Latest news with #IndigenousHealth
CTV News
30-06-2025
- Health
- CTV News
CTV National News: Speaking traditional language improves health in Indigenous community, study says
CTV National News: Speaking traditional language improves health in Indigenous community, study says Community members are passing on traditional Indigenous language and names to continue cultural connection. CTV News' Allison Bamford reports.
CBC
28-06-2025
- Health
- CBC
Indigenous people's health tightly tied to speaking their own languages, review finds
Social Sharing A new research review out of the University of British Columbia (UBC) has found that Indigenous people experience better health outcomes when they speak their traditional languages. Researchers analyzed 262 academic and community-based studies from Canada, the United States, Australia and New Zealand, and determined 78 per cent of them connected Indigenous language vitality with improved health. Studies found positive outcomes ranged from better physical and mental health, to increased social connections and healing, to greater educational success. One 2007 study out of B.C. revealed that youth suicide rates were down in First Nations communities where larger amounts of people spoke Indigenous languages. "Part of the reason why we undertook this literature review in the first place was because almost everyone that we speak with in Indigenous communities who is working on language revitalization report that reclaiming and learning their language has played a big role in their own personal health," said co-author Julia Schillo, a PhD student in UBC's linguistics department. She did the literature review, Language improves health and wellbeing in Indigenous communities, alongside a team of UBC researchers, with help from the University of Toronto and the University of Sydney. One of their major findings was the importance of health care being offered in an Indigenous language, with proper translation. Without that, patients were at risk of being diagnosed incorrectly or misunderstanding medical instructions, and reported feeling alienation or a lack of respect. In one example, Inuit children were misclassified on cognitive tests because their testing was in English, not Inuktitut. The review found connections between language and well being run deeper than direct communication, too. For instance, Schillo says physical health improves when Indigenous people participate in traditional sports and consume a traditional diet — and that both of those activities correlate with speaking traditional languages. "Based off of the literature review, but also people that I've talked to, it has to do with how language revitalization plays into identity and feelings of belonging and connection," she said. "It has a lot to do with healing from trauma, and intergenerational trauma that's related to the Indian residential school system." Those findings hold true for Chantu William, a young Tsilhqot'in language speaker and second generation residential school survivor who says learning her language growing up supported her mental health and identity as an Indigenous person. William, who wasn't involved in the study, is an early childhood educator and a policy analyst in her nation. She's working on language handbooks to give to parents at the local daycare, "for the language to stay inside the home." She co-developed language curriculum with her mother, as part of the Youth Empowered Speakers Program, with the First Peoples' Cultural Council. William says the idea for the language handbooks came from Māori relatives in New Zealand, who have similar programming that started in the 1980s, and are strong language speakers. "I feel so honoured to be able to teach and learn [Tsilhqot'in] with my preschool and day care kids and the youth in my life. I feel so grateful that I'm in this space, in our community sharing the language." William says hearing youth and elders speak the language with each other makes her happy, and that for her, "it gave direction in life." Johanna Sam, who is also Tsilhqot'in and an assistant professor at UBC in the department of education, says that if governments want to support Indigenous health, language revitalization needs to be part of the conversation. "Indigenous languages are so much more than words; they carry our laws, our stories and our knowledge systems that have sustained our nations since time immemorial," she said, noting that some words in Indigenous languages cannot be translated to English. Sam says she didn't have a lot of opportunity to learn her language being a first-generation residential school survivor, but she grew up hearing older generations in her family speak it and that uplifted her pride and identity. She wants to see more investment in Indigenous language curriculum and more options for health care to be provided in Indigenous languages. It's something the review's researchers are also calling for. They're asking all levels of government to provide long-term funding for Indigenous language revitalization and to recognize speaking the languages as a social determinant of health.
The Guardian
27-06-2025
- Health
- The Guardian
Dr Fiona Stanley: ‘If we want better health outcomes, the last thing we need is more doctors and hospitals'
Fiona Stanley arrives at South Beach Cafe at 11.30am on the dot, beaming beneath her orange sunhat. She's bright-eyed and buoyant, perhaps owing to her morning laps at Fremantle pool, a twice-weekly ritual. In the warmer months, she swims here, at South Beach, a calm, protected bay on the Indian Ocean. 'I'm an addicted ocean swimmer,' she says, as we toddle up the pathway to the beach beneath a row of Norfolk Island pines. 'But I'm so much fitter since I joined this swim group. We swam almost 2.5km this morning!' At South Beach today it's 19C, though it feels warmer. The water is glass-flat; the sky, a cloudless blue dome. Mothers with babes in arms are splashing about in the shallows, and high up in the pines, magpies sing their languid warble. 'Now, I must tell you about this,' Stanley says, as we kick off our shoes and plunge our feet into the sand. She's proudly clutching a book called First Knowledges Health: Spirit, Country and Culture, which she co-authored. Part of an eight-book series, it explores how Indigenous approaches to healthcare can solve today's problems – detailing cultural rituals such as birthing on Country and end-of-life care. 'I just love, love, loved writing this,' she says smiling. One of Australia's leading experts in epidemiology, child and maternal health, and Indigenous health, the book is a convergence of everything Stanley has spent her life fighting for. She is vivacious company – quick to laugh, warm with strangers, her mind firing off in many directions at once. As we walk, she stoops to collect a discarded bottle-top from the sand, stashing it in her pocket mid-sentence. She's nearing 80, but the same relentless energy that defined her career is still there, bubbling under the surface. Birthing on Country has become a national movement, says Stanley, holding up the book. 'It's about offering warm, family-centred care delivered by Aboriginal midwives, often in hospitals or clinics, supported by the best western diagnostics but under an Aboriginal-controlled umbrella. 'The outcomes are amazing. It's halved preterm birth rates in Aboriginal births. It's halved infant mortality. But the thing that really got me is that it reduced children being taken into out-of-home care by about 40% … What is that saying? That's saying, 'I'm a good mother. You can't take my baby away.'' Stanley is best known for founding the Telethon Institute for Child Health Research, which became internationally recognised for showing that folic acid taken before and during pregnancy can prevent spina bifida. She also helped establish the Australian Research Alliance for Children and Youth, and was instrumental in setting up Aboriginal-controlled health research units. That drive, she says, stems from both childhood idealism and hard-earned experience. Stanley grew up in Sydney in a prominent scientific household – her father, Neville Stanley, helped develop Australia's polio vaccine before the family moved to Perth in 1956. As we stroll along the shoreline, she recalls a vivid dream she had at age eight. 'We had this little boat on Sydney harbour,' she says. 'So in my dream, I'd sail to these beautiful islands, vaccinate the locals, then sail off again. I had no idea what I was doing – but I knew I wanted to help.' But the path became clearer years later, during her early days as a junior doctor at Princess Margaret hospital in Perth. 'There was an Aboriginal boy, maybe four or five, who'd come in from a remote community,' she says. 'He had severe diarrhoea and dehydration. And he died in my arms.' She pauses. 'I was 25. And I remember thinking, I don't know if I can keep doing clinical work. I need to understand how we prevent this.' Soon after, she joined a volunteer medical team travelling to remote Aboriginal communities across Western Australia. 'We went from the Eastern Goldfields to Mount Margaret, to every mission, reserve and camp … all the way up to Kalumburu,' she says. 'I saw the conditions. I saw the racism. I saw the consequences.' Stanley is the first to acknowledge that those early efforts weren't perfect. 'It was a group of white do-gooders,' she says wryly. 'Very paternalistic, especially back then.' But in those formative years, she was working alongside Aboriginal leaders such as Eric Hayward, a Noongar writer and health advocate, to challenge structural racism. She recalls one trip to Narrogin – 'one of the most racist towns in WA' – where a local doctor had refused to treat an Aboriginal child without upfront payment. 'The mother raced the kid to Katanning and it died on the way,' she says. 'So Eric and I got that doctor struck off the register.' We take a seat on a low limestone wall overlooking the beach. A mother strolls past with a baby on her hip and Stanley lights up. 'Oh my God, that baby is so cute,' she calls out. 'How old?' 'Seven months,' the woman replies. 'He's adorable. Just adorable,' Stanley says, before turning back to me. 'You know,' she says, 'the earlier we intervene in a child's life, the better. That's why I care so much about birthing on Country. Non-Aboriginal women benefit from these methods too – everyone benefits.' The conversation takes a casual turn as we talk about life since she retired in 2011, about being a grandmother, about her fondness for yoga and long walks, and the death of her husband Professor Geoffrey Shellam, who passed away in 2015. She speaks of him with tenderness – her intellectual equal, a fellow scientist and the person she bounced ideas off for decades. 'My husband became the professor of microbiology at UWA [University of Western Australia], which was my father's chair,' she says, laughing. 'After he died I moved down to Fremantle. And now I'm a Freo tragic, I love it here.' But, of course, Stanley has had a lot more on her plate than swim club and yoga. She still holds various academic and board positions, and advocates for many causes. 'I've also got more freedom now,' she says with a rebellious grin. 'I'm not running an institute any more. I'm not dependent on government money. So I can say what I like.' She's outspoken about the dangers of the North West Shelf extension, describing climate change as 'the biggest threat to human health'. Her disappointment over the failed voice to parliament referendum is equally fierce. 'We know Indigenous-led services work,' she says. 'It's not just moral – it's evidence-based.' For Stanley, these issues are all part of a bigger picture: rethinking what health really means, and who gets to shape it. The real challenge, she argues, is getting policymakers to think beyond hospitals and specialist care. 'If we want better health outcomes, the last thing we need is more doctors and more hospitals,' she says. 'We need to invest in social supports, early intervention, community-led programs.' She points to the United States as a cautionary tale. 'They spend more on health than anyone else and have the worst outcomes in the developed world,' she says. 'We need systems that keep people well, not the systems that pick them up after they're broken.' Before we know it, our hour is up and it's time for photography before Stanley whizzes off to another meeting. The photographer, Tace Stevens – a Noongar and Spinifex woman – introduces herself, and Stanley's face softens. 'Where's your mob from?' she asks instinctively. 'My father is from Cundeelee mission,' Stevens replies. Stanley's eyes well with tears. 'That was one of the first places I ever visited,' she says quietly. 'It changed me.' After the photoshoot, she gives both of our hands a squeeze before striding back to her car. On to the next thing. First Knowledges Health: Spirit, Country and Culture, co-authored by Fiona Stanley, Shawana Andrews and Sandra Eades, is out now (A$24.99, Thames & Hudson).
National Post
26-06-2025
- Health
- National Post
Real Canadians: Indigenous grandmothers pass teachings down to young mothers
Article content Five Indigenous grandmothers are sharing traditional teachings with young Indigenous mothers to help give them and their children a healthy head start. Article content The health and well-being of Indigenous Peoples is closely tied to cultural identity, which is established at a very young age. Residential schools and other colonization traumas disrupted the transfer of traditional knowledge, leading to long-lasting consequences to the physical and mental well-being of many Indigenous people in Canada. Article content Article content 'As a survivor of residential school, I lost all my connections to my culture, and I had no traditional parenting knowledge to share with my children,' explains Blackfoot Elder Jackie Bromley of the Kainai Blood Tribe, Treaty 7. 'Many younger people remain disconnected from their culture, and they don't know what they should do when they have a baby.' Article content A group of five Indigenous women from Treaty 6, 7 and 8, and the Métis Nation of Alberta are working together in collaboration with University of Alberta researchers to develop a booklet to share traditional teachings and cultural practices with new Indigenous mothers. Elder Darlene Cardinal, Elder Lorraine Albert, Elder Muriel Lee, Elder Jackie Bromley and Knowledge Keeper Norma Spicer originally came together for a panel discussion at a health conference, but the group collectively felt there was more they could do. Article content Article content With the help of Dr. Stephanie Montesanti, associate professor with the University of Alberta's School of Public Health and funding from the Women and Children's Health Research Institute (WCHRI), they formed the Grandmother's Wisdom Network and worked together to create a booklet of traditional teachings for new Indigenous mothers. Article content Article content 'Connection to culture through the sharing of traditional knowledge improves health and enhances wellness across generations as mothers share knowledge and traditions with their children,' Montesanti says. 'Supporting Indigenous children's development and well-being starts during pregnancy by helping mothers develop stronger connections to culture.' Article content Grandmothers and Elders are highly respected in Indigenous communities. They have a vital role in preserving traditions, transmitting wisdom, and guiding communities by passing on traditional knowledge. Article content 'There is no greater teacher in Cree culture than a kokum or grandmother,' explains Elder Muriel Lee of Ermineskin Cree Nation, Treaty 6. 'Grandmothers are the real knowledge keepers, and the Grandmothers' Wisdom Network has given each of us an avenue to share traditional knowledge.' Article content Though traditional knowledge varies between cultures, all of the grandmothers share one common belief — that caring for a new life is a sacred duty. 'It's so important that we teach young mothers how to care for their children,' explains Elder Lee. 'Each of the grandmothers shares their knowledge in their own way. In Cree culture, we believe a child belongs to the Creator and is only on loan to the parent.'
Medscape
25-06-2025
- Health
- Medscape
Partnership Promotes Indigenous Mothers' Reproductive Health
Canada's Indigenous History Month is an appropriate time to examine the efforts that the Canadian Institutes of Health Research (CIHR) are taking to improve Indigenous health trajectories within the First Nations, Inuit, and Métis communities. Many of these efforts flow through the agency's Indigenous Healthy Life Trajectories Initiative (I-HeLTI), which is dedicated to creating transparent, community-first approaches to research and healthcare delivery. 'The goal of I-HeLTI is to identify culturally strengthening strategies crucial for improving maternal and child health outcomes in Indigenous communities,' Chelsea Gabel, PhD, scientific director of the Institute of Indigenous Peoples' Health at CIHR and associate professor of Indigenous studies and health, aging, and society at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario, told Medscape Medical News. Gabel is a Red River Métis. Chelsea Gabel, PhD 'Research shows that First Nations, Inuit, and Métis people experience significantly higher rates of noncommunicable diseases, as well as issues around maternal health and poor health outcomes in general,' she said. Research on Indigenous communities historically has focused on deficits. 'This means that it's focused on a larger problem (eg, Indigenous people are more likely to have diabetes or drink more) vs looking at [the role played by] factors like intergenerational trauma, the residential schools system, and social determinants of health.' I-HeLTI aims to change this focus. Community-Integrated Care I-HeLTI is based on a Developmental Origins of Health and Disease approach, which suggests that environmental factors (namely social determinants of health like poverty, racism, housing, and geographical location) interact with genes during conception, the pre- and postnatal and infancy periods, and early childhood to affect later health outcomes. The initiative has an international component in countries like China, India, and South Africa, as well as the World Health Organization. Several Indigenous projects are active in Canada, including Aunties Within Reach (AWR) in the Wood Buffalo region in Alberta. AWR is a collaborative partnership between the University of Alberta's Collaborative Applied Research for Equity in Health Policy and Systems (CARE) Lab and the Ihkapaskwa Collective. The CARE Lab is an applied health policy systems team that studies and designs, implements, and evaluates programs with community partners to develop locally tailored, context-based solutions. The Ihkapaskwa Collective is an Indigenous-founded and Indigenous-led nonprofit focused on providing accessible, community-centered reproductive healthcare. 'AWR is an excellent model of community-integrated care,' said Stephanie Montesanti, PhD, associate professor of public health at the University of Alberta, Edmonton, and head of the CARE Lab. The partnership is not only delivering reproductive health services directly in the community but also engaging with providers across health and social sectors, she explained. Stephanie Montesanti, PhD When Montesanti joined I-HeLTI, she wanted to explore the opportunity to bring the program to the Wood Buffalo regional municipality, where Sheena Bradley, Ihkapaskwa founder and executive director, had been working. Sheena Bradley Bradley, a Cree-Métis full-spectrum birth worker and clinical herbalist, cofounded AWR with Maddie Amyotte, a Cree-Métis registered Indigenous midwife, and Shelby Weiss, a Sturgeon Bay Cree full-spectrum birth worker. Bradley said that AWR provides reproductive health support that mirrors the way that traditional 'aunties' would, when and where mothers, families, and the community needed it most. But funding has been tight. 'The CARE Lab reached out to us to partner on the I-HeLTI initiative, and we spent a good portion of a year building relationships and learning what the research would look like in our community,' said Bradley. 'Would it be led by us and families and elders in the community?' she said. 'There's a few elders on that team from various communities that are really helping guide [the CARE Lab's] research and what they see fits as research being brought into the community,' said Bradley. 'But there's also natural guidance from our grandmothers, the elders that we work with every day, and the families we support. That's what is meant by the phrase 'guided by community.'' The goal was to bridge the gap and improve access to reproductive health services, said Montesanti. Indigenous Birth Practices Since the 1960s, Canada has relied on maternal evacuation, which transfers Indigenous pregnant women from Canada's rural, remote regions to urban hospitals to give birth. The strategy was created to address disparities in maternal and child outcomes. It has been linked, however, to emotional, social, and cultural harms, as well as maternal and neonatal infections. 'Within our municipality, which is massive in land size and home to 13 First Nations and Métis communities, a lot of mothers are evacuated for birth, leave their home community and their support systems to come into town, where they are then scrutinized for not having healthy supports,' said Bradley. 'As soon as they leave their nation and go into town to deliver their baby, they are placed under Provincial rather than Tribal Child Family Services. It's hard to navigate between the two and figure out who's responsible for who and what,' she added. 'You can imagine when people are coming from a remote community to an urban center and hospital setting, it's going to be uncomfortable.' 'These services are offered by the mainstream health system, which is not necessarily culturally safe or culturally relevant,' added Montesanti. On the other hand, full-spectrum birth workers are both aunties and care providers. 'They play important roles around social, cultural, and outreach support, as well as [providing] mentorship and traditional teachings related to reproductive health, like breast or infant feeding, postpartum care, mental health and well-being, and social well-being,' she explained. The CARE Lab ensures an ongoing cycle of implementation learning (ie, identifying best practices, linking volunteers to them, identifying similar programs that have been implemented in other contexts, and bringing the lessons they offer to AWR). In alignment with I-HeLTI requirements, the lab also is creating a pregnancy cohort. AWR is stretched to capacity. In addition to Bradley and Amyotte, a Métis nurse practitioner runs a private primary care practice and has hospital privileges in Fort McMurray. Carlee Myette, a Métis auntie navigator or all-around advocate, guides families through basic needs supports like housing, food, mental health referrals, and navigating Child and Family Services. Kaylen Duke, a Chipewyan Prairie Dene, is community engagement coordinator and research assistant and operates as a liaison between the Aunties and the CARE Lab team, which, in addition to Montesanti, includes research assistant Nicole Orji, a First Nations Iroquois. Kaylen Duke 'What can be a model for other communities is the fact that AWR is helping to reclaim traditional practices and knowledge; it's bringing culture and ceremony back to birth,' said Orji. 'Many of our nations are matrilineal. Through the process of reconciliation and the mainstream Western medicine model, we have lost not just our mothers, but Indigenous people in general have lost our autonomy, choices, rights, and control over our reproductive freedoms,' she said. 'A lot of the work that the Aunties Within Reach program is doing is repairing some of those harms,' said Orji. Nicole Orji Gabel, Montesanti, Orji, Bradley, and Duke reported having no relevant financial relationships.
