After marking her 30th anniversary with Bent Arrow Traditional Healing Society, executive director Cheryl Whiskeyjack told Taproot she’s still working to build a future in Edmonton where social-service systems work better and people regularly get what they need.
“What I would like to see happen is that we have more of those really great, celebratory days than we have the days of dealing with people who are houseless, dealing with people who are incarcerated, and dealing with a police system that feels like it’s working against us instead of with us,” Whiskeyjack, who hails from Anishinaabeg territory, said. “Maybe we’ll be dealing with them two or three times a month instead of every single day.”
Bent Arrow is a registered charity that primarily provides culturally specific social services to Indigenous children, youth, and families. The society also holds an annual Culture Camp for people who want to better understand why cultural teachings are important to Bent Arrow, and it partners with the City of Edmonton on the Community Outreach Transit Team.
Whiskeyjack said work in human services is never-ending because clients of non-profits and the providers alike will always need compassion. Still, while she said things have changed for the better since Bent Arrow started in 1994, she also has ideas for how to make the whole social system better in the future.
Early days
Whiskeyjack’s draw toward this work began when she was 14, she said. She and her three sisters had just lost their mother, and they began attending youth programs like clubs from what’s now called BGC Big Brothers Big Sisters in Edmonton.
“I just remember really looking up to these youth leaders who were willing to spend time with people like me,” she said. “That’s set me off on my career choice. I wanted to be that person for Indigenous young people.”
That experience led her to enroll in the child and youth care program at what’s now called MacEwan University in 1993. She graduated in 1995. MacEwan awarded Whiskeyjack a Distinguished Alumni Award in 2018, but she said she sometimes felt like an outsider during her education.
“I often felt in contradiction with what was considered accepted practice at the time by my faculty,” Whiskeyjack said. “I had genuine affection and care and a responsibility of care for these young people that I was serving … but at the time, you didn’t use words like that in our field.”
At 30 years into her career with Bent Arrow Traditional Healing Society, Cheryl Whiskeyjack said she wants to keep improving support for Indigenous children, youth, and families. (Supplied)
Start at Bent Arrow
Bent Arrow began operating in late 1994. Whiskeyjack applied for a job and found a kindred spirit in co-founder Shauna Seneca.
“We talked about boundaries and (the difference between) how Western society looks at boundaries and how Indigenous people perceive the same sort of relationship that you would have with somebody,” Whiskeyjack said. “I knew right then and there that this was a place I wanted to work, because it was going to allow me to practice the way I wanted to.”
Moving up
Around September that year, Whiskeyjack said she became the group home’s supervisor. By 1997, she was promoted to program manager and oversaw the supervisors of Bent Arrow’s four programs.
Bent Arrow had about 80 staff and 14 programs by 2006, but it also suffered a loss at the end of that year, Whiskeyjack said. Co-executive director Seneca died at age 49 from a blood clot that formed after a knee surgery.
“She was our North Star,” Whiskeyback remembered. “She was my mentor.”
Whiskeyjack said she holds onto Seneca’s “two-worlds approach,” where work within Western systems is done using Indigenous teaching.
Where she stands today
Whiskeyjack said Bent Arrow now employs 250 people and offers 24 programs.
She said that work at the federal level has driven more appropriate services for Bent Arrow’s clientele over the years. One example is the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s 94 calls to action from 2015.
“It was a real bump for anyone in the Indigenous community to walk alongside our colleagues in the calls to action,” Whiskeyjack said. “We were saying for many years (before the TRC calls) that this is important.”
In 2020, the Government of Canada’s Bill C-92, An Act respecting First Nations, Inuit, and Métis children, youth and families, came into effect. Whiskeyjack said it helps social agencies insist on kinship care, an approach that places Indigenous children in care with someone who understands them.
“Instead of placing you in a foster home where the people don’t look like you, don’t talk like you, don’t act like you, don’t have the same teachings as you … We’re placing you with an auntie, with a grandparent, or with a cousin, so you still remain connected in your community,” Whiskeyjack said. “You can never tell me there’s no one for this kid, because they have a whole nation. We just have to find that person within that nation. They’re there, if you look for them.”
The law transferred control of child welfare to First Nations, Inuit, and Métis nations and supersedes provincial laws. The Supreme Court of Canada upheld the law in 2024 after the Quebec Court of Appeal challenged it.
Work left to do
Challenges persist, Whiskeyjack said. She there is an over-representation of Indigenous children in care and Indigenous people in correctional facilities, and an under-representation of Indigenous graduates in education.
“The stuff that makes me swing my legs out of bed every day is the way our systems continue to respond and continue to get the same result,” she said. “I get to work in a place that’s very aligned with the way I think the work should be happening, and I’m at a place in my career now where people listen to what I have to say.”
Right now, Whiskeyjack is working as part of a stewardship group for the Human Services Council. The council, composed of the Africa Centre, Boyle Street Community Services, ECVO, and others, is exploring coordinated service outcomes, collective buying more, and more.
Whiskeyjack is also working on succession preparedness. She created a deputy executive director role to potentially replace her one day.