Indigenous law in action
On our first week of law school, we were welcomed in one of the theatres, and they had a panel of people talking about what they got out of law school. They were all lawyers, and two were Indigenous women. One, I know, has gone on to become a judge. She wasn’t at that time, but I thought it was pretty amazing that a single Indigenous woman with a child went through law school and articles and had this really amazing practice because at that point in my life, I was 40-something; I was married, with a child in high school. I got it in my head that law school would be a good thing to do. So, it was really great to see somebody that I could so relate to. Then the other woman who was up there, she welcomed us in her language, and she sang us a song. My community speaks a dialect of that language, so I thanked her in the language from where I was in the theatre. In the theatre, I was about eye-level with the people on the stage, but she couldn’t see me because of the lighting. So, she was looking for me because we know each other. It was really funny when we got together afterwards because she welcomed me to law school. I was thinking, “Huh, I think I should be all right over here.”
Our first week of class, the school was still in swing space and other places because [Allard Hall] was being built. So, there wasn’t even a library. So, I didn’t know where I was going. So, I didn’t know where some of these buildings were, and there were a couple of us that went to the wrong class, and the professor looked at us and he said, “Well, if you’re not on the list, you’re in the wrong place, so you need to go to your class.” So, we left his class and thought, “Oh, golly, now we’re late.”
We found the right class, and we got there, and it was [an Indigenous professor] and I’m walking into her class late. So, we all sat down as soon as we could, and she looked at us—there were about five of us—and she said, “Well, now, you’re late now, aren’t you?” I thought, “Ooh.” I didn’t say anything. She said, “Well, I have to start over now, don’t I?” We didn’t say anything. So, she welcomed us in her language, and I thought, “Wow, that’s pretty amazing.” Then she said, “Who is here that can respond?” I looked around, and I’m the only visibly Indigenous person in the room, or that I could tell. It felt like, to me, she was looking right at me. So, I stood up, and I speak in our language, so I thanked her for welcoming us and welcomed her to Musqueam land. I said, “Thank you.” I said who I am, and I sat down. She taught the class.
What was amazing to me was that I was here at UBC Law School, and the 30 or so other students had witnessed Indigenous law in action. Then I thought, “I think I really could do this. I think I’ll be okay.” So, having her as a professor was amazing. It really helped.
Then I knew other Indigenous students. Well, there [were] only 11 in my first year, so we kind of all could figure out who each other was. So, we knew who the profs were that we could go to.
“You are the people that we have been waiting for”
In that second-year, there were, I think, 21 Indigenous or Métis students in our class. It was amazing. I went to the first First Nations Law Student Association meeting, and we saw how many there were, and the outgoing president and third-year rep, I think it was, they looked at all of the young people that were there from first year, and one of them said, “I want you to know that you are the people that we have been waiting for.” I thought, “Wow.” He said, “It’s going to get better. It really is.”
It did. We actually had enough students that we could feel safe enough to do an Aboriginal Awareness Week because we didn’t have one in the first year. I’m pretty sure we didn’t have one the first year we were there. The upper years were telling us about how it could be challenging and difficult to be Indigenous here and that they knew a lot of people that weren’t self-identifying if they weren’t visibly [Indigenous]. It was kind of awful to hear that we couldn’t have any celebrations because it wasn’t a safe place to do so. I was low-key shocked about it because in my whole world, UBC wasn’t somewhere where you thought you couldn’t be who you are or you couldn’t have an awareness week because, really, that’s what I think that racism and prejudice comes from, is ignorance.
So, a way to counteract that is to bring education. So, we brought in people to speak to the students. We had [a] Grand Chief who’s a huge proponent of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People. We brought in cultural people to perform. We had someone come in to make bannock when they gave free food out to students because, I mean, nothing brings students out more than free food. So, that was good.
I guess I was in second part of second year, and by then we were in the new space. It was really beautiful to be in this new space and to know that they had the Musqueam welcome figure and that there was more connection.
“You can’t lose sight of who you are in here”
There were about four or five women that all came. One had already been here for a few years because she had been doing her [degree] part-time and raising children at the same time. So, we all kind of knew each other, and we stuck together—went for the lunch on Tuesdays, and sometimes we studied together. One time, we were all in the same class, and it was was one of those black letter classes. So, it was really good that we were all in there together because one in particular, she and I just really kind of stuck together to make it through.
One day, in first year—the second part of first year—this one young woman came. We were by the Rose Garden, and she was upset, and I said, “What is wrong?” She said, “Oh my God, I can’t believe what they’re saying to me about our Aboriginal rights and where they come from.” I go, “What? What are you talking about?” She had misinterpreted what they had said. I said, “Okay, take a breath. We know that our rights come before the Canadian Constitution. Our rights aren’t derived from the Constitution. They come to each of us, each of our nations and our language groups, from the Creator. The Creator is who placed us here, now, on our territories.” She went, “That’s right. So, they said it wrong.” I said, “Yes, and that’s what you have to remember, that our law is separate from their law. You can’t lose sight of that. You can’t lose sight of who you are in here.” She was like, “Okay, okay. Got it. I’m okay now.”
So, sometimes you were just there for support, and because I was older than them, I kind of felt like I was [an] auntie, you know? One young woman, when I was third year and she was first year, and she was so distraught. It was hard for her to be in first year. She came from out of town. She didn’t have her community and her family support, and she was struggling in property. I wasn’t a fan of property either, and I said, “Well, what’s going on?” She said, “Well, I’m having a hard time, and I don’t understand this and this,” and I said, “Okay. I have some extra books that I got when I took property, just to help me understand that. I’ll bring them, and you’ll be fine. You made it in here. You’re going to be fine. All you have to do is make it through first year. They’re weeding us out first year. All you have to do is make it, and you’ll be fine.” “Okay, okay.”
So, I bring her some books that I had around that would help explain property in an easier manner, and she made it through, and she’s really happy. So, it was really nice to know that that’s how I was able to help people because sometimes, as you know, it’s just difficult to be here. Sometimes, it’s just hard, and you just need someone to remind you that, “Hey, you made it here. You might have self-identified to have them look at your application differently, but they’re not going to make it easier once you’re here. You still have to take the same class.”
[They want] to individualize us all, all the time—turn us into individuals—but we’re breaking those links and linking arms with one another. It’s a complicated place.
“That’s what our people do”
[In constitutional law], the professor asked—there [were] three women and a man that were all together, and we were all mature students—the professor asked us what case law did we think we needed to consider. So, we told her, and she said, “Oh, the students aren’t going to read that many,” and we were like, “What?” She said, in her view, students would only read X number of pages, and that was going to be too many pages. I thought, “All right then. Why are you asking me if you already know what you’re going to do?” So, we just said, “Okay,” and the professor did what she thought.
The three of us had a hard time in constitutional, and she actually said, “Okay, let’s meet after class, and we’re going to go over these.” So, I thought that was really great. So, she met with us, and we talked about what our issues were, and she started explaining things in another way. We got what her points were, and I said—because we were talking about Aboriginal rights—I said, “What other rights that are protected by the Constitution have to be proven?” She had been talking about Aboriginal rights, and she stopped and she looked at me, and she went, “Oh, none.” I [thought], “Hmm, interesting.”
They were going to split up Constitutional 100 into those three terms and that there would be a whole section on Aboriginal or Indigenous. We thought it was great because we had one week when I was [all] in first year. What we didn’t know, but [one of the professors] let us know in one of our ILSA meetings [was that], “All the professors are going to meet in this one room” – it was in one of the lecture halls – “and they’re going to determine whether or not they’re going to add this Indigenous rights section to constitutional. They’re going to decide, and I want you to know that there are people that don’t want it. So, I want all of you to join me in that room, and I want you to be present because if they’re going to say no, I want them to look at all your little brown faces, and I want them to say no to you.” I [thought], “Wow, she’s pretty fierce,” although I had known that—I took anything I could with [her].
So, we all went and sat there with her. All these professors, and they’re all mostly older white man, are saying things about why it shouldn’t be. I think they didn’t really want to look at us, and [the professor who brought us], as you know, is so passionate, and she made me stand up and said, “This woman here comes from the family of the late, great Chief,” and she made another guy from [another] band reserve stand up. “This one here comes from…” she said our names, “comes from the community upon whose land we stand, who have put a welcome figure in the front of this hall to welcome all of you here.” Essentially, she’s saying, “This is who you’re saying no to.” I was like, “Wow, I bet you they’re not going to say no now.” But man, she was our hero. Yeah, she was really good.
That’s really, essentially, what our people do, right? So, it was good that [she] made everyone gather up together, and we all went in there together as a group, and we all sat together as a group, and we didn’t have to say anything. We just had to be there.
By then, I think when I got to third year, the incoming class had 20 as well, or 21 or 22, so we had at least 50 Indigenous students in Allard Hall, and that was amazing. So, I’d be in classes with other Indigenous people, and sometimes there’d be a few of us in a class that all knew each other. One of the women that was in our class had just taken in, to raise, her grandson. So, she had children at home, and she had this grandson, and she was going to law school. So, her babysitter—something happened, and she couldn’t come to class. [The professor] told her, “Just bring the baby.” So, she brought the baby, and it was seminar, so there was only about eight of us in that class. She came in and apologized that her babysitter had fallen through, and she sat beside me, and she was my friend. I said, “Oh, here, let me hold the baby, and you take notes for us.” I gave her my laptop, and I held the baby.
All the women in the class—it was mostly women—there was a couple of guys, I think—but nobody cared that there was a baby in the class. [We’re just] being supportive. She needs to be in this class. So, that’s what we did. [Another] time, it wasn’t her baby—it was her son who had Pro-D day or something. So, he came in, but he had her phone, so he was playing games. I have nephews, so I had games on my phone. I don’t even know what they are. So, he used my phone, too, when he got tired of his mom’s phone—[it’s] just the kind of thing that we did for each other.