— A Gathering for Remembrance and Reflection — June.06.2026

My own personal reflections on the day and the event. As an event that is fairly new compared to its sister remembrance day, for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, also referred to as Red Dress Day.

This day has been referred to as Blue Jean Jacket Day since around 2023, when some Indigenous Groups in western Canada began honouring the men and boys. And I don’t mean to leave out 2-Spirit folks either, in both circumstances, I feel that can be a whole different animal when it comes to Indigenous people who identify differently.

I really just thought I might share some thoughts and feelings that came up from the event posted above—our interactions as a group, and organization, and on a more personal level for myself. Granted, events and gatherings such as this can be triggering for people, totally understandable. We all need to sit with this discomfort and work through it. We had some interesting comments and interactions with several people who stopped by to ask questions. As I served as Firekeeper for most of the event, I was interacting with those approached in respectful ways and those who wanted to ask and learn. One man asked, “So, I am just a settler?” I responded by asking, “Are you settled, or willing to settle?” and continued, “You can always be an ally too, nothing wrong with doing the right thing.”

I truly feel that most “settlers” should feel pretty unsettled with some of the atrocities that have been committed in their name by successive governments since Canada came into being, and even before that.

For myself, on a personal level, the real reflection came when a woman came forward to speak with me at the fire, as I explained the statistical difference between MMIWG and MMIMB and so on, she asked a very direct question, something to the effect of “Why does this happen?” but also phrased in the past tense (did). These are histories that are continuing to go untold, even in the era of “ Truth & Reconciliation.”

As I stood there with her, I began to think about it and offered some insights based on my own lived experiences and those of people I have lost through the years. I spoke gently, but plain and clear, and I didn’t go into horrible details of what ifs and mights. I just offered a glimpse and told her to think about what happens to girls when they go missing, and what might be different when boys get taken…

It was a difficult conversation, but it is necessary to feel these things and understand why we feel them too. The worst things you can imagine come to mind when children are affected by violence. Every Child Matters, and everyone is someone’s child.

I am an Indigenous man, First Nations, originally from Edmonton, AB, Treaty 6 Territory. My path to reconnection and rediscovery of my birth family, culture and community began a long time ago now. It feels like a lifetime ago when I learned first that I was adopted, and then shortly afterward that I also happened to be Native. Some of the things I have gone through and survived sometimes surprise me when I think about it. This journey of mine has been long and winding, but without it, I would have been another lost soul wandering this earth without direction.

I have been subject to police violence on numerous occasions, so many hits to the head that I have lost count. I mentioned to the lady who asked, “Have you heard of starlight tours? — Do you know what that is?” — She didn’t.

Those of us who have either experienced this or know anybody who has, it is a scary situation, and I have lost more than a few friends this way. When it happened to me one summer night, I was in Regina. I was driving and got pulled over, only a few blocks from where I was staying. Back in those days, I did not have my pardon yet, so my criminal history is the first thing that pops up on their screen, out-of-province plates, and on top of that, I was driving a rental car (another long story). A large majority of these experiences for me end a few feet from the side of the road, but this night, they wanted to teach me a lesson(Thankfully without the beating). Without more than a couple of questions, I was cuffed and thrown face down into the back seat of the cruiser, so I didn’t immediately see where we were going until I could get myself upright. It was a rough ride; eventually, all I could see was the glow of the city in the night sky. One cop says to the other, “I think we’re far enough.”

So they pull over, open the door, uncuff me, empty my pockets and take my sweater. The next thing he said was, “You’re lucky, city boy, we’ll let you keep your shoes… this time.” Forced me to sit cross-legged in the dirt, facing away from the cop car. Then they left, giggling and talking shit to each other as they walked away, jumped in the car and sped away.

It took me a couple of hours or so; I didn’t really keep track. At the edge of the city, I found my sweater in a pile next to a garbage can, along with my things, my money was gone. My phone had been left behind in my car. It was cold, but it was summer cold, late-night summer cold, when you’re exhausted, and hungry, you may understand how that feels. That was probably one of my first Prairie Starlight tour experiences. I’m grateful to be here, and for my sense of direction, but mostly for my shoes, to be honest.

I have hundreds of stories like this, police brutality, and violence that knows no limits. One other thing I mentioned (I didn’t tell her this story, only briefly explained the term “starlight tour”) was kids in care, foster care or just within the system. The system that is so broken it will give a foster family 4–5 times the amount of money to care for children that could have been fine at home with a little extra support. I grew up around kids in these situations. When things go bad, not if, those homes can be dangerous, and kids will run away. Are they not reported missing? Why aren’t they looked for? What happens to them when they are found? Some of the questions I posed were some food for thought.

It is a lot to take in, to understand, and sometimes for people to even believe. Canadians can be a hard nut to crack when it’s their country that is committing crimes against Indigenous women, children, men and boys. Some are simply dumbfounded when they learn these truths.

There are obviously too many scenarios that I could get into here. My main reflections come back to myself, and just how lost I was in my younger life; I have been missing from my family’s home community now for at least 2 generations, if not longer. I think my grandmother left fairly young(without permission, as far as I understand). One of the first places where I made friends who were Native was while incarcerated. They knew I was Native before I really knew much about my own ancestry. Building community and connection with people who have a history in common can create a level of solidarity that is built on strength, usually physical and may come with violent actions as well.

I would have to say that being incarcerated as an Indigenous person comes with another level of generational trauma and lasting effects. It’s a shift in mentality, suppressing emotions to not appear weak, starving a spirituality one doesn’t always know is present. It can throw anyone off balance.

Healing is something that you have to go through, work on, and practice to come out on the other side. We tried not to make this event/gathering solely about grief and mourning and being performative in the public eye. We really wanted to bring awareness to the day of remembrance, and men and boys often get overlooked based on what I can only speculate as assumptions about a community of people to be perceived as “Less than.”

I do believe the gathering was a success, and necessary for the current era we find ourselves in.

Check out the link below for recent news regarding some of the harms perpetrated by Canada:

https://permanentpeoplestribunal.org/ppt-preliminary-declaration-57th-session-on-missing-and-disappeared-children-and-unmarked-graves-in-canada/?lang=en