The columnist wears another hat: housing and homelessness navigator for Medicine Hat's urban Indigenous community. - SUBMITTED PHOTO JALYCE THOMPSON
“The homeland affects you directly: it affects your body; it affects the collective mind and the collective heart and the collective spirit.” – Joy Harjo, first Native American U.S. Poet Laureate, Muscogee Nation
How do we know when we’ve arrived where we belong? When we think about home, do we need four walls, a community, a homeland or all of the above to give us a sense of belonging and a feeling of security?
Growing up, our family moved around several times and I followed the same pattern as an adult, living in 20 homes in 38 years. I grew up in northern small-town Peace River on Treaty 8 territory, moving to Edmonton on Treaty 6 territory in 2002 for college. In my directionless 20s and most of my 30s, I never felt secure enough to put down roots.
Changes in family structure, cost of living and loss of sense of safety have all been catalysts for moving house many times in my life.
As Miywasin Friendship Centre’s housing and homelessness navigator, I hear these same three reasons almost exclusively in my visits with precariously-housed and unhoused folks in our community’s urban Indigenous population.
In June 2021, in the midst of a pandemic that has threatened the lives and livelihoods of so many, Medicine Hat became the first Canadian community to achieve the Canadian Alliance to End Homelessness’ Built for Zero benchmark. This touchstone qualified our city’s social services as adequate to provide unhoused Hatters with the shelter and supports they needed in short order.
At that time, Medicine Hat Community Housing Society’s manager of homeless and housing development, Jaime Rogers, said that “Through perseverance, progressive change, the development and a reconsideration of beliefs, Medicine Hat has become a community willing to take on the systems, engage in the difficult conversations and move towards finding a successful outcome for those within the vulnerable population.”
Sixteen months later, on the evening of Sept. 26 of this year, this writer joined volunteers and the Community Housing team to conduct a PiT Count, or a Point in Time Count. Teams canvassed Riverside, Downtown and the Flats neighbourhoods, beginning conversations with “Where are you staying tonight?” For those folks we met who planned to sleep outdoors, visits ended with volunteers offering referrals to shelters and resources for essential needs.
“What an emotional evening,” shared one volunteer. “Being someone who has experienced homelessness twice in my life, it brought back a ton of trauma about just how easy it is to be found in that situation. Most of the folks we talked to this evening were under 30 years old. It makes me appreciate all the good work our social services are doing and made me realize just how much more work there is to do.”
Funded by Reaching Home: Canada’s Homelessness Strategy, my work at Miywasin connects our unhoused neighbours to new homes and the resources families need to thrive. I am Onisohkamakew, Cree for one who provides aid. In just a single year in this role, 70 individuals and families experiencing housing insecurity have connected with my program. Many of the people I serve are my peers; perhaps if I’d experienced more trauma in my life, I would be in their shoes.
Our steps are lighter when our journey is shared with others. Kishchee tey mo’yawn aen li Michif wi’yawn – in Michif, “I am Proud to be Métis.” In exploring my cultural roots as a roadmap to self-discovery, I found where I belong. In 2018, I arrived here in Medicine Hat on Treaty 4 and 7 territory and have since found more personal, professional and cultural fulfilment than I could ever have imagined. I am finally home.
Many of our community members are still on their journey home. For some, home means finding safety inside four walls to call their own. For many Indigenous people, it is also reconnecting to culture, family and land lost to the legacy of residential schools and our ancestors’ displacement onto reserves.
As Turtle Island’s (Native North America’s) non-Indigenous citizens step forward onto the path of reconciliation, I invite all to consider their part in the Land Back movement: that each works to build relationships with their Indigenous neighbours and heal our connections to lands and waters. Together, we can all find belonging.
JoLynn Parenteau is a Métis writer out of Miywasin Friendship Centre. Column feedback can be sent to jolynn.parenteau@gmail.com
