My Privilege, My Responsibility: A Memoir

By Sheila North

Finalist, Alexander Kennedy Isbister Award for Non-Fiction

Finalist, Eileen McTavish Sykes Award for Best First Book

In September 2015, Sheila North was declared the Grand Chief of Manitoba Keewatinowi Okimakanak (MKO), the first woman elected to the position. Known as a "bridge builder", North is a member of Bunibonibee Cree Nation. North's work in advocacy journalism, communications, and economic development harnessed her passion for drawing focus to systemic racism faced by Indigenous women and girls. She is the creator of the widely used hashtag #MMIW. In her memoir, Sheila North shares the stories of the events that shaped her, and the violence that nearly stood in the way of her achieving her dreams. Through perseverance and resilience, she not only survived, she flourished.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Great Plains Publications
• Release date: Feb 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781773370675

Book preview

Cover: My Privilege, My Responsibility: A Memoir by Sheila North

MY PRIVILEGE,

MY RESPONSIBILITY

Sheila North

A MEMOIR

Logo: Great Plains Publications

Copyright © 2021 Sheila North

Great Plains Publications

320 Rosedale Avenue

Winnipeg, MB R3L 1L8

www.greatplains.mb.ca

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in

any form or in any means, or stored in a database and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Great Plains Publications, or, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a license from Access Copyright (Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency), 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, M5E 1E5.

Great Plains Publications gratefully acknowledges the financial support provided for its publishing program by the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund; the Canada Council for the Arts; the Province of Manitoba through the Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Book Publisher Marketing Assistance Program; and the Manitoba Arts Council.

Logo: Government of Canada

Design & Typography by Relish New Brand Experience

Printed in Canada by Friesens

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Title: My privilege, my responsibility : a memoir / Sheila North.

Names: North, Sheila, author.

Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20210260076 | Canadiana (ebook) 20210260157 |

ISBN 9781773370668 (softcover) | ISBN 9781773370675 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: North, Sheila. | LCSH: Indigenous women—Manitoba—Biography. |

CSH: Indigenous leaders—Manitoba—Biography. | CSH: Indigenous activists—Manitoba—Biography. | LCGFT: Autobiographies.

Classification: LCC E99.C88 N67 2021 | DDC 305.48/89732307127092—dc23

Don’t consider it a privilege or a compliment you’re being asked to run,

it’s your responsibility.

—MARILYN WOOD

Contents

Chapter 1 First Female Grand Chief of Northern Manitoba

Chapter 2 Is She a Queen?

Chapter 3 My Parents as Children

Chapter 4 Life Code Installations

Chapter 5 Trauma Drama

Chapter 6 Survivors and Thrivers, Surviving and Thriving

Chapter 7 My New City Friends

Chapter 8 Defensive Love

Chapter 9 Brandon

Chapter 10 Our Last Christmas

Chapter 11 New Chapter, New Life

Chapter 12 Enter My Rapper Husband

Chapter 13 Another Transition

Chapter 14 New Life

Chapter 15 The Grammys

Chapter 16 My Dream Came True Too

Chapter 17 Life Hurdles

Chapter 18Me as a Journalist

Chapter 19 Becoming Seasoned

Chapter 20 From the CBC to Advocacy

Chapter 21 Working for Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women and Girls

Chapter 22 Blood Memory

Chapter 23 Activist to Leader

Chapter 24 Leading like a Woman

Chapter 25 #MeToo

Chapter 26 MKO

Chapter 27 Systemic Racism

Chapter 28 My Run for AFN

Chapter 29 Today, Tomorrow, the Future

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

First Female Grand Chief of Northern Manitoba

The results are as follows, said Stephanie Connors, the electoral officer overseeing the 2015 Manitoba Keewatinowi Okimakanak (MKO) election for Grand Chief. After a deep breath, she continued, William ‘Elvis’ Thomas, 58. Sheila North Wilson, 74! I, my campaign team, and the supporters sitting behind us in a hockey arena set up as a conference room on a sunny autumn day at the Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation (NCN) in northern Manitoba, erupted into cheers of jubilation. I took a huge sigh of relief. The election to become the first female MKO Grand Chief was the biggest race or competition of any kind that I’ve ever ran in and won. The echoes from our cheers reverberated back and forth in that massive space, just like in a real hockey game where the underdogs won!

I had to take a quick pause, covered my face with my hands, and took a deep breath before getting up from my seat to where my team was jumping up and down all around me. I just wanted to take it all in, this feeling of relief and joy, because the election was no easy feat. Just moments before the results were announced, the only other candidate left on the ballot had knelt down in front of me, put his right hand on my left shoulder and looked deeply into my eyes. You did a great job Sheila, you should be proud, Elvis said. After this I would like you to come work for me. Would you? I didn’t answer him, I was trying to stay positive for my team and my family. The other two candidates on the first ballot had been men also: the incumbent MKO Grand Chief and a young man destined for leadership. Both made a deal with Elvis and all three got together for the second and final ballot to try and win the seat for Elvis Thomas. They made sure all of the 150 or so delegates who make up part of northern Manitoba Chiefs, Councils and citizens, knew what they were up to.

This was my first time running in an election, besides running for a student council seat years before at a college in Brandon. But no one else had run at that time so I got in by acclamation! But the MKO election would not be my last. Three years later, in July 2018, I ran for the position of the Assembly of First Nations National Chief. I came in second, in the second ballot. In both elections, men were very prominent and their needs and wants were well represented. Women also made their voices heard but their messages were different from the men. In general, both wanted the best for their communities, families, and themselves, but generally, the men I came across wanted to win at any cost. So much so, they worked together to stand up against me as a challenger and worked to intimidate me. I was in an abusive relationship for eight years, so I knew these types of tactics very well. But I also know most of that behaviour stems from colonization, when our matriarchal societies were thrown into chaos by settler men who insisted on talking with our patriarchs only. The actions and decisions from that time still have their effects on all of us today. More on that later!

During this leg of my lifelong journey though, we had just won a hard-fought battle that actually began many generations before. MKO was set up to represent the northern region of Manitoba and its thirty communities of Cree, Dene, and Oji-Cree peoples—a population of about 72,000 plus people. MKO was created in 1981 by Chiefs and other leaders to advocate for Northerners and their needs. The founders wanted to make sure the needs of the region and its people were met and respected. Unfortunately, the region was and still is one of the poorest regions in Canada. It has a high poverty rate, lack of sufficient and proper housing and infrastructure, and some of the highest numbers of illnesses such as diabetes, cancer, and tuberculosis.

The challenges are great in the region, but there are things that people celebrate like the high numbers of people who still speak their languages, that they’ve managed to keep many traditional hunting and fishing grounds intact, and that most First Nations from the North still call their home reserves home. Up to seventy percent of northerners still live in their home reserves.

On the day of the MKO election at the Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation it was a perfect fall day. The sun was shining, no wind, no clouds, it was warm. Perfect. We had gathered over three days listening to the leaders at the tables talking and debating about issues that affect our people, lands, and water in the North. And on that beautiful day in September 2015, the Chiefs, Councillors, and proxies voted in the first female Grand Chief in its over thirty years of existence. The win was bigger than myself and my team.

As my team and I drove into the Cree community on election day, three eagles flew overhead as if they were leading us into town where there was a sacred fire lit in a tipi next to the arena. It was hard to miss the majestic eagles circling close by. As we parked, we stood there for a minute admiring them circling overhead with the smell from the sacred fire wafting in air. A Fire Keeper, who was likely there all night, spoke up and told us he had noticed the majestic birds flying near the site since the meetings started the day before. He would definitely notice; he and other Fire Keepers would take turns making sure the fire lit at the beginning of the leaders’ conference would stay lit until the end of the gathering. Elders have said seeing eagles at any time, especially in situations you least expect to see them, is a good sign. It could mean Creator is reminding you that any messages or prayers are being heard, or it could mean for the person who sees an eagle to be careful. To be mindful. So, it was an encouraging sign, an uplifting sign, to see the birds and the Fire Keeper recognized the significance as well. To me, seeing the eagles that day was a reminder from Creator that all is well, and he is in control no matter what. That moment was an end to a busy but short campaign, about five weeks in total. Two of my team members and I tucked into the tipi next to the sacred fire before going inside in the arena for the meeting. Tobacco in hand, we held hands, I prayed a short prayer and we all cried quietly. I think we were feeling a sense of completion and felt accomplished no matter what the outcome would be.

As I finished praying, I wiped my tears and said, No more tears, time to finish the work. We had a little laugh and headed inside. My first intention was to straighten my hair in the bathroom! We had a late night and early morning, so I didn’t have time to get fully ready before we left our hotel rooms in Thompson, Manitoba that morning. Thompson, one of the main urban centres in northern Manitoba, is about an hour’s drive from NCN. It’s where most of us delegates stayed during the assembly.

That morning, I was invited to have breakfast with one community’s Chief and Councillors before heading to the voting site. We had a great discussion, and I was feeling inspired knowing I was able to relate quickly to the needs of their community. I was able to relate because I grew up in the North, in Bunibonibee Cree Nation, and I had worked as a journalist for ten years leading up to the election. I know the issues and hardships very well.

As my campaign manager and longtime friend, Jennifer Wood, and I stood in the bathroom waiting for our hair straighteners to heat up, her husband, my friend Darcy Wood, frantically came to the door of the bathroom and yelled our names, almost as if he was warning us about a fire or some other emergency. It was a bit of an emergency: there was a change in plans none of us anticipated. He wanted us to come out quickly because it was announced that the final candidate speeches were starting, and my name was the first one called.

This was not the initial plan. The night before, the organizers told us that the speeches would start at noon and the order of appearance for final speeches would be by a random draw. We arrived at the site at ten a.m. and thought we had a couple of hours to review my ten-minute speech again and finish getting ready. But no, it was time to go. As I walked out of the bathroom, one of my other team members, Clyde Flett, quickly walked up to me saying the audio-visual equipment was not set up. Just the day before a large 10 x 10-foot screen was set up right next to the Chiefs table where presenters were able to pull up PowerPoints as they talked. My team and I had spent a lot of time working on my PowerPoint presentation. My final speech was timed out perfectly with the visuals, and Clyde had the thumb drive ready to plug in to the system. He’d tested it the day before and it worked beautifully. But on this day, as we walked into the conference area, the screen was gone and so was the projector that used to sit on the table next to the head table. It’s almost as if the equipment had never been there.

When I came out of the bathroom with all my things and my notebook with my perfectly crafted speech, Clyde met me at the door. With the thumb drive in his hand he said, we won’t have PowerPoint. I said, What? in disbelief. Clyde was shocked as well. He played a big part in our preparation, and he was equally invested in our campaign. He would have been the one next to me helping me deliver my speech by operating the PowerPoint we had worked on so meticulously. I was disappointed of course, but I knew we had to keep going. I just said, Okay! It was almost like when you jump into some cold water after being hot all day. I felt shocked and at the same time, exhilarated as I walked toward the head table to make my way to the podium. I felt like I was walking fast and determined. The movie Forrest Gump came to mind, that one scene where Gump’s leg braces were falling off as he began to run!

As I finally got up to the podium, I looked around and saw all the faces, hundreds of them. More had come to observe the voting process. Chiefs, Councillors, and spectators ready to listen to what the four candidates had to say. We each had ten minutes and there was a large digital timer in front of the podium, blinking, waiting, taunting. No one said go, or even gave a warning of a start time, there was no countdown, the clock just started counting down as I stepped in front of the mantel. My younger brother Steven and an Elder from my home community slowly got up and came to stand next to me as I began my speech. I was reminded of a story that the Elder, Dorothy Grieves, told me the day before about how my late dad had recruited her and helped her run for Chief of our community when she was a young woman. Dorothy said, Your dad helped me when I became Chief of our community. He said he was looking for a replacement. That he had other plans for his family and that I would be the best suited for the community. I’m so grateful your dad helped me and want to stand with you for your dad and your mom.

I felt honoured that she stood there with my brother and me because she was a trailblazer for our people. She gave me a big, beautiful smile as she was done telling the story. She is a respected Elder in our North and is one of the Elders who is always invited to sit in on Chiefs’ meetings. She was comfortable doing that and people love her. Dorothy also makes some of the best beadwork and handcrafts like moccasin slippers. Anyone who’s ever been gifted her slippers would be so happy with her skills. I have two pairs of her work, one pair of slippers I haven’t worn yet. I want to keep them in mint condition. I wanted her to know I valued her presence and stories.

My brother being there with me made me feel the strength of my parents and family who couldn’t make the trip to the election. Steven was the only one there with me from my immediate family. Our family is very close, and we all communicate often. Him being there was an extension of our whole family. With him there, it felt like they were all there: my mom, my dad, my children, my siblings, and other relatives. I woke up that morning and Dad called me and asked me to go to the election, Steven said. So, I came even though I had worked a night shift just hours before. I appreciated his decision very much. So did our parents.

The speech I gave was perfectly crafted with four main points. It was so well designed I could still recite it on cue if I have to! The four main points we called Cornerstones were, 1. Accountable and Transparent Governance, 2. Empowering Communities and Families, 3. Meaningful Treaty Implementation, and 4. Economic Independence. In short, the speech was geared toward seeking out and supporting the vision of the leaders and people of MKO, the past and current aspirations. I was most proud of the fact that we recognized the sovereignty of the Nations and we wanted to honour that. I still do.

After speaking to leaders and experts about Indigenous politics and knowing what I knew from my work as a journalist, my team and I worked hard to narrow down the main points I wanted to include in my platform. A friend and mentor, Barbara Bowes, who coaches people and organizations for success, helped us with the structure of the speech. It became easy to recite, especially because one of my campaign managers, Darcy, reminded me about ten times a day to practice my speech. He’d call me, text me, and every time I saw him, he’d simply ask, Did you do your speech? Most of the time I’d say yes before he would ask me, even if I hadn’t. But he reminded me so often that toward the end of the campaign I was reciting the speech at least four times a day randomly as I worked, worked out, or drove in my vehicle. I did as much as I could throughout the days leading up to the election. Thank goodness for all that, because being caught off-guard just minutes before could have thrown me off if we hadn’t been as prepared as we were. I was able to deliver the speech in the time allotted and used every second of it and not one second more. I felt really good about it. Being trained and having been a journalist certainly helped with the smooth delivery as well.

In some elections for Grand Chief, it’s only Chiefs who get to vote. For MKO, the Council members also get to vote, so we had a larger than usual voter base—and we had more people to appeal to. This election went to two ballots, the rules are that the ballots keep going until one candidate has 51 percent of the vote, and that candidate wins the election. I was leading in the first ballot. In between the first and second ballot we all had chances to caucus again and meet community leaders who started grouping together to wait for us candidates to come to them. This is when the three other candidates declared they were going to join forces and support Elvis Thomas, who had come in second in the first ballot. Turns out, as Indigenous politics would have it, Elvis and I were long-lost cousins on our fathers’ sides. He told me this during the campaign, in between other comments he made mostly about me being a woman. Saying things like, good for you for trying, that’s so nice, and almost patting me on the head a few times when we met on the campaign trail.

Soon, as the electoral officer announced the timing of the next round of results for the next ballot, tension filled the room. At least it did for me. I remember feeling a sense of panic as the room seemed to grow larger and hollower than before. I turned to Jennifer, who has and had been one of my biggest supporters and motivators, and asked her, what do we do now? Without a flinch she said, Let’s go. As we made our way around the room there were several circles of Chiefs and Councillors grouping together. The first group we approached said, Don’t worry about us, we’re with you. Go talk to Island Lake.

Island Lake was made up of four Oji-Cree communities, who refer to themselves in their own language as Anishiniwuk—The People. The large group of about thirty or so were gathered outside the arena in a closed circle huddled together. It was hard to find a spot to go in from, but Darcy said, Just go in there. I did, and all of a sudden, I was standing in the middle of the circle. Immediately they stopped talking as I stood there not knowing at first what to say or even where to look. I felt the world was suddenly quiet and it was watching me as I started to feel I was leaving my body. But reality hit me pretty quickly as I started to speak. I remember saying something like, I know your people are unique and have your own culture and language, I respect that. I also added that one of their own people, the late and great Elijah Harper, was and still is one of my mentors and heroes and I respect where he comes from. I told the tightknit group around me that my late father and Elijah had been friends for many years and were former fellow leaders themselves. I wanted them to know that I was very familiar with one of their most respected and loved leaders. And of course, it wasn’t just me. Elijah Harper became a hero to many of us for infamously saying ‘No’ to the Meech Lake Accord in 1990 as a Member of the Legislative Assembly with the Manitoba provincial government. At the time Elijah was representing the same region MKO covered and to many of us he was saying NO to Canada walking over us to give a group of Canadians greater status than its Original People, us.

After talking in the circle of Anishiniwuk, we talked to a few more groups and then I was called to go back in the Island Lake huddle. Again, it was very intense and all I could do was again reinforce what I had said just moments earlier. Shortly after that, the delegates started lining up again to cast their ballots. I happened to be standing where the lineup was forming, and I had a chance to greet and shake the hands of everyone lining up to vote. I thanked them for their consideration in voting for me. As I was shaking the hand of one Council member, she left something in my hand. She leaned in and said, don’t worry. I looked at what she had placed in my hand, and I felt a sense of calm. It was a smooth stone that had the word HOPE on it. I needed that and I realized we had done all we could.

As we found our way back to our seats, we sat quietly and only whispered when we talked. In fact, the room was also very silent; you could almost hear a pin drop at times. I looked behind me once to see some of my relatives from my dad’s side and original home reserve, Pimicikamak Cree Nation, who’d travelled in that day to be with us. But I didn’t want to look too long at them otherwise I’d get emotional. I missed my kids, my parents, my siblings, but I felt they were all there knowing my brother was there with me. My husband, Rob, was there too, but he didn’t say much. It was almost as if