My father holding me on his shoulders at about the same age he and his siblings were stolen away to residential genocide school institutions
Less than a century ago the vast majority of Métis children were born into the arms of traditional lay-midwives: grandparents, sisters, and aunties. Our traditional homelands are vast and are still where most Métis relations call home to this day. North of what was considered crop-land, incentivized for the taking, much of the land and routes our families called home remains virtually untouched by anyone but our kin to this day. My father was born on the shores of such land, and living as part of these communities meant bearing witness to the processes of life, birth, and death. Childbirth was a process that my grandmother witnessed fairly regularly for nearly a decade. Living on the shore of a northern lake in the middle of the last century meant any trip to the nearest community center with medical facilities was something only reserved for emergencies. For the majority of her births, she stayed in her homelands to birth and raise her babies in peace with her family and traditional medicines nearby. For at least a few years from birth and for many of the most impactful moments in childhood development, she was able to know and raise her children. It wouldn’t be long before they were taken to residential schools in Timber Bay and Île-á-la-Crosse.
Pregnancy care has changed greatly over the last 50 years. The cultural shift away from midwifery care has impacted families from all backgrounds, and in combination with ongoing genocide campaigns by the Canadian government, this shift has left entire Indigenous communities forced with making choices that only disconnect them further from family support and cultural traditions- increasing harms for both parents and babies (Wilk et. al, 2017; Exner-Pirot et. al, 2018). For decades families in remote northern communities have been forced into choosing to travel hours away from home for perinatal care and support in childbirth, known as medical evacuation, away from other children, partners and kin (Exner-Pirot et. al, 2018). Saskatchewan only issued a statement in 2021 ending the discriminatory practice of birth alerts; another form of racist abuse that disproportionately harms Indigenous children (Government of Saskatchewan, 2021). Indigenous and Black parents giving birth are 2-3x more likely to die during having a baby than their white counterparts; even when adjusted for level of education and other life experience factors (Centers for Disease Control, 2019). Racism in the Canadian medical industrial complex continues to play a huge role in the experiences of Indigneous kin. The Quebec Coroner’s Office report on the death of Joyce Echaquan released in late 2021 urged the government to acknowledge systemic racism in health institutions, that “her death is directly related to the care obtained during her hospitalization” and “could have been avoided.” (Quebec Office of the Coroner, 2021)
There is great wisdom in the ways our ancestors nourished their bodies, minds, and souls to bear a brand new nation. Incorporating these practices into the birthing year is a way to resist colonial interference and reclaim parenting as a rite. Rest assured-this does not necessarily mean giving birth in an off-grid cabin in the bush. My Auntie laughs recalling a speeding ticket she got on her way to the hospital for her daughter’s first birth- totally worth it, she assures. This sacred time calls your community to support you. To cook and feed you from the land, and teach you about these medicines. To hold space for you, listening and learning from your experience as you prepare to meet your baby in an exceedingly complicated culture. To invite you to learn through ceremony, sharing teachings and providing connections where appropriate. To stand behind you as you assert your power as a parent. It’s about raising a generation who are confident to say “THIS IS MY BODY” in the face of twisted systems, confident in the power they hold, and held by community. Supporting, loving, and advocating for expectant and new parents in our families and communities provides us the opportunity to create change, every single time; they hold our children, they hold our power, and together we must hold them.
SOURCES
THANK YOU TO MY FATHER GEORGE DUROCHER AND AUNTIE HELENE DUROCHER FOR SHARING STORIES WITH ME.
Centers for Disease Control (2019). Racial and Ethnic Disparities Continue in Pregnancy-Related Deaths. Press release. https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2019/p0905-racial-ethnic-disparities-pregnancy-deaths.html
Exner-Pirot, H., B. Norbye and L. Butler (eds.) (2018). Northern and Indigenous Health and Health Care: Indigenous Birth. University of Saskatchewan. Available from: openpress.usask.ca/northernhealthcare/chapter/chapter-5-indigenous-birth/
Government of Saskatchewan (2021). Birth (Maternity) Alerts: January 2021 Update.
Quebec Office of the Coroner (2021). Death of Mrs. Joyce Echaquan: Coroner Géhane Kamel files her investigation report. Press Release. https://www.coroner.gouv.qc.ca/medias/communiques/detail-dun-communique/466.html
Wilk, Piotr, Alana Maltby, Martin Cooke (2017). Residential schools and the effects on Indigenous health and well-being in Canada—a scoping review. Public Health Reviews, 38(1). doi:10.1186/s40985-017-0055-6
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