involve
communities in interpreting research results, whereas, the codes of ethics developed by some First
Nations communities state explicitly that if outside researchers are involved, the research results must be
jointly interpreted by the community and outside researchers, governments, and universities. In the case
of a disagreement over the interpretation of the results, the researcher can go ahead and publish but the
community has the right to include a description of why they disagree and how they interpret the findings.
The idea is that the public will be able to read both interpretations and decide which one they agree with
(First Nations Centre, 2003b).
After reviewing the research regarding the effectiveness of healing and discussing current
legislative and government initiatives concerning research involving First Peoples, brief and non-
exhaustive recommendations are made in the aspiration of increasing awareness on issues regarding First
Peoples’ culture, traditions, values, and best healing practices.
Recommendations: Government
• Provide funds to allow for the development of traditional healing awareness, healing
programs, and further research in best healing practices.
• Continue to fund healing programs and services such as the Aboriginal Healing Foundation,
created April 1, 1998, to assist First Peoples communities as they work to heal the legacy of the
physical and sexual abuse of the residential school system, including intergenerational
impacts. The Foundation provides funding and supports holistic and community-based
healing initiatives and projects that incorporate traditional healing methods and other
culturally appropriate approaches (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, n.d.).
• Provide incentives for other funding organizations to commit a certain percentage of funding
to promote research on Aboriginal issues.
• Increase awareness with government-initiated awareness campaigns regarding the
demographics of Aboriginal Peoples, the disruptive impact of colonization, and governmental
obligations and policies regarding health (Society of Obstetricians and Gynecologists of
Canada, 2000).
Recommendations: Professional Associations and Organizations
• Set aside time at annual conferences to provide professional education regarding the legacy of
residential school and its impacts on First Peoples today.
© Quinn
• Hold periodic regional and national sharing and networking conferences across associations
and organizations. There is a need for information sharing and the development of
relationships among healers and Elders, in conjunction with Western-trained health
professionals. For example, the Society of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists of Canada
(SOGC), has an Aboriginal Health Issues Committee which is a multidisciplinary committee
with Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal members, with representation from several Aboriginal
organizations and backgrounds including First Nations, Inuit, and Métis (SOGC, 2000).
• Offer training to health care providers in culturally appropriate practices and interventions for
First Peoples.
• Encourage employees to increase their own self-awareness regarding their own stereotypes
and biases that may affect treatment.
• Develop specific best practice principles and guidelines to assist in working with First Peoples
clients. This should be done in collaboration with First Peoples.
• Provide culturally sound interventions when working with First Peoples and their children
that incorporate Legacy education, cultural identity, and opportunities for healing.
Recommendations: Academic Institutions

• Educate social work and other health care professional students with regards to the legacy of
residential schools and the ongoing effects of colonialization on Aboriginal Peoples today.
• Provide social work and other health care professional students with a critical appreciation of
the centrality of Aboriginal culture in the healing process and an understanding of the
diversity of First Peoples’ expression of culture. The ways in which this diversity affects one’s
sense of identity and approaches to social work practice should be incorporated into the
curriculum (Thomas & Bellefeuille, 2006, p. 11).
• Mandate courses in cultural competency in Canadian schools of social work. For example,
Wilfred Laurier University offers courses on different paradigms (Aboriginal and Western
models), as well as compulsory courses on multicultural counselling or cultural competency.
Wilfred Laurier University offers a one year Masters of Social Work program in the Aboriginal
field of study (Wilfred Laurier University, 2007). In this program, students are taught: holistic
healing practices from Elders; Indigenous identity, knowledge, and theory; and Indigenous
research methodologies. There is also a cultural camp, which includes a five-day program in a
camp setting in the presence of Elders, where participants learn about traditional songs,
dances, teachings, and values.
• Encourage and support further research in collaboration with First Peoples, for First Peoples,
utilizing a combination of Western and First Peoples’ methodologies.
© Quinn
References
Aboriginal Healing and Wellness Strategy. (2002). Draft guidelines for traditional healing programs. Author.
Aboriginal Healing Foundation. (n.d.). Mission, vision, values: Aboriginal Healing Foundation. Retrieved
from http://www.ahf.ca/about-us/mission
Aboriginal Healing Foundation. (2003). Third interim evaluation report of Aboriginal Healing Foundation: Program activity.
Ottawa, ON: Author.
Aboriginal Healing Foundation. (2005). Federal government commits $125 million to Aboriginal Healing Foundation in today’s
residential school compensation package announcement. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Aboriginal Healing Foundation. (2006). The Aboriginal Healing Foundation releases three-volume final report. Ottawa, ON:
Author.
Aboriginal Healing Foundation. (2007). Best healing practices. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Archibald, L. (2006). Decolonization and healing: Indigenous experiences in the United States, New Zealand, Australia, and
Greenland. Ottawa, ON: the Aboriginal Healing Foundation.: Ottawa.
Barton, S., Thommasen, H., Tallio, B., Zhang, W., & Michalos, A. (2005). Health and quality of life of Aboriginal residential school
survivors, Bella Coola Valley. Social Indicators Research, 73(2), 295-312. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11205-004-6169-5
Battiste, M., & Youngblood Henderson, J. (2000). Protecting Indigenous knowledge and heritage: A global challenge.
Saskatoon, SK: Purich Publishing Ltd.
Bennett, M., & Blackstock, C. (2002). A literature review and annotated bibliography focusing on aspects of Aboriginal child
welfare in Canada. Ottawa, ON: First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada.
Blackstock, C. (2003). First Nations child and family services restoring peace and harmony in First Nations communities. In K.
Kufeldt & B. McKenzie (Eds.), Child welfare: Connecting research, policy, and practice (pp. 331-342). Waterloo, ON:
Wilfrid Laurier University Press.
Blackstock, C., & Bennett, M. (2003). National children’s alliance policy paper on Aboriginal children. Ottawa, ON: First
Blackstock, C., & Trocmé, N. (2005). Community-based child welfare for Aboriginal children: Supporting resilience through
structural change. Social Policy Journal of New Zealand, 24(1), pp. 12-33.
Brave Heart-Jordan, M. Y. H. (1995). The return to the Sacred path: Healing from historical trauma and historical unresolved
grief among the Lakota (Doctoral dissertation). Retrieved from Five Colleges Libraries Catalog. (002001281).
Brave Heart, M. Y. H. (2003). The historical trauma response among Natives and its relationship with substance abuse: A Lakota
illustration. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs, 35(1), pp. 7-143. https://doi.org/10.1080/02791072.2003.10399988
Canadian Association of Social Workers. (2004). The social work profession and the Aboriginal Peoples: CASW presentation to
the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. The Social Worker, 62(4), 158.
Carlson, R., & Shield, B. (Eds.). (1990). Healers on Healing. London, UK: Rider.
Chandler, M. J. (2000). Surviving the time: The persistence of identity in this culture and that. Culture & Psychology, 6(2), 209-
231. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F1354067X0062009
Chandler, M. J., & Lalonde, C. (1998). Cultural continuity as a hedge against suicide in Canada’s First Nations. Vancouver, BC:
UBC Press.
Colorado, P. (1988). Bridging Native and Western science. Convergence, 21(2-3), 49-69.
Culley, S. (1991). Integrative counselling skills in action. London, UK, Sage.
Davis-Berman, J., & Berman, D. S. (1989). The wilderness therapy program: An empirical study of its effects with adolescents in
an outpatient setting. Journal of Contemporary Psychotherapy, 19(4), pp. 45-57. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF00946092
Department of Indian and Northern Affairs Canada. (2003). Backgrounder: The residential school system. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Department of Justice. (2005). Healing the past: Addressing the legacy of physical and sexual abuse in Indian residential schools.
Ottawa, ON: Author.
© Quinn
Duran E., & Duran, B. (2000). Applied postcolonial clinical & research strategies. In M. Battiste (Ed.), Reclaiming Indigenous
voice and vision (pp. 86-100). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Duran, E., Duran, B., Yellow Horse Brave Heart, M., & Yellow Horse-Davis, S.(1998). Healing the American Indian soul
wound. In Y. Danieli (Ed.), International handbook of multigenerational legacies of trauma (pp. 341-354). New York
City, NY: Plenum Press.
Farris-Manning, C., & Zandstra, M. (2003). Children in care in Canada: A summary of current issues and trends with
recommendations for future research. Ottawa, ON: Child Welfare League of Canada.
First Nations Centre (2003a). Research tool kit: Understanding research. Ottawa, ON: First Nations Centre, the National
Aboriginal Health Organization.
First Nations Centre (2003b). Ethics tool kit: Ethics in health research. Ottawa, ON: First Nations Centre, the National Aboriginal
Health Organization.
First Nations Centre (2007). OCAP: Ownership, control, access and possession. Sanctioned by the First Nations Information
Governance Committee, Assembly of First Nations. Ottawa, ON: First Nations Centre, the National Aboriginal Health
Organization.
Fuchs, M., & Bashshur, R. (1975). Use of traditional Indian medicine among urban Native Americans. Medical Care, 13(11), pp. 915-927.
Gagne, M. (1998). The role of dependency and colonialism in generating trauma in First Nations citizens. In Y. Danieli (Ed.),
International handbook of multigenerational legacies of trauma (pp. 355-372). New York City, NY: Plenum Press.
Gendlin, E. T. (1996). Focusing-oriented psychotherapy: A manual of the experiential method. New York City, NY: The
Guildford Press.
Grant, A. (1996). No end of grief: Indian residential schools in Canada. Winnipeg, MA: Pemmican.
Graveline, F. J. (1998). Circle works: Transforming eurocentric consciousness. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Press.
Heilbron, C. L., & Guttman, M. A. J. (2000). Traditional healing methods with First Nations women in group counselling.
Canadian Journal of Counselling, 34(1), pp. 3-13.
Hepworth, H. P. (1980). Foster care and adoption in Canada. Ottawa, ON: Canadian Council on Social Development.
Herrick, J. W., & Snow, D. R. (1995). Iroquois medical botany. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press.
Hudson, P., & McKenzie, B. (1981). Child welfare and Native people: The extension of colonialism. The Social Worker, 49(2), pp. 63-88.
Ing, R. (1991). The effects of residential schools on Native child-rearing practices. Canadian Journal of Native Education, 18, 65-118.
Keeshig-Tobis, L., & McLaren, D. (1987). For as long as the rivers flow. This Magazine, 21(3), pp. 21-26.
Kline, M. (1992). Child welfare law, “best interests of the child” ideology, and First Nations. Osgoode Hall Law Journal, 30, 375-425.
Lane, P., Bopp, M., Bopp, J., & Norris, J. (2002). Mapping the healing journey. Ottawa, ON: Solicitor General of Canada, the
Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
Latimer, J., & Casey, L. (2004). A one-day snapshot of Aboriginal youth in custody across Canada: Phase II. Ottawa, ON:
Department of Justice, Public Works, and Government Services of Canada.
Lee, B. (1992). Colonialization and community: Implications for First Nations development. Community Development Journal,
27(3), pp. 211-219. https://doi.org/10.1093/oxfordjournals.cdj.a038608
Locust, C. (2000). Split feathers: Adult American Indians who were placed in non-Indian families as children. Ontario
Association of Children’s Aid Societies Journal, 44(3), 11-16.
Manson, S. M. (1996). The wounded spirit: A cultural formulation of post-traumatic stress disorder. Culture, Medicine, and
Psychiatry, 20(4), 489-498. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF00117089
Manson, S. M. (1997). Ethnographic methods, cultural context, and mental illness: Bridging different ways of knowing and
experience. Ethos, 25(2), 249-258. https://doi.org/10.1525/eth.1997.25.2.249
Manson, S. M. (2000). Mental health services for American Indians and Alaska Natives: Need, use, and effective barriers to
effective care. Canadian Journal of Psychiatry, 45(7), 617-627. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F070674370004500703
© Quinn
Martin Hill, D. (2003). Traditional medicine in contemporary contexts: Protecting and respecting Indigenous knowledge and
medicine. Ottawa, ON: National Aboriginal Health Organization.
McCormick, R. M. (1997). First Nation counsellor training: Strengthening the circle. Canadian Journal of Community Mental
Health, 16(2), 91-99. https://doi.org/10.7870/cjcmh-1997-0008
McKenzie, B. (2002). Block funding child maintenance in First Nations child and family services: A policy review (Report
prepared for the Kahnawake Shakotiia’takehnhas Community Services). Winnipeg, MB.
McGovern, C. (1998). More healing or less welfare. Alberta Report/Newsmagazine, 25(12), 18-20.
Milloy, J. S. (1999). A National Crime: The Canadian government and the residential school system, 1879 to 1986. Winnipeg,
MB: University of Manitoba Press.
Morrissette, V., McKenzie, B., & Morrissette, L. (1993). Towards an Aboriginal model of social work practice: Cultural
knowledge and traditional practices. Canadian Social Work Review, 10(1), pp. 91-108.
O’Neil, J. D. (1993). The path to healing: Report of the National Round Table on Aboriginal Health and Social Issues. Ottawa,
ON: Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples.
Patterson, E. P. (1972). The Canadian Indian: A history since 1500. Toronto, ON: Collier MacMillan.
Peters, E. (1996). Aboriginal people in urban areas. In D. Long & O. Dickason (Eds.), Visions of the heart: Canadian Aboriginal
issues (pp. 305-333). Toronto, ON: Harcourt Brace & Company.
Philp, M. (2002, September 3). The land of lost children. The Globe and Mail.
Red Horse, J. G. (1980). Family structure and value orientation in American Indians. Social Casework, 61(8), 462-
467. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F104438948006100803
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. (1996a). Appendix 3A: Traditional health and healing. In Volume 3: Gathering
Strength (pp 325-340). Ottawa, ON: Ministry of Supply and Services Canada.
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. (1996b). Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Ottawa, ON:
Ministry of Supply and Services Canada.
Society of Obstetricians and Gynecologists of Canada (SOGC). (2000). A guide for health professionals working with Aboriginal
Peoples. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Solicitor General of Canada. (1998). In P. Lane, M. Bopp, J. Bopp, & J. Norris (Eds.) (2002), Mapping the healing journey (p.
76). Ottawa, ON: Solicitor General of Canada, the Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
Statistics Canada. (1996). Growing up in Canada: National longitudinal survey of children and youth. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Sue, D. W. (1981). Counselling the culturally different: Theory and practice. Toronto, ON: John Wiley & Sons.
Thomas, W., & Bellefeuille, G. (2006). An evidence-based formative evaluation of a cross-cultural Aboriginal program in Canada.
Australian e-Journal for the Advancement of Mental Health, 5(3), 202-215. https://doi.org/10.5172/jamh.5.3.202
Trocmé, N., Knoke, D, & Blackstock, C. (2004). Pathways to the overrepresentation of Aboriginal children in Canada’s child
Trocmé, N., MacLaurin, B., Fallon, B., Daciuk, D., Billingsley, D., Tourigny, . . . & McKenzie, B. (2001). Canadian incidence
study of reported child abuse and neglect: Final report. Ottawa, ON: Health Canada.
United Nations. (2003). Committee on the Rights of the Child holds a day of discussion on the rights of Indigenous children.
Geneva: Author.
Waldram, J. (1990). The persistence of traditional medicine in urban areas: The case of Canada’s Indians. American Indian and
Alaska Native Mental Health Review, 4(1), pp. 9-29. http://dx.doi.org/10.5820/aian.0401.1990.9
Warry, W. (1998). Unfinished dreams: Community healing and the reality of self-government. Toronto, ON: University of
Toronto Press.
Wilfred Laurier University. (2007). Aboriginal field of study. Retrieved from https://www.wlu.ca/programs/social-
work/graduate/social-work-msw/indigenous-field-of-study/index html
© Quinn
2019
Intergenerational Trauma and Aboriginal
Women: Implications for Mental Health
During Pregnancy
Amrita Roy
Ph.D., Family Medicine Resident, Western University, Schulich School of Medicine, Ontario, Canada
Corresponding author: amritamamoni@hotmail.com
Abstract
Intergenerational trauma explains why populations subjected to long-term and mass trauma show a
higher prevalence of disease, even several generations after the original events. Residential schools and
other legacies of colonization continue to impact Aboriginal populations, who have higher rates of mental
health concerns. Poor maternal mental health during pregnancy can have serious health consequences for
the mother, the baby, and the whole family; these include impacting the cognitive, emotional, and
behavioural development of children and youth. This paper has the following objectives: to define
intergenerational trauma and contextualize it in understanding the mental health of pregnant and
parenting Aboriginal women; to summarize individual-level and population-level approaches to
promoting mental health and examine their congruence with the needs of Aboriginal populations; and to
discuss the importance of targeting intergenerational trauma in both individual-level and population-level
interventions for pregnant Aboriginal women. Various scholars have suggested that healing from
intergenerational trauma is best achieved through a combination of mainstream psychotherapies and
culturally-entrenched healing practices, conducted in culturally safe settings. Pregnancy has been argued
to be a particularly meaningful intervention point to break the cycle of intergenerational trauma
transmission. Given the importance of pregnant women’s mental health to both maternal and child health
outcomes, including mental health trajectories for children and youth, it is clear that interventions,
programs, and services for pregnant Aboriginal women need to be designed to explicitly facilitate healing
from intergenerational trauma. In this regard, further empirical research on intergenerational trauma and
on healing are warranted, to permit an evidence-based approach.
Keywords: intergenerational trauma; historical trauma; colonization; residential schools; Sixties

Scoop; pregnancy; maternal-child health; mental health
1
The original version of this article was published in: Roy, A. (2014). Intergenerational trauma and Aboriginal women:
Implications for mental health during pregnancy. First People Child & Family Review, 9(1), 7-21.
Intergenerational trauma and Aboriginal women: Implications for mental health during pregnancy 212
Introduction
The mental health of children and youth is closely linked to parental mental health, particularly
maternal mental health. Maternal mental health during pregnancy is particularly pertinent in this regard.
Mental health concerns during pregnancy are a serious public health issue. Prenatal depression, for
example, is estimated to impact around 10% of pregnant women in Canada (Public Health Agency of
Canada, 2005). This number is believed to be higher in groups such as Aboriginal women (Bowen &
Muhajarine, 2006b), though research is limited.
Prenatal depression and other mental health issues during pregnancy are recognized to have
potentially serious maternal, fetal, and child health consequences. These include neurological, cognitive,
and immune impacts on the mother; elevated risk of adverse pregnancy outcomes such as preterm birth
and low birthweight; increased risk of postpartum depression and other postpartum mental health
problems in the mother, which can negatively impact child behavioural and cognitive development as well
as general family wellbeing; and increased risk of mental health problems in the child later in life (Bowen
& Muhajarine, 2006a; Swaab, Bao, & Lucassen, 2005). The latter may be due to various reasons. Firstly,
there are possible fetal programming pathways that may physiologically predispose the unborn baby to
future mental health concerns (Swaab, Bao, & Lucassen, 2005). Moreover, poor maternal mental health
can severely impact mother-child interactions, which in turn can greatly impact the mental wellbeing of
children (Letourneau et al., 2012).
The symptoms and risk factors for prenatal depression are believed to be similar to those of
depression at any other time of life (Bowen & Muhajarine, 2006a). Diverse theories have been proposed
on the etiology of depression and other mental health disorders; these inform both individual-level and
population-level interventions. Relative to non-Aboriginal populations, Aboriginal populations appear to
experience a higher prevalence of various mental health disorders (Bennett, 2005; First Nations Centre,
2005; Kirmayer, Brass, & Tait, 2000). Present-day social disparities, such as higher rates of poverty, likely
play a role in explaining the above; however, there is increasing recognition that the mental health issues
facing Aboriginal populations are rooted in intergenerational trauma from the legacy of colonization. In
combining with intersecting racism and sexism, the impact of intergenerational trauma on Aboriginal
women is particularly severe.
The objectives of this paper are as follows: to define intergenerational trauma and contextualize it
in understanding the mental health of pregnant and parenting Aboriginal women; to summarize
individual-level and population-level approaches to promoting mental health and examine their
congruence with the needs of Aboriginal populations; and to discuss the importance of targeting
intergenerational trauma in both individual-level and population-level approaches to promoting mental
health in pregnant Aboriginal women.
Intergenerational Trauma
Various terms have been used in the literature to describe the phenomenon of the
intergenerational transmission of historical trauma and unresolved grief. This paper will use
intergenerational trauma, abbreviated as IGT. IGT theory is based on the observation that populations
subjected to long-term and mass trauma (e.g., historical occurrences such as colonization, slavery, war,
and genocide) show a higher prevalence of disease, even several generations after the occurrence of the
© Roy
original events (Sotero, 2006). The symptoms of IGT “as a disease are the maladaptive social and
behavioural patterns that were created in response to the trauma experience, absorbed into the culture
and transmitted as learned behaviour from generation to generation” (Sotero, 2006, p. 96). In particular,
psychological problems and destructive behaviour associated with maladaptive copings, such as
addictions, suicide, and violence are noted to be elevated (Brave Heart & DeBruyn, 1998; Sotero, 2006).
Post-traumatic stress disorder is recognized by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental
Disorders (American Psychiatric Association, 2013) as a psychological disorder. Post-traumatic stress
disorder, however, is at the individual level and is in reference to traumatic incidents within the
individual’s own past. By contrast, IGT involves collective historical trauma. IGT theory sprung largely
from work that has studied World War II Holocaust survivors and their children and has since been
applied to other populations subjected to long-term and mass trauma (Brave Heart & Debruyn, 1998;
Sotero, 2006). The term American Indian Holocaust has been used to describe the atrocities committed
over the course of colonization against Aboriginal peoples in North America and elsewhere, resulting in
“massive losses of lives, land, and culture” (Brave Heart & Debruyn, 1998, p. 60). The historical events of
colonization include seizures of land and forced relocation to reserves (termed reservations in the United
States) and settlements; widespread mortality through colonization-driven disease epidemics, starvation
and mass murder; the horrors of residential schools (termed boarding schools in the United States);
disruption of traditional ways of life; tearing apart of communities and families; and assimilatory policies
that meet the United Nations’ definition of cultural genocide (Brave Heart & DeBruyn, 1998; Kirmayer et
al., 2000; Sotero, 2006; Menzies, 2008). The experiences of these events put Aboriginal populations in a
constant state of grief and despair; however, since traditional Aboriginal customs of mourning were
prohibited throughout much of history, the grief could not be properly resolved (Brave Heart & DeBruyn,
1998). Thus, there is the transmission of unresolved historical grief from generation to generation. In IGT,
historical grief mingles with grief, anger, and trauma from present-day experiences, such as loss of family
members and friends to addictions, suicide, and violence; personal experiences of violence; poverty and
other social disparities; and personal experiences of oppression (including racism and sexism), which
reinforce the stories of ancestral oppression (Sotero, 2006).
Social, environmental, and even biological methods of transmission are proposed to explain how
the psychological and emotional consequences of mass trauma and unresolved grief are passed on from
generation to generation (Sotero, 2006). Included among the transmission pathways proposed is the
impaired capacity to parent (Brave Heart & DeBruyn, 1998; Sotero, 2006; Menzies, 2008). In this regard,
the legacies of residential schools and the Sixties Scoop era of assimilatory child welfare policies offer
particularly illustrative examples. The explicit purpose of residential schools was to assimilate Aboriginal
children into mainstream Canadian society. Children in residential schools were seized by force from their
families and communities, mistreated, overworked, denied basic needs like food, water, and appropriate
medical care, and both witnessed and personally experienced brutal physical, sexual, and psychological
abuse at the hands of school staff. Children in residential schools were taught that Aboriginal ways were
“savage” and shameful; they were taught to reject their ancestors, their families, and Aboriginal cultural
and spiritual traditions. Students left schools dissociated from their traditional culture yet still not
accepted by mainstream society, lacking a sense of identity, lacking basic life skills, and highly
traumatized from the chronic mistreatment and abuse they had endured. The experience impaired
survivors’ ability to form meaningful interpersonal relationships involving trust or intimacy. Isolation
© Roy
from family and community further resulted in a lack of preparedness for marriage, family life, and
parenting. The trauma of their experiences led many survivors to substance abuse, criminal activity, self-
harm, as well as domestic violence against partners and children. Thus, children of survivors faced abuse,
neglect, and the consequences of their parents’ self-destructive behaviour, such as substance abuse. As a
result, survivors’ children, in turn, were more likely to become involved in abuse or domestic violence and
to engage in substance abuse and other self-destructive behaviours. What has ensued is a vicious
intergenerational cycle of violence, addictions, self-harm, and trauma (Aboriginal Nurses Association of
Canada [ANAC] & Planned Parenthood Federation of Canada, 2002; Chansonneuve, 2005; Native
Women’s Association of Canada, 2007).
Although the last residential school closed in the 1990s, “by the 1960s child welfare agencies
successfully replaced residential schools as the preferred system of care for First Nations children”
(Bennett, Blackstock, & De La Ronde, 2005, p. 18). What ensued over the next two decades is referred to
as the infamous “Sixties Scoop” (Johnston, 1983): the mass removal of Aboriginal children for adoption
and foster care in non-Aboriginal homes far away from their communities. Like residential school
survivors, these children were dissociated from their traditional culture, yet still faced racism and
exclusion by mainstream culture (Bennett et al., 2005; Johnston, 1983; Mandell, Carlson, Fine, &
Blackstock, 2007; Sinclair, 2007). Some were abused by their foster or adoptive parents, including the
high-profile cases of Cameron Kerley (a First Nations teenager who killed his adoptive father in 1983 after
years of sexual abuse at his hands) and Richard Cardinal (a Métis teenager who committed suicide in
1984 after years of abuse and neglect in foster care) (Mandell et al., 2007). The lack of senses of identity,
stability, and belonging became especially acute at adolescence, during which time many of these children
turned to maladaptive and destructive behaviour, such as substance abuse, rebelliousness, aggression,
and suicide. A disproportionate number of these children ended up in the criminal justice system
(Bennett et al., 2005; Johnston, 1983; Mandell et al., 2007; Sinclair, 2007). It has been noted that
Aboriginal peoples were underrepresented in the criminal justice system at the turn of the twentieth
century and were represented at about the same proportion as in the population prior to World War II. By
the early 1990s, however, the proportion had skyrocketed; in Manitoban jails, for example, nearly 70% of
men, 90% of women, 70% of boys, and 80% of girls were Aboriginal (Aboriginal Justice Inquiry: Child
Welfare Initiative, as cited in Mandell et al., 2007). Various studies have shown a compelling association
between involvement in the criminal justice system and experience in the child welfare system (Mandell et
al., 2007; Sinclair, 2007).
Although there now is greater Aboriginal control of child welfare services for Aboriginal children,
the consequences of the Sixties Scoop continue to play out as the now-grown survivors of the Sixties
Scoop become parents themselves. Thus, the legacy of the Sixties Scoop converges with the legacy of
residential schools and other events of colonization via the ongoing transmission of trauma and
dysfunction across generations.
Intergenerational trauma and Aboriginal women

IGT is gendered. While colonization and the ensuing trauma has impacted all segments of
Aboriginal populations, the impact has been especially heavy on Aboriginal women. The explicit
patriarchy embedded into Aboriginal societies by missionaries, residential schools, and the Indian Act has
yielded inequities and oppression based on gender (LaRocque, 1994). Internalized racism and sexism, in
© Roy
concert with the normalization of violence and abuse in residential schools, have contributed to
disproportionately high rates of gender-based violence against women within Aboriginal communities
(LaRocque, 1994). At the intersections of both racism and sexism, Aboriginal women’s mental health is
shaped both by present-day traumatic experiences as well as by historical trauma. Domestic violence has
been suggested to be a key reason for the much higher proportion of lone-parent and female-headed
households among Aboriginal populations. Such families, in turn, are at greater likelihood of facing
poverty (LaRocque, 1994), which further intersects with present-day and historical trauma in women’s
lives.
Intergenerational trauma and mental health during pregnancy

In the context of IGT, the stresses of pregnancy and parenting may further exacerbate Aboriginal
women’s mental health concerns. As such, pregnancy can be argued to be an especially important time to
offer healing-oriented interventions around IGT. Additionally, given the key role that parenting has in
transmitting trauma to the next generation (Sotero, 2006), pregnancy also offers a meaningful point of
intervention for breaking the vicious cycle of IGT. Accordingly, both clinical and population-level
interventions for pregnant Aboriginal women’s mental health should address IGT and incorporate
appropriate healing processes.
Individual-level Approaches to Mental Health

A wide range of theories, spread across biological and psychosocial camps, have been proposed to
explain mental illness at the individual level. The biomedical model for mental illness advances biological
mechanisms as explanations for mental illness. Biological systems proposed to be involved include the
monoaminergic systems of neurotransmission (Elhwuegi, 2004), structures of the brain (notably in the
limbic system, which is implicated in emotional and cognitive functioning) (Joca, Ferreira, & Guimaraes,
2007), proinflammatory immune function (Schiepers, Wichers, & Maes, 2005), and the hypothalamic-
pituitary-adrenal axis, which is the body’s key stress response system (Swaab, Bao, & Lucassen, 2005).
Disruptions in one or more of these systems are believed to be at the root of mental illness (Sadock &
Sadock, 2007). Psychosocial theories of mental illness offer explanations based on factors such as
emotional and cognitive disposition, nature of relationships with others, and the mental impact of life
experiences. Traditional perspectives in psychology include the psychoanalytic perspective, the
behavioural perspective, the cognitive perspective, the humanist perspective, and the sociocultural
perspective, which each offer various theories to account for the etiology of mental illness (Sdorow &
Rickabaugh, 2002).
Contemporary conceptualizations of mental health generally embrace a biopsychosocial

approach; such an approach recognizes that the complexity of mental health requires a broader view than
can be offered with any single traditional theory (Engel, 1977). A biopsychosocial approach to
understanding depression, for example, would explain the aetiology of depressive disorders in terms of
the interaction between biopsychological vulnerabilities (stemming from biological, cognitive, emotive,
environmental, and social factors, which either predispose or protect against distress) and stressors, such
as stressful life events (Garcia-Toro & Aguirre, 2007; Roy & Campbell, 2013; Schotte, Van Den, De, Claes,
& Cosyns, 2006). The biopsychosocial approach to understanding health is similar to Urie
Bronfenbrenner’s bioecological model for understanding child development; there is a focus on
© Roy
understanding the entire system in which health occurs (Bronfenbrenner, 1994; Engel, 1977). In
mainstream medicine, clinical diagnoses of mental disorders are based on criteria laid out in the
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (APA, 2013), which are assessed during a clinical
interview. Depending on the type and severity of the disorder, treatment may involve pharmaceutical
approaches or psychotherapeutic approaches, or a combination of both (Sadock & Sadock, 2007).
Pharmaceutical treatments may bring about prompt relief of symptoms in some (though not all) patients;
however, side effects and risks do exist, notably in the context of pregnancy and breastfeeding (Belik,
2008). Furthermore, pharmaceutical approaches do not address the underlying psychosocial roots of
distress; therefore, symptom relief may be difficult to sustain in the longer term. In this regard,
psychotherapeutic strategies can help individuals recognize issues in their lives contributing to poor
mental health and develop coping skills and strategies in the face of those issues (Sadock & Sadock, 2007).
However, many mainstream psychotherapists are not familiar with IGT and the colonial context
of Aboriginal peoples’ health, or with Aboriginal values and worldviews. As discussed by McCormick
(2008), mainstream counselling services have had only limited success with Aboriginal clients due to
“cultural misconceptions of what is normal; an emphasis on individualism; fragmentation of the mental,
physical, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of the person; neglect of Aboriginal history; and neglect of
the client’s social support system” (p.342). Furthermore, a lack of cultural safety in mainstream mental
health services, as discussed later in this paper, can reinforce IGT by subjecting Aboriginal clients to
further oppression (National Aboriginal Health Organization, 2008; ANAC, 2009). Most importantly,
both pharmaceutical and psychotherapeutic approaches promote the internalization of solutions (i.e.,
therapies are aimed at creating biological, cognitive, or behavioural changes within the individual); as
such, these approaches do not address the broader social, economic, and political factors that determine
health at the population level. Given the collective nature of IGT and its colonial and neo-colonial roots,
population-level interventions are also required to bring about the meaningful transformation of
individuals and communities.
Population-level Approaches to Mental Health

The Government of Canada has defined a population-health approach as one that
uses both short- and long-term strategies to improve the underlying and interrelated
conditions in the environment that enable all Canadians to be healthy, and [to] reduce
inequities in the underlying conditions that put some Canadians at a disadvantage for
attaining and maintaining optimal health (Federal, Provincial and Territorial Advisory
Committee on Population Health, 1999, p. xv).
Over the last few decades, there has been considerable discussion and debate as to the best way to execute
a population-health approach.
The 1974 Lalonde Report speaks of populations at risk (i.e., those people exposed to risk factors
of interest). Lalonde suggested that prevention strategies should target these groups of people, notably to
help them make better lifestyle “choices” (Health and Welfare Canada, 1974). This approach to prevention
is countered by Rose (1985), who suggested that the causes of incidence are not the same as the causes of
individual cases of illness. In simpler terms, Rose explained that understanding the reasons why
individuals get sick will not necessarily explain differences in rates of illness between populations. Rose
© Roy
suggested that prevention strategies aimed at the entire population, that target environmental and policy
factors, may lower disease incidences by shifting the population distribution of the health characteristic of
interest in a more favourable direction (Rose, 1985).
Frohlic and Potvin (2008) commended Rose for highlighting the importance of structural factors
on health while pointing out the victim-blaming implications of Lalonde’s considerable emphasis on the
notion of individual lifestyle “choices.” However, Frohlic and Potvin criticized Rose’s population approach
on the basis that non-targeted interventions may not have uniform impacts on all segments of the
population. They argued that advantaged segments of the population are likely to benefit substantially
more from the population approach to prevention; therefore, such an approach runs the risk of increasing
population inequities. They spoke of vulnerable populations (under which they include Aboriginal
populations) who are at “higher risk of risks” (p. 218) due to various structural barriers and argue the
importance of targeted interventions for such groups (Frohlic & Potvin, 2008). McLaren, McIntyre, and
Kirkpatrick (2010), however, have critiqued the interpretation of Rose offered by Frohlic and Potvin.
McLaren et al. have argued that whether or not a population approach to prevention leads to inequities
depends on the nature of the intervention; namely, whether or not the intervention is focused on structure
or agency. McLaren et al. further caution that the concept of vulnerable populations (those at greater risk
of risks) is open to being conflated with Lalonde’s concept of populations at risk; such a conflation leads
back to an emphasis on risk exposure rather than on the structural factors driving health (McLaren et al.,
2010).
From the above discussions and debates, it is apparent that the conundrum of prevention at the
population level lies in adequately addressing both downstream factors surrounding risk exposure as well
as upstream structural issues that impact health and wellbeing through the social determinants of health.
Through an exploration of recent population-level interventions aimed at promoting maternal-perinatal
health, it is apparent that there has been a greater emphasis on downstream factors than on upstream
factors. Risk factors for maternal mental health issues, such as prenatal depression, include factors such
as low socioeconomic status, unmarried status, experiences of domestic violence, high psychosocial stress,
poor diet, and low social support (Bowen & Muhajarine, 2006a). Social support has been targeted as a
potentially modifiable factor in a number of recent perinatal health interventions. For example, a
randomized control trial of a prenatal intervention involving in-home nurse visits showed different
patterns of success among pregnant women in Calgary, based on whether they were high-risk or low-risk
for poor maternal and perinatal health outcomes. Not surprisingly, the needs of high-risk women were not
being fully met with a conventional prenatal intervention (Tough et al., 2006). Other interventions have
targeted women defined as “high-risk” based on depressive symptoms screening (Dennis, 2010; Jesse et
al., 2010; Smith, Shao, Howell, Lin, & Yonkers, 2011). These interventions have met with little (Smith et
al., 2011) to only moderate success (Dennis, 2010; Jesse et al., 2010). The lack of dramatic success is likely
because these interventions do essentially nothing to change the broader, structural factors impacting
women’s mental health. It is clear that more needs to be done to address upstream factors. This is
particularly true in the context of Aboriginal women, whose health is impacted by the structural factors
driven by the legacy of colonization. Furthermore, given the unique social, cultural, and historical context
of Aboriginal populations, tailoring prenatal and mental health interventions to meet the needs of
pregnant Aboriginal women is also important to ensure both effectiveness and cultural safety.
© Roy
The health promotion function of public health suggests that a multi-pronged and multi-sectoral
approach is required in the process of “enabling people [and populations] to increase control over, and to
improve, their health” (World Health Organization [WHO], 1986, p. 1). Health promotion interventions
use strategies for building healthy public policy, creating supportive environments, strengthening
community action, developing personal skills, and reorienting health services (WHO, 1986). Health
promotion interventions have been suggested to be especially effective in mental health, given the
complexity of the determinants involved (Herrman, Saxena, & Moodie, 2005). Because health promotion
“focuses on achieving equity in health” (WHO, 1986, p. 1), a health promotion approach to mental health
among pregnant Aboriginal women would advocate tailoring interventions for the specific needs of
pregnant Aboriginal women. Furthermore, a health promotion approach focuses on action on the broader
determinants of health beyond simply behavioural and biological factors – such as political, economic,
social, cultural, and environmental factors (WHO, 1986).
The Government of Canada’s document Toward a Healthy Future: Second Report on the Health
of Canadians discussed the health disparities facing Aboriginal populations and links these health
disparities to the social disparities faced by Aboriginal populations along social determinants of health
such as income, education, employment, and housing (Federal, Provincial and Territorial Advisory
Committee on Population Health, 1999). What is conspicuous by its complete absence in this report,
however, is the identification of colonization as the broader driver behind present-day social and health
inequities. Similarly, colonization and IGT are also not explicitly discussed in the program descriptions for
Health Canada’s First Nations and Inuit Health Branch community-based health promotion programs on
maternal and child health (Health Canada, 2011). Reference is made in the program descriptions to the
social determinants of health, health promotion, community capacity-building, and the incorporation of
traditional culture (Health Canada, 2011). However, concretely-defined components to explicitly address
IGT in the mental health of pregnant Aboriginal women are not mentioned. Of the mental health
promotion programs offered by the First Nations and Inuit Health Branch, the Indian Residential Schools
Resolution Health Support Program description refers explicitly to IGT, in the context of residential
school abuses. Otherwise, explicit reference to colonization and IGT are similarly limited in the program
descriptions (Health Canada, 2011). In the last few years, largely through the work of the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission of Canada, there has been increasing awareness of the traumatic experiences
of students who attended residential schools, culminating in a formal apology from the Government of
Canada on June 11, 2008 (Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, 2011). However, the impact
of the history of residential schools on subsequent generations of Aboriginal peoples has not received as
much media or political attention. This may in part be due to the limited empirical research on the issue,
as discussed below.
Addressing Intergenerational Trauma in Mental Health

Interventions for Pregnant Aboriginal Women
As discussed earlier, historical trauma and unresolved grief are reinforced and augmented with
the trauma and despair stemming from present-day circumstances, including experiences of racism and
sexism. In the context of health and social services, a lack of cultural safety contributes to the oppression
of Aboriginal peoples, and therefore, to IGT. Cultural safety expands the notion of cultural sensitivity by
focusing on structural inequities based on various sociocultural factors and the resulting power
© Roy
differentials in relationships – notably, in the relationship between service providers and patients or
clients. In order to provide a culturally safe environment in which patients or clients can feel respected
and empowered, service providers must be self-reflexive. This is particularly important in the context of
Aboriginal patients and clients; Aboriginal peoples’ historical relationship with health and social services
is entrenched in colonization, making lack of trust a major concern (ANAC, 2009; National Aboriginal
Health Organization, 2008). The literature has suggested a number of best practices for health and social
services for Aboriginal patients and clients, to ensure both safety and responsiveness. The Society of
Obstetricians and Gynaecologists of Canada (as cited in Smylie, 2000), for example, offered a list of
recommendations for health services in the area of Aboriginal women’s health. These include ensuring
that professionals have an adequate understanding of the sociocultural, historical, and population health
context of Aboriginal peoples – notably, the legacy of colonization; embracing a holistic view of health and
wellbeing in line with Aboriginal worldviews; supporting community-directed services, programs, and
initiatives; and supporting health promotion and prevention. In the context of pregnant and parenting
Aboriginal persons, Smith et al. (2006) found that participants of their study sought health care that is
respectful, strengths-based, client-directed, holistic, that permits healing and trust, that is culturally
appropriate, that addresses the “mind, body, and soul” (p. E39), and that includes fathers and other
family members.
Various scholars have suggested that healing from IGT is best achieved through a combination of
mainstream psychotherapies and culturally-entrenched healing practices (Brave Heart, 2003; Brave
Heart & DeBruyn, 1998; McCormick, 2008; Menzies, 2008). McCormick (2008) commented, when
facilitated by therapists with “adequate understanding and respect for Aboriginal cultural values [such
that] the therapist [does not] mistakenly try to change core cultural values of their Aboriginal clients”
(p.342), there are certain mainstream psychotherapeutic approaches that have proven to be helpful for
Aboriginal clients. In addition to individual psychotherapies, group and family therapies have proven to
work well, given the congruence with the emphasis of family and community in Aboriginal worldviews
(McCormick, 2008). However, it is important that mainstream therapies be complemented with
traditional healing practices that allow connection with one’s Aboriginal identity and promote healing
through balance; interconnectedness; relationships with family, community, and nature; spirituality; and
the use of Aboriginal rituals and traditions (McCormick, 2008).
Traditional Aboriginal healing practices vary between communities and can include smudging,
sweat lodges, sun dances, pipe ceremonies, potlachs, and healing circles (University of Ottawa, 2009).
Healing circles, for example, can be incorporated into group therapy (Heilbron & Guttman, 2000). The
focus on holism is reflected in traditional approaches such as the Medicine Wheel and the four sacred
medicines of sage, sweet grass, tobacco, and cedar (Little Brown Bear, 2012; University of Ottawa, 2009).
Drawing on traditional healing practices is especially important in the context of IGT, given that part of
the assault of colonization that led to unresolved grief was the banning of traditional cultural practices
(Brave Heart & DeBruyn, 1998). Brave Heart, DeBruyn, and their colleagues at the Takini Network in the
United States have developed the Historical Trauma and Unresolved Grief Intervention, which has shown
some success. This group trauma and psychoeducation intervention combine processes for acknowledging
and confronting historical trauma with traditional Indigenous rituals for grief resolution and healing. The
intervention is congruent with mainstream group psychotherapies done for Post-traumatic stress disorder
and allows reconnection with Aboriginal identity and cultures as a powerful means of healing (Brave
Heart, 2003; Brave Heart & DeBruyn, 1998;).
© Roy
In addition to individual-level interventions, population health promotion interventions that

address structural and community-level factors that influence healing from the legacy of colonization are
also important. Chandler and Lalonde (1998) suggested that cultural continuity in a community can
impact mental health. Their markers for cultural continuity include community involvement in land
claims, evidence of self-government, the existence of health and social services, and the existence of
cultural facilities. Although termed cultural continuity, various scholars (Kirmayer et al., 2000) have
pointed out that these markers speak to broader issues of community participation and capacity, in
addition to engagement with traditional culture and Aboriginal identity. Community capacity and local
control are powerful counters to the historical and present-day oppression associated with colonization,
and in which IGT is largely rooted. As stated by Kirmayer et al. (2000),
Community development and local control of health care systems are needed, not only to
make services responsive to local needs but also to promote the sense of individual and
collective efficacy and pride that contribute to mental health. Ultimately, political efforts
to restore Aboriginal rights, settle land claims, and redistribute power through various
forms of self-government hold the keys to healthy communities (p. 614).
While various conceptual models have been proposed to explain IGT (Brave Heart & Debruyn,
1998; Menzies, 2008; Sotero, 2006), they are largely rooted in qualitative research and theoretical
discussion. The inductive approach of qualitative research allows for considerable depth in insight; given
the complexities of IGT, qualitative research is certainly integral to fully understanding the intricate issues
at hand. However, qualitative research cannot address questions of generalizability of results to a target
population of interest (Morse & Niehaus, 2009; Roy, 2014; Sandelowski, 2000). Accordingly, quantitative
and mixed-methods research approaches are also required to ensure that IGT is considered in evidence-
based decision making around services and policies (Blackstock, 2009; Roy, 2014). There has been some
quantitative work done in recent years. Whitbeck, Adams, Hoyt, & Chen (2004), for example, have
developed historical loss scales. Recent studies have also attempted to assess IGT through indicator
variables about life experiences associated with IGT in Aboriginal populations (e.g., sexual abuse, child
abuse, family violence, alcoholism, being taken away from birth parents) or by inquiring about family
members’ attendance at residential schools (Balsam, Huang, Fieland, Simoni, & Walters, 2004; Cedar
Project Partnership et al., 2008). However, as argued by Sotero (2006), discussion of IGT in the literature
is largely theoretical and qualitative in nature. Similarly, although there is considerable discussion of the
concept of healing in the context of Aboriginal mental health, “the major part of the literature that
examines healing for Aboriginal people tends to be based on opinion and conjecture, not on research. . . .
[The] literature does not provide empirical evidence [as] support” (McCormick, 2008, p. 341). Given the
increased focus on evidence-based decision making in the design of both clinical and population
interventions, more empirical studies are needed on both IGT and Aboriginal healing, drawing on both
quantitative and qualitative approaches. In particular, further research of these issues in pregnant
Aboriginal women can help to provide context-specific evidence to address the overall lack of explicit
consideration of IGT, discussed earlier in this paper, in both individual-level and population-level
interventions aimed at Aboriginal maternal mental health.
Given the link between experiences of interpersonal violence and an array of health and social
problems, Elliott, Bjelajac, Fallot, Markoff, and Reed (2005) have suggested that all health and social
services for women should be trauma-informed. In other words, “service delivery [should be] influenced
© Roy
by an understanding of the impact of interpersonal violence and victimization on an individual’s life and
development” (p 462). The paper by Elliott et al. (2005) is concerned with personal trauma from
interpersonal violence. However, extrapolations of their points can be made to the issue of IGT and
Aboriginal peoples. Given the link between IGT and social, behavioural, and health problems in
Aboriginal populations, an argument can be made that health and social services for Aboriginal peoples,
in general, should be influenced by the recognition of the legacy of colonization and the need to heal from
this legacy; in other words, they should be IGT-informed. While the above should apply to services for all
Aboriginal peoples, it is particularly pertinent for pregnant Aboriginal women. Qualitative research
conducted by Smith et al. (2006) suggested that Aboriginal parents see pregnancy as a time for reflection
on the intergenerational legacy of colonization, driven by the strong desire to give their children a better
future. As such, pregnancy is “a powerful opportunity to support and facilitate people to choose a healing
path” (pp. E34-E35), to heal themselves, and break the vicious cycle of IGT for the sake of their children.
As discussed earlier, IGT can have a large role in Aboriginal women’s overall mental health. Given the
importance of pregnant women’s mental health to both maternal and child health outcomes, including
mental health trajectories for children and youth, it is clear that interventions, programs, and services for
pregnant Aboriginal women need to be designed to explicitly facilitate healing from IGT.
© Roy
References
Aboriginal Nurses Association of Canada (ANAC) (2009). Cultural competence and cultural safety in First Nations, Inuit and
Métis nursing. Ottawa, ON: Author.
ANAC, & Planned Parenthood Federation of Canada. (2002). Finding our way: A sexual and reproductive health sourcebook for
Aboriginal communities. Ottawa, ON: Author.
American Psychiatric Association (APA) (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.). Washington,
DC: Author.
Balsam, K., Huang, B., Fieland, K., Simoni, J., & Walters, K. (2004). Culture, trauma, and wellness: A comparison of
heterosexual and lesbian, gay, bisexual, and two-spirit Native Americans. Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority
Psychology, 10(3), 297-301.
Belik, J. (2008). Fetal and neonatal effects of maternal drug treatment for depression. Seminars in Perinatology, 32(5), 350-
4. https://doi.org/10.1053/j.semperi.2008.08.001
Bennett, M. (2005). Annotated bibliography of Aboriginal women’s health and healing research. Vancouver, BC: Aboriginal
Women’s Health and Healing Research Group.
Bennett, M., Blackstock, C., & De La Ronde, R. (2005). A literature review and annotated bibliography on aspects of Aboriginal
child welfare in Canada (2nd ed.). Winnipeg, MB/Ottawa, ON: First Nations Research Site of the Centre of Excellence
for Child Welfare, the First Nations Child & Family Caring Society of Canada.
Blackstock, C. (2009). First Nations children count: Enveloping quantitative research in an Indigenous envelope. First Peoples
Child & Family Review, 4(2), 135-143.
Bowen, A., & Muhajarine, N. (2006a). Antenatal depression. Canadian Nurse, 102(9), 26-30.
Bowen, A., & Muhajarine, N. (2006b). Prevalence of antenatal depression in women enrolled in an outreach program in Canada. Journal
of Obstetric, Gynecologic, & Neonatal Nursing, 35(4), 491- 498. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1552-6909.2006.00064 x
Brave Heart, M. (2003). The historical trauma response among Natives and its relationship with substance abuse: A Lakota
illustration. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs, 35(1), 7-13. https://doi.org/10.1080/02791072.2003.10399988
Brave Heart, M., & DeBruyn, L. (1998). The American Indian Holocaust: Healing historical unresolved grief. American Indian
and Alaska Native Mental Health Research, 8(2), 56-78.
Bronfenbrenner, U. (1994). Ecological models of human development. In International Encyclopedia of Education (2nd ed.).
Oxford, UK: Elsevier.
Cedar Project Partnership, Pearce, M. E., Christian, W. M., Patterson, K., Norris, K., Moniruzzaman, . . . & Spittal, P. M. (2008).
The Cedar Project: Historical trauma, sexual abuse and HIV risk among young Aboriginal people who use injection
and non-injection drugs in two Canadian cities. Social Science and Medicine, 66(11), 2185-
2194. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.socscimed.2008.03.034
Chansonneuve, D. (2005). Reclaiming connections: Understanding residential school trauma among Aboriginal people. Ottawa,
ON: Aboriginal Healing Foundation.
Dennis, C. L. (2010). Postpartum depression peer support: Maternal perceptions from a randomized controlled trial. International
Journal of Nursing Studies. 47(5), 560–568. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijnurstu.2009.10.015
Engel, G. L. (1977). The need for a new medical model: A challenge for biomedicine. Science, 196, 129-
136. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.847460
Elhwuegi, A. S. (2004). Central monoamines and their role in major depression. Progress in Neuro-Psychopharmacology &
Biological Psychiatry, 28(3), 435-451. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pnpbp.2003.11.018
Elliott, D., Bjelajac, P., Fallot, R., Markoff, L., & Reed, B. (2005). Trauma-informed or trauma-denied: Principles and
implementation of trauma-informed services for women. Journal of community psychology, 33(4), 461–
477. https://doi.org/10.1002/jcop.20063
Federal, Provincial and Territorial Advisory Committee on Population Health. (1999). Toward a healthy future: Second report on
the health of Canadians. Ottawa, ON: Health Canada.
© Roy
First Nations Centre. (2005). First Nations regional longitudinal health survey (RHS) 2002/03. Ottawa, ON: First Nations Centre.
Frohlich, K., & Potvin, L. (2008). The inequality paradox: The population approach and vulnerable populations. American
Journal of Public Health, 98(2), 216-221.
Garcia-Toro, M., & Aguirre, I. (2007). Biopsychosocial model in depression revisited. Medical Hypotheses, 68(3), 683-
691. https://doi.org/10.1016/j mehy.2006.02.049
Health and Welfare Canada. (1974). New perspectives on the health of Canadians. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Health Canada. (2011). First Nations and Inuit Health Program compendium. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Heilbron, C. L., & Guttman, M. A. J. (2000). Traditional healing methods with First Nations women in group counselling.
Canadian Journal of Counselling, 34(1), 3-13.
Herrman, H., Saxena, S., & Moodie, R. (2005). Promoting mental health: Concepts, emerging evidence, practice. Geneva, SW:
World Health Organization.
Jesse, D. E., Blanchard, A., Bunch, S., Dolbier, C., Hodgson, J., & Swanson, M. (2010). A pilot study to reduce risk for
antepartum depression among women in a public health prenatal clinic. Issues in Mental Health Nursing, 31(5), 355–
364. https://doi.org/10.3109/01612840903427831
Joca, S. R., Ferreira, F. R., & Guimaraes, F. S. (2007). Modulation of stress consequences by hippocampal monoaminergic,
glutamatergic and nitrergic neurotransmitter systems. Stress, 10(3), 227-249. https://doi.org/10.1080/10253890701223130
Johnston, P. (1983). Native children and the child welfare system. Toronto, ON: Canadian Council on Social Development.
Kirmayer, L. J., Brass, G. M., & Tait, C. L. (2000). The mental health of Aboriginal peoples: Transformations of identity and
community. Canadian Journal of Psychiatry, 45(7), 607-16. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F070674370004500702
LaRocque, E. D. (1994). Violence in Aboriginal communities. Ottawa, ON: Health Canada.
Letourneau, N. L., Dennis, C. L., Benzies, K., Duffett-Leger, L., Stewart, M., Tryphonopoulos, P. D., . . . & Watson, W. (2012).
Postpartum depression is a family affair: Addressing the impact on mothers, fathers, and children. Issues in Mental
Health Nursing, 33(7), 445–457. https://doi.org/10.3109/01612840.2012.673054
Little Brown Bear [Matton, E.]. (2012, May). Developing a new understanding and creating a new healing journey. Presented at
Grounding Trauma Conference, CAST Canada, Alliston, ON.
Mandell, D., Carlson, J. C., Fine, M., & Blackstock, C. (2007). Aboriginal child welfare. In G. Cameron, N. Coady, & G. R.
Adams (Eds.), Moving toward positive systems of child and family welfare: Current issues and future directions (pp.
115-159). Waterloo, ON: Wilfred Laurier University Press.
McCormick, R. (2008). Aboriginal approaches to counseling. In L. J. Kirmayer & G. G. Valaskakis (Eds.), Healing traditions:
The mental health of Aboriginal peoples in Canada (pp. 337-354). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
McLaren, L., McIntyre, L., & Kirkpatrick, S. (2010). Rose’s population strategy of prevention need not increase social
inequalities in health. International Journal of Epidemiology, 39(2), 372–377. https://doi.org/10.1093/ije/dyp315
Menzies, P. (2008). Developing an Aboriginal healing model for intergenerational trauma. International Journal of Health
Promotion & Education, 46(2), 41-48. https://doi.org/10.1080/14635240.2008.10708128
Morse, J. M., & Niehaus, L. (2009). Mixed method design: Principles and procedures. Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press, Inc.
National Aboriginal Health Organization. (2008). Cultural competency and safety: A guide for health care administrators,
providers and educators. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Native Women’s Association of Canada. (2002). Violations of Indigenous human rights. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Public Health Agency of Canada. (2005). Depression in pregnancy. Retrieved from http://www.phac-aspc.gc.ca/mh-
sm/preg dep-eng.php
Rose, G. (1985). Sick individuals and sick populations. International Journal of Epidemiology, 14(1), 32-
38. https://doi.org/10.1093/ije/30.3.427
Roy, A., & Campbell, M. K. (2013). A unifying framework for depression: Bridging the major biological and psychosocial theories
through stress. Clinical and Investigative Medicine, 36(4), E170-E190. https://doi.org/10.25011/cim.v36i4.19951
Roy, A. (2014). Aboriginal worldviews and epidemiological survey methodology: Overcoming incongruence. International
Journal of Multiple Research Approaches, 8(1), 134-145. https://doi.org/10.5172/mra.2014.8.1.117
© Roy
Sadock, B. J., & Sadock, V. A. (2007). Kaplan & Sadock's synopsis of psychiatry: Behavioral sciences/clinical psychiatry (10th
ed.). Philadelphia, PA: Wolter Kluwer/Lippincott Williams & Wilkins.
Sandelowski, M. (2000). Combining qualitative and quantitative sampling, data collection, and analysis techniques in mixed-
method studies. Research in Nursing & Health, 23(3), 246–255. https://doi.org/10.1002/1098-
240X(200006)23:3%3C246::AID-NUR9%3E3.0.CO;2-H
Schiepers, O. J., Wichers, M. C., & Maes, M. (2005). Cytokines and major depression. Progress in Neuro-Psychopharmacology
and Biological Psychiatry, 29(2), 201-217. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pnpbp.2004.11.003
Schotte, C. K., Van Den, B. B., De, D. D., Claes, S., & Cosyns, P. (2006). A biopsychosocial model as a guide for psychoeducation and
treatment of depression. Depression and Anxiety, 23(5), 312-324. https://doi.org/10.1002/da.20177
Sdorow, L. M., & Rickabaugh, C. A. (2002). Psychology (5th ed.). Boston, MA: McGraw-Hill.
Sinclair, R. (2007). Identity lost and found: Lessons from the sixties scoop. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 3(1), 65-82.
Smith, D., Edwards, N., Varcoe, C. Martens, P. J., & Davies, B. (2006). Bringing safety and responsiveness into the forefront of
care for pregnant and parenting Aboriginal people. Advances in Nursing Science, 29(2), E27-44.
Smith, M. V., Shao, L., Howell, H., Lin, H, & Yonkers, K. A. (2011). Perinatal depression and birth outcomes in a healthy start
project. Maternal and Child Health Journal, 15(3),401-409. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10995-010-0595-6
Smylie, J. (2000). A Guide for health professionals working with Aboriginal peoples. SOCG policy statement. Ottawa, ON:
Council of the Society of Obstretricians and Gynaecologists of Canada
Sotero, M. (2006). A conceptual model of historical trauma: Implications for public health practice and research. Journal of
Health Disparities Research and Practice, 1(1), 93-108.
Swaab, D. F., Bao, A. M., & Lucassen, P. J. (2005). The stress system in the human brain in depression and neurodegeneration.
Ageing Research Reviews, 4(2), 141-194. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.arr.2005.03.003
Tough, S. C., Johnstone, D. W., Siever, J. E., Jorgenson, G., Slacombe, L., Lane, C., & Clarke, M. (2006). Does supplementary
prenatal nursing and home visitation support improve resource utilization in a system of universal health care? Results
from a randomized controlled trial in Canada. Birth, 33(3), 183-194. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1523-536X.2006.00103 x
Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2011). About us. Retrieved from http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/index.php?p=4
University of Ottawa (2009). Aboriginal medicine and healing practices. Retrieved
from http://www med.uottawa.ca/sim/data/Aboriginal Medicine e htm
Whitbeck, L. B., Adams, G. W., Hoyt , D. R., & Chen, X. (2004). Conceptualizing and measuring historical trauma among
American Indian people. American Journal of Community Psychology, 33, 119-
130. https://doi.org/10.1023/B:AJCP.0000027000.77357.31
World Health Organization (WHO) (1986). Ottawa charter for health promotion. Retrieved
from https://www.who.int/healthpromotion/conferences/previous/ottawa/en/
© Roy
2019
Domestic Sex Trafficking of Aboriginal Girls
in Canada: Issues and Implications
Anupriya Sethi
MSW, Director, Canada School of Public Service, Ontario, Canada
Corresponding author: anupriyasethi@yahoo.ca
Abstract
The current discourses on human trafficking in Canada do not take into account domestic trafficking,
especially of Aboriginal girls. Notwithstanding the alarmingly high number of missing, murdered, and
sexually exploited Aboriginal girls, the issue continues to be portrayed more as a problem of prostitution
than of sexual exploitation or domestic trafficking. The focus of this study is to examine the issues in
sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls, as identified by the grass root agencies, and to contextualize them
within the trafficking framework with the purpose of distinguishing sexual exploitation from sex work. In
doing so, the paper will outline root causes that make Aboriginal girls vulnerable to domestic trafficking
as well as draw implications for policy analysis.
Keywords: Domestic sex trafficking, Aboriginal girls, policy implications
1
The original version of this article was published in: Sethi, A. (2007). Domestic sex trafficking of Aboriginal girls in Canada:
Issues and implications. First People Child & Family Review, 3(3), 57-71.
Domestic sex trafficking of Aboriginal girls in Canada: Issues and implications 226
Introduction
General trends
Human trafficking has received growing attention in recent years, both in Canada and worldwide,
especially in the wake of increased focus on nation States’ security and tightening the borders (Oxman-
Martinez, Hanley, & Gomez, 2005). The discourses on sex trafficking of women and girls in Canada
continue to highlight international trafficking thus positioning Canada more as a transit and destination
country than an origin country. Notwithstanding the fact that 500 Aboriginal 2 girls and women (and
maybe more) have gone missing over the past 30 years (Amnesty International Canada, 2004), domestic
trafficking has not received the attention it deserves. Instead of being contextualized in a trafficking
framework, sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls is portrayed and understood as a problem of
prostitution or sex work.
Similarly, despite the wide-ranging and often complex problems facing Aboriginal peoples today,
policies continue to be dominated by a limited range of issues like health, violence, poverty, and the
criminal justice system (Stout & Kipling, 1998). This, coupled with the tendency in policy decisions to
analyze one issue at a time as against a holistic approach, limits, if not excludes, the examination of
linkages with the sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls in Canada.
Significance, purpose and limitations of the study

The focus of this study is to identify key issues in domestic trafficking of Aboriginal girls and
outline implications for policy formulation and implementation at various levels of government – federal,
provincial, territorial, and First Nations governments as well as other agencies such as media, law
enforcement officials, social welfare services, and the justice system. The purpose is to highlight the
issues, as identified by the grass root agencies working with trafficked girls, and to contextualize them
within the trafficking framework in order to distinguish sexual exploitation from sex work. The study
begins by outlining the definition of trafficking, which will form the basis of subsequent discussion and
analysis in the paper. The next section examines the root causes that make Aboriginal girls vulnerable to
sex trafficking and the exploitation and manipulation they face in the trafficking process.
Recommendations for policy research and analysis are discussed in the final section.
Although this paper brings forth some key issues in the domestic trafficking of Aboriginal girls
today, it is a preliminary study restricted in its scope and application. The primary limitation of this
research is that it is based on the feedback and input of non-government organizations (NGOs) working
with trafficked girls in Canada and does not necessarily reflect the views of the trafficked girls themselves.
This is because all the interviews with the key informants of this research were done over the phone, due
to constraints of mobility and time, but for the exception of a roundtable held in Vancouver, British
Columbia. It was considered inappropriate, unethical, and impractical to interview sexually exploited girls
over the phone. Another limitation is that the paper makes reference to all Aboriginal girls rather than
2
Throughout this document, the terms First Nations, Indigenous, Aboriginal, and Native peoples have been used
interchangeably. While these terms can include all peoples of Aboriginal ancestry, it is essential to note that First Nations are
identified as a distinct group with unique legal status. Within Canada, Aboriginal peoples are constitutionally recognized as Inuit,
Métis, and First Nations.
© Sethi
making a distinction between First Nations, Inuit, and Métis girls whose issues and realities could be
similar and yet different. The limited data available on domestic trafficking combined with the small
sample size made it difficult to identify the issues specific to each Aboriginal community. Finally, due to
its limited scope, the paper does not necessarily draw linkages between domestic and international
trafficking.
Furthermore, it is essential to note that the study focuses primarily on the sexual exploitation of
Aboriginal girls and not Aboriginal women. While some issues are common to both women and girls,
there are significant differences regarding the concepts, policies, and laws that are applicable to each
group. Therefore, to maintain clarity and keeping in view the fact that Aboriginal women are being
initiated into sex trafficking at an increasingly younger age (Assistant Deputy Ministers’ Committee,
2001), the focus of this study is on Aboriginal girls.
Methodology
Considering the limited information available on domestic trafficking of Aboriginal girls in
Canada, the methodology adopted for this study was two-fold. The first phase involved conducting
interviews and discussions with key informants from NGOs, women’s organizations, and other
community-based groups or individuals dealing with the issue of sexual exploitation in Canada. 3 A total of
18 key informants participated in the study. Five key informants were interviewed over the phone from
four regions: Quebec (n = 1), Prairies and Northwest Territories (n = 2), Ontario (n = 1), and Atlantic (n =
1). In British Columbia, a one-day roundtable was organized in Vancouver on July 07, 2006, which was
attended by thirteen representatives from different community groups.
While the majority of the key informants were front line workers, some were researchers and
program coordinators and a couple of them were the managers or directors of the organizations providing
services to sexually exploited women. Few of the key informants, now working as service providers,
identified themselves as trafficked into the sex trade in the past. The mandate of the key informants’
organizations ranged from providing drop-in services to outreach, counselling, research, advocacy, and/or
a combination of these services. The interviews with the key informants were semi-structured and lasted
for about 45 minutes to an hour.
The questions and discussions with the key informants covered three main areas: First,
participants were asked about the mandate and clientele of their organization and their experiences of
working with sexually exploited girls. Second, informants outlined the root causes of sex trafficking, the
methods traffickers use to maintain control and dominance over the girls, and the role of racism in the
sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls. Finally, the informants were asked to comment on the existing
policies and programs to address domestic trafficking of Aboriginal girls and make suggestions, both at
the policy and grassroots levels, to address the issue.
The second phase of the project involved analyzing the information gathered from the discussions
and consultations with key informants and substantiating it with published research in the form of
journal articles, reports, government documents, and other related materials.
3
The data for this study was generated as part of the author’s work with Status of Women Canada in Ottawa, Ontario. However,
this paper expresses the views of the author and does not represent the official policy or opinion of Status of Women Canada or
the Government of Canada.
© Sethi
Overview
Definition of trafficking
This paper draws upon the trafficking definition of the United Nations Protocol to Prevent,
Suppress, and Punish Trafficking in Persons, Especially Women and Children, Supplementing the
United Nations Convention Against Transnational Organized Crime:
Trafficking in Persons shall mean the recruitment, transportation, transfer, harboring, or

receipt of persons, by means of threat or use of force or other forms of coercion, of
abduction or fraud, of deception, of the abuse of power of a position of vulnerability or of
the giving or receiving of payment or benefits to achieve the consent of a person having
control over other persons, for the purpose of exploitation. Exploitation shall include, at a
minimum, the exploitation of the prostitution of others or other forms of sexual
exploitation, forced labor or services, slavery or practices similar to slavery, servitude or
the removal of organs (United Nations Crime and Justice Information Network, 2000).
As outlined in this definition, trafficking comprises use of threat, force, deception, fraud, abduction,
authority, and giving payment to achieve consent for the purpose of exploitation, including sexual
exploitation. The element of consent in the trafficking definition is usually misunderstood, thus,
conflating sexual exploitation with sex work. It is often argued that a person who consents to engage in
prostitution cannot be considered trafficked, thereby, suggesting that only coercion or force should form
an integral part of the trafficking definition. However, it is essential to recognize that consent does not
necessarily suggest an informed choice. As one key informant remarked, “it is rare that Aboriginal girls or
women of color experience sex work. They are often trafficked for power and control, and coerced into
prostitution for their survival needs.” Therefore, this paper would consider all those circumstances, which
are elaborated below, that lead to the sexual exploitation of girls as part of trafficking.
The scope of domestic trafficking

There is no national-level data that tracks the transient Aboriginal population and their
trafficking in the sex trade. Lack of focus and/or clear understanding of domestic trafficking – since
sexual exploitation is often conflated with sex work, the underground nature of the crime, and mobility of
the trafficked persons across various cities – often make it difficult to assess the actual numbers.
Moreover, the majority of the cases of trafficking go unreported as girls are scared to take action against
their traffickers, 4 resulting in the data on trafficked persons being partial, varied, and debatable.
In the absence of actual figures on domestic sex trafficking in Canada, a look at the number of
Aboriginal girls in prostitution can help throw some light on the extent of the issue. First Nations girls are
over-represented in prostitution with an especially high number of youth ranging from 14% to 60% across
various regions in Canada (Assistant Deputy Ministers’ Committee, 2001). National data in Canada
reveals that 75% of Aboriginal girls under the age of 18 have experienced sexual abuse, 50% are under 14,
and almost 25% are younger than seven years of age (Correctional Service of Canada as cited in McIvor &
4
Several factors explain the reluctance of girls to take action against their traffickers. Some of these include life threats to
trafficked girls and their families, a condition of confinement, fear of penalization, and lack of safe houses, shelters, and other
resources.
© Sethi
Nahanee, 1998). In Vancouver alone, 60% of sexually exploited youth are Aboriginal (Urban Native Youth
Association, 2002). One key informant reported that children as young as nine are sexually exploited in
Saskatoon and that the average age of being forced into prostitution is 11 or 12.
Although the limited data available on sexual exploitation focused primarily on urban centers like
Vancouver, Toronto, and Montreal, it does not imply that the issue is less chronic in smaller cities and
rural Aboriginal communities; only that it is not widely known or acknowledged (Blackstock, Clarke,
Cullen, D’Hondt, & Formsma, 2004).
The pattern of domestic trafficking

Domestic sex trafficking of Aboriginal girls in Canada has various forms. It can be familial-based
(i.e., family members forcing other members to take part in the sex trade). For instance, there are
communities in the North wherein First Nations girls are sexually exploited and initiated into prostitution
by their male and female relatives: brother, father, grandfather, or an uncle (Lynne, 1998). Many key
informants identified familial-based sex trafficking as poverty- driven and intergenerational or cyclical,
resulting from the residual impact of colonization and residential schools. Another type of sex trafficking
is organized (gang-related) and sophisticated in the form of escort services, massage parlours, or dancers.
One key informant referred to the hidden forms of domestic trafficking, such as the existence of trick pads
in some parts of Canada. 5
Additionally, key informants pointed out a characteristic intrinsic to the trafficking process: the
movement of trafficked Aboriginal girls that follows a pattern of city triangles across different provinces in
Canada. For instance, in Saskatoon, which is in close proximity to Edmonton and Calgary, girls are moved
in triangles, such as Saskatoon-Edmonton-Calgary-Saskatoon or Saskatoon-Regina-Winnipeg-Saskatoon.
These triangles, which are often interconnected, are spread across Canada. For example, once girls are
trafficked into Calgary, the triangle is Calgary-Edmonton-Vancouver. Although several factors contribute
to the movement of girls, an emerging trend that a key informant pointed out is the increased trafficking
of girls due to the flourishing oil drilling rigs and mining businesses in Alberta. A significant number of
men travel back and forth from Saskatchewan to northern Saskatchewan or Alberta for short periods of
time to work in oil rigs or at uranium mines. In keeping with their movement, girls are increasingly being
moved around and sexually exploited.
Recruitment Methods
Coercion and deception are the underlying elements in the various methods that traffickers
use to force Aboriginal girls in sex trafficking. Consultations with key informants of this research project
revealed some of these recruitment methods.
Airports: A couple of the key informants identified airports as the point of recruitment in big
cities like Montreal, which are witnessing a growing movement of Aboriginal girls, especially Inuit from
Northern communities. Traffickers often know someone in the community who informs them about the
5
A trick pad is a place, usually a house in a secluded area, where girls are kept against their will and are coerced to engage in
prostitution. Sometimes the girls are physically kidnapped and taken to trick pads (Urban Native Youth Association, 2002).
© Sethi
plans of the girls moving to the city. Upon their arrival at the airport, traffickers allure the girls under the
pretext of providing a place to stay or access to resources. In the words of a key informant working as an
Aboriginal outreach worker, “Girls tend to believe in the promises of the traffickers, as they are young,
naïve, and vulnerable in a new and big city. They are unsuspecting of the motives of the traffickers since
they belong to communities that have a culture of welcoming strangers.”
Schools: In cities like Winnipeg, Vancouver, and others with high concentrations of Aboriginal
peoples, traffickers are increasingly targeting schools as recruiting grounds. Traffickers entice Aboriginal
girls, as young as in grade six or seven, on school playgrounds or on their way to school by promising
them gifts, a good lifestyle, or getting them addicted to drugs (West, 2005). These girls are too young and
vulnerable to understand or take action against sexual exploitation.
Bars: Several key informants discussed bars as a fertile recruiting ground successfully targeted by
traffickers. Young Aboriginal girls who move from reserves to big cities might go to bars to “bridge the
isolation” and connect with other Aboriginal peoples, especially since community centres in many cities
close early in the day. Traffickers frequent these places to befriend girls by buying them a drink or offering
to help connect them with other Native peoples and later sexually exploit them.
Boyfriends: In many cases, traffickers pose as boyfriends and seduce young girls by buying them
expensive gifts and/or emotionally manipulating them. Hence, it is not uncommon for sexually exploited
girls to refer to the traffickers as their boyfriends. Due to their emotional and economic dependence on
the traffickers, many girls refuse to identify themselves as sexually exploited (Thrasher, 2005).
Girls as recruiters: In yet another method, trafficked girls, as young as 11, are forced to recruit
other girls (Urban Native Youth Association, 2002). When young girls approach their counterparts with
dreams of a better lifestyle, it is real and convincing. Girls working as recruiters, in most cases, have no
choice but to agree to the wishes of the trafficker due to fear or, in some cases, to meet their survival
needs. It often results in a hierarchal set up wherein recruiters take the share of the earnings of the girls
they have recruited. As recruiters move up in the hierarchal chain, they aim to get rid of the street work.
Dancers: Aboriginal girls, recruited as dancers at a young age, are frequently moved across
provinces for their dance shows. Over a period of time, they lose ties with their home and community,
thus, becoming isolated and vulnerable. When these girls grow old, appear less attractive, and are forced
out of dancing, they are sexually exploited for their survival needs.
Internet: Traffickers are increasingly using the internet as a means to entice young Aboriginal
girls, especially in rural communities (Thrasher, 2005), with the charm of a big city or false promises of a
good job. Once these girls are in the cities, away from their family and friends, they are trafficked into the
sex trade.
Hitchhiking: First Nations’ intergenerational poverty, lack of recreation and social activities for
youth on-reserve, and inadequate public transportation facilities force young girls to hitchhike, thus,
making them vulnerable to sexual exploitation. The Yellow Head Highway in British Columbia, also
known as the Highway of Tears, along which several Aboriginal girls have gone missing or found
murdered (Wilson, 2004), is a glaring example.
© Sethi
Root Causes
Key informants of this study identified the root causes that affect the safety and well-being of
Aboriginal girls and put them at risk of sex trafficking. Although discussed under separate headings for
the sake of simplicity and clarity, these causes are interrelated, thus, forming a vicious circle. It is
important to note that while factors such as poverty, violence, and racism surface in various discussions in
existing literature and policy decisions affecting Aboriginal peoples, their linkages with sexual exploitation
have not been fully explored (Blackstock et al., 2004).
The legacy of colonization and residential schools

The majority of the key respondents referred to the history of colonization as a fundamental
factor behind the sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls. Various aspects of colonization such as
capitalism, the church, and the military have affected family units, language, culture and identity,
economic status, and parenting abilities of Aboriginal peoples (Lynne, 1998). The destruction of the social
structures and family support system has rendered some communities dysfunctional, thus, leading to
increased rates of violence, sexual abuse, substance abuse, and suicide rates (Bennett & Shangreaux,
2005).
According to one key informant, sex has traditionally been considered sacred in Aboriginal
culture: a gift from the creator and a way to communicate. As a result of colonization, sexual abuse was
introduced to Aboriginal communities, now living with the “historic imagery of Aboriginal girls being
sexually available.” Due to the intergenerational effects of residential schools, men and women have not
learnt the meaning of healthy sexuality and parenting, resulting in many residential school survivors
sexually exploiting their own children (Assistant Deputy Ministers’ Committee, 2001). Girls suffering
perpetual violence and abuse have no choice but to leave their communities in the search of a safer place.
This, coupled with culturally inappropriate welfare practices and lack of adequate support systems,
further exposes them to the risk of sex trafficking.
Lack of awareness, acknowledgment, and understanding of sexual

exploitation
Sections of the Canadian society, such as Aboriginal communities (Thrasher, 2005), law
enforcement officials, media, policy-makers, and legal system are unwilling to acknowledge domestic
trafficking, especially of Aboriginal girls.
According to key informants, several factors prevent Aboriginal communities from acknowledging
the sexual exploitation of their girls. These include poverty, limited resources, lack of education and
understanding of the exchange of sexual favours for goods and resources as sexual exploitation, and the
fear of outside involvement resulting from ineffective past interventions. As one key informant remarked,
“Our people have been researched to death but nothing has been done.”
Aboriginal girls in rural communities might be reluctant to talk about sexual exploitation, as
sometimes they are battling with their own physical and mental health problems such as HIV/AIDS,
sexually transmitted infections, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder. Inadequate resources and
the taboo associated with such conditions limit their capacity to advocate for ending sexual exploitation.
© Sethi
Limited initiative and willingness on the part of law enforcement authorities to actively deal with
sex trafficking aggravate the reluctance in Aboriginal communities. One key informant mentioned a case
wherein a law enforcement official, while speaking on the issue of sexual exploitation, expressed
hesitation to specifically talk in the context of Aboriginal girls stating that “they [police] do not work in the
First Nations communities.” In cases where officials do take a proactive approach to undertake research
or document cases, they often lack culturally relevant approaches or tools to address it adequately.
The lack of acknowledgement of sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls acts as a hindrance to

initiating and implementing measures for addressing it. Thus, sexual exploitation continues to be viewed
as or conflated with sex work. Aboriginal peoples are stereotyped as willing to take up sex work and a
great deal of ignorance surrounds Aboriginal culture and their living conditions.
Violence
A significant consequence of colonist government policies is the violence plaguing Aboriginal
communities. Loss of cultural identity coupled with social and economic marginalization fuels violence
and sexual assault (Mann, 2005). As pointed out in the Aboriginal Justice Enquiry in Manitoba, violence
in Aboriginal communities has reached epidemic proportions (Hamilton & Sinclair, 1991). While there are
complexities in defining and contextualizing violence in Indigenous communities, suffice it to say that as a
result of oppression and colonization, “violence has invaded whole communities and cannot be considered
a problem of a particular group or an individual household” (Jacobs, 2002, p. 3). Increased family
breakdown due to violence is resulting in an ever-increasing number of Aboriginal children in the welfare
system. They experience culture loss and disassociation and become extremely susceptible to sexual
exploitation as a means to meet their emotional and practical needs.
The cycle of violence that Aboriginal girls face begins from their communities and continues into
the trafficking process. Traffickers impose various forms of violence: physical, emotional, economic, and
sexual to initiate girls into sex trafficking and maintain control over them. Girls are forced to go with
Johns, not use condoms, and live in poor and unhygienic conditions. Traffickers often keep the earnings
and the identification documents of girls to minimize their chances of escape. As in the absence of
identification, girls have negligible or limited access to resources such as welfare services or addiction
treatments.
Poverty
As Bowen (2006) found in her study on domestic trafficking, poverty is a major cause of sexual
exploitation. Girls are forced to move in search of survival opportunities and in the process suffer the kind
of exploitation and isolation that is similar to that of international trafficking or organized crime. Poverty
in Aboriginal families has reached an all-time high, with 52.1% of all Aboriginal children living in extreme
poverty (Ontario Federation of Indian Friendship Centres, 2000). In urban Winnipeg, Regina, and
Saskatoon, 80% to 90% of single Aboriginal mothers were living below the poverty level (Royal
Commission on Aboriginal Peoples [RCAP], 1996). One of the main reasons for poverty among Aboriginal
girls is limited opportunities for employment and education. On-reserve unemployment is three times the
national average and, in some Aboriginal communities, about 90% of the population is unemployed
(McKenzie & Morrissette, 2003). High rates of unemployment coupled with limited welfare services lead
to poor health, violence, cultural disintegration, and increased poverty rates among Aboriginals (Bennett
© Sethi
& Shangreaux, 2005). A high level of poverty in a patriarchal society is directly related to a high rate of
sexual exploitation (Farley & Lynne, 2005).
Closely related to poverty is homelessness, which is another significant risk factor in sexual
exploitation (Farley & Lynne, 2005). Although the population of Aboriginal peoples is growing at a rapid
rate, their housing needs remain unmet. Lack of affordable housing is evident from the fact that 84% of
Aboriginal households on-reserve do not have sufficient income to cover the cost of suitable and adequate
housing (RCAP, 1996). In the face of extreme poverty, and, consequently, the absence of safe and
affordable housing, girls become vulnerable to sexual exploitation to meet their basic needs of food,
clothing, and shelter.
Isolation and need for a sense of belonging

Girls experience isolation in rural Aboriginal communities due to various reasons: boredom,
dysfunctional families, limited education and employment opportunities, and taboo due to HIV/ AIDS,
Hepatitis C, and other sexually transmitted infections. Traffickers lure young girls by glamorizing life in a
big city and presenting it as a way out of their communities.
The movement from reserves to big cities can be an overwhelming experience for many young
girls brought up in a culture of strong family and community ties. In cities, they suffer isolation, racism,
and, consequently, low self-esteem. During the course of time, they lose contact with their communities
and experience culture loss (Save the Children Canada, 2000). Many girls go to bars to overcome their
isolation and end up being recruited by traffickers. Limited knowledge and availability of resources to
Aboriginal peoples off-reserve further puts the young girls at risk.
Once forced into the sex trade, Aboriginal girls continue to suffer sexual exploitation and turn “to
street communities, drugs, pimps, and dealers to develop personal identities and an enduring sense of
place and belonging” (Downe & Ashley-Mika, 2003, p. 47). There is a spirit of camaraderie and unity
among trafficked girls, as they share the same stories and a common history. Driven by the desperate need
for trust and acceptance, many Aboriginal girls find love in their traffickers who they often refer to as their
boyfriends. “It is amazing what girls can do to feel that they belong,” one key informant remarked. In such
a scenario, although girls consent to be sexually exploited, they do it as they have no choice or means to
help them in their loneliness, marginalization, and lack of a support system. Hence, it is essential to
recognize isolation and social exclusion as a root cause of sex trafficking, instead of viewing it as a part of
voluntary sex work.
Racism
The systemic racism that Aboriginal girls face from different sections of the Canadian society –
such as media, justice, police, lawmakers, service providers, and the Canadian society at large – emerged
as a key factor in discussions with almost all of the key informants. In addition to the inadequate
representation of Aboriginal peoples in the media, the ignorance and stereotypes associated with their
culture and identity marginalize them, especially youth. Aboriginal girls are perceived as “easily available”
due to the discriminatory and sexist policies and their unequal status in Canadian society (Mann, 2005;
Olsen 2005). A study (Gorkoff & Runner, 2003) involving 45 interviews with sexually exploited girls
revealed that Aboriginal girls are at risk not just because they are female, poor, and homeless but also
because they suffer racism and exclusion. Thus, the sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls is yet another
form of racial discrimination.
© Sethi
While stressing the lack of concern or interest towards Aboriginal girls in sex trafficking, one of
the key informants mentioned a profound example wherein a large number of people attended a
presentation that a local faith-based agency had organized to highlight the international trafficking of girls
from Ukraine to Canada. However, the turnout of people is significantly low when such initiatives are
organized for addressing trafficking of Aboriginal girls in their own city. “People are willing to speak about
trafficking in terms of world soccer and Asian gangs but disinterested to talk about the sexual exploitation
of young Aboriginal children in their own backyard,” remarked the key informant. This indifference and
discrimination towards the plight of Aboriginal girls reflect Not-In-My-Backyard (NIMBY) syndrome,
also known as NIMBY-ism. The NIMBY syndrome is often widespread and deep-seated and involves
intentional exclusion and inhibition of growth (Kean, 1991). In the 1996 trial of John Martin Crawford, a
serial killer convicted of killing three Aboriginal girls, Warren Goulding, one of the journalists covering
the trial said, “I don’t get the sense the general public cares much about missing or murdered Aboriginal
girls. It’s all part of this indifference to the lives of Aboriginal people. They don’t seem to matter as much
as the white people” (Amnesty International Canada, 2004, p. 24).
Substance use
Drug addiction “sucks Aboriginal girls in and keeps them there.” Traffickers lure young girls into
taking drugs and then sexually exploit them. In many cases, Aboriginal girls with no prior history of
substance use, take drugs to numb the pain of shame and humiliation they experience as a result of being
sexually exploited. A study by Ontario Native Women’s Association (1989) found that eight out of ten
Aboriginal girls have suffered some form of abuse – physical, sexual, psychological, or ritual – in their
communities and that these factors were associated with high rates of alcohol and drug use in these
communities. Over time, substance use develops into a chemical dependency, which forces girls to engage
in prostitution in order to support their addiction. 6 One key informant quoted a trafficked girl, “I have two
choices: to do drugs or to die.”
Role of gangs
Gangs are playing an increasing role in the sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls. Some of the
Aboriginal-based street gangs include the Manitoba Warriors, the Native Syndicate, and the Indian Posse
(Turenne, 2006). One key informant observed that a number of Asian and Somali gangs have been able to
recruit Aboriginal girls and traffic them into the sex trade. Recruitment of gang members takes place not
only in urban centres but also on-reserves and in small rural communities (Criminal Intelligence Service
Canada, 2004). The average age of a female gang member ranges from 11 to 30 years with the majority
between 14 to 25 years. The fastest growing street gang population consists of young children under 16
years old (Nimmo, 2001).
The reasons for young girls falling prey to gang recruitments vary: poverty; physical, emotional
and sexual abuse in their families and communities; a sense of power, recognition, and protection from
street life; and, most importantly, the need for belongingness and acceptance (Fontaine, 2006). Many
young girls are attracted to gangs because they have suffered the loss of cultural ties and find an
alternative family in the gangs (Native Women’s Association of Canada [NWAC ], 2007a; RCAP, 1996).
6
In many cases, the chemical dependency is a gradual transition beginning from alcohol, which is easily available, to marijuana,
cocaine, and then crystal meth.
© Sethi
Most gangs thrive in drug trafficking; however, some engage in sex trafficking as well. The gang
culture follows a hierarchal framework in which there are a powerful few at the top followed by the
various levels of workers underneath (Nimmo, 2001). Accordingly, gang members have different status
and roles. Prostitution is considered as the lowest activity in the gang and young girls, who are at the
bottom of the hierarchy, are forced into prostitution to earn money for the gangs (Fontaine, 2005;
Nimmo, 2001). These girls are also exploited to recruit other young girls in order to move up in the
hierarchy and away from the street work.
Gaps in service provision

Key informants pointed towards the existence of a cycle of power, control, and systemic
oppression in the way services are delivered to sexually exploited girls. The narrow mandate and rigid
functioning of certain agencies limit the scope and extent of services available to girls. For instance,
trafficked girls usually work in the night and sleep during the day but most shelters do not accommodate
this pattern (Canadian Housing and Renewal Association, Novac, Serge, Eberle, & Brown, 2002).
Similarly, the long waiting period in service provision, combined with the lack of consistent and long-term
funding, act as deterrents for girls wanting to escape sexual exploitation. This is particularly true for the
treatment of alcohol and drug addiction, which is often a difficult service to access. Healing and transition
to a normal life is usually a lengthy process (Assistant Deputy Ministers’ Committee, 2001), especially if a
woman has been abused and exploited at a young age or for a long period. However, limited and short-
term funding focused on instant results fails to take into consideration the period required for healing and
is often not enough to help trafficked girls make the transition to a healthy life. As one key informant
effectively summed up, “Drugs are more easily available than counselling or other support services.”
Culturally relevant services managed by Aboriginal peoples are minimal. Even more limited are
the services specifically for sexually exploited Aboriginal girls (Canadian Housing and Renewal
Association et al., 2002). For instance, many key informants pointed out the scarcity of female-only
residential treatment centres and the unwillingness and/or inability of these centres to address sexual
exploitation issues. Treatment of addictions without addressing sex trafficking has limited effectiveness.
Moreover, placing sexually exploited girls with other groups such as battered women may lead to bias and
discrimination due to issues of class and is usually not helpful, as the problems and interventions for
these groups are different from each other. Co-ed treatment centers can be unsafe for girls, as older men
in these centres may sexually exploit young girls (Canadian Housing and Renewal Association et al.,
2002).
The contradictory welfare policies along with the lack of suitable alternatives for income also pose
a barrier to girls wanting to exit domestic trafficking. A key informant working as an Aboriginal outreach
worker discussed the problem of girls losing their housing when admitted to residential treatment centres,
as welfare stops paying for it. Considering that finding safe and affordable housing is a challenging task,
such policies may uproot girls and make them further vulnerable to trafficking. Similarly, in the absence
of apprenticeship programs, the employment opportunities for Aboriginal girls are limited, especially
since they have little or no education due to their trafficking at a young age. The gaps and barriers in
service provision frustrate Aboriginal girls who often find it difficult to sustain their fight against sexual
exploitation, which seems to be “the only thing normal and working.”
© Sethi
Discriminatory policies and legislation

Several policies and legislation continue to marginalize Aboriginal peoples, especially girls. For
instance, in the absence of clear policies around matrimonial property rights, Aboriginal girls are forced to
leave their homes when marriages break up. The shortage of alternative housing services on-reserves and
in rural communities forces girls to move to cities where they live in poverty, thus, becoming highly
susceptible to sex trafficking. Similarly, Section 67 of the Canadian Human Rights Act and Bill C-31 of the
Indian Act discriminate against Aboriginal girls and their descendants and negatively impacts their rights
and chances of a respectful life (NWAC, 2006). 7
Section 67 of the Canadian Human Rights Act provides that nothing in the Act affects any
provision of the Indian Act, thus, prohibiting Aboriginal peoples from lodging a complaint against the
federal government or a Native government. Such a provision perpetuates the oppression that status
Indian girls face in their communities and leaves them without any protection that is available to other
Canadian girls (NWAC, 2007b). Despite amendments to the Indian Act, Bill C-31 translates into a loss of
status after two consecutive generations of girls have married with non-registered partners and it is
anticipated that by 2060, there will be no Aboriginal people with Indian Status (Mann, 2005). The
benefits that status Indian girls are entitled to are of great importance since they remain the primary
caregivers in the family. Some of these benefits include access to government programs administered by
Indian Affairs, national-level services, non-insured health payments, and tax benefits in addition to non-
tangible benefits such as identification with their culture and community (Mann, 2005). The denial of
these benefits may further isolate Aboriginal girls, making them an easy target for traffickers.
Policy Recommendations
Based on the analysis of the root causes that make Aboriginal girls vulnerable to sex trafficking
and the factors that contribute to their ongoing exploitation in the sex trade, the key informants of this
study made policy recommendations.
Acknowledgment and recognition

The first step in addressing the domestic trafficking of Aboriginal girls is to acknowledge the
seriousness of the problem. Countries like Canada are increasingly under pressure to tighten their borders
and undertake measures on the prosecution aspect of human trafficking, especially in the wake of the
United States’ Trafficking in Persons (TIP) report (U.S. Department of State, 2007). The over-emphasis
on criminalizing the movement of people across borders has shifted the focus away from trafficking as a
human rights issue. Moreover, the discourses in transnational trafficking in Canada do not include
domestic trafficking of Aboriginal girls within and across provinces. It is erroneous and unjust to consider
domestic trafficking as less serious than transnational trafficking because the issues of control, isolation,
and exploitation that girls face at the hands of traffickers are severe, irrespective of whether it is cross-
cultural or cross-border (Bowen, 2006).
7
Section 67 of the Canadian Human Rights Act was repealed in 2008 (Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada, 2014). The
original version of this article was written in 2007, a year before the repeal.
© Sethi
Honour Indigenous knowledge

There is a serious need to recognize and honour Indigenous knowledge (Stout & Kipling, 1998) by
engaging “Aboriginal people as knowledge-keepers.” Awareness and education programs are effective
when implemented through participatory, interactive, and inclusive processes that acknowledge the lived
experiences of Indigenous peoples. While continuing further research in unexplored areas, the critical
knowledge that already exists needs to be utilized and acted upon. The already identified gaps, such as
homelessness, poverty, and unemployment, demand action, as against further research and deliberations.
Recognize diversity among Aboriginal peoples

Although larger systemic problems like poverty and the impact of colonization are common to
several Aboriginal communities, there are issues that are typical of each community. As pointed out by a
key informant, “saying someone is an Aboriginal is like saying someone is a European, meaning that there
are many groups, territories, languages, etc., of Aboriginal peoples.” Policymaking should take into
account this diversity, as there is no one, pan-Aboriginal identity. Formulating and implementing a
blanket policy meant to address the issues of all Aboriginal communities has limited effectiveness and
sometimes perpetuates the already existing problems in different communities.
Establish a national-level strategy for domestic trafficking

Due to the lack of understanding or acknowledgment of domestic trafficking, there is no national-
level strategy to address both the immediate causes and the larger systematic issues which lead to the
sexual exploitation of Aboriginal girls. Key informants expressed frustration at the disconnect that exists
among the various levels of government and other agencies like law enforcement, justice, healthcare, and
child welfare. Considering that the issues identified in domestic trafficking fall under the mandate of
various agencies, standardized protocols and guidelines are essential to bring together initiatives of
different stakeholders. A uniform approach shall help in sharing information and ideas, increasing
awareness about domestic trafficking, and enabling different agencies to work towards common goals.
Bridge the policy-practice gap

Many participants pointed out the existing policy-practice disconnect reflected in policy
decisions. Although both the grassroots agencies and policymakers are experts in their respective areas,
the communication gap between them is rather unproductive. A limited, if not negligible, understanding
of the other side often creates and widens the gap between what is required and what ends up being
delivered, thus, leading to quick-fix solutions rather than addressing the fundamental problems.
Input from communities, women’s groups, and grassroots agencies in the policy-making
processes can help ensure informed decision-making. Furthermore, it is crucial to engage in a dialogue
with the trafficked Aboriginal girls regarding various social policy issues that affect them since their input
is based on lived experiences. At the same time, it is important to ensure that these girls do not end up
being a poster child. The story of one girl should not be regarded as a blanket experience of all sexually
exploited girls, each with their own struggles and disadvantages. There is a wealth of knowledge and
community experience at the grassroots level, which should be validated and fed into social policies.
The alliance between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people

The success of non-Aboriginal people in forming productive alliances with Aboriginal people has
been limited. A key informant observed that at one extreme is the lack of concern or a hands-off approach
© Sethi
towards Aboriginal issues and on the other extreme is the fear of recolonizing Aboriginal peoples. The
informant emphasized that the guarded approach on the part of non-Aboriginal people is equally
unhelpful, as it further isolates Aboriginal girls who end up fighting for their rights in isolation. Non-
Aboriginal people will have to learn to be good allies by supporting and collaborating with Aboriginal
populations in a way that gives Aboriginal girls the power and right to determine what is best for them.
Preventive rather than a reactionary approach

One key informant remarked that traditionally some Aboriginal peoples view life as a cycle of
seven generations. The wisdom from the past three generations is used to guide the present, which is the
fourth generation, and lays the foundation for the future three generations. The understanding of this
vision is not reflected in social policies today, which focus on immediate and reactionary measures instead
of combining it with long-term prevention strategies.
Funding and services should be directed towards prevention programs, like educating and
mobilizing young girls in Aboriginal communities, raising awareness regarding the dangers of sex
trafficking, and increasing collaboration between urban Aboriginals and communities on-reserve so that
girls do not lose touch with their culture and homes. In addition to focusing on young girls who are
vulnerable to sex trafficking, prevention strategies should focus on girls who have exited sexual
exploitation to prevent them from being re-trafficked. 8 Funding should be granted for longer periods, as
prevention work usually involves implementing a long-term strategy, which does not necessarily deliver
quick results measurable in numbers.
Culturally relevant services

Aboriginal girls should have access to culturally relevant services that move beyond crisis
intervention and are long enough to help them make a successful transition to a safe and healthy life. Key
areas in service provision should include culture-specific and safe transitional housing for sexually
exploited girls and their children, similar to the program Honouring the Spirit of Our Little Sisters,
created by Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre in Winnipeg. This should also include the establishment of
healing centres and shelters specifically to meet the needs of trafficked girls and adequate child welfare
managed by Aboriginal organizations. The existing welfare services should be made more accessible. For
instance, increased access to programs like income security, flexible curfew times in shelters, follow-up
support, and reduced wait times in treatment centres. Similarly, harm reduction should be recognized as a
useful measure for the health and safety of sexually exploited girls. Services like needles, food, condoms,
and education regarding HIV/AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases should be readily available.
Capacity building of NGOs

Funding arrangements with NGOs should be flexible, adequate, and long-term, especially for
macro issues like domestic trafficking of girls. Key informants mentioned situations wherein agencies
8
For instance, Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre in Winnipeg, Manitoba, was instrumental in developing a safe house for sexually
exploited Aboriginal girls aged 13 to 17 through the development of an advisory committee consisting of experiential victims of
sexual exploitation who were consulted in planning the details of the site. The home is called Honouring the Spirit of Our Little
Sisters and is for Aboriginal girls who have been sexually exploited. They are referred to this program from Child and Family
Services and can stay as long as they want. The girls voluntarily choose to be involved in the program and its location is kept
hidden to protect its clients (Kotyk, 2003).
© Sethi
have to modify and, in some cases, reframe their mandates to fit the funding requirements. The excessive
focus on the outcome of the funded initiatives affects the kind and extent of services that NGOs are able to
offer to sexually exploited girls. The evaluation guidelines often make it difficult for NGOs working with
vulnerable groups to demonstrate and quantify the work done at the ground level. Similarly, inconsistency
in grants leads to NGOs devoting considerable time, energy, and resources in arranging funds for their
projects. The tight funding also leads to a high rate of employee turnover, as wages are limited and people
are hired on a contract basis. A high turnover affects the efficiency of the NGOs’ projects, which require
building long- term partnerships with stakeholders.
Additionally, more resources and opportunities are needed to enhance communication and
collaboration among different NGOs in order to enable them to coordinate their efforts against domestic
trafficking – an issue which cuts across regions, instead of being confined to a specific area. The
competitiveness for funding often leads to organizations working against each other rather than working
with each other. Considering that a strong united voice is paramount to advocating for a social policy
change, the funding arrangements should recognize the power dynamics and ensure that the role of NGOs
as advocates for social justice remains unaffected.
Capacity building in Aboriginal communities

Resources are needed for Aboriginal communities to support them in dealing with their
challenges and problems. Aboriginal women are rather alone in their work against sexual exploitation of
girls, especially on-reserves, where they face resistance from various sections like chiefs and counsels who
refuse to admit that the problem has reached epidemic proportions (Save the Children Canada, 2000).
Girls in Aboriginal communities should be mobilized and encouraged to take up the leadership role and
teach their future generations to value both men and women.
Elders have a wealth of experience which they can share with youth to guide them through their
curiosities, questions, and dilemmas. Aboriginal youth should be provided with an environment that
facilitates an open dialogue with both their peers and Elders. Similarly, there is a need for better role-
models for young Aboriginal girls. A key informant spoke of a case wherein an Aboriginal girl, who had
grown up in a city, came to live on-reserve. Just by being confident in her approach towards men, she
subtly taught other Aboriginal youth the meaning of self-pride.
Schools and community service providers should be proactively engaged to decrease the drop-out
rates of young children. Measures such as family support, counselling, homework clubs and culturally
appropriate classes need to be in place to support children and keep them in the education system, thus,
reducing their vulnerability to trafficking (Urban Native Youth Association, 2002). Resources should also
be directed towards transportation, recreation facilities, awareness campaigns, and apprenticeship
programs in Aboriginal communities.
Legislative reforms
Matrimonial Property Law needs to be reviewed, in consultation and partnership with Aboriginal
peoples, to ensure that Aboriginal girls living on-reserve have equal property rights as those living off-
reserve. Policy and legislative changes are also required in Bill C-31 to remove the residual gender
discrimination against Aboriginal girls and their descendants and rectify the loss of status under the
Indian Act (NWAC, 2006). Similarly, Section 67 of the Canadian Human Rights Act should be repealed
© Sethi
and a parallel human rights system be established in consultation with Aboriginal representatives to
ensure that Aboriginal girls have access to remedies for violations of their economic, social, and cultural
rights (NWAC, 2006). 9
Conclusion
Key informants of this study identified significant issues and implications in the domestic sex
trafficking of Aboriginal girls in Canada. However, the root causes and recommendations highlighted in
this paper need further examination and analysis to better inform the future initiatives in domestic
trafficking in Canada. As a starting point, it is of utmost importance to determine the actual number of
girls that are domestically trafficked in Canada, including smaller cities and rural areas. Further research
should also include other groups such as immigrant girls, visible minorities, Aboriginal boys, or two-
spirited youth. Although many root causes and recommendations in this report could be generalized to
other groups as well, there are subtle differences in each group which need to be explored for a thorough
analysis. Additionally, there needs to be a focus on addressing the role of men in Aboriginal communities.
National level initiatives catering specifically to the abuse and trauma that men have suffered as a result of
colonization are limited. Domestic trafficking of girls will continue to be a self-perpetuating phenomenon
and the efforts to heal girls might not yield the desired results so long as the role of their abusers remains
unaddressed.
As observed in the Aboriginal Justice Enquiry of Manitoba, “Aboriginal women and their children
suffer tremendously as victims in contemporary Canadian society. They are the victims of racism, of
sexism, and of unconscionable levels of domestic violence” (Hamilton & Sinclair, 1991). Instead of
conveniently labelling domestic trafficking of Aboriginal girls as sex work, the holistic approach to dealing
with it should begin by an acknowledgement of the problem from the various sections of the Canadian
society. As recommended in the Article 4 of the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of
Discrimination against Women, state parties should recognize some groups of women as particularly
vulnerable to sexual exploitation, including Aboriginal women (Lynne, 2005). The fundamental issues
that put Aboriginal girls in disadvantageous situations today underline the importance of recognizing and
addressing their sexual exploitation as integral to the dialogue on trafficking within Canada.
9
Section 67 of the Canadian Human Rights Act was repealed in 2008 (Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada, 2014). The
original version of this article was written in 2007, a year before the repeal.
© Sethi
References
Amnesty International Canada. (2004). Stolen sisters: A human rights response to discrimination and violence against
Indigenous women in Canada. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Assistant Deputy Ministers’ Committee on Prostitution and the Sexual Exploitation of Youth. (2001). Sexual exploitation of
youth in British Columbia. Victoria, BC: Ministry of the Attorney General, Ministry for Children and Families, and
Ministry of Health and Ministry Responsible for Seniors.
Bennett, M., & Shangreaux, C. (2005). Applying Maslow’s hierarchy theory. The First Peoples Child and Family Review, 2(1), 89-116.
Blackstock, C., Clarke, S., Cullen, J., D’Hondt, J., & Formsma, J. (2004). Chapter eight: Sexual exploitation. In Keeping the
promise: The Convention on the Rights of the Child and the lived experiences of First Nations children and youth (pp.
182-196). Ottawa, ON: First Nations Child & Family Caring Society of Canada.
Bowen, R. (2006). From the curb: Sex workers’ perspectives on violence and domestic trafficking. Vancouver, BC: British
Columbia Coalition of Experiential Women.
Canadian Housing and Renewal Association, Novac, S., Serge, L., Eberle, M., & Brown, J. (2002). On her own: Young women
and homelessness in Canada. Ottawa, ON: Status of Women Canada
Criminal Intelligence Service Canada. (2004). 2004 annual report on organized crime in Canada. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Downe, P., & Ashley-Mika. (2003). The people we think we are: The social identities of girls involved in prostitution. In K.
Gorkoff & J. Runner (Eds.), Being heard: The experiences of young women in prostitution. Winnipeg, MB: Fernwood
Publishing, RESOLVE (Research and Education for Solutions to Violence and Abuse).
Gorkoff, K., & Runner, J. (2003). Introduction: Children and youth exploited through prostitution. In K. Gorkoff & J. Runner (Eds.),
Being heard: The experiences of young women in prostitution. Winnipeg, MB: Fernwood Publishing, RESOLVE.
Farley, M., & Lynne, J. (2005). Prostitution of Indigenous women: Sex inequality and the colonization of Canada’s First Nations
women. Fourth World Journal, 6(1), 1-29.
Fontaine, N. (2005). Surviving colonization: Anishinaabe Ikwe and gang participation. In G. Balfour & E. Comack (Eds.),
Criminalizing women: Gender and (in)justice in neoliberal times. Winnipeg, MB: Fernwood Publishing.
Hamilton, A., & Sinclair, C. (1991). Report of the Aboriginal justice enquiry of Manitoba. Winnipeg, MB: Aboriginal Justice
Enquiry of Manitoba.
Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada. (2014). Canadian Human Rights Act: Repeal of Section 67. Retireved
from https://www.aadnc-aandc.gc.ca/eng/1394023867658/1394024066806
Jacobs, B. (2002). Native Women’s Association of Canada’s submission to the United Nations Special Rapporteur investigating
the violations of Indigenous human rights. Ottawa, ON: Native Women’s Association of Canada.
Kean, T. H. (1991). Not in my backyard: Removing barriers to affordable housing. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of
Housing and Urban Development.
Kotyk, R. (2003, November 13). A place to call home: New safe house for sexually exploited youth tries to empower its
residents. The Manitoban.
Lynne, J. (2005). Prostitution of First Nations women in Canada. Retrieved from http://sisyphe.org/article.php3?id_article=1803.
Lynne, J. (1998. August 17). Colonialism and the sexual exploitation of Canada’s First Nations women. Presented at the
American Psychological Association: 106th Annual Convention, San Francisco, CA.
Mann, M. M. (2005). Aboriginal women: An issues backgrounder. Ottawa, ON: Status of Women Canada.
McIvor, S. D., & Nahanee, T. A. (1998). Aboriginal women: Invisible victims of violence. In K. Bonnycastle & G. S. Rigakos
(Eds.), Unsettling truths: Battered women, policy, politics, and contemporary research in Canada (pp. 63-69).
Vancouver, BC: Collective Press.
McKenzie, B., & Morrissette, V. (2003). Social work practice with Canadians of Aboriginal background: Guidelines for
respectful social work. Envision: The Manitoba Journal of Child Welfare, 2, 13-39.
© Sethi
Native Women’s Association of Canada (NWAC). (2006). Report in response to Canada’s fourth and fifth reports on the
International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights covering the period of September 1999 - December
2004. Ottawa, ON: Author.
NWAC. (2007a). Aboriginal women and gangs: An issue paper prepared for the National Aboriginal Women’s Summit at
Corner Brook, NL. Ottawa, ON: Author.
NWAC. (2007b). Repeal of Section 67: An issue paper prepared for the National Aboriginal Women’s Summit at Corner Brook,
NL. Ottawa, ON: Author.
Nimmo, M. (2001). The “invisible” gang members: A report on female gang association in Winnipeg. Winnipeg, MB: Canadian
Centre for Policy Alternatives.
Olsen, S. (2005). Just ask us: A conversation with First Nations teenage moms. Winlaw, BC: Sononis Press.
Ontario Federation of Indian Friendship Centres. (2000). Urban Aboriginal child poverty: A status report on Aboriginal children
and their families in Ontario. Toronto, ON: Author
Ontario Native Women’s Association. (1989). Breaking free: A proposal for change to Aboriginal family violence. Thunder Bay,
ON: Author.
Oxman-Martinez, J., Hanley, J., & Gomez, F. (2005). Canadian policy on human trafficking: A four year analysis. International
Migration, 43(4), 7-29. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-2435.2005.00331 x
Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP). (1996). Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Ottawa, ON:
Minister of Supply and Services Canada.
Save the Children Canada. (2000). Sacred lives: Canadian Aboriginal children and youth speak out about sexual exploitation.
Ottawa, ON: Author.
Stout, M. D., & Kipling, G. D. (1998). Aboriginal women in Canada: Strategic research directions for policy development.
Ottawa, ON: Status of Women Canada.
Thrasher, P. (2005). Child sexual exploitation, Port Alberni, BC. Port Alberni, BC: Port Alberni Women’s Resources Society.
Turenne, P. (2006, June 5). Drugs and violence, the common thread. Edmonton Sun.
United Nations Crime and Justice Information Network. (2000).United Nations protocol to prevent, suppress, and punish
trafficking in persons, especially women and children, supplementing the United Nations convention against
transnational organized crime. Retrieved from https://www.ohchr.org/EN/ProfessionalInterest/Pages/
ProtocolTraffickingInPersons.aspx
U.S. Department of State (2007). Trafficking in persons report 2007. Retrived from https://www.state.gov/j/tip/rls/tiprpt/2007/
Urban Native Youth Association. (2002). Full circle. Vancouver, BC: Author.
West, J. (2005, Summer). Pimps and drug traffickers target First Nations school girls. First Nations Drum.
Wilson, D. (2004, November). The lonely road of Matty Wilson. The United Church Observer Magazine.
© Sethi

32 35 PB

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

32 35 PB

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

32 35 PB

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

2019

Indigenous Wholistic Theory: A Knowledge Set for Practice ....................................................................... 22

Family Counselling as Decolonization: Exploring an Indigenous Social-Constructivist Approach in Clinical

A Way of Life: Indigenous Perspectives on Anti-Oppressive Living .............................................................81

Conversational Method in Indigenous Research .........................................................................................123

Contemporary Practice of Traditional Aboriginal Child Rearing: A Review ............................................... 153

Healing Through Culture for Incarcerated Aboriginal People ................................................................... 182

Reflections on Intergenerational Trauma: Healing as a Critical Intervention ...........................................196

Corresponding author: mstdennis@fncaringsociety.com

Marc St. Dennis

Ph.D., Professor, McGill University, School of Social Work, Quebec, Canada

Corresponding author: reception@fncaringsociety.com

On November 30, 2018, Minister Philpott of Indigenous Services Canada, accompanied by

Indigenous child welfare legislation: A historical change or another paper tiger? 6

Indigenous child welfare legislation: A historical change or another paper tiger? 7

Indigenous child welfare legislation: A historical change or another paper tiger? 8

Ph.D., Professor, University of Regina, Faculty of Social Work, Saskatchewan, Canada

Corresponding author: ravsin@sasktel net

Keywords: Aboriginal social work, decolonization, pedagogy, worldview

Historical Context of Aboriginal Social Work

Colonialism and the Growth of the Child Welfare System

Social Work Education

Cross-Cultural and Anti-Oppressive Education

The Challenges of a Decolonizing Pedagogy

Corresponding author: kabsolon@wlu.ca

Keywords: Indigenous wholistic theory, social work practice, four directional

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 23

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 24

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 25

Indigenous Wholistic Theoretical Orientation

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 26

Understanding Indigenous peoples’ experiences can initially be understood within such a

The following diagram (Diagram 2) is a more specific representation illustrating theoretical

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 27

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 28

Waabinong: In the East

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 29

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 30

• beginning and rebirth;

Zhaawnong: In the South

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 31

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 32

• calls for renewal at relational levels;

Niingaabii’ong: In the West

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 33

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 34

In summary, the theoretical elements of Indigenous wholistic theory of Niingaabii’ong, the

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 35

• recognizes ancestors, ancestral knowledge, and power;

Giiwedinong: In the North

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 36

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 37

In summary, the theoretical elements of Indigenous wholistic theory of Giiwedinong, the

• recognizes the healing in being and doing;

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 38

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 39

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 40

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 41

Indigenous wholistic theory: A knowledge set for practice 42