Hi everyone. My name is Elizabeth Sam. I'm Dakelh from Nak’azdli Whut’en. I am a Lhts’umusyoo. That's the Beaver clan. My parents are Ruby and Brandon Taylor. My grandmother, who I live with and care for, is Lillian Sam. She is a well-respected elder here in Nak’azdli.
I would like to acknowledge that I am on the unceded territory of the Dakelh people.
I am a third year sun dancer, a woman's pipe carrier and a fire keeper for our local sweat lodge. I have lived life on the red road for six years, which means no alcohol. That is my form of resistance against the powers that want me to be a drunk, uninformed indigenous statistic.
I am a newly elected councillor for our band office and will be serving a four-year term, but I don't represent them today. I speak as an indigenous woman who has struggled with intergenerational trauma and has overcome many obstacles, including homelessness.
I want to talk a bit about the earth, the land and the connection that indigenous peoples have with the earth. The earth is our home, so it is a reciprocal. If you think about sharks, whales and the small fish that eat the plankton and bacteria off the whales, that is like humans and the earth. We take care of the earth, and the earth takes care of us.
I know that we need more houses here in Nak’azdli and on other reserves in the nation.
The thing about Mother Earth is that our culture, language and ceremonies are all connected to the land. This is why we protect the land and want to ensure that first nations' traditional lands are protected from industries and infrastructures that will pollute the water and the land, because if we don't have the water and the land, none of us will survive and we won't be able to build homes on the land.
With intergenerational trauma and colonization—being disconnected from the land and having your identity taken away, being removed from your land and told to live somewhere else—this is where you get mental health issues, depression and anxiety. If you're away from home you lose your culture, your ceremonies and your pride in being an indigenous person.
I know that when I was living in Vancouver, before I moved home when the pandemic hit, I was feeling the effects of depression and anxiety from being away from home. Then, when I moved home in March, it was instantly just a weight off. I was feeling more at home, more myself and feeling safe again.
I feel like it's not just indigenous people who are connected to the land; non-indigenous people come from the land also. I know a lot of Caucasian or white people who do ceremonies on the land, and cherish and protect the land because they get so much from it.
Unconditional love is what helped me to come back from addictions, self-sabotaging cycles and all of that trauma. I just think that unconditional love is what we need to be giving to the homeless people, to all people, and unconditional support. If people feel like they are valued, loved and heard, they will want to try harder to live a better life.
How can the government help? It can be through more education in elementary and high school about how to rent homes, interest and mortgages, loans and saving money. I didn't learn any of that stuff in high school. I'm sure we all learned some stuff that is not even relevant in my life today, so more education on those types of things. We did touch on mortgages and interest in some of the math, but it wasn't what it should have been. They should have been teaching gardening and stuff like that.
I don't have too much more to share, other than the importance of unconditional love for other human beings.
Since we're talking about reconciliation and the era of reconciliation, I wouldn't be able to reconcile.... Let's say, Mr. Chair, I was in a fight with you and I was supposed to reconcile with you. I wouldn't be able to reconcile with you until I reconciled the issues within myself, and then you reconciled the issues within yourself. Then we could reconcile. That's kind of how it is for indigenous and non-indigenous peoples in Canada.
Were there any questions?