Lack of Access to Education

Indigenous survivors of sexual exploitation and trafficking, community activists, and scholars document that coercion and deception are means of forcing Indigenous women, girls, 2-Spirit, and transgender people into survival sex work. In Saskatchewan, Saskatoon is considered a significant part of the transit corridor used within the Prairies to expedite trafficking of gender marginalized Indigenous peoples. Notably, sex trafficking of gender marginalized Indigenous people in Canada is so pervasive that it has not only received international news coverage (CNN - Canada's Stolen Daughters, attached Resources), the Canadian government has received international criticism from the U.S. government and United Nations, and national organizations, such as the Native Women's Association of Canada and the Canadian Women's Foundation.

Survivors of sex trafficking, community advocates and scholars have discussed factors which increase the vulnerability of Indigenous women, girls, 2-Spirit, and transgender people into trafficking. Experiences of abuse/violence; limited supervision; substance use/misuse; proximity to foster care; educational absence on information related to sexuality, contraception and pregnancy, models of healthy platonic and romantic relationships; overall lack of access to education; familial and communal residential/day school attendance, intergenerational trauma; housing insecurity and/or a lack of rental history; unemployment and job insecurity; a lack of culturally-appropriate support services (mental and spiritual health, medical, etc.); an absence of support networks (family/friends); having resided in a rural, northern or other isolated area where there may be a lack of infrastructure such as sewer, electrical or water services; lacking access to basic necessities for survival; and gang involvement. Many, if not all of these factors of vulnerability are linked to the settler colonial policies and beliefs which continue to oppress gender marginalized peoples.

In the aforementioned CNN Article "Canada's Stolen Daughters," Diane Redsky, who runs the Ma Mawi Wi Chi Itata Centre in Winnipeg (a Centre which engages in anti-trafficking advocacy work and runs a healing lodge) was interviewed. She commented:  "We're still in a society that targets Indigenous women and girls. In fact the national task force concluded that there's a market for Indigenous girls" (par. 28).

The psychological and physical impacts of sexual exploitation and trafficking are described in the literature review and analysis released by the Native Women's Association of Canada, titled, "Sexual Exploitation and Trafficking of Aboriginal Women and Girls":

"What can be gathered from looking at the span of the above statistics, both the 2005 and 2011, is that there is a solid continuation of traumatic and damaging experiences that Aboriginal women and girls experience both prior to being trafficked and in the life of being trafficked for sexual acts. Unfortunately, experiences of violence, various forms of abuse, and trauma seem to be very consistent and prevalent within human trafficking. One of the defining characteristics of Farley et al’s research is the examination of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in prostituted and sexually trafficked women. PTSD consists of three types of symptoms: persistent, intrusive re-introducing of trauma; numbing of responsiveness and persistent avoidance of stimuli of trauma; and persistent autonomic heightened arousal. Those who participated in the study completed an evaluation of criteria for PTSD. In a 2005 paper examining prostituted and trafficked women, out of the one hundred participants, including both First Nations and non-First Nations, 72% qualified for PTSD, which is 'among the highest reported in populations where PTSD has been studied, including battered women, combat veterans, childhood trauma survivors, rape survivors, and torture survivors' (Farley, Lynne, & Cotton, 2005, p. 255) . Those who are prostituted and sexually trafficked often experience extreme and intentional violence, abuse and torture. It is no surprise that these women and girls fulfill the criteria for PTSD. Such evidence suggests the difficulty of trying to move on from sexual exploitation, trafficking, and prostitution. It is a deeply traumatic experience that impacts on one’s physical self, the mental, and the emotional" (pages 10-11).

This excerpt from the Globe and Mail contains the testimony of a sex trafficking survivor as to the long-lasting impacts of PTSD in terms of her ability to function:

"But even if there is no physical evidence, illness and violence are so pervasive that, eventually, “trafficking will produce a health consequence,” says Tara Wilkie of the Surrey Memorial forensic team. Patients are provided with support after leaving the hospital, but Ms. Wilkie says the after-effects of trafficking can leave someone with lifelong physical and mental-health issues. Bridget Perrier seems to be living proof of this. As she sits on the couch of her Toronto home, phone buzzing, two dogs scampering around, pictures of her children on the wall, her old life seems like the distant past. Yet, she says, a decade of sexual exploitation “damaged me to a point where ... I have panic attacks. I have PTSD. I can’t have a baby naturally because my cervix is just shot. I sleep with the lights on. I’m hypervigilant. And there are flashbacks. “Sometimes a smell will set me off, gagging.” Pine-Sol, used to disinfect the rooms, “triggers it.” As do “certain male colognes, certain deodorants.” Also damaged: her relationship with others. She says her clientele was so predominantly white that, even today 'I can’t be on an elevator with a Caucasian man'" (pars. 85-90).

Regarding solutions for recovery from post-traumatic symptoms, including PTSD, the Native Women's Association of Canada literature review and analysis notes:

"Many who are sexually exploited and trafficked come from backgrounds where formal education and job skill development have been compromised from traumatic childhoods and growing up in abuse. To help these women and youth escape the cycle of sexual exploitation, they need training in viable alternatives for income. It is not enough to protect women and girls from pimps and traffickers; the conditions of growing up in poverty and without a full education must also be addressed for lasting difference" (page 25).

Bluntly put, one participant phrased it aptly: ’People don’t heal overnight. It took seventeen years to get all the shit inside of you and it’s probably going to take twenty years to get it out of you’ (p. 36). Quick-healing regimens are unrealistic. Healing takes time, and sexual exploitation is a violent, oppressive, and damaging process. In a 2003 study on sexual exploitation with some 854 participants, their findings were that prostitution was multi- traumatic, with 68% meeting the criteria for posttraumatic stress disorder (Farley, et al., 2003, p. 34), which, also happens to match the same range of PTSD as combat veterans (Weathers, Litz, Herman, Huska, & Keane, 1993, as cited in Farley, et al., 2003, p. 37). If prostitution is categorized as choice and trafficked as forced, it may be that trafficked women are dealing with even more PTSD." (page 29).

According to many DIA publications, Indigenous women were believed to be at fault for the conditions and poor health on reserves. This led the agents to believe that Indigenous women needed to be 'domesticated' in ways that served the colonial government and motives. Girls were not taught any skills that would be of value to them outside of the home. Schools focused on teaching Indigenous girls how to be successful housewives. They were not allowed to be trained as nurses, teachers or clerks, all of which were needed on reserves Please see related entry titled "History of Racist and Gendered Perceptions of Indigenous Women."

Although the Manitoba Act was legislated with the purported intent to recognize Metis land rights, it is clear from the actual effect of ongoing amendments to the Manitoba Act, in addition to other bureaucratic delays, that the government prioritized the settling of newly arrived EuroCanadians to Metis people. Following the 1870 and 1885 resistances, many Metis people gave up hope of obtaining land and were forced to migrate to unsettled areas. After 1870, many Metis migrated west to the area now known as Saskatchewan. After 1885, many Metis migrated to unsettled road allowances and to more northern parts of the province of Saskatchewan. When living on road allowances, economic survival required Metis families to move frequently in search of work and to avoid eviction. It should be acknowledged that other barriers to education existed for Metis children, including not being recognized as Indigenous (and thus not qualifying for residential school education). In this case, however, government unwillingness to construct schools or transport children in remote communities, in addition to the transience required in order to make a living, resulted in Metis children not being able to obtain an education (see related entry on Metis economic activity post-1870 and post-1885). Several primary source interviews, as listed below in "relevant resources" cite transience and distance from schools as an obstacle to obtaining education. It should be noted that at least one interview participant, Metis man Ron Caponi, cited discrimination in the school environment as preventing him from being more "education conscious." Another Metis woman, Mary St. Pierre, describes the jurisdictional hurdles involved in getting an education as a Metis child, which eventually led to her being educated in a residential school: "When I was twelve year’s old they tried to put me in the school. My, my Godfather lived on the reserve. My Godfather put me in the residential school. I wasn’t there for two weeks and I was thrown out of the school. I went to school, to Crooked Lake. It’s in the big valley. There’s a big school standing there. This was a residential school. I only went to school for two weeks. That was all. And I didn’t like the school anyway because we never left home. We were always with our parents. So I was lonesome, I guess. Then when I got home my father kept on thinking about me going to school. So there’s a little town over here called Dubuque. So, he decided to send us to school. So then my youngest sister and I, we went to school but we were thrown out on the first day [that] we were in school. So we came home and told our dad ‘we can’t go to school there, the government won’t let us go to school there’. So then, he came back home and told my mother ‘yeah that’s right, the kids can’t go to school there because we have to pay taxes’. So that was it, I never did go to school again." Metis woman Helen Sinclair also described her attendance at a residential school because of being adopted by a First Nations family - there were some Metis children who attended residential schools for various reasons (please see related entry).

A primary source interview with Pierre Vandale states that the government's actions of jailing Metis men following the Riel Resistance resulted in great economic hardship for their wives and families: "I remember hearing many of the Metis men were put into jail at this time therefore this made it very, very hard for the women who were left without their husbands. My father was six years old at the time of the Rebellion. But I remember my grandfather talking about it" (see "relevant resources" below). The work of historian Diane Payment has echoed similar sentiments, noting that several Metis men were killed, imprisoned, or forced to emigrate or go into exile after the Riel Resistance. The Metis women of Batoche had a difficult time obtaining compensation from the Rebellion Losses Commission. Some of these women who had children were able to continue managing the family farms, while others worked in domestic service positions as cooks and/or cleaners. Psychological stress caused by the aftermath of the Resistance would have compounded the difficulties posed by economic survival. Payment writes "Much emphasis is placed in official accounts on the fact that there was no rape and wanton killing of women and children during the war. But one Metis journal indicates that there was at least one victim; a young Metis-Dakota girl was killed in the crossfire and hastily buried by the soldiers. An investigation of parish burials between March and December 1885 reveals that, although twelve men died directly or indirectly from wounds suffered at the battle of Batoche, nine women died of causes related to or at least aggravated by the sufferings and deprivations of war. They died of consumption (tuberculosis), la grippe (influenza), and fausse-couche (miscarriage). Women accounted for the proportionately high death rate in 1886 as well” (pages 27-30). Alienated from land rights and subjected to a constantly shifting economic landscape, primary source research (interviews, excerpted below in "relevant resources") detail the ways in which Metis families and individuals attempted to adapt to the oppressive conditions of the settler state. Many Metis were forced to live on road allowances (see related database entries). They would engage in economic activities that included hunting, fishing and trapping where possible; raising livestock/ranching; farming; gardening; berry picking; canning meat, fruit and vegetables; drying/smoking meat; gathering, drying and selling seneca root; hide tanning; clothing and houseware production; net making; wood hauling; selling eggs, butter, cream and other animal byproducts; farm labour; railroad labour; bush cutting/highway labour; scouting for the NWMP and domestic services/care labour (laundry, cleaning, cooking, childcare). It should be noted that many Metis were constrained by a lack of financial and land resources, and thus engaged in many of the above forms of economic activities at once in order to maximize their chances of survival. A few Metis received their land scrip, while others were required to purchase or rent land (despite their Aboriginal land rights - thus the government treated them in like manner to newly arrived Euro-Canadian settlers). The transition from fur-trading and freighting to agriculture was difficult for many. Several primary source interviews echoed similar sentiments in terms of living in circumstances of poverty due to marginalization, but always having enough to eat. It should also be noted that many of the recollections included in primary source interviews were from the difficult economic era of the 1920s and 1930s. And, although economic hardship was widespread in the Prairies during this time, it was felt more acutely by Metis individuals who were widely discriminated against because of their ethnic identity in terms of hiring and pay disparities. The survival of Metis people demonstrates the remarkable ingenuity and strength of Metis families in light of difficult government-created circumstances.

A road allowance is land that had been surveyed and set apart by the government for future roads and development - it was the margin between provincial land and Crown land. The state simultaneously denied Métis land rights and also would not allow them to purchase land. The decision to permit Métis families to move onto road allowances was one that further perpetuated their economic marginalization. Some Métis found and occupied abandoned shacks and rail cars as housing was not provided on road allowances. After 1885, the Métis were effectively legally ignored by all levels of government until the 1930s, when a surge of Métis political organization engaged in consciousness-raising and mobilization.

Metis were denied their land rights following the Red River Resistance and Riel Resistance.  The land dispossession of many Metis resulted in their establishing residence on unoccupied road allowances on Crown land.  Metis people disposessed of their homelands and unable to reside in road allowance communities were pushed to find shelter on elsewhere.  

Joe Amyotte worked to raise the living standards for Metis people in Saskatchewan, focusing specifically on creating access to education and housing. 

In an interview with Joe Amyotte (attached under Resources below), he notes that housing conditions of the Metis were worse in Northern Saskatchewan. He also describes how previous experiences attemping Metis political organization made it difficult to engage in grassroots mobilization (i.e., receiving racism/mockery from white settlers for their past efforts), and in turn advocate for improvements that would allow them to attain a higher quality of living conditions. He also describes the low level of educational attainment amongst the Metis, which is corroborated by several testimonies of Metis individuals in Saskatchewan who cite lack of access to a school within their area as the barrier which prevented them from obtaining an education. Some of these individuals also cite that family circumstances of poverty required them to begin working and end their school career early. In another section of the interview, Amyotte says that because of the intiatives of the Metis Society of Saskatchewan, schools were established in Green Lake, Beauval, La Ronge, La Loche, Qu'Appelle, to name a few. There were 35 schools that he initiated across the province in total. These schools were discontinued in 1969 when the leadership of the Metis Society of Saskatchewan changed. Mr. Amyotte does not disclose the reasons why.

Cultural dislocation began during the Treaty and Residential School eras. Metis children attended residential schools, day schools and mainstream schools. Although the churches participating in residential/day schools wanted Metis children to attend, these children didn't qualify as "Indian", occasionally resulting in their rejection and subsequent attendance of classes in mainstream schools. However, mainstream or "white" schools also often rejected Metis children, leaving them in jurisdictional limbo and without an education (as an aside, a number of Metis children were in regions where the government refused to construct schools, later preventing the ability to find gainful employment - please see related entries on Metis education). For those who attended school, one of its results was the alienation of Metis children from their language and culture. Primary source interviews indicate that the public education system at the time privileged the language of the dominant culture - English - and children were instructed to speak this language only.

This privileging derived from usage of the education system as a tool to assimilate Indigenous children into mainstream western culture. In particular, Metis languages (Michif, Cree, French) were perceived as inferior to English. Although Metis history is central to the formation of the prairie geographical landscape, it was not considered “important” or legitimate Canadian history, and thus was rarely mentioned. When it was acknowledged, Indigenous people were portrayed as savages and Metis political actors, such as Louis Riel, were perceived as socially deviant and psychologically unstable criminals. Metis children were also shamed and harassed for their ethnic heritage at school.

The establishment of a government presence in Northern Saskatchewan instigated an immense cultural shift, one that was initiated by the CCF who sought to expand operations beyond Prince Albert. The intention of the CCF was to create a ‘cultural majority’ in Saskatchewan, attempted through assimilation policies which undermined Indigenous lifeways and cultures in the North.

“The CCF took steps to see that the entire province would share northern resource revenue, yet, contradictorily, it refused to equally share provincial wealth with northerners. This occurred for several reasons. The CCF strongly feared that northern Aboriginals would take advantage of generous social programs and become lazy; in a sense then, the CCF limited benefits to northerners for their own good. Secondly, the CCF simply ignored northern needs, knowingly permitting the continuance of third world-like conditions in the northern half of the province. The CCF consequently applied a weaker non-economic socialism in the North than in the South, which received many more benefits from social and health programs.”[1]

The CCF government had no Northern representatives in caucus to advise on policy implementation; Joseph Lee Phelps, a farmer from Southern Saskatchewan, was tasked with designing ‘social’ programming in Northern Saskatchewan as the Minister of Natural Resources and Industrial Development.[2] Phelps had no lived experience or familiarity with Northern lifeways, and whose strong political convictions informed his trajectory in policy and practice.

“Phelps and his cohorts hastily developed new policies and a structure largely separate from that in the South to introduce the CCF's plans for northerners. Douglas and cabinet generally supported Phelps' fur, fish, timber, and other northern initiatives. They also gave him a lot of free rein. Several reasons explain Phelps' unusual freedom to act in the North. Possibly most importantly, the CCF accepted the view that the northern society was not worth preserving. Wiping it out would leave a clean slate on which to build a better society. Additionally, many southern politicians knew or cared little about the North and let Phelps do as he pleased there as long as his actions did not create problems for them.”[3]

Social programming happened in two distinct streams, first was through the implementation of the Family Allowance. Gwen Beck, a long-time resident of La Ronge and interviewed by Murray Dobbin in 1976, had this to say:

Murray: “What kind of an effect did that have on the sort of nomadic lifestyle of native people? Did that contribute to changing that, where they'd take their whole families onto the trapline and then come back again?”

Gwen: “Well, that... I don't know whether it was right or it was wrong. You see when I was on the School Board I felt that education was very, very important and to meet the children. So I couldn't tell you whether it was correct or not, but Family Allowance came into being somewhere about then and, you know, they were supposed to educate the children.”

Murray: “That was the condition of the Family Allowance?”

Gwen: So this was the condition that I stipulated, that I felt. That anyone that took the family away [to the trapline] and did not educate them, they were not entitled to the Family Allowance. Now probably... now I'm not proud of that stand that I took -- I don't know whether I was right or wrong, but I was very strong on it when I was young.… I don't know exactly whether it was correct or not, but gradually the Family Allowance was the biggest drawing card for keeping families in [communities with a school]. But it did split up... the women had to stay behind or they had to find homes. We talked about building a hostel - which we never ever got to - to take the children so the children could stay. We went through all these phases but, you know, I think it finally ended up that more people stayed home and sent their children in school…Money-wise, money again was a big thing, the Family Allowance meant quite a lot to get, and most of them had good-sized families, you see. So it meant they stayed, and trapping became less and less, really. Even today they cannot support themselves by trapping, no matter how good a trapper they are, so you understand.”[4]

The Family Allowance alluded to was dependent upon children entering the school system. Long-time La Ronge resident, Robert Dalby, confirmed this:

Murray: Would you say that the disruption of the traditional way of life started in the early fifties?

Robert: Yeah, it started manifesting itself at that time and several reasons. It wasn't just economics. It was the growing population for one thing. It was beginning to grow because of health services and things. And I remember very distinctly the old business even with the treaty Indians, the treaty agent would threaten to cut off family allowance if the kids didn't go to school. So parents were compelled to stay in the settlements. At least the mother was compelled to stay in the settlement so that the kids went to school. And I know of several families, people I've known for twenty-five, twenty-eight years, who faced this situation. They could no longer go out to the trapline as a family group. The kids had to stay in school and these people around here, these bush people around here, have always respected the law. They haven't liked it necessarily, but they've respected it. And so if someone threatened to cut off the family allowance and threatened them with dire punishment, most of them went along with it and believed it, you know.”[5]

The second stream was the creation of Fur and Fish Marketing Services, as explained by Dalby:

Robert: “[T]he CCF pulled some awful boners as far as the north was concerned, you know [....] From lack of knowledge. One of the serious ones was the fur marketing service. And done with the best of intentions but when I arrived here, I had been with the game branch of Manitoba for a couple of years. I knew the situation there with registered traplines and so on. And it worked fairly well at that time there. And here I found that the trappers had to sell the beaver and muskrats (which is the principal crop) to the Fur Marketing Service in Regina. And they all resented it, without fail, you know, even though perhaps they got a better price. And I think the intent was to give them a better price but for some reason it just didn't work properly. There wasn't any education done certainly.”[6]

This is corroborated by Albert Broome, a former manager at numerous Government Trading stores in the North (La Ronge and Pinehouse, A.K.A. Snake Lake) who administered part of the Fur Marketing Service credit system:

Albert: “The credit trading policy is a dangerous one and we were always enforcing our collections at every stage of the game. There was very little welfare at the time. So you couldn’t rely on welfare. You had to judge each individual trapper by his merits. His fishing ability and his trapping ability.”

Murray: “How did you judge when a person’s credit would be cut off?”

Albert: “Well, in some cases you had to use your own judgement with the store operation. In some cases you would get direction from head office when your accounts receivable were getting out of order. At the same time you were judging the trapper by his ability to produce and in some cases they would have some tough luck and accounts would soar a little. Or bad price structure. In some cases you are playing with the market in fish and fur and it reverts back to the economy of the particular settlement.” [7]

Pierre Carriere, a long-time resident of Cumberland House, stated that the Fish Marketing service:

 Pierre: "... was a compulsory program first. But that's where it hurts the government. See, they didn't have no transportation services. They didn't have proper management services. The fishermen were the ones to lose money. Not the government."[8]

Murray: “And the government started the program to help fishermen right?”

Pierre: "Yeah, supposed to help fishermen but they didn't have no management and they didn't have no transportation service and everything was against them and therefore, the poor fishermen was the one that was losing his shirt. So it was really, politically unrest then.[9]

He states that after the implementation of the fish and fur marketing programs, people lost faith in the provincial government.

"You can't trust people. Once you are losing your shirt, you can't trust the government. Doesn't matter what kind of government you have."[10]

^Footnotes:

1. ^{[1] Quiring, David. “Battling Parish Priests, Bootleggers, and Fur Sharks: CCF Colonialism in Northern Saskatchewan." PhD Diss. University of Saskatchewan, 2002. 20.}
2. ^{[2] Quiring, “Battling Parish Priests, Bootleggers, and Fur Sharks,” 25.}
3. ^{[3] Quiring, “Battling Parish Priests, Bootleggers, and Fur Sharks,” 26.}
4. ^{[4] Beck, Gwen. Interview by Murray Dobbin. Transcript. July 20, 1976. Virtual Museum of Métis History and Culture. Gabriel Dumont Institute. Pg 12. http://www.Metismuseum.ca/resource.php/01180}
5. ^{[5] Dalby, Robert. Interview by Murray Dobbin. Transcript. June 18, 1976. Virtual Museum of Métis History and Culture. Gabriel Dumont Institute. Pg 2. http://www.Metismuseum.ca/resource.php/01164}
6. ^{[6] Dalby, “Interview with Robert Dalby,” 5.}
7. ^{[7] Broome, Albert. Interview by Murray Dobbin. Transcript. September 4, 1976. Virtual Museum of Métis History and Culture. Gabriel Dumont Institute. Pg 5. http://www.Metismuseum.ca/resource.php/01174}
8. ^{[8] Carriere, Pierre. Interview by Murray Dobbin. Transcript. August 18, 1976. Virtual Museum of Métis History and  Culture. Gabriel Dumont Institute. Pg 4. http://www.Metismuseum.ca/resource.php/01172}
9. ^{[9] Carriere, “Interview with Pierre Carriere,” 6.} 
10. ^{[10] Carriere, “Interview with Pierre Carriere,” 7.} 

Students at Gordon Residential School were not permitted to advance to grade 8. Students were told that they lacked the intellectual capacity to advance - that is, regardless of academic preparation, achievement or ambition, they would be unable to advance to higher levels of education.

In the aftermath of the North-West Resistance many Metis peoples migrated to different places across the North American West. Many headed to around Battleford and Prince Albert to work as freighters, trappers, and fishermen. Communities included Marcelin, Leask, Birch Hills, Kinistino, Onion Lake, Glaslyn and Meadow Lake. Additionally, many Metis moved to North Dakota and some even to southern Alberta to work as ranchers.