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This project aimed to understand the development of environmental stewardship through gameplay in Indigenous societies. The South Pacific has many similarities to Canada in terms of Indigenous-settler relations, colonial histories and a resurgence in reconciliation efforts, and climate action. Indigenous traditional games, played in nature, with natural implements, and spiritually connected to nature, offer insight into how young people learn about their natural environments through play. This study has practical implications for outdoor recreation groups that can draw on Indigenous Canadian games for the development of environmental stewardship and environmental health. Whether it is policymakers developing green active policies, recreation management personnel building bridges with Indigenous communities, or parents seeking outlets that are more nature-friendly or nature-oriented, this study shows how traditional games can help facilitate reconciliation with Indigenous peoples, our environments, and our physical activity profiles. 

Methods 

I conducted interviews with Indigenous games experts (notably Harko Brown of New Zealand), regularly (on 6 occasions) visited a comprehensive traditional games archive in Brisbane, Australia (the personal archives of Ken Edwards), and observed Indigenous games in Queensland, New Zealand, and Fiji. I also conducted an extensive secondary literature review of environmentalism via physical activity participation. Analyzing the data, I was able to draw on themes and situate Indigenous traditional games within the growing field of sport ecology.

Key findings

  1. Traditional games are nature games. One of the aims of the study was to provide a renewed outlook on games, namely rethink what they are. In the nature games vein, we suggest a definition to the idea of games (as opposed to sports), situating games as nature games specifically (played in, with, and through nature), and apply this logic to traditional games the world over. Through this process, it quickly became evident that playing in nature was connected to learning from nature. This, in and of itself, is not novel, but positioning traditional, Indigenous, or outdoor games as the medium through which to develop an intimate relationship with nature is not often considered. This idea has particular ramifications for outdoor recreation users jostling for a place in the leisure space with widespread sport organizations in Canada. Employing a games logic in communicating the benefits of outdoor recreation to health, to reconciliation, and to environmental impact could be a valuable asset in forming policy, programming, and practice.
  2. Stewardship requires a third element: culture. Both play and nature are key pieces in the development of environmental stewardship, but without an element of local culture there is little to connect the environmental education of youth. For example, Māori playgrounds (mara hupara) are playgrounds of natural materials (logs, vines, tree trunks, large stones, etc.), but they are also cultural spaces where Māori youth learn how to move in nature, respect nature, and understand the spiritual connection of Māori to nature. The hoped for implications of this finding is that it is not enough simply to design outdoor game play in the environmental education of Canadian youth. The key to longstanding stewardship is connection to local culture, be it Indigenous, settler, or immigrant worldviews on nature. For those looking at opportunities for culturally sensitive recreational programming, this study offers a number of possibilities.
  3. Traditional games are crucial in sport ecology field. The quest for (environmental) sustainability in sport has been appropriated by sport management stakeholders, with the intention of benefiting the sporting establishment. Although there are strategies to reduce carbon emissions, the single largest factors in hastening climate change in the sport sector, the vast majority of “sustainability” initiatives are superficial (e.g., no paper), in adherence of industry standard protocols (a LEED certification), or a marketing ploy (think greenwashing). The field of sport ecology, a subsection of sport management studies, tends to dance around these issues without getting to the core of how the sports sector can amplify climate activism. Our argument is that sport may be a part of the problem, whereas nature games offer not only a more “sustainable” recreational outlet, but also offer an opportunity to imprint crucial environmental ethics in youth from the start.

Strengths and limitations 

Both the strengths and limitations of this project are related to the “outsider” perspective of the study. It is based on research in Oceania, which provides different contextual issues related to Indigeneity, environmentalism, and recreation, but a fresh perspective is sometimes needed when coping with broad societal turns. Therefore, although the topic of study focuses on a far-off part of the world, there is much we can learn from the issues and how diverse groups manage them. 

Conclusions and next steps 

The relevance of traditional Indigenous games, in this context, is their entwinement with natural environments. As Douglas Booth argues, practicing sports and games “in nature engenders very real relational sensibilities with the nonhuman material world.”  The relational link between traditional Indigenous games, understood in their broadest sense, and natural environments offers significant untapped opportunities to develop environmental stewardship globally. It’s significant because of the existence of these games across the globe, increasing interest in their revival, preservation, and dissemination, and in the growing recognition and honouring of Indigenous cultures.  

The next steps in this project are to apply theory to practice by developing an outdoor recreation program that embraces the principles of local cultural knowledge (be it Indigenous or otherwise), environmental stewardship, and a games logic. This is an international project that will include stakeholders from Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, Sweden, Norway, the UK, and Ireland. A nature games ideology is a global imperative involving outdoor recreation stakeholders in the pursuit of climate action. 

Funding acknowledgement: This blog draws on research supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and Sport Canada as part of the Sport Participation Research Initiative.  

‘Settler Colonial Sport Venues’ explores the settler histories of sporting places, and the role settler athletic venues have played in colonization and carcerality. It aims to challenge the idea that building sports facilities is always positive, showing instead how these places have often contributed to the ongoing dispossession and erasure of Indigenous peoples. For this blog, we focus on Edmonton’s Commonwealth Stadium. In 1971 the city was awarded the 1978 Commonwealth Games. The 56,000-seat stadium cost $21 million and was funded by 3 levels of government. This historical analysis provides a set of considerations for how new legacy facilities should be developed in the future. 

This project used historical material found in the City of Edmonton Archives and online collections from Library Archives Canada and the Provincial Archives of Alberta. These collections provided a layered historical record of dynamic stories through which we traced the history of Commonwealth Stadium’s location to analyze how power relations have shaped its development. 

Key findings on the Commonwealth Stadium 

Our analysis of Commonwealth Stadium begins in early 1970s Edmonton. Civic boosters and business elites were finally successful in mobilizing the idea that a new football field would alleviate ‘urban blight’ in neighbouring working-class communities. This was one of the arguments used to secure city funding for the stadium.  

The first of our key findings was to trace how those blue-collar, racially diverse communities in the vicinity of the stadium were deemed expendable by the late 1960s. To understand this mid-20thcentury development, the onset of colonial settlement in the 1870s must be considered. Treaty 6 was signed under conditions of manufactured famine and disease for Cree nations in 1876. This treaty functioned as a form of land theft as the settler idea of private property was imposed in the Edmonton area. Colonial settlement was made possible through successive waves of resource extraction. The stadium site was privately mined for coal from the 1880s until 1901 and a federal penitentiary operated on the site between 1906 and 1920, profiting from forced prison labour. 

This discovery illustrates a second key finding in this research. Carcerality, or the logics of control, surveillance, and criminalization, is a key to the workings of settler colonialism. Incarcerating Indigenous nations on reserves in the late 1800s was a precursor to the federally administered carceral presence on the prairies in the early 1900s. One century later, Commonwealth Stadium has been used since 2020 in the winter months to shelter houseless folks in over-securitized, warehouse-like conditions. The houseless population in Edmonton is significantly and disproportionately Indigenous. Since the Great Depression, the stadium site has been used for professional sport. In 1930, the former prison site was leased to the city to provide recreational sports fields. Clarke Stadium was built in 1938, as professional men’s football was established in Edmonton.  

A third key finding is how ‘participation’ discourses have been mobilized to secure government support for professional sport stadium construction. In the 1930s, profit-seeking civic boosters relied upon classist and eugenicist playground movement rhetoric, touting the moral goods realized by the provision of public recreation to secure almost free land tenure. In the 1970s, the Commonwealth Games Foundation suggested the Games’ facilities should be turned over for affordable public use after the Games. Despite the promotion strategy of ‘participation’ there was little indication that Commonwealth Stadium was ever developed for significant recreational activities. Rather, the main tenant of this facility was always intended to be the CFL’s Edmonton Eskimos (now Edmonton Elks). 

In the post-war years of the mid-twentieth century, white middle-class residents left central Edmonton for a growing suburbia. Racially diverse, working-class communities remained affordable places to live in the central core of the city. They also became targets for city planners, as civic boosters mobilized urban renewal discourses in the lead up to the stadium decision.  

A fourth and final key finding from this project was the central role sport stadia policy debate had in this process of removal and dispossession. From the late 1950s through the 1970s, advocates of stadium development (primarily professional men’s sport representatives) sought to portray these neighbourhoods and their residents as dysfunctional and dangerous. This rhetoric contributed to convincing Edmontonians to fund the building of Commonwealth Stadium. Hundreds of public housing units were destroyed, and community leagues were lost in 6 central neighbourhoods. The ‘urban blight’ that stadium development was meant to improve, was merely exacerbated while the professional Edmonton CFL franchise was able to move into their new state of the art facility.

A strength of this project is its insistence that sport research take seriously its role (both historically and currently) in the (ongoing) dispossession upon which the nation of Canada was founded and continues to function. It demonstrates the importance of historicizing sport infrastructure developments as settler colonial projects. 

One of the limitations of this kind of structural critique is that it is difficult to operationalize these types of insights in policy situations, especially under governmental demands for short term evaluation goals. 

Next steps 

Popular histories of sport in Edmonton have told a celebratory story. With this counternarrative, we have shed light on some of the violent processes of settler colonization and its related carceral tactics in this story of the Commonwealth Stadium site. The CFL’s Edmonton Elks have been lauded for the reconciliatory act of changing their formerly racist team name. However, what this analysis teaches us is that to significantly unsettle sport infrastructure development requires next steps that involve critical historicizing and structural analysis to go beyond mere surface changes. Understanding what is at stake for new sport facilities needs interrogation that seriously considers structures of settler colonialism, racial capitalism, white supremacy, and heteropatriarchy. 

Funding acknowledgement 

This blog draws on research supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council and Sport Canada as part of the Sport Participation Research Initiative.  

In the snow-covered landscapes of Canada, where winter sports reign supreme, a quiet change is trying to take root; one that seeks to empower Indigenous youth through the world of snowboarding. Spearheaded by Canada Snowboard’s Indigenous Program, this initiative aims not only to introduce more Indigenous athletes to the sport but also foster a sense of community, cultural pride, and opportunity for growth. 

“My goal is to have more Indigenous athletes, more Indigenous representation, especially within Canada because at Canada Snowboard we strive to be the world’s leading snowboard nation,” says Canada Snowboard Sport Program Coordinator Quinn Thomas, a driving force behind the program’s revitalization efforts.   

The Indigenous program’s journey began in 2015 with the establishment of the First Nation Snowboard Team, which later evolved into the Indigenous Life Sport Academy (ILSA). Since then, the program has undergone a revamp, driven by a passionate commitment to increase Indigenous representation within the snowboarding community. As Canada Snowboard strives to be a global leader in snowboarding, it recognizes that achieving this goal requires embracing and celebrating the diversity of Indigenous cultures. 

At the heart of the Indigenous Program’s mission is the belief in Indigenous leadership guiding Indigenous youth. 

 
Participants in the “Liam & Friends” event (Alexa Pepper/COC)

“We want to have Indigenous leaders leading Indigenous youth. We want to honour and preserve their way of doing things. That coupled with information from Canada Snowboard on how to deliver content, how to build athletes, how to get more people snowboarding,” says Thomas. “Essentially developing Indigenous coaches so that they can also develop Indigenous athletes.” 

Thomas, who is Métis on his paternal side, believes this collaborative approach emphasizes mutual respect and partnership, allowing Indigenous communities to shape the program according to their unique needs and values. 

The program’s structure mirrors Canada Snowboard’s general coaching program, with a focus on building community coaching. Thomas developed a community coach program that’s currently in the trial stages through the Coaching Association of Canada’s (CAC) locker, and its aim is to show that snowboarding “isn’t just for competition, it’s recreational too.” Its goal is to make it easier for people in rural communities to have access to resources and coaching knowledge, and to continue to develop without having to travel. 

The community coach program is part of Thomas’ 5-year roadmap. The ultimate goal? From community coach workshops to Canadian Association of Snowboard Instructors (CASI) instructor courses, the program aims to equip Indigenous coaches with the skills and knowledge to instruct and mentor youth in their communities.  

By starting with instruction and community coaching, the program aims to create a solid foundation for aspiring athletes to explore the sport at their own pace, whether for recreation or competition. Essentially breaking down barriers and fostering inclusivity in winter sports.  

Collaboration with organizations such as the Indigenous Sport Council of Alberta has been instrumental in furthering these initiatives. By forging partnerships with entities like the Edmonton Ski Club, efforts have been made to increase access to snowboarding, allowing more families to experience the joy of the sport. While still in its early stages, the partnership with the Indigenous Sport Council of Alberta shows a promising beginning.  

However, the journey is not without its challenges. Thomas says accessibility remains a significant barrier, particularly in regions where access to snowboarding facilities is limited or cost prohibitive.  

“Like anything past the lesson stage of things, it gets more difficult to go to a ski hill,” notes Thomas. “And I think the industry really pushes people towards the resorts, but all you really need to go snowboard is a hill and the will to walk up and down and do a couple of turns.” 

Native Youth Outdoors snowboard clinic, 2023 (Emily Sullivan via Liam Gill Instagram)

To address this, Thomas is exploring innovative solutions such as the creation of hike parks in urban centers and gear libraries to provide affordable access to equipment. Thomas is also looking at building strong partnerships with provincial and territorial Aboriginal sport bodies and snowboard associations as another key strategy for expanding the program’s reach. By collaborating with existing organizations and community leaders, the program can leverage local expertise and resources to support Indigenous participation in snowboarding. 

“We want to keep letting them know that the sport is here, and we want you to come and snowboard,” Thomas says. “And with this coaching program, we want to give the communities the tools to run it on their own.” 

Also instrumental in bringing snowboarding to Indigenous communities is the only Indigenous male athlete on Canada’s national snowboard team, Liam Gill.  

“He [Liam] does a lot for the community, but he does it on his own,” notes Thomas. “He and his family are amazing.” 

Gill, a 20-year-old halfpipe athlete, is a member of the Dene First nation Liidlii Kue in the Northwest Territories. After competing in the 2022 Olympic Games in Beijing, he drew the attention and support of Indigenous communities across the nation.  

Following the 2022 Games, Gill has been ‘paying it forward’ by helping Indigenous youth try snowboarding. First on his own in the N.W.T, then near Banff at the Sunshine Ski Resort. In May 2023 with the help of a legacy grant from the Canadian Olympic Committee, Gill was able to bring kids to a private ‘Liam and Friends’ event. Along with having fun, Gill’s goal was to help make snowboarding accessible to Indigenous youth, regardless of financial barriers.  

“By travelling to the Northwest Territories, Liam brought snowboarding up there and he’s shown the community some of the things we’ve been talking about,” Thomas explains. “Like how you can find a hill and do a few turns… they showed you could use a snowmobile with a bucket on the back to tow people up the hill, or hike or walk up and then you can just slide around. That’s the magic of snowboarding.” 

Thomas knows firsthand the impact of seeing someone with a similar background achieving success. Reflecting on a time when he was at an event called the Gathering and was approached by a young athlete after giving the land acknowledgement.  

“They thought it was awesome to see someone like me, who is also like them, leading something. It was probably one of the most inspiring things for me and it’s what also helps me to drive this program and keeping figuring it out how we make it even better.” 

Not an easy feat but Canada Snowboard is solid on their commitment. And as this roadmap unfolds over the next 5 years, its impact is poised to extend far beyond the slopes, leaving an indelible mark of empowerment and accessibility within Indigenous communities across Canada. 

‘Girls’ Pole Push Competition at the Dene Games Competitions’, Arctic Winter Games 2010, Grande Prairie Alberta, March 2010 (Photo: Michael Heine)

Imagine what sport in Canada might look like had Indigenous peoples and their cultures not been colonized? Imagine how Canadians might understand who they are and their relationship to each other if Indigenous sports and games were part of their daily lives? Imagine what values and beliefs Indigenous sports and games might teach Canadians today? Sadly, these questions that invert history are hypotheticals because colonialism, and the settler colonialism that followed, caused serious harm to Indigenous cultures.

Korpreno Tom or Sealing Tom using a harpoon (Photo: Benjamin W. Leeson)

The 19th and 20th century were incredibly hard for the First Nations, Métis, and Inuit peoples in Canada. During that time, they had to make the difficult transition from their land-based lifestyles to living on reserves and settlements, which were poorly resourced. They struggled through disease and starvation. Many of them watched their children being sent far away to residential schools, where they were provided with an impoverished education. Or, through the Sixties Scoop, their children were taken from their homes and placed with white families, never to be seen again. Nearly every Indigenous person wrestled with their loss of language, culture, and identity, in addition to poverty and poor mental and physical health, resulting in a phenomenon called “intergenerational trauma” (also referred to as transgenerational trauma or historical trauma) that Indigenous peoples are working through today.

The state used Euro-Canadian sports to both hasten the process of Indigenous assimilation and to make it complete. Government and church leaders, along with the white middle-class reformers who led the development of Canada’s fledgling sport system, widely believed their version of sports would help civilize the masses and produce a hard-working, patriotic citizenry. They believed their sports were especially productive for socializing Indigenous peoples into Canadian culture because, in their racist imagination, Indigenous peoples were biologically ‘naturally’ good athletes who would willingly take up the new sport forms and, in doing so, readily abandon their traditions, as if Indigenous physical practices were hobbies and not the deep connective tissue that sustained their ways of life and their connections to land. The government even formalized this dogma when, in 1884, it enacted the Potlatch Law through Section 141 of the Indian Act, a federal statute that (still) governs all matters concerning Indian status, bands, and reserves in Canada.

Potlaches, a gift-giving feast that was traditionally used to mark a variety of important milestones and occasions in West Coast tribes and customs, and as a way of celebrating life, were banned first; even though they were a vital part of west coast Indigenous cultures. Other ceremonial practices, like the sun dances that were central to Indigenous cultures on the prairies, were soon added to the list. To fill the void, the government encouraged Indigenous peoples to play Euro-Canadian sports instead. This is when “Indian Sports Days” emerged on reserves; they were usually held in conjunction with national holidays and treaty-day celebrations to reinforce the connection between sports and patriotism. In other words, from a statist point of view, making Indigenous peoples participate in Euro-Canadian sports was important for cultural repression and replacement.

Indigenous peoples did engage in sports and many, especially boys and men (who had more opportunities to play and compete), succeeded in spite of the hard obstacles in their way. The long list of names that comprise the Tom Longboat Awards, established in 1951, is an obvious reminder of their constant presence and achievements in Canadian sport. At the same time, the Awards’ history also demonstrates how much things have changed for Indigenous peoples in sport. The federal government through Indian Affairs created the Awards to stimulate assimilation by rewarding athletes who excelled at Euro-Canadian sports. But by the early 1970s, as Indigenous peoples began to exert their self-determination more broadly, they wanted greater control of the Awards to promote their own messages about integration.

Open air exercises at Mission Indian School under direction of Provincial Recreational instructors, Dec. 1945 (Photo: Jack Long)

The nomination letter for Doug Skead, from the Wauzhushk Onigum Nation (formerly Rat Portage Band near Kenora, Ontario), who would be named the 1971 national Award recipient, is a case in point. His nominator, Peter Kelly, writing on behalf of Grand Council Treaty No. 3, the political organization representing Treaty 3 interests in northwestern Ontario and eastern Manitoba, described Skead as a role model for his people, not because he had acculturated as the state hoped, but because he represented “the Indian person who will always remain undefeated,” thus using a common sports reference to make a strong statement about what “undefeated” meant to them. Kelly explained that Skead had come “through the demoralizing era of residential schools, the tough life of a trapper, guide and wood cutter, and the destructive experiences of alcohol, to become the manager of his band’s corporation and captain of the hockey team he co-founded 20 years before.” When asked by a reporter what advice he would give to youth, Skead, 41 years old, said “hold on to their culture and speak their native language” (cited in Forsyth, 2020).

Indigenous sport has grown tremendously since the 1970s. There are now more Indigenous-only events and more recognition and support for Indigenous sports and Indigenous participation in sports than ever before. The North American Indigenous Games (NAIG) signifies this growth. First held in 1990 in Edmonton, Alberta, the NAIG functioned for many years on a shoe-string budget and struggled with administrative capacity. That it survived those early years was due mostly to Indigenous leaders who were intent on providing their youth with an opportunity to experience competition in a culturally affirming environment. More than 30 years later, the NAIG is now the largest multi-sport gathering for Indigenous youth on the continent as well as an institutionalized part of the Canadian sport system supported by all 3 levels of government and major corporations. As with any system, there are still important challenges to address, which means sport and government leaders need to remain alert to the broader factors that shape Indigenous sport in Canada.

What follows are 2 key advancements, along with their continuing challenges, that have occurred over the past 50 years:

1) Strengthening the Indigenous sport system

In Canada, there exists an Indigenous sport system that is separate from, but connected to, the mainstream sport system. The term “mainstream” refers to the traditional Euro-Canadian or prevailing system of sport in Canada, made up of national, provincial and territorial, and community sport organizations. The relationship between the two can be visualized as a ‘double helix.’ Just as the physical structure of DNA is made of 2 independent strands that are supported by cross-links forming a ladder-like shape, Canadian sport is comprised of an Indigenous sport system and a mainstream sport system that connect at relevant points, creating possibilities for each system to benefit from each other, resulting in a stronger ladder. Even though the Indigenous sport system has been in place for more than a half century, there remains a general lack of knowledge about it, which makes it harder for Indigenous sport leaders to secure the resources they need to serve their peoples and communities, as well as support mainstream partners in their efforts to better serve Indigenous needs and interests.

The Indigenous sport system, as a separate system with governing bodies, rules, and events, emerged in the early 1970s, when Fitness and Amateur Sport, the precursor to Sport Canada, was looking to increase the participation rates of ‘disadvantaged’ Canadians in organized sports and identified Indigenous people as a group needing specific attention. The result was the Native Sport and Recreation Program, which was created to increase sport and recreation opportunities for Indigenous people on and off reserves. From 1972 to 1981, the program flourished as Indigenous organizers throughout the country coordinated local, regional, and national activities in a wide range of events that addressed pressing community issues stemming from colonialism, like the alarming suicide rates, substance abuse, high drop-out rates of students, and violence among families. Even though the program flourished, it was terminated in March 1981 when the federal government shifted its priorities from mass participation to elite sport development.

With the new focus on competitive outcomes, reviewers of the Native Sport and Recreation Program concluded that the range of pursuits fostered by Indigenous organizers like ‘cultural’ activities versus organized sports was outside the scope of initiatives the funding was meant to support and that the programs developed by Indigenous organizers would not produce the high-performance results desired by the federal government. During that time, however, Indigenous sport organizations were established in each province and territory with the mandate to develop activities within their regions. Those organizations are the forerunners to the Provincial and Territorial Aboriginal Sport Bodies (PTASBs) that today comprise the membership of the Aboriginal Sport Circle (ASC), the national voice for Indigenous sport in Canada.

Today, the power imbalance, and the unequal access to resources, knowledge, and capacity, between the Indigenous sport system and the mainstream sport system has been partially addressed in that there is more consistent support for PTASBs and the ASC than before. Strengthening the Indigenous sport system will require governments and other funders to adjust the way they support Indigenous sport by providing multi-year agreements to stop the annual cycle of uncertainty, as well as foster collaboration across government jurisdictions, like sport, education, and health, so that more Indigenous peoples can use sport to address the critical issues they face.

2) Revitalizing traditional Indigenous sports

Tom Longboat (1887-1949), a Canadian runner, standing beside trophies on April 22, 1907. Longboat was one of the best marathon runners in the world during the decade before WWI. (Photo: Charles A. Aylett, Libraries and Archives Canada, C-014090.)

Prior to European settlement, Indigenous peoples had their own sports and games. Their activities, rooted in their land-based lifestyles, spirituality, and views of the universe, were perfectly geared for life on the land. How many Indigenous sports and games there were prior to European settlement is hard to say. Each Indigenous nation, community, and family would have had their own practices, some of which would have been shared across groups and regions, as they travelled from one place to the next meeting, greeting, negotiating, and engaging in competition, as well as ceremony, with other Indigenous peoples.

Present-day language statistics provide one indication of how diverse Indigenous physical cultural practices might have been. Using 2021 survey data, Statistics Canada reported that over 70 Indigenous languages are still spoken in Canada, though that number is decreasing at a worrisome rate, with 4.5% fewer Indigenous people reporting they could carry on a conversation in an Indigenous language and 7.1% fewer Indigenous people reporting an Indigenous language as the first language they learned at home (down from 2016 data). Those statistics are even more distressing in light of UNESCO’s 2010 assessment that all Indigenous languages in Canada are endangered, which prompted the federal government to create the Indigenous Languages Act in 2019 to preserve, promote, and revitalize them. The number of languages still in use today is important because it indicates how many different Indigenous nations are still present and their determination to each keep their language alive. Each nation would have also engaged in their own collection of sports and games, which means Indigenous physical culture prior to colonization, much like Indigenous languages, would have been extremely rich and varied.

Though colonialism has extinguished much of Indigenous physical culture, some of that culture is still seen today. The Haudenosaunee (Mohawk) game of lacrosse is one example. While most non-Haudenosaunee people will know of the competitive version, the game that Montrealer William George Beers appropriated from the Haudenosaunee in the latter half of the 1800s (and then banned from league play), few people may know that traditional forms of lacrosse are still practiced for ceremonial reasons at the community level. Lacrosse was never just about sport to the Haudenosaunee.

The games of the Inuit and Dene peoples in the far north are another example. They were worried about their youth losing their sense of identity, which was rooted in the land. Since they no longer relied on the land to sustain them, they transformed their sports and games into modern competitive formats to remind their youth about who they are and to instill pride in their culture. The Inuit and Dene Games, which are now part of the Arctic Winter Games, are an institutionalized part of the Canadian sport system.

Traditional Indigenous sports and games are still a vital part of Indigenous cultural transmission, though they too are endangered, perhaps even more so than Indigenous languages. But unlike Indigenous languages, there are no statistics that track how many Indigenous people engage in their sports and games today, where they learned how to play them (was it in the home, at school, or a community gathering?), how often they play or compete, or why they do so. The lack of information benefits settler colonialism, which is the ongoing removal of Indigenous peoples from their lands by erasing their cultures and identities. While Indigenous peoples throughout Canada are working hard to keep their cultures alive, there remains a significant amount of work to do where their traditional sports and games are concerned.

“When my sister and I were competing for Canada, it felt like the whole Indigenous population was on our shoulders,” says Dr. Sharon Anne Firth, a residential school and Indian Day School survivor who went on to compete in 4 Olympic Games. Dr. Firth discusses the topic of mental health, her experience as an Indigenous athlete, and what truth and reconciliation mean to her in the SIRCuit.

In Canada’s North, sport development opportunities for youth can be few and far between. Small population sizes, large distances between communities, and limited resources create barriers to sport programming. But partnerships between different sports offer a unique opportunity for youth to reap the benefits of participation in multiple sports. They can also increase participant pools and limit the burden placed on individual sport organizations.

There are 3 things on mental performance consultant Dr. Chantale Lussier’s radar when she thinks about inclusive approaches to mental health: the cultural (individualistic vs. collectivistic), the relational (intrapersonal vs. interpersonal), and the philosophical (secular vs. spiritual). “Mental health is the stuff that happens between us, not just the stuff that happens in us,” says Dr. Lussier.

Highlights:

The first National Day for Truth and Reconciliation took place on September 30, 2021. This day honours the survivors of the residential school system, their families and their communities. Shortly after the first National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, SIRC had the opportunity to speak with Dr. Sharon Anne Firth. Dr. Firth is a residential school and Indian Day School survivor. She’s also among the first Gwich’in Indigenous women, alongside her twin sister, Shirley, to compete in 4 winter Olympic Games. We spoke to Dr. Firth about the topic of mental health, her experience as an Indigenous athlete, and what truth and reconciliation mean to her. We also invited Dr. Chantale Lussier, a highly sought-after mental performance consultant, to be a part of this conversation. Drawing on our conversation, this article explores mental health considerations for Indigenous sport participants, and what those considerations mean for truth and reconciliation.

A conversation with Dr. Sharon Anne Firth (SAF)

SIRC: Tell me about how you got started in sport and what it did for your mental and physical health.

Sharon Firth headshot
Dr. Sharon Anne Firth, one of the first Gwich’in Indigenous women, alongside her twin sister, Shirley, to compete in 4 winter Olympic Games.

SAF: When my sister, Shirley, and I were first introduced to cross-country skiing in the North, we went out because it was fun and we got to meet new people, even in our community. Then it became an opportunity to travel and see the world. And both my sister and I grabbed on to it, because we came from a family of 13 and there was no way that we would ever be able to travel outside of Inuvik or the Northwest Territories.

And when we joined that sport, it taught us how to take care of ourselves, mentally and physically. It’s a sport that needs a lot of practice and imitation. And it’s important to understand why you’re doing it, what the training is all about, and what the training does for you in the long run. And when you’re in top physical condition, you feel amazing. And everything is easy and fun, and you love what you’re doing. So, it’s a healthy sport. And it’s a healthy way of keeping positive. And we really needed that.

SIRC: Why do you say that sport is something that you needed to keep healthy and positive?

SAF: You know, residential school and Indian Day School helped us in many ways, but it also destroyed us in many ways. It broke down our family unit. And some people benefited from the education, while others didn’t. I thought that I was pretty sound. I thought that I really had a strong healthy mind. But as I got older, I realized how damaged my mental health was due to the horrible, horrible, horrible beatings from the residential school and Indian Day School. And there were separations between Roman Catholic and Anglican students, and you couldn’t play with each other. The non-Indigenous people separated us and then we started finding fault in one another, whereas before we didn’t see those faults. We just saw our friends and family getting together. Even now, as Indigenous people, I think sometimes we have to work harder to be accepted. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why we have to work that hard to be accepted.

SIRC: How does it feel to be among the first Gwich’in Indigenous women, alongside your twin sister, to compete for Canada in the Winter Olympic Games?

A group of skiers competing in cross-country skiingSAF: If I go into a room, and nobody knows who I am, I deliberately don’t tell them about my career and my achievements because I want to see how I’m treated. And as soon as someone says, “Sharon’s a 4‑time Olympian,” everything changes. People look at me differently, and they treat me differently.

But not everybody’s going to make it to 4 Olympics. Not everybody’s going to be high on the podium. Not everybody’s going to get into sport. We’re not going to be good at everything. And a lot of times, I tore myself to pieces because my expectations of success were so high. When my sister and I were competing for Canada, it felt like the whole Indigenous population was on our shoulders. People watched us and because we didn’t win gold medals, maybe they thought we weren’t good enough.

So, my sister and I, we learned that, yes, we are representing our people. And it was an honour and privilege to go out there. And to always be open to talking with our people and not to push them aside, to remain humble, because they’re supporting us. And having that support from one another, our family, our communities, it helped us to achieve our potential on our own terms.

SIRC: What were some of the challenges you faced as an athlete? And how do these challenges play a role in mental health?

SAF: A lot of times when training, we didn’t have money to buy good quality food. And as poor athletes, sometimes we didn’t eat 3 square meals a day. So doing all that exercise without replacing the calories we lost, you know, it’s damaging. And it does create mental issues because you’re going to bed hungry. And I don’t know if other athletes experienced that, but I know we did.

Getting proper nutrition is a big barrier to physical and mental health for people in the North, and it can create an extra layer of stress for athletes. When we were growing up in Inuvik, all our fresh fruits and vegetables were sent up by barge and you had to eat all those foods before they went rotten. That’s less of an issue now, but food insecurity for communities in the North is still a big problem. And even down south, on the reserves there, they don’t have good water. And without clean water, you’re dead, so to speak, because then you turn to the junk food and the sugary drinks and things like that.

Another challenge is the lack of resources. In some northern communities, healthcare consists of a nursing station with 1 staff member. And that staff member might be a registered nurse or they might be a volunteer. It isn’t the same as down south. And I think the reserves are the same, they don’t have the resources.

SIRC: What can sport organizations do to support the mental wellbeing of Indigenous participants?

SAF: My sister always told me, “We love the human race.” So, let’s show it. We can’t do it ourselves; we need one another. If someone is reaching out for help, we can’t tell them to come back tomorrow and wait to see what happens. Give what you can now because who knows what tomorrow will bring?

My goal since September 30, the first National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, has been to not discriminate against anyone and to accept everyone. For me, it’s important to be as positive as I can. And I’m not always going to be positive, I’m not going to always be happy because we aren’t perfect people. You can’t expect perfection from people because we’re all imperfect. We need to re-learn and re-teach ourselves about friendship because we all want friends.

And sports and education go hand in hand. So, with mental health issues I think it’s important to be very gentle with the information you bring forward, and how we talk to all races because Canada is a multicultural country. It’s important not to discriminate, because we’re all related in one way or another. Focus on the good that you see, not on the flaws. It’s about keeping your mind, heart and words healthy.

SIRC: Do you have any final thoughts you’d like to leave with our readers?

Group of indigenous people putting their hands in during a discussion.SAF: I remember from some time back, this elderly lady told me we have to blossom where we’re planted. We’re all searching for everything in the world today, and we aren’t going to get all the right answers. And that phrase, blossom where you’re planted, it’s powerful because you have to start thinking, “this is where I’m living, so I have to make the best of it.”

And as for the word “reconciliation,” I don’t even know what that means. With truth and reconciliation, I can seriously work on the truth side. Because we all want truth. So, if we’re going to be helping, we have to be honest with ourselves, and honest with the people we’re dealing with. And sometimes it’s very frightening. It’s very frightening because you think people are going to start judging you right then and there. But we need to really focus on ourselves and what we’re offering society honestly and truthfully because people are going to make their own choice, whether it’s good or bad.

And I can’t think for anybody else. I don’t want to give something I don’t know. All I’m doing in this area is speaking from my own experience. This truth and reconciliation, it’s really confusing, and you can no longer sweep anything under the rug, because some of us don’t have rugs. So, I’m just going to end on that note of ‘we have to blossom where we’re planted.’

Insights from Dr. Chantale Lussier (CL)

SIRC: How do you think mental health is typically viewed or conceptualized in Canada?

Dr. Chantale Lussier headshot
Dr. Chantale Lussier, a mental performance consultant and the Founder and CEO of Elysian Insight.

CL: I think I’m still trying to understand and define what mental health means to me. A lot of times when we say mental health, we’re actually referring to mental illness or “dis-ease,” and I would put a little dash in the middle of that word. And what I mean by that is that we use the word mental health most often when we’re struggling, and when we’re not okay. But what does mental health look like when I’m well, or when I’m in alignment? I want to try to get away from only looking at mental health in terms of dis-ease, because even though we all struggle, I don’t think human beings are broken. And so, when we’re talking about mental health, I’m always looking for the resilience, the strength, the hope. What is it that makes us come back to life? One word that’s really important to me these days is vitality. When do I feel that life force in me? And how can I cultivate that more? And to me, that’s mental health.

And I think, especially in the Western world, and certainly in southern Canada, we tend to be very much an individualistic society. And we forget that mental health also has a collective component. Do I feel connected? Do I feel like I belong? Do I feel accepted? There are components of mental health that occur at the individual level, but I think we forget that mental health also has a social component. And when we’re thriving, it isn’t just individually, it’s also interpersonally.

SIRC: Hearing Sharon discuss some of the challenges she faced, how do you think access to necessities such as clean drinking water and adequate nutrition play a role in the mental health of Indigenous sport participants?

CL: It’s so important to hear what Sharon just talked about because there are many Canadians who don’t even have access to clean water or who struggle with food insecurities. And what do we tell athletes and coaches? Take care of your bodies. Eat healthy. And when I think of mental health, a lot of times we forget the brain is part of our bodies. So as Sharon talked about, if we aren’t even accessing, for example, good water, but we have a lot of access to pop… our blood sugar might not be consistent, our hydration levels might not feel right. And maybe our stress level is high because we don’t know what our next meal is going to be. And if we’re working in mental health fields, we can’t take for granted that 3 meals a day is the norm for everybody. We can’t take for granted that fresh fruit and vegetables are the norm for everybody. And we’ve got to really consider what’s happening at the brain health level, as well as the cognitive and emotional health of people.

SIRC: What else might we need to consider when it comes to supporting Indigenous athletes’ mental health and wellbeing?

A female athlete in a locker room dealing with mental healthCL: Mental health literacy is really important, and we’re learning it either formally or informally. We’re learning things every day through other people’s modeling of what is or isn’t important when it comes to mental health. For example, I grew up in a family that wasn’t perfect. There were some traumas in my family and some people who struggled with mental health. And I learned certain things about that. So, when we’re talking about barriers to mental health, the first thing we need to ask is: What did I learn growing up (whether it’s through sports, through school, or through my family, that either made it okay to talk about mental health, or that made it taboo)? And are there barriers to even asking for help? The things we learn in our families and in our society about addiction or trauma or grief stay with us. And the experiences that Sharon described with discrimination, residential school, breakdowns in family systems, intergenerational trauma… these are experiences that play into the mental health and wellness of many Indigenous athletes. This is where we must attend to and listen to the communities we want to help.

SIRC: How might the lens we use to approach mental health with Indigenous sport participants need to look different? What’s needed to make current approaches to mental health more inclusive?

CL: For me, there are 3 big things on my radar as a mental performance consultant that I need to continue to be attuned to and learn more about. The first is the idea that there are places and cultures that tend to be more individualistic, and there are places and cultures that tend to be more collectivist. Canada in general tends to be thought of as an individualistic society, and often Canadian approaches to mental health are viewed through an individualistic lens. And I could be wrong, but I don’t think many Indigenous people would view themselves and their communities in an individualistic way. I think right there, that’s where we’re missing the boat when it comes to helping people from diverse backgrounds and cultures in Canada. From cultures where the family and the social structure is such a vital part of identity, let alone mental health. 

NWT athletes playing doubles in badmintonSecond, I think a lot of the field of psychology has been focused on the intrapersonal. It’s been focused on the individual, and that person’s thoughts, feelings, experience and identity. And as a result, the interventions that we use to support mental health tend to be very individually focused as well. And it was only when I was exposed to couples and family systems through a counselling course that I realized mental health doesn’t have to be strictly focused on the individual. Mental health can also be looked at in terms of the couple, in terms of the family unit, in terms of a sports team. Sports teams can bolster mental health because they provide a place of belonging, connection and acceptance. But they can just as easily damage our mental health if they’re toxic, unsafe spaces. So that’s something else that’s been on my mind is that intra- versus inter-personal because as individuals, we aren’t completely disconnected from others. We live in family systems. We live in communities. We play on teams. And mental health is the stuff that happens between us, not just the stuff that happens in us.

And the third thing that’s been on my radar, and that’s been a part of my own journey as a human being, is that my training in sports psychology was extremely secular. Frankly, it wasn’t multicultural at all. And as I started to expand my own knowledge, I took a course in counseling for multiculturalism. Because it’s a multicultural world out there, and as someone who works in the areas of mental health and performance, I need to be well equipped to meet people from many different cultures. And with that, of course, comes faith. Because culture and faith, depending on where we grew up, may or may not be significant. So, when I’m working with a new client, my intake form now includes questions about culture and faith. Did they grow up practising a certain faith? And is that faith important to them? Because for some people, their spiritual life might be an intrinsic part of how they do their sport, and of how they cultivate their mental wellbeing. 

SIRC: How do truth and reconciliation play a role in your work as a mental performance consultant?

CL: I’m slowly learning about what we’ve done in Canada. About residential schools. About the truth we’re barely starting to speak of. It’s such an important thing to remember, you know, when doctors take an oath, if I’m not mistaken, part of the doctor’s oath is do no harm. And I think when it comes to mental health professions, we need come back to that first and foremost. I can have the best of intentions in my heart as a practitioner, but as Sharon said, I’m a human being and I’m not going to be perfect. I need to listen and learn before I can intervene. But that requires courage for practitioners who want to help, right? Because it’s scary. I might make mistakes. I genuinely want to help my fellow human beings, but I’m not perfect. So, I always come back to how do I ensure first and foremost that I don’t harm another human being. And how can I really listen to their stories, to their needs. Because then maybe there’ll be an opportunity for me to be of genuine help.

Hear Drs. Lussier and Firth discuss mental wellness considerations for coaches in the Sport North coaching mini-series.

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