We Were Raised to Speak Truth: Leadership, Silence & the Cost of Loyalty

It’s been a while since I’ve written, but with everything happening in my community, I felt the need to speak. I may be studying right now, but I carry my Nation with me wherever I go. I didn’t run for Chief or Council—but I still pay close attention, because I was born and raised on my reserve. I was raised by my Elders. I know what it means to live through the dysfunction created by colonial systems—and what it means to keep loving your people anyway.

On July 15, my Nation held its Chief and Council election. A new Councillor was elected, while two familiar names held on to power. Like many others, I watched with confusion and disappointment. Year after year, the same leaders are re-elected—some who were not even raised in our community, who don’t carry the lived experience of growing up under the very decisions they now make.

Let’s be honest: electing leadership that hasn’t lived here—who doesn’t understand the daily impacts of poor services, a housing crisis, or toxic work environments within Band administration—keeps us stuck. When leaders aren’t rooted in the land, the people, or our traditional ways, they tend to serve those closest to them. Sometimes that means family members benefit. Sometimes it means moles who "report" on struggling band members are rewarded, while the real needs of those on-reserve are ignored. The gap widens. The resentment grows. The dysfunction continues.

What makes it worse is the silence. Too many of our people have been conditioned to stay quiet—out of fear of losing housing, jobs, or community belonging. I know this personally. My name has been defamed in my own community for speaking up against violence, abuse, injustice—and simply speaking the truth. But I won’t stop.

I continue to do the work from afar, entering my third year of a Business Administration degree. Because I believe in our people, our teachings, and our inherent right to strong, ethical governance rooted in love for the land and each other.

What Happened in This Election?

• The nomination meeting was closed to community members—breaking with years of open, transparent practice.

  
  

• A tie for Chief was settled by drawing names out of a box—yes, literally.

  
  

• The selected Chief, who regained status later in life due to Indian Act amendments, was chosen again—despite ongoing concerns about transparency, communication, and lack of connection to lived community realities.

  
  

This isn’t about personal attacks—it’s about a broken system. It’s about leadership that is not grounded in what it means to live and raise children here. It’s about leaders who bring colonial mindsets into our communities—bullying young women, perpetuating stereotypes, and holding power in ways that harm, not help.

The Bigger Picture: Changes to the Indian Act

Since amendments like Bill C-31 (1985) and Bill C-3 (2011), thousands of people have regained Indian Status—many of whom were never raised in their communities. While these changes were meant to correct the Indian Act’s discrimination (especially against women and their children), they’ve had unintended consequences.

People who weren’t raised with our values, our protocols, or responsibilities can now run for leadership, vote in elections, and access housing or programs ahead of those who have always lived on the land.

This has led to deep resentment, disconnection, and a breakdown in trust. We must talk about this. Not to divide ourselves—but to confront how colonial law continues to manipulate our governance, our families, and our Nationhood.

Legal Responsibilities of Chief and Council

Whether elected under the Indian Act or a custom election code, Chief and Council have legal obligations, including:

• Fiduciary Duty: To act in the best interests of all members, not just family or off-reserve voters.

  
  

• Duty of Care & Transparency: To consult members, communicate clearly, and avoid conflicts of interest.

  
  

• Financial Accountability: To manage public funds responsibly and deliver equitable services.

  
  

Doing nothing in leadership is not neutral—it’s harmful. Poor decisions impact our mental health, employment, education, housing, and cultural well-being.

We Need to Re-Educate Ourselves

The system was never built for us to thrive. It was built to keep us dependent, divided, and distracted.

We can’t keep falling for that.

We must re-educate ourselves and one another:

• Teach how governance works—both our traditional laws and the colonial systems we’re navigating.

  
  

• Talk about the real effects of Bill C-31 and C-3.

  
  

• Equip our youth with knowledge of their rights, elections, and how to hold leadership accountable.

  
  

• Speak openly about workplace trauma, nepotism, and bullying—and demand policies that protect people, not just positions.

  
  

• Stop exploiting our culture for personal or financial gain. That includes checking ourselves too.

  
  

Tools and Solutions for Band Members

If you're ready to take action, here’s where to start:

Know Your Rights

• Indigenous Services Canada – First Nation Elections

• Bill C-31 Overview (Library of Parliament)

• First Nations Governance Toolkit (AFN)

  
  

Ask for Transparency

• Request a copy of your Nation’s Custom Election Code (if applicable).

• Attend Band meetings—ask questions. Demand updates on funding, programs, and decisions.

  
  

Submit Complaints When Needed

• Write to Chief and Council if you believe governance is being misused.

• File a formal complaint with the Electoral Officer or Indigenous Services Canada if the election process violated protocol.

  
  

Support Youth Leadership

• Mentor, teach, speak truth. Promote critical thinking, not silence.

  
  

Stand In Your Power

• Change doesn’t come from staying comfortable—it comes from confronting what no longer serves us.

  
  

We are at a pivotal moment. Either we keep doing what we’ve always done—or we choose to educate, organize, and rise together.

I’m doing my part, even when it costs me. Because I was raised to speak truth, to honour our ways, and to remember where I come from and to protect my children and community.

Because I’m a proud Nehiyaw —grounded in the land that raised me—and I believe in our power to rebuild.