Thank you.
[Witness spoke in hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓]
[English]
Respected ones and friends, my traditional name is Skalusat Michele Guerin. I'm from the Musqueam Indian Band and I'm honoured to be here today.
The name “Skalusat” was given to me by my elders and my family in our longhouse. Skalus was a warrior who guarded Howe Sound and, according to our stories, he was also the first of our people who learned how to write. They chose this name for me because I was the first lawyer in the Guerin family. I often get asked, “Why did you become a lawyer?” I usually respond, “I became a lawyer because I'm an indigenous woman in Canada and I wanted to be able to protect myself, my children and my grandchildren.”
I testified publicly as a survivor in the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls and Two-Spirit inquiry because I was apprehended, and my first son was apprehended from the hospital, spent one month in care, was returned to me, then died of SIDS at three months old. I was robbed of a month with him, and later my three kids were apprehended for three days. When the ministry came for my granddaughter decades later, I was a lawyer and could say, “Back up.”
It's important to me to tell you that my mother, Bev Guerin, graduated from day school with her grade 12, served in the Canadian navy, and was a secretary in an engineering firm. My biological father was willing to marry her, but I was still apprehended. I lived in one foster home for 14 years. At 14 years old, I was approached by my social worker and told I had the choice to be adopted by the foster family or to meet my family in Musqueam. I always say I did what any normal 14-year-old would do: I ran away and lived on the streets for a year. The main basis of my testimony—why I wanted to testify—is to share with lawmakers the kind of extreme violence I experienced on the streets in one year, and thankfully survived, as an example of what our women and girls go through.
I have a couple of points about your bill that I want to link to the testimony I made.
When I was reunited with my mother at 14, we didn't reconcile. I think the pain of losing me, then suddenly being faced with a real, live, high-risk teenager, was very hard for her. I lived with her for one month, then was placed in several different foster homes on the reserve. I've had the unique experience of being placed in several foster homes on and off reserve, and I can attest to the fact that I felt much safer and more loved and nurtured on reserve.
On the point of racism in courts, I'll go back to my first experience of identifying my children when they were apprehended. My children were apprehended when I left town to go to a church thing. My husband was in charge. I came home and my kids were gone. I was to go to court to identify my children. I was in family court. The courtroom was called to order, the judge came in, and before he sat down, he turned to me and asked, “What are you going to do about your drinking problem, Mrs. Sparrow?” I replied, “I don't drink, Your Honour.” Then he opened the file.
I want to make a couple of points about policing. I was married to a Vancouver police officer for 30 years. I've always been very supportive of the police. However, I have personally seen and experienced racism through the police. Most of the issues I've had have been with the RCMP.
One of the points I raised during my testimony was to ask that the inquiry use their researchers—perhaps you have researchers. The issue I'm particularly interested in is knowing how many indigenous women are arrested when they are victims of domestic violence versus how many non-indigenous women are arrested when they are victims of domestic violence. I'd like the statistics. It seems to me, from what I have seen in my communities, that it's standard operating procedure to arrest indigenous women when they are victims of domestic violence. It might be called “over-policing”, but I call it “inherent racism”.
I was also a 911 operator for the RCMP. One day in the radio room, as I sat working, a group of officers were sitting and talking behind me. One of them said, “I don't arrest Indians. I shoot Indians.” It was a very shocking and disheartening statement to hear. I think it's just another signal of some of that systemic racism.
On another point, after I returned to the reserve, sadly, my late mother, Beverly—a single mother—was convicted of fraud for writing bad cheques. She was sentenced to several months in jail in the Oakalla Penitentiary. I remember being in court and watching them sentence her. I sat in the back of the courtroom in disbelief as they sentenced her to serve her time in Oakalla, which I thought was a pretty hard-core institution to serve time in for a non-violent crime.