Warning: This story deals with disturbing subject matter that may upset and trigger some readers. Discretion is advised.
It’s been more than 40 years since Melissa Walterson was “adopted at birth” in Winnipeg.
The Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation member said she was adopted into a white family and attended a predominantly white school. There, she said she experienced her “fair share of lateral violence,” and to this day, still works to unlearn what was taught to her about her “so-called place in this world.”
Walterson was wrapped in a blanket during a ceremony on Wednesday at the Assembly of First Nations annual general assembly in Vancouver. She was joined by other representative plaintiffs in two First Nations’ child welfare class action lawsuits against the federal government.
Last month, the plaintiffs, AFN and Ottawa finalized a $20-billion settlement to compensate children and families who were discriminated against through Ottawa’s chronic underfunding of child welfare services on reserves.
“I think our children need to be with our people,” Walterson told a crowd at the assembly. “Our children need to be protected from the hardships that I experienced.”
“This class action is about our children, our families and our communities. This is what we’re dealing with,” said a tearful Karen Osachoff. “I love our people so much and I love who I am.”
Osachoff, whose birth name is Erin Faye Kahnapace, is also a representative plaintiff. The member of the Pasqua First Nation in Saskatchewan is Walterson’s sister, but the pair didn’t meet until two and a half years ago, having only discovered through their own inquiries that they had siblings.
“I felt like I belonged,” Walterson said of hearing Osachoff’s voice on the phone for the first time.
The $20-billion compensation agreement is coupled with another $20 billion promised by Ottawa to reform the First Nations child welfare system over five years. It stems from a 2016 Canadian Human Rights Tribunal ruling, which the federal government spent years battling in court, and represents more than a decade of work by countless families, advocates, lawyers, and leaders.
Manitoba AFN Regional Chief Cindy Woodhouse, one of the lead negotiators of the settlement, described it as a “major victory” for First Nations people and a “precedent-setting human rights case.”
“I’m thankful that those families will see some justice from this,” she told Global News. “Maybe they’re not going to solve everything that they’ve been through through the child welfare system, but I think that this is a starting point and a point where it shows that they’ve been wronged.”
She thanked her own two young children, Kyler and Kolt, for tolerating their mother’s frequent absences for months on end so she could support that work.
Multiple chiefs and proxies have said child welfare — the health, wellbeing, livelihood and opportunities of all First Nations youth — is the most important discussion topic at the AFN’s annual general assembly.
In an impassioned address, however, AFN Youth Council co-chair Rosalie LaBillois decried the internal politics that have dominated meetings to date, taking valuable time away from the file.
“Every time you decide to squabble amongst yourselves, you forget the children and the young people that you once swore to protect,” she told chiefs from across Canada.
“Make no mistake, in this very moment there’s a First Nations child out there crying for their mother, wanting to be brought back home to their family. I plead for this assembly to think one more moment about all of our children out there who need a voice in this world to defend themselves.”
LaBillois was the New Brunswick representative in the historic delegation to the Vatican in March and April, which helped solidify Pope Francis’ reconciliation tour of Canada later this month.
A long-time member of the AFN’s youth council, she urged the chiefs, particularly those who have used child welfare in their election platforms, to think about how they are serving their little ones.
“The wellness of our people must always be at the forefront of our decision-making,” she said. “If you want to gauge the outcomes of your leadership, then you should look to our children.”
Her remarks received a standing ovation and later garnered an apology from at least three chiefs.
Since Tuesday, much discussion time has been allocated to concerns with leadership at the AFN, including the executive council’s controversial suspension of National Chief RoseAnne Archibald.
Archibald had raised serious concerns about alleged corruption and financial irregularities within the organization. Four staff members had also lodged workplace harassment complaints against her.
The national chief claims those staffers requested more than $1 million in payouts, which she refused to provide. Their complaints are now the subject of a human resources investigation.
On Tuesday, 252 of 278 chiefs and proxies struck down a resolution to continue Archibald’s suspension, which has been described as unlawful. Forty-four chiefs and proxies had abstained.
A resolution to hold a non-confidence vote on her leadership was also dropped on Wednesday.
The national chief said she was proud of LaBillois for expressing her honest concerns about leadership from coast to coast to coast, before hundreds at the assembly.
“I was a youth activist myself and my whole career has been about speaking the truth, and sometimes speaking truth to power, so I support Rosalie,” she said in an interview.
Chiefs and proxies are slated to vote on Thursday on a resolution to reaffirm Archibald’s position as national chief, and commission an independent forensic audit of the AFN, as well as a digital investigation into alleged breaches of communication within its secretariat over the past decade.
The Hope for Wellness Help Line offers culturally competent counselling and crisis intervention to all Indigenous peoples experiencing trauma, distress, strong emotions and painful memories. The line can be reached anytime toll-free at 1-855-242-3310.
Editor’s Note: This story was updated on July 18, 2022, to better reflect the language used by Melissa Walterson in describing her personal story.