I thank the government for bringing the bill forward. As we know, this week we talked about gender-based violence. We had presentations on how it impacts our society, how it impacts all families—every member of the family. So I’m glad to see that this initiative has been taken, especially for young people going to university and college, and that these measures are happening. But I need to talk about prevention. The member from Nickel Belt alluded to education. I think that’s such an important piece in order to make sure that we can look to the future for eliminating or mitigating it not happening.

How are universities and colleges getting the best practices and standardized policies universally throughout the system so that there’s not a patchwork being done and everybody’s on board with the same topic and can proceed with the good work that this bill has started?

Meegwetch, Speaker. This afternoon, I would like to talk about schedule 3 of Bill 26, which amends the Ryerson University Act.

I know that we spoke about this earlier in second reading. We know the step that Bill 26 takes in the changing of the name of Ryerson University. We know that it’s only one step towards a fortified change. It is just that: one step.

We know Egerton Ryerson, the namesake of the university, was an architect of the Indian residential school system. We also know that not everybody knows that Indian residential schools instituted a system that was racist and that negatively impacted First Nations across what we know as Canada.

Indian residential schools stripped First Nations children of their cultural identity, their ways of life, their languages, but also, they inflicted physical and verbal harm. Not only that, they caused decades and decades of intergenerational trauma.

I think it’s important to acknowledge these issues. It’s important to know and understand the impacts of these Indian residential schools that are far-reaching for First Nations people and its nations. It’s also important to acknowledge and understand that they extend beyond a singular decade and place. These Indian residential schools, they impacted Indigenous nations. They impacted our nations for generations following, and need I remind this House, the last Indian residential school closed in 1997—1997, Speaker.

Following the decades of systemic racism, systemic oppression, facilitated by the government of Canada—and not only that, many churches across the country—we have to understand that First Nations came together to challenge their experiences in the courts. I talk about this because this schedule, schedule 3 of Bill 26, fulfills only one of the 94 calls to action from the truth and reconciliation report. And then, when I talk about the courts, the courts had previously mandated and allowed the abuse which survivors suffered from to occur.

But also, we have to understand that with strength and resiliency, survivors were able to have their collective experience recognized, which led to the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Throughout the years of hearing survivors’ stories, centering their voices, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission developed 94 calls to action. We have to know, Speaker, these calls to action are multi-faceted and work to redress the harm perpetuated by these Indian residential schools.

I’d also like to say that there are a few calls to action that I would like to highlight to acknowledge how reconciliation needs to go beyond just a namesake, beyond just changing the name of the university.

Call to action number 3 calls upon all levels of government to fully implement Jordan’s Principle. Jordan’s Principle is named after Jordan River Anderson, a young boy from Norway House Cree Nation, in his memory. Norway House is in northern Manitoba. The principle, recognized federally by the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal, issued that all First Nations children must have the same accessibility, the same availability of services as any other children in Canada.

Where I come from in northern Ontario, sometimes it feels like a different Ontario. Sometimes it feels like a different Canada. I say that because the First Nations in northern Ontario, in my riding—that accessibility, those human rights and that Jordan’s Principle are not being upheld.

Again, I talk about this because when you do only the minimal changes and not the systemic ones, it is the low-hanging fruit. I talk about that because every year, young people—as young as 13, 14 years old—leave their fly-in First Nation to attend high school in the south. Imagine: I know in the fall we all come out and speak about how our college-age university students leave for school, but it’s different in the north. Grade 9 and 10 students are leaving for high school, leaving home, the reason being that there are no high schools. Not every fly-in First Nation has high schools available because of the unwillingness of the federal government and the unwillingness of the provincial government to step up and provide comprehensive funding for their education. That’s how oppression and colonialism work. That’s how the long-lasting policies of both levels of government, when we talk about Indian residential schools, continue on, because they have to leave home every fall to attend high school.

The lives of these children and youth are sacred. They lack the support they receive, due to being hundreds or even thousands of kilometres away from their families, from their siblings, from their ways of life; from their language, identity and community. And they pay in full with their lives. I say that they pay in full with their lives because, between 2001 and 2011 in my riding, there were seven First Nations children that lost their lives in Thunder Bay while away from home for school. That’s just a way—it has become a way of life.

I’m going to mention some names that we’ve lost because we have no high schools in northern Ontario. I’m going to mention their ages and why these are the one who had to pay with their lives: Jethro Anderson, year 2000—he was 15 years old; Curran Strang, 2005—he was 18 years old; Paul Panacheese, 2006; Robyn Harper, 2007, 18 years old; Reggie Bushie, 2007—he was 15 years old; Kyle Morrisseau, 2009—he was 17 years old; Jordan Wabasse, 2011—he was 15 years old. Sometimes these youth, these children, these First Nations students are referred to as the Seven Fallen Feathers, and I talk about them because that’s what happens.

I know this bill talks about how they want to change, but those are small steps. We need to do better.

Changing the name of the university is important, but reconciliation requires more than words. Reconciliation needs to have an impact with action. Call to action 12 from the TRC identifies that provincial governments need to “develop culturally appropriate early childhood education programs for Aboriginal families”—this despite the fly-in First Nations schools already being inadequately funded, being limited in resources and infrastructure.

I always talk about this. We know that there’s no clean drinking water in 14 First Nations in my riding. A First Nation like Neskantaga is on its 28th year of boil-water advisories. First Nations are expected to do more with less. I’ve seen how they’re treated. I’ve seen how we’ve been treated. We do not matter. That’s how the systems are built.

For example, when a government does not value education workers in First Nation communities, they do not value children’s education. It is the government’s obligation under TRC call to action 12 to support “culturally appropriate early childhood education for Aboriginal families.”

Call to action 16 identifies supporting post-secondary institutions “to create university and college degree and diploma programs in Aboriginal languages.” Reconciliation includes supporting programs that add language revitalization and education initiatives. We are losing our languages at a very fast rate. In 50 years’ time, in 100 years’ time, if we lose a language, I don’t know where we go. We can’t go back to another country. We are here. This is where we’ve been for thousands of years. You cannot continue to make it look as if you’re doing something without really doing anything. It has been done for years, and it has become a way of life for people.

It’s 2022. It’s not too late to look back and realize the inappropriateness of the name “Ryerson” at a university. Again, he was an architect—a school that’s supposed to protect, but a system that took away children from their loving families, a system that took away from their communities and destroyed the fabric of our nations. Schools where children died—even today, we are trying to locate our children and to bring them back home.

Even TMU acknowledged that, for years, they did not understand the concern of the community’s people, of the Indigenous people who worked and went to school at TMU—about the name. The neglect to acknowledge the harm behind the name shows how far the work has come and needed to come.

Work has always been placed on Indigenous people to advocate. We’re always the ones trying to reconcile. I’m always trying to reconcile—why am I the one trying to reconcile? Why, as First Nations, are we trying to reconcile? It should be the government; it should be up to the settlers of these lands to reconcile.

Reconciliation goes beyond namesake. Meegwetch for listening. Reconciliation is more than a name change.