Author: kwetoday

kwetoday on @mspratt’s “The Docket” podcast with @ammcelroy

On Wednesday evening, I had the opportunity to meet Anne-Marie McElroy to sit down with Michael Spratt to discuss some hard topics for Spratt’s podcast, The Docket. He shared that podcast on his blog, which is great and I suggest you read it if you are interested in criminal law (or law).

In this podcast, we discuss the reporting of Precious Charbonneau’s murder and criminal defence. I am obviously not a criminal defence lawyer but I offered perspective as a student who is currently still learning law and as someone who has been in the system.

 

patience

Over the holidays, I spent some time with my nephew, Lain, who is five years old. I also visited with my other sister and her little family. That sister has two children, one two-month-old and one two-year-old (Danni).

Lain is an only-child and when I watched him over the holidays, I noticed him learning to play with Danni. Danni loves him and his mom. She jumps up and down with joy whenever Auntie and Lain come to visit. Literally, she screams, and jumps up and down. Sometimes, Danni runs to the door or window.

Over the last year, I wanted to make a commitment to learn to be patient. In the last 12 months or so, I thought I learned some patience but I knew I still had a lot to learn. After arriving in Ottawa and reflecting on my visit home, I learned that I have a lot to learn when it comes to being patient. Lain, my five-year-old nephew, taught me this lesson.

We went bowling, the day before I departed for my travels back to Ottawa. My sisters, their families, and my mom. It was a nice way to end the holidays. Relaxing. Laughter. Spending time with loved ones.

When we were at the bowling alley, Danni wanted to bowl during everyone’s turn including Lain’s turn. On New Years Eve, Lain and Danni “fought” over toys. But Lain didn’t know any better. My mom, his ya-ya, took him to the side, away from Danni, to tell him about sharing, being gentle and being kind when it comes to playing with the baby, Danni. Over the rest of the evening, Danni wanted to play with everything Lain wanted to play with but he remembered what his ya-ya told him. Then, at the bowling alley and when Danni wanted to bowl during everyone’s turn, I noticed Lain taking these same lessons that my mom shared with him. He waited while Danni was done, even when she wanted to stay at the lane. He waited until her parents came to pick her up so that Lain could have his turn. He didn’t complain. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there in silence, patiently waiting for his turn.

Sitting next to my mom and looking over at Lain and Danni’s lane, I thought, “Wow, Lain is so patient today.” Despite Danni wanting to bowl the entire time, even during Lain’s turn, Lain didn’t complain; he just waited, calmly, until my sister and her partner helped Danni out of the way

Reflecting back on this visit home, I can only wish I could be as a patient and kind as my five-year-old nephew—we have a lot to learn from our little ones.

Maya Angelou’s “Gather Together in My Name”

Near the end of the holidays, I started to read Maya Angelou’s Gather Together in My Name (I am still reading this book, slowly but surely). I am a fan of personal stories and I really wanted to read Dr. Angelou’s second volume of her “autobiographical series” (the first is I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings).

What prompted me to pick up this book was a post on Tits and Sass titled, “The Erasure of Maya Angelou’s Sex Work History.” This post followed Dr. Angelou’s death in 2014. The Tits and Sass post on Dr. Angelou’s sex work history prompted me to pick up this book because the post talks about how and why she wrote her personal story. I don’t want to erase Dr. Angelou’s Blackness by writing about her story here. So, please keep that in mind when reading this post but please go and read the post on Tits and Sass too.  I just want to share this book that I am reading and why I am reading it.

In the Tits and Sass post, the author, Peechington Marie, who is also a Black woman and a former sex worker, quotes Dr. Angelou from another interview. In that interview, Dr. Angelou states why she wrote Gather Together in My Name. The interviewer says to Dr. Angelous, “You’ve done a lot of things in your life that most people would judge as wrong. You’ve smoked pot, taken drugs, you were a madam for lesbian prostitutes, a teenage mom, a table dancer – you didn’t follow the straight and narrow. All these experiences gave you a rich life?” Dr. Angelou responds,

I wrote about my experiences because I thought too many people tell young folks, “I never did anything wrong. Who, Moi? – never I. I have no skeletons in my closet. In fact, I have no closet.” They lie like that and then young people find themselves in situations and they think, “Damn I must be a pretty bad guy. My mom or dad never did anything wrong.” They can’t forgive themselves and go on with their lives. So I wrote the book Gather Together in My Name [about her past as a sex worker]. [source]

At this point in law school, I sort-of feel lost. I am having trouble finding where I “fit” and how my own story fits into my law school experience or how my law school experience fits into my story. This story helps me to make sense of (some) of my experiences.

Dr. Angelou responds to the question about what “most people would judge as wrong” by talking about this idea of not being alone in those so-called wrongs. I relate because a lot of the times, before I started owning my sex work experiences, people would say what I was doing was “bad” or “wrong.” Still, some people would judge a woman who sells/trade sex as doing “wrong.” So, I struggle with this idea that even the law, today, judges selling/trading sex as wrong.

These ideas about selling/trading sex are evident in the transcripts from the parliamentary and senate committees during the legislative process for (what was known as) Bill C-36, Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act.

During one of the senate committee meetings, Senator Plett tells Valerie Scott, “You have the right, ma’am, to have sex with whomever you wish. It’s the money that this bill deals with, not your right to have sex.” Valerie Scott replies, “As long as I do it for free.” And Senator Plett says, “Right.”

So, the only “right” kind of sex is “free” sex. Anything that exists outside of the “right” kind of sex is wrong. A lot of people believe this idea of right versus wrong sex. The current law also says that selling/trading sex  is inherently violent because of it is inherently exploitative but this is an effort to try to characterize a response to something that is viewed as “bad” in a “good” way. But what makes selling/trading sex inherently exploitative/violent? Is it the assumption that it is wrong? That the women who sell/trade sex are “bad”? That the women who sell/trade sex should not be protected because what they are doing is wrong/bad? I would say yes, it is the laws that make prostitution inherently violent/exploitative. The laws say that women who sell/trade sex are doing something wrong and that they should be punished. If this is the logic that follows, then the same predators who prey on women who sell/trade sex also assume that they are doing justice by given them what they “deserve”. As Senator Plett also said, “Of course, we don’t want to make life safe for prostitutes, we want to do away with prostitution. That is the intent of the bill.”

 

kwetoday on @TheCircleCHUO

For today’s post, I am excited to share this link to my interview with hosts, Darren and Melody, of The Circle on CHUO here in Ottawa. As taken from the CHUO website:

The Circle is your weekly dose of music by Indigenous artists and update on Indigenous stories impacting the Ottawa-Gatineau area, Canada and the World.  Your hosts, Melody McKiver and Darren Sutherland discuss current issues and interviews local members of First Nations, Inuit and Metis communities, as well as visitors to the region, about politics, health, the arts, culture, and activism.

I wasn’t feeling well this afternoon. So, this is my “post-a-day” for today. I hope you enjoy the mix-up!

R v Gladue: the history of imprisonment in canada versus slavery in canada

Often times when we talk about slavery, we forget that it happened here in Canada. Recently, I saw a couple of articles shared on Facebook (which I did not save to share here, sadly). These articles talked about the history of slavery and how this institution was never actually abolished. Rather, the institution of slavery was just transferred to another institution, the prison system. I thought to share this definition of slavery, which is applicable to a Canadian context:

A useful definition of slavery is the robbery of one’s freedom and labour by another, usually a more powerful person. Violence and coercion are used to carry out the theft and to keep the slave captive in the condition of bondage and servitude. This definition applies to slavery in Canada. Laws were enacted and institutions created to rob persons of their freedom and labour and keep them in perpetual servitude. In the earliest era of colonial rule in Canada, both Aboriginal people and Africans and their descendants were enslaved (Aboriginal slaves were colloquially termed ‘Panis’). From 1428 to 1833, slavery was a legal and acceptable institution in both French and British Canada was vigorously practised.

– Afua Cooper, “The Hanging of Angelique: The Untold Story of Canadian Slavery and the Burning of Old Montreal”

I am reminded of this definition and these articles I read on Facebook when I read the case, R v Gladue for my January term class. R v Gladue is known in the legal community for helping to define restorative justice principles via Canadian law. R v Gladue also outlines the history of imprisonment as punishment in Canada.

At paragraph 53 in the decision, the Supreme Court of Canada writes, “The systematic use of the sanction of imprisonment in Canada may be dated to the building of the Kingston Penitentiary in 1835.”

R v Gladue discusses the history of imprisonment but assumes that this type of imprisonment was “new” to Canada at the time the Kingston Penitentiary was built in 1835. Imprisonment at the Kingston Penitentiary was seen as an “alternative” form of sentencing that had effects “which included not only deterrent, denunciatory, and preventive, but also rehabilitative, with long hours spent in contemplation and hard work contributing to the betterment of the offender” (para 53). Note that the above definition which states, “Laws were enacted and institutions created to rob persons of their freedom and labour and keep them in perpetual servitude.”Again, note in the definition of above that slavery was “vigorously practised” until 1833 and the Kingston Penitentiary was built in 1835. Coincidence?

colonialism’s greatest mystery

The last time I can remember making a resolution, I was living in London, Ontario. Earlier that year, I was living in a dancer house. I think it was the year before I applied to college which was also the same year that I was arrested (again). And that following year, I jokingly said to myself, “Okay, let’s try to not get arrested this year.” So far, so good.

Being an Indigenous woman in the sex trade, the police were everywhere but nowhere—everywhere when I didn’t need them but nowhere when I did. I learned quickly that police are not there to protect Indigenous women, especially Indigenous women selling/trading sex.

I was good at noticing the police whenever they came into the clubs that I worked in. “There they are.” I pointed out. My girlfriends or colleagues confused. “Who?” Looking in their direction. “The police.” And, my girlfriends or colleagues always disagreed with me. “No, that’s not the police.” Then, five to ten minutes later, the management would tell us the police were in the bar. Walking past us, whispering, “The police are here.”

I know. I knew.

It’s not hard to notice the police if you’ve been around them your whole life. The first time I came into contact with the police, I was “formed.” Being “formed” wasn’t and isn’t fun. The last time, I was arrested on my birthday, during thanksgiving weekend. Within that time frame, from the age of (about) thirteen to my early twenties, whenever the police entered into my life, they first showed up in pairs. Later on, they began to show up in packs. Five or six at a time. But they were never there to protect me and they are never there to protect women like me, Indigenous women especially Indigenous women selling/trading sex. My existence of just living, breathing, and walking is always the problem. Colonialism’s problem.

I always marveled at people who call for the criminalization of sex work. I guess the police must have shown up at the right time for them.

Everywhere but nowhere.

Then, colonialism’s greatest mystery is that Indigenous women continuing to be packed in prison cells but we continue to see Indigenous women, especially Indigenous women who sell/trade sex, going missing or being murdered. Voila! Police can find all the Indigenous women to put into prison but cannot find the ones going missing or find the killers, the murderers.

If Indigenous women’s prison population count has grown 112% over the last decade, what has this done to help end the violence in our overly criminalized lives? By relying on the criminal justice system for “protection”, we only invite more violence into our lives. So, my resolution? I will try to not get arrested this year. I try to set my standards high…

my move to #ldnont, #sexwork and other random things

When I first moved to London, Ontario, I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going (which is honestly a re-occurring theme in my life). I was out of school after the thought of becoming an accountant went up in smoke. And well, eventually I learned that I basically suck at math.

It was June 2006 when I arrived in London, Ontario. The only reason I remember this date is because I went to Windsor, Ontario that same year for my twenty-first birthday, thinking I was going to visit Detroit at the same time to celebrate that milestone (whatever *that* milestone is). I also used strip at this time. Yeah, I used to get naked for money, shake my money-makers, you know…the whole shabang (except for those nipple tassels, I never did those). I went to Windsor for stripping and thought about working in Detroit (but that never happened because I immediately went back to London).

So, London, Ontario. June 2006. It was nothing special except I knew that I needed to escape Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. I don’t hate SSM. I just can’t stand being in one place for too long. I moved out of my family home at the age of seventeen and I was still in high school. Like most of my readers know, I also started escorting at the age of eighteen. Yes, I was still in high school and yes, I escorted before I started stripping. I like to do things the unconventional way…not that there is a conventional way to do sex work but people tend to assume most sex workers start out as strippers—not true, sex workers are a dynamic group of badasses that just do what they want, how they want and undoubtedly, they do things on their own terms…spank you very much.

But this post isn’t going to be about the history of my pathway way into sex work. Rather, this post is about why I recommend taking a women’s studies/gender studies course before you apply to law school.

Wait, what?! Why should I talk about London?! And sex work!? Well, after living in a dancer house for about nine months, I decided I wanted to go back to school. So, I applied to college, graduated college, had no idea what I was doing after I graduated and thought, “I might as well apply to university.” I applied to Western University (or The University of Western Ontario). Again, like with all things in my life, I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going with this whole university thing. All I knew was that I wanted to study criminology and I knew that even before I knew what criminology was. I just saw that “criminology” was an area that I could major/specialize in at the Faculty of Social Science.

By the time I was in university and before I took my first women’s studies/gender studies course, I chose to specialize in criminology and have a minor in sociology but I hated sociology although all my criminology courses were sociology-based. Specifically, I hated studying all these white dude theories about the social and space… space! Can you imagine?! People in academia discuss topics like space and not outer space but space like Starbucks-coffee-shops-space.[1] I decided about half way through my undergraduate studies that I wanted something different. I didn’t know what I wanted so I chose women’s studies/gender studies.

I will always remember my first women’s studies/gender studies course because it was the first time I seen an Indigenous woman’s name on the syllabus. For that class, the professor assigned a chapter from Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples. It was at that moment that I felt “welcome” into that space, that my voice and experiences actually mattered in academia. And to think, it took many, many, many years to experience that feeling, sadly. Not elementary school. Not high school. Not college. But university…half way into my degree.

Anyways, Linda Tuhiwai Smith. Decolonizing Methodologies. Research and Indigenous peoples. Yessssss! It was mostly amazing because I already read the entire book and this was more like a review (so, double yessssss!). Then, in my other women’s studies/gender studies courses, more work by non-white people came up! I was in heaven. Sitting in the whitest-of-white spaces and not reading strictly white people stuff. Okay, maybe not exactly heaven but getting better than talking about the sociology of “Starbucks-neighbourhood” spaces. Nevertheless, this—reading and discussing works by people other than just old white men—is not the only reason I recommend taking a women’s studies/gender studies course before applying to law school.

In my women’s studies/gender studies courses, I also had to write a lot and sometimes, I had to present too. And the discussions in class? Vibrant, engaging, and you know, worth attending class for. You might think, “Wait, don’t you have to write a lot in university anyways?” No. These courses sometimes require you to write “journals” and then submit one of those journals to be marked. In the journals, you have to engage the course readings in a meaningful way (like critically engage with the reading and respond to the reading). This type of “journaling” was done in some of my first year law classes, which I truly appreciated (because I hate exams). Anyways, in all seriousness, enrolling in women’s studies/gender studies improved my writing (though I can definitely still work on my writing). The classes also helped to think critically about the things I was reading because the readings challenged me, helped me grow as a student and as a person, and the readings taught me to see things from a different perspective. I know this isn’t exactly the most convincing post to persuade you take a women’s studies/gender studies course before you apply to law school (if that is something you even want to do). There are other courses you can enroll in and there are other degrees you can take but I truly believe that my experiences (which are too many to name and describe) in these courses have continuously helped me throughout law school. Also, I will never forget my professors that I met in these classes.

As for the connection to sex work, it was sex work that got me out of Sault Ste. Marie and *poof* I was in London.[2] Who knows where I would be today if it wasn’t for sex work!


[1] I actually didn’t mind the course I took on the sociology of space but I hated my course on actual outer space, with stars and shit.

[2] Okay, my move to London wasn’t *poof* magical…it was more like “hi, welcome to this hot sweaty twelve hour bus ride” after I sold everything I owned (which wasn’t a lot…just enough to buy a ticket) and with less than $20.00 to my name.

My thoughts on Angela Campbell’s “Sister Wives, Surrogates and Sex Workers: Outlaws by Choice?”

On June 6, 2014, the then-Conservative government introduced Bill C-36, Protection for Communities and Exploited Persons Act (PCEPA). The PCEPA was in response to Supreme Court’s decision to strike down three Criminal Code provisions relating to prostitution. The Court gave the federal government a year to respond to the decision to strike down these provisions for violating sex workers’ right to life, liberty and security of person.

Then, on July 7, 2014, just a month later, the PCEPA passed its second reading and it reached the committee stage in the legislative process. On that same day, I was set to represent the Canadian Alliance for Sex Work Law Reform with my colleague. Our (what they call panels/meetings) began just after lunch. We had each five minutes to speak and then respond to questions. Bob Dechert, former Conservative Member of Parliament for Mississauga-Erindale, Ontario, asked the women (including myself) with experience selling/trading sex about what age they started working, asked some other questions related to youth in the sex trade, and then proceeded to ask me about choice.

Dechert looked to me and asked, “Ms. Sayers, you mentioned that a lot of Indigenous women rely on the sex industry to get the money they need to survive. Is that a free choice? Do they freely choose to do this, or if they had a free choice to do something, would they do something else?”[1]

I retorted, “Would you do your work without being paid?”[2] And Dechert said, “No, of course not…”[3] Before he could continue speaking, I interrupted him, “You have your answer.”[4]

In the sex work is work/prostitution is inherently violent debate, the focus remains on choice. Angela Campbell, in her book titled Sister Wives, Surrogates and Sex Workers: Outlaws by Choice?, explores the concept of choice within three case studies examining research on polygamy, surrogacy and sex work within three jurisdictions (Australia, United Kingdom and Canada). To help guide her analysis in later chapters, Campbell provides a framework where she distinguishes choice from other concepts like consent.[5] Campbell also associates “making a choice” with “giving consent” and sees the two as “actions.” [6]  Choice may involve “consent-giving” but sometimes consent can be absent when making a choice.[7] Thus, choice involves a process beyond concepts like consent and this elongated choice-making process looks past individual choices into larger structures “that may operate to shape [a woman’s] decision.”[8] Campbell seeks to advance discussions on the concept of choice by looking at the history of juridical responses to women’s choice.

Laying out the foundation for her subsequent chapters, Campbell first explores juridical responses to domestic violence, domestic work and domestic contracts.[9] Then, she examines the limitations and challenges to choice regarding these intimate topics to both contrast and compare the upcoming case studies in chapters two, three and four. While Campbell acknowledges the problem with choice, she asserts that “choice should remain fundamental to feminist discourse and theory, particularly for assessing the legal implications of morally ambiguous decisions made in the face of severe constraints.”[10] Campbell critiques existing feminist discourse on choice as failing to “engage with particular formal state law and policy instruments that seek to govern women’s tough choices, nor do they seek to identify the informal governance tools that do not emanate form the state, such as family, labour and community norms, with which women engage when making such choices.”[11] Specifically, current feminist discourse does not provide an adequate framework for jurists or does not considers internal structures which belong to communities that are the focus of feminist discourses or theory. I disagree especially if one chooses to ignore Indigenous feminist theories and discourses, or Indigenous communities altogether. At this point, Campbell reveals the limitation of the entire framework for the rest of the book. Although Campbell only acknowledges dominate feminist discourse and theories within her framework, I do not want to simply reject her entire book as problematic and simplistic, similar to her framework on choice.[12] Except, however, I disagree that we, as feminists, should focus on choice.

Next, Campbell outlines the essence of her subsequent inquiry which “develops a framework for the analysis of choice through a legal lens.”[13] Campbell develops a framework which includes three “lines of investigation”[14] These three “lines of investigation” include the following:

  1. Examining “the presumptions on which state laws rest”[15]
  2. Examining “state law’s interaction with non-state normative forces”[16]
  3. Examining “state law’s effects on women’s options and decisions”[17]

These three lines of investigation guide Campbell’s analysis throughout her case study on polygamy, surrogacy and sex work in three separate jurisdictions (Canada, United Kingdom and Australia). Campbell chooses to look at domestic violence, domestic work and domestic contracts at the outset to “focus on the issue of choice, without the distraction and complication that might be triggered by introducing at this point the complex legal and social issues associated with polygamy, surrogacy and sex work.”[18] Campbell proceeds to discuss domestic violence, domestic work and domestic contracts, the juridical responses to same, while framing choice as a “fundamental concept for feminism.”[19] When Campbell discusses domestic violence, domestic work and domestic contracts while framing choice as a fundamental concept for feminism, it reads more like a summary of the topics, a summary of the juridical responses to the topics, and a summary of the feminist debates/discourse surrounding the topics. As I said, I do not agree that feminism should focus on choice as a fundamental concept.

When feminism begins to focus on choice, it runs the risk of creating piecemeal theories and discourses which inform juridical responses and thus, potentially erasing or ignoring the experiences of women significantly impacted by state responses regulating women’s choice. Though this is a sharp position to take, I position these statements in the context of my own experiences, especially when former MP Bob Dechert asked me about my choice or the choice of Indigenous women to enter into the sex trade. The rest of the chapters, which are central to Campbell’s case study of polygamy, surrogacy and sex work, continuing on this same pathway: they read more like a summary. As such, I will not go into a detailed examination of each case study. I will, however, examine Campbell’s limitations of chapter four which focuses on sex work.

Again, this entire book reads as a summary of the feminist debate surrounding women’s choices relating to polygamy, surrogacy and sex work. I would suggest that Campbell’s book is more suited for a class focused on introducing students to feminist theorizing or feminist discourse. I make this suggestion based on the fact that Campbell does not undertake, at any point in the book, a detailed analysis of the topics mentioned, especially how some juridical responses affect certain kinds of women at disproportionate rates. For instance, throughout the case study chapters, there is only brief mention of migrant women, colonialism, or Indigenous peoples. In her sex work chapter, she completely ignores the history of criminalizing Indigenous bodies, especially Indigenous women, via the Indian Act, where one of the bawdy house provisions first appeared in Canada.

Additionally, in her sex work chapter, Campbell acknowledges the limitations with the term sex work, which is more of an umbrella term. As such, her analysis solely examines prostitution-related cases. She assumes the “sex work is work” debate in her case study and there are limitations with this assumption because not all women who engage in the selling of sex view trading or selling sex as work in its conventional form, even if they support decriminalization of sex work. Campbell also misses an opportunity to advance discussions around consent, especially for Indigenous women in the trade.

In chapter four, we have the sex work is work debate on one hand and on the other hand, we have prostitution is inherently violent debate. If we position these debates within the concept of consent without going into the merits or validity of either side of the sex work debate, the discussion highlights the issues with both sides: do some women consent to work in criminalized environments or do some women consent to work in an environment that is inherently violent? If we assume that a woman in neither position can consent to working in a criminalized environment or to working an environment viewed as inherently violent, then we recognize how choice becomes a problem when we focus on choice as a fundamental concept in feminism. I may appear to be agreeing with Campbell when she says that consent is different than choice. However, I want to highlight the problems with focusing on choice: the confusion with consent, which is a point Campbell makes at the outset.[20]

Without being too obvious, there are huge issues with how current laws take up consent, and not only in the case studies Campbell presents (ie, sexual assault law, law relating to human trafficking cases). There is an opportunity to advance the discussion around consent, especially within a legal context. Because, at the end of the day, when it comes to juridical responses to topics like polygamy, surrogacy or sex work, it will matter when juridical responses take up certain women’s experiences (like exercising choice) while ignoring others. Besides, as feminists, we can all agree that juridical responses to consent are already problematic, and as feminists, the focus should be on improving existing juridical responses—consent is a pre-existing concept both in feminist and legal discourse. Why should feminism theories and discourses re-create the wheel when it comes to juridical responses to women’s lives?

Nevertheless, relying on choice as a fundamental concept in a legal context potentially has the same limitations choice as a fundamental concept in feminism creates when juridical responses only focus on some women’s choices in some contexts. Campbell also highlights these limitations (and opportunities) for juridical responses to respond to women’s choices in her case studies in chapters two, three and four. Other concepts that appear throughout Campbell’s case studies in chapter two, three and four include concepts like agency and stigma. In her case study chapters, I appreciate the discussion on non-state normative forces which influence women’s choices.

In the end, Campbell’s book is an easy read. It is also a much welcomed text to the feminist debate surrounding contentious topics. So, Campbell is right when she says that choice “often divides feminists.”[21] Still, in my opinion, I think that feminists need to move beyond the choice debate.

When former MP Bob Dechert asked me about my choice or the choice of Indigenous women to enter the sex trade, it did not come with surprise. As an Indigenous woman who advocates for the decriminalization of the sex trade, dominant feminist theories and discourses views me—an Indigenous woman—both as incapable of making a choice and invisible in the choice debate. Either I am experiencing false consciousness by supporting the right to work safely; I am “not representative”; or that I am part of the small minority. This focus on choice angers me.

In our exchange at the PCEPA committee meeting, Bob Dechert responded to my anger with condescension, “But I have chosen from a number of things available to earn a living. If this is the only way for them to survive, is it really a free choice? That’s my question.”[22] To which I responded, “’Choice’ and ‘free’ are such value-laden terms. To say that somebody has a choice is speaking from a privileged position.”[23]

When feminism focuses on choice as a fundamental concept, even in a legal context, it still speaks from a privilege positioned. Feminism that focuses on choice exists outside the choices women make on the daily, including the privilege of being free from the implications of such choices and when a feminism has that privilege, they do not have the privilege to focus on women’s choices as a fundamental concept.


[1] https://openparliament.ca/committees/justice/41-2/33/bob-dechert-19/

[2] https://openparliament.ca/committees/justice/41-2/33/naomi-sayers-9/

[3] https://openparliament.ca/committees/justice/41-2/33/bob-dechert-20/

[4][4] https://openparliament.ca/committees/justice/41-2/33/naomi-sayers-10/

[5] P. 11

[6] P. 11

[7] P. 12

[8] P. 12

[9] P 12-24.

[10] P. 13.

[11] P. 13.

[12] P. 13.

[13] P. 13.

[14] P. 13.

[15] P. 13.

[16] P. 13.

[17] P. 13

[18] P. 14.

[19] P. 33

[20] P. 11.

[21] P. 11.

[22] https://openparliament.ca/committees/justice/41-2/33/bob-dechert-21/

[23] https://openparliament.ca/committees/justice/41-2/33/naomi-sayers-11/

#CindyGladue: We need to think beyond superficial feminist and legal arguments

Note: This is a shortened version of a paper I submitted for a class during last term. Not all sources are publicly available. Not all sources previously cited in the paper are referred to in this shortened version and not all sources are cited according to appropriate legal citation. Thus, I significantly changed the structure of this paper for purposes of this post but where available, I cite sources which are publicly available and note when a source is not publicly available. 

 

When the jury delivered its verdict, four years had pass since the police charged Bradley Barton with the murder of Cindy Gladue. During the trial, held earlier this year, Justice Graesser presided over the judge/jury trial. In late February, Justice Graesser held a voir dire. Essentially, a voir dire is a mini trial within the larger trial and the mini trial hears and deliver judgments over distinct and discreet topics relating to topics such as evidence. This particular voir dire in Barton’s trial determined the admissibility of real evidence or the tissue evidence. The tissue evidence was Cindy’s preserved pelvic region that Dr. Graeme Dowling excised after his autopsy the day after the discovery of Cindy’s body, left for dead by Barton in his hotel room. The issue on voir dire was whether Barton caused the injury (an 11 cm wound to Cindy’s vagina) by his hand during consensual sex or with a sharp instrument.

The case of admitting tissue evidence in a Canadian court room sent shockwaves throughout the country. The commentary on the outcome of the trial and the use of tissue evidence, however, was quite superficial. Several people commented that it was Cindy’s vagina that was on trial instead of Barton.[1] It is both too easy and too weak of an argument to say that Cindy’s vagina was on trial. A lot of people, along with myself, also assumed that it was the Defence that sought to have Cindy’s preserved pelvic region admitted as evidence. I, including others, was wrong.

The decision to tender the tissue evidence was made two days prior to the voir dire.[2] The Crown, however, successfully argued to have Cindy’s preserved pelvic region admitted as part of Dr. Dowling’s expert opinion evidence. Along side the tissue evidence, Dr. Dowling also used photographic evidence. Justice Graesser held that the tissue evidence was real evidence and that it satisfied the general rules of admissibility.

The general rules of admissibility can be outlined in the following steps:

  • Is the evidence relevant?
  • Is the evidence material?
  • Is the evidence subject to any exclusionary rules?
  • Does the evidence’s probative value outweigh its prejudicial effects?
  • Trial judge exercising his or her residual discretion to admit the evidence despite exclusionary rules or prejudicial effects

Among the several kinds of real evidence, Justice Graesser referred to two kinds of real evidence. The two kinds of real evidence that Justice Graesser referred to include experiment evidence and photographic evidence. On voir dire, Justice Graesser outlined that R v Violette was a “good starting point.” Violette is a case concerning experiment evidence which relied on R v Collins. In Violette, the court determined the admissibility of experiment evidence which was not available to the Defence at trial: the testing of grenades prevented (obvious) later testing of same grenades. Violette referred to Collins because Collins determined admissibility of experiment evidence.

In Collins, the Ontario Court of Appeal held experiment evidence is admissible if it is relevant and material (and the rules regarding evidence that is both relevant and material are long-standing and well-established). Evidence is relevant “if, as a matter of logic and experience, the evidence tends to prove the proposition for which it is advanced.”[3] Evidence is material if the evidence is “directed at a matter in issue in the case.”[4] Thus, if evidence that is relevant to an issue, then the evidence will generally be admitted.[5] In his reasoning for determining the admissibility of evidence, Justice Graesser held that the evidence was both relevant and material, and the evidence was not subject to any exclusionary rules. So, the majority of Justice Graesser’s reasoning turned on the weighing of probative value versus the prejudicial and Justice Graesser exercising his residual discretion to admit evidence. However, in his reasoning, Justice Graesser failed to consider expert opinion rules regarding experiment evidence and confused the rules regarding photographic evidence and experiment evidence.

Regarding the rules on experiment evidence, Collins held that if the experiment evidence extends beyond “inferences from observed fact”[6] then the expert opinion rule applies to the experiment evidence. An opinion that does not require special knowledge is an inference from observed fact.[7] The example of an inference from an observed fact given in Collins includes drawing an inference that someone is drunk.[8] Meanwhile, an expert opinion is an opinion which requires “special knowledge beyond that of the trier of fact.”[9] For instance, in Collins, the Crown’s theory was that Collins demonstrated a “wanton and reckless disregard for life or safety of the child” who was struck by a bullet that “ricocheted off the surface of the water, striking [the child].”[10] The experiment conducted by the Sergeant in Collins did not require special knowledge to understand how the bullets ricocheted off the surface of the water because the experiment did not require “any particular expertise” and “was factual in nature.”[11] The Ontario Court of Appeal held that if the testimony goes beyond inferences from observed facts, then the expert opinion rule applies.[12] Unfortunately, Justice Graesser failed to consider the expert opinion rule relating to the experiment evidence, the tissue evidence.

In his reasoning on voir dire, Justice Graesser agreed with the Crown’s argument that Cindy’s preserved pelvic region was more like “biology lab presentation and was not offensive.”[13] In describing the presentation of the evidence, Justice Graesser writes that photographs were “more disturbing and unsettling than the more scientific and impersonal appearance of the preserved tissue.”[14] In one media article in response to the verdict, one journalist asserts that the details of the trial “begin to offer a picture of a woman who had been reduced to body parts – in fact, reduced to one body part.”[15] Then, the author (a lawyer) of another media article writes, “What is most horrific is that a Canadian court allowed the most intimate part of a woman’s body to be evidence in a jury trial.”[16] And still, another media article quotes a lawyer, “I think this was demeaning to Cindy Gladue.”[17] It is too easy to say the most obvious thing when it comes to such a hard discussion—a hard discussion for an Indigenous woman, like me, with sex trade experience who knows the reality of violence as it intersects with trading sex and drug use. I can continue on this same line of commentary—it was demeaning to Cindy; it was horrific; and it reduced Cindy down to a body part. But I think that we need to think beyond these perfunctory feminist and legal arguments.

Justice Graesser was clear in his reasoning that a good starting point was Violette, which was a case regarding experiment evidence and which relied on Collins. The Ontario Court of Appeal is clear that when experiment evidence goes beyond an inference observed from fact, then the expert opinion rule applies.

The Supreme Court of Canada established the rules relating to expert opinion evidence in R v Mohan. The Mohan rule has four requirements: the evidence is logically relevant, the evidence is necessary to the trier of fact (the necessity requirement), the evidence is not subject to any exclusionary rules, and the evidence is from a properly qualified expert.[18] Though both the Crown and Defence relied on Mohan in their submissions, Justice Graesser did not mention Mohan in his reasoning to admit the evidence. While it is okay for a Justice to not rely on all the cases on submission in his or her reasoning, Justice Graesser erred by stating that Violette is a good starting point, but failed to consider Collins while also failing to apply the Mohan rule. Explicitly, if Justice Graesser admitted that Dr. Dowling’s expert opinion evidence is similar to experiment by referring to Cindy’s preserved pelvic region as more scientific and referring to Violette as a good starting point, then the Collins rule applies along with Mohan.

In Collins, the Ontario Court of Appeal held that if experiment evidence fell under the expert opinion evidence then the evidence can only be admitted if the evidence met the Mohan rule[19]. And since the Supreme Court of Canada established the Mohan rule, several decisions built on the admissibility of expert opinion evidence: R v DD, R v J (–LJ), White Burgess Langille Inman v Abbott and Haliburton Co, and R v Sekhon.[20]

The necessity requirement is a standard that goes beyond “mere relevance or helpfulness.”[21] The Supreme Court of Canada (SCC), in R v DD, affirms Mohan’s necessity requirement and held that “dangers associated with expert evidence are not lightly tolerated.”[22] Justice Graesser in his reasoning simply stated that Dr. Dowling’s testimony was “easier to follow”[23] when he handled the tissue as opposed to the photographs. Dr. Dowling did not use the tissue exclusively; he also used the photographs. Also, Justice Graesser did not state that Dr. Dowling’s testimony with the tissue was more technical in nature, similar to the holding in R v DD.

Then, in R v J (-LJ), the SCC held that expert opinion evidence requires “special scrutiny” the closer an expert’s opinion is to the “ultimate issue.”[24] The issue in R v Barton was whether Barton caused the injury (an 11 cm wound to Cindy’s vagina) by his hand during consensual sex or with a sharp instrument.

Justice Graesser held that “Dr. Dowling’s evidence was based on his observations with the tissue itself, not the photographs of the tissue.”[25] So, the expert’s opinion does not get any closer to the ultimate issue than seeking to tender Cindy’s preserved pelvic region in court as evidence which speaks to the expert opinion—what caused the injury. Subsequently, Justice Graesser failed to put the tissue evidence under special scrutiny, a standard which demands more than mere relevance or helpfulness.

The SCC in Sekhon held that the admissibility of expert’s testimony does not end after applying the Mohan rule. Even if the issue on voir dire was not expert evidence, the SCC held that “trial judges must be vigilant in monitoring and enforcing the proper scope of expert evidence.”[26] The testimony of Dr. Dowling can be likened to the testimony of the expert in Sekhon.

In Sekhon, the police charged the accused with trafficking cocaine. The defence was that Sekhon was a “blind courier.”[27] A blind courier is someone who claims that he or she “does not know the nature or existence of the commodity being moved from one location to another.”[28] At trial in Sekhon, the police expert stated, “[I]n the thousand or more cocaine-importing investigations he has been involved in[,] he has never encountered a blind courier.” [29] This is the impugned testimony, where absence of an experience confirms a necessary element in an offence charged.[30] On trial, the Court admitted the impugned testimony from the expert evidence. The accused appealed and the majority at the Court of Appeal held the trial judge properly admitted the expert evidence, or the impugned testimony.[31]

However, on appeal and in the dissent, Justice Newbury stated the evidence “was purely anecdotal evidence, not amenable to cross examination in any real sense.”[32] On cross-examination on voir dire, Justice Graesser held that the testimony of Dr. Dowling when he handled the tissue evidence was “easier to follow.”[33] So, the tissue helps the Defence in its cross examination, which suggests the evidence is less prejudicial. Overall, Justice Graesser also held that the prejudicial effects did not outweigh the probative value of the tissue evidence.[34] I do not agree because the standard for admitting expert opinion evidence in the context of an experiment demands a special scrutiny, more than mere relevance or helpfulness.

On appeal, Justice Newbury also held that the impugned testimony was anecdotal and “[the impugned testimony] does not speak to the particular facts before the Court, but has the superficial attractiveness of seeming to show that the probabilities are very much in the Crown’s favour, and of coming from the mouth of an ‘expert.’”[35] Justice Graesser noted that the tissue evidence did speak to the particular facts before the Court.

Building on Mohan, the SCC held that impugned testimony in Sekhon lacked relevance and probative value.[36] Though Justice Graesser states that the tissue is relevant, he does not distinguish between the probative value of the experiment evidence and the probative value of the photograph evidence. In fact, Justice Graesser confuses the two different types of evidence and the rules relating to experiment evidence and photograph evidence. Justice Graesser simply admits the tissue evidence because it is also in the photographs. Justice Graesser states, “[I]f the photographs are admissible, the object of the photograph itself should be admissible as real evidence.”[37] The logic suggesting objects in a photographs should be admissible because if the photographs are admissible, then the object is also admissible should be alarming (at minimum). There is no probative value to admitting the object of a photograph simply because it is the object of a photograph; this is circular logic, a fallacy. Further, there was nothing preventing Justice Graesser from suggesting the expert opinion of Dr. Dowling could solely rely on the photographs. Justice Graesser just says it is “easier to follow” Dr. Dowling’s testimony when Dr. Dowling used the tissue.

Additionally, the Crown theory was that Barton inserted a sharp object into Cindy’s vagina, which caused the 11 cm wound. Dr. Dowling’s testimony agrees with this theory. Similar to the analysis in Sekhon, Dr. Dowling’s experiment evidence can be likened to impugned testimony. Dr. Dowling told the police that he “was not able to say what the mechanism was that had caused the cut to [Cindy’s] vagina, however that the cut was clean-edged.”[38] Dr. Dowling’s experience, with tissue and conducting autopsies, suggests that there could be no other explanation for the mechanism (a sharp object) that caused the injury because he never encountered any other injury not caused by a sharp object. While it might appear that I am arguing that the Defence’s theory is more believable, that is not what I am suggesting. I am suggesting that Justice Graesser simply admitted the tissue because (possibly) in Dr. Dowling’s experience, he had no other explanations for the injury. Thus, in Justice Graesser’s reasoning, the tissue should be admitted simply because it helped Dr. Dowling’s testimony. Again, the standard for admitting expert opinion evidence under the experiment rule requires a standard beyond mere relevance or helpfulness.

When considering the difference between the photographs and the tissue evidence, Justice Graesser does not distinguish between the mere relevance or helpfulness and probative value of the tissue evidence in comparison to the photographs. Justice Graesser states, “[I]t was somewhat difficult to follow Dr. Dowling’s descriptions and orientations of the photographs at times.”[39] He states “I was able to understand the gist of Dr. Dowling’s observations and to understand his opinions and the reasons for his opinions during his evidence using the autopsy photos (emphasis added).”[40] In describing Dr. Dowling’s testimony handling the tissue, Justice Graesser states, “viewing the tissue and the manner in which it was used by Dr. Dowling to illustrate his observations, conclusions and opinion was easier to follow than his evidence using the autopsy photos (emphasis added).”[41] Dr. Dowling handled the tissue behind a screen, where the Court projected the tissue, up close, as an image onto an overhead projector.

On voir dire, Dr. Dowling also testified that “it would be of benefit to the Court and the jury to see the actual tissue to better understand his evidence and opinions.”[42] Justice Graesser acknowledges that Dr. Dowling could demonstrate everything in his evidence using the photographs but that some of these photos were “not as bright” which affirmed the use of the tissue by Dr. Dowling.[43] Dr. Dowling further testified that “the tissue itself showed certain aspects of the injury important to his evidence, and others potentially important to the defence, more clearly than the photographs.”[44] The above indicates the difference between the photographs and the tissues is one of mere relevance or helpfulness especially when Justice Graesser uses phrases “easier to follow.”[45] Justice Graesser also affirms that the photographs could be used for the entire duration of Dr. Dowling’s testimony. The photographs were just simply “not as bright” as the expert would prefer, and the terms “not as bright” suggests a standard of mere relevance or helpfulness.[46]

In conclusion, if Justice Graesser likened the tissue evidence to an experiment, Justice Graesser incorrectly referred to the tissue evidence like photographs. Justice Graesser also incorrectly applied the test for admitting experiment evidence especially as it relates to expert opinion evidence. Throughout his reasoning, Justice Graesser states that the tissue evidence is like photographic evidence.[47] Yet, Justice Graesser refers to Violette, which is a decision concerning experiment evidence. Justice Graesser ignores the law in all aspects, especially as it relates to the admissibility of experiment evidence in the context of expert opinion evidence. The Supreme Court of Canada is clear on experiment evidence concerning an expert’s opinion: the admissibility of such evidence does not exist in isolation of the rest of the trial.[48] Since I analogized the experiment evidence as it relates to expert opinion evidence to impugned testimony in Sekhon, then it follows that Justice Graesser should not have admitted the tissue evidence. Justice Graesser simply admitted the evidence because in Dr. Dowling’s experience there was quite possibly nothing else that could have caused the injury except for a sharp object. Again, I am not affirming the Defence’s theory that Cindy consented to any sexual acts. I am simply highlighting the problems with Justice Graesser’s reasoning in admitting the tissue evidence.

On the issue that the tissue evidence and Dr. Dowling’s opinions and conclusions on the evidence is similar to impugned testimony (where absence of an experience affirms a necessary element of an offence) and thus, the evidence should not be admitted, Justice Graesser’s reasoning also affirms that graphic photographs can be admitted if they go to a necessary element of the offence. In citing R v McLeod in his decision, Justice Graesser writes, “In that case, the Crown argued that the graphic photographs were relevant to show the jury the nature and distribution of the deceased’s wounds, which might shed light on the accused’s state of mind which was the key issue at trial[49]” The key issue on voir dire was whether a sharp object or some other mechanism caused the injury. This issue goes to a necessary element of the offence charged, murder. Throughout his reasons, Justice Graesser notes the graphic and disturbing nature of the photograph. There is nothing suggesting that Dr. Dowling could have solely used the photographs—it was just easier to follow, a standard of mere relevance or helpfulness, when Dr. Dowling used the tissue.

In Sekhon, the SCC held that even when evidence is logically relevant, it could also be legally irrelevant and thereby, justifying its exclusion.[50] The SCC held that legally irrelevant expert evidence goes to lack of relevance or probative value.[51] Where expert evidence is not legally relevant, trial judges must apply the proper rules. The SCC states, “[I]t is not enough to simply consider the Mohan criteria at the outset of the expert’s testimony and make an initial ruling as to the admissibility of the evidence.”[52] And so, Justice Graesser did not properly consider the necessity requirements in the Mohan rule when considering the admissibility of the tissue evidence. Justice Graesser only affirmed the tissue’s relevance and probative value on the fact that the same evidence was also in the photographs.[53] His reasoning for admitting the tissue evidence went to mere relevance or helpfulness, not necessity. Again, it was only easier to follow Dr. Dowling’s testimony when Dr. Dowling used the tissue evidence as opposed to only using the photographs. The suggestion that it was easier to follow Dr. Dowling’s testimony does not mean that the trier of fact could not follow or understand Dr. Dowling’s testimony by solely using the photographic evidence.

In describing Cindy’s preserved pelvic region as evidence, Justice Graesser uses the term “novel.”[54] Yes, excising Indigenous people’s body parts and putting them on display is novel, but only if you ignore the history of colonialism in Canada. Justice Graesser further writes, “I recognize there is a natural discomfort to the presence of a body part in court. It is perhaps unprecedented to present this type of evidence to a jury, at least in Canada. But the absence of precedent does not mean that it should not be done.”[55] In that same breadth, the absence of a precedent does not mean that admitting an Indigenous woman’s preserved pelvic region should be done. In his reasoning to admit Cindy’s preserved pelvic region, Justice Graesser failed to consider long standing and established rules, especially in relation to experiment evidence concerning expert’s opinions, and failed to consider the colonial and historical context where Canadian law manifests itself. Consequently, Justice Graesser should not have admitted Cindy’s preserved pelvic region.

While the commentary on the use of Cindy’s preserved pelvic region as evidence is valid, it is too easy to say that it was demeaning or that it was horrific or that it reduced Cindy down to a body part. Literally almost anyone can say the same if they read the facts of the case. However, to examine Justice Graesser’s reasons in detail requires something more than just stating the obvious—Cindy and her family deserve it.

The Court attempted to function in an objective manner and that is where the problem lies. The Court positioned Cindy’s preserved pelvic region as evidence existing in the abstract, void of any colonial or historical context. And that is where the real violence lies: the treatment of Cindy’s body existing in the abstract void of any colonial or historical context.

When the Crown exercised its discretion to admit Cindy’s preserved pelvic region as evidence, Justice Graesser acknowledged this discretion in the context of an accused’s right to a fair trial.[56] Justice Graesser writes, “Fair trial does not only mean a fair trial for the accused. The Crown is entitled to present its case in the manner it considers best, subject to the rules of admissibility.”[57] But, we must ask, fair to whom? Cindy did not consent to death and most certainly, Cindy cannot consent to the use of her preserved pelvic region as evidence.  The function of law attempted to act in an objective manner when the Crown exercises its discretion and the Courts acknowledge that the Crown is entitled to present its case in the manner it considers best. Entitled! Everyone but Indigenous women are entitled to exercise consent over our bodies.

In her article titled, “The Violence We Women Do: A First Nations View,” Patricia Monture writes, “[T]his topic ‘violence against women,’ it mystifies me.”[58] Monture discusses the topic, violence against women, as themes relating to definitions and consent. Then, in her seminal paper titled Home/Land, Mary Ellen Turpel claimed that Canadian law silenced Aboriginal people.[59] Turpel writes, “There is no place for [A]boriginal peoples to stand and directly articulate their reality in Canadian law or politics.”[60] In relying on Patricia Monture’s work, Turpel agreed with Monture by acknowledging that “Aboriginal peoples are objects in any process that is alien to them and as such are silenced.”[61] I agree. Canadian law displaces Indigenous people’s realities from its systems and in effect, the law also silences Indigenous peoples. The ultimate form of displacing and silencing appears in Justice Graesser’s decision to admit Cindy’s preserved pelvic region.

Some feminists will argue that how Cindy met Barton, in the context of prostitution, is violence in and of itself. This strand of feminism argues prostitution is violence against women because prostitution is rape. However, I position prostitution within the context it existed then and now: the criminal context. In talking about consent, Monture also asserts that “the entire criminal justice system, the entire legal system in this country, were never consented to by First Nations.”[62] Monture also states, “The process of racially controlled definitions and the overlooking of consent creates silence and perpetuates racism. The result is violence.”[63] When feminists argue that all prostitution is violence against women, this creates the silence that is also violence for Indigenous women in the sex trade. When Justice Graesser ignored the consent of Cindy by acknowledging prosecutorial discretion in the criminal context, this created the silence that perpetuates racism and the result is violence: the function of law which treated Cindy’s preserved pelvic region as evidence.

Monture also wrote, “It is out of my race that my identity as a woman develops. I cannot and will not separate the two.”[64] When I write as an Indigenous woman, I write as an Indigenous woman with sex trade experience. I cannot separate these identities. But still, I am silenced through the feminist argument that all prostitution is violence and this silencing is violence. While I can go into a detailed analysis on the issues with ignoring the experiences of Indigenous sex workers in the context of Cindy Gladue’s murder, this will be a futile exercise. There is no debate because Indigenous sex workers do not consent to violence. So, I do not want to give anymore time to the argument that all prostitution is violence.

I first wrote about Cindy Gladue after the jury delivered its verdict. I wrote, “Sex workers do not consent to the violence that they experience. Money does not change the circumstances of rape, violence or murder.”[65] In a follow-up post, I wrote about ways to respond to violence that Indigenous women, especially those in the sex trade, may experience.[66] As an Indigenous woman with sex working experience, I know that criminal justice responses to our realities invites more violence. Justice Graesser’s decision is evidence of this violence.

The responses to violence in Indigenous women’s lives needs to think beyond the criminal justice system. In my follow-up post, I called upon people to “think about ways to respond to gender and colonial violence within your own communities that does not rely on the criminal (in)justice system and that is inclusive of people who trade or sell sex and/or work in the street economies.”[67] Like Monture asserts, the tension with the legal system and Indigenous people exists at the definitions of rights versus responsibilities.[68] Monture argues for a responsibility-oriented philosophy over of rights-oriented one, in the context of law.[69] I agree.

I argue that my responsibility to the legal system and to my community is the same as any other law student: we do not exist in isolation. And, my responsibility to the community is the same as the Crown’s responsibility to the community as well as Justice Graesser’s responsibility to the community. Perhaps, the Crown’s responsibility and Justice Graesser’s responsibility is higher than mine (and, rightfully so). However, if Justice Graesser and the Crown are entitled to make decisions regarding the admission of evidence without considering the effects their decisions have on communities, they ignore their responsibility to those communities. When we focus on our responsibilities both as persons representing the legal system and as persons of the larger community, only then do we center both the families and the realities of Indigenous sex trade workers: Indigenous people do not consent to violence, including excising parts of our bodies for use by the courts as evidence.


[1] Rosie DiManno, “A final indignity for Cindy Gladue: DiManno”, The Toronto Star (2 April 2015), online; Elizabeth Renzetti, “Cindy Gladue was reduced to a body part”, The Globe and Mail (6 April 2015), online; Ryan Cormier, “‘This was demeaning’: Body part as evidence in Cindy Gladue Murder Trial comes under fire”, National Post (30 March 2015), online.

[2] R v Barton, 2015 ABQB 159 at para 40 (CanLII) [Barton].

[3] R v Collins, 2001 CanLII 24124 at para 18 (Ont Ca) [Collins]

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid at para 20.

[7] Ibid at para 17.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid at para 12.

[11] Ibid at paras 36, 37.

[12] Ibid at paras 20, 21.

[13] Barton, supra note 2 at para 42.

[14] Ibid at para 55.

[15] Elizabeth Renzetti, “Cindy Gladue was reduced to a body part”, The Globe and Mail (6 April 2015), online.

[16] CBC News, “Bradley Barton found not guilty in death of Cindy Gladue”, CBC News: Edmonton (198 March 2015), online.

[17] Ryan Cormier, “‘This was demeaning’: Body part as evidence in Cindy Gladue Murder Trial comes under fire”, National Post (30 March 2015), online.

[18] R v Mohan, [1994] 2 SCR 9 at 20, 1994 CanLII 80 (SCC) [Mohan].

[19] Collins, supra note 2 at paras 20, 21.

[20] I will not consider White Burgess Langille Inman v Abbott and Haliburton Co because the decision relates to impartial expert witnesses and this is not an issue on voir dire.

[21] R v DD, 2000 SCC 43 at para 46, [2000] 2 SCR 275 [DD].

[22] Ibid at para 47.

[23] Barton, supra note 2 at para 19.

[24] R v J (-LJ), 2000 SCC 51 at para 37, [2000] 2 SCR 600 [JLJ].

[25] Barton, supra note 2 at para 22.

[26] R v Sekhon, 2014 SCC 15 at para 46, [2014] 1 SCR 272 [Sekhon SCC].

[27] Ibid at paras 21-25.

[28] Ibid at para 36.

[29] Ibid at para 36.

[30] Ibid.

[31] Ibid at para 41.

[32] R v Sekhon, 2012 BCCA 512 at para 26 (CanLII) [Sekhon BCCA].

[33] Barton, supra note 2 at 19.

[34] Ibid at paras 49-51

[35] Sekhon BCCA, supra note 32 at para 27.

[36] Sekhon SCC, supra note 46 at para 50.

[37] Barton, supra note 2 at para 37.

[38] Document not publicly available.

[39] Barton, supra note 2 at para 19.

[40] Ibid.

[41] Ibid.

[42] Barton, supra note 2 at para 17.

[43] Ibid.

[44] Ibid.

[45] Ibid at para 19.

[46] Ibid at para 17.

[47] Ibid at paras 27-36.

[48] Sekhon SCC, supra note 26 at paras 46-47.

[49] Barton, supra note 2 at para 48.

[50] Sekhon SCC, supra note 26 at para 49.

[51] Sekhon SCC, supra note 26 at para 50.

[52] Sekhon SCC, supra note 26 at para 46.

[53] See R v Barton, 2015 ABQB 159 (CanLII)

[54] Barton, supra note 2 at para 20.

[55] Barton, supra note 2 at para 52.

[56] Ibid at para 43.

[57] Ibid.

[58] Patricia Monture-Okanee, “The Violence We Women Do: A First Nations View” in Constance Backhouse & David H Flaherty eds, Challenging Times: The Women’s Movement in Canada and the United States (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1992) 193 at 193.

[59] Mary Ellen Turpel, “Home/Land” (1991) 10 Can J Fam L 17 at 20 (WL Can)

[60] Ibid.

[61] Ibid.

[62] Patricia Monture-Okanee, “The Violence We Women Do: A First Nations View” in Constance Backhouse & David H Flaherty eds, Challenging Times: The Women’s Movement in Canada and the United States (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1992) 193 at 193.

[63] Ibid at 197.

[64] Ibid at 194.

[65] Naomi Sayers, “Our bodies are not terra nullius” (20 March 2015), Kwe Today (blog), online.

[66] Naomi Sayers, “#CindyGladue: I want to think about ways that do not rely on the criminal (in)justice system to feel safe” (26 March 2015), Kwe Today (blog), online.

[67] Ibid.

[68] Patricia Monture-Okanee, “The Violence We Women Do: A First Nations View” in Constance Backhouse & David H Flaherty eds, Challenging Times: The Women’s Movement in Canada and the United States (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1992) 193 at 196-197.

[69] Ibid at 197.

#Reconciliation and #RestorativeJustice: What about the women?

After various legal folks began commenting on R v Armitage, I decided to write a post. That post can be read here. In that post, I outline the obvious (well, what should be obvious) issues with R v Armitage which is the fact that an Indigenous person has to opt to remain in prison to receive help (instead of this help being available outside of prison).

The absence of this obvious issue in commentary reminded me of the quote that a past counsellor of mine once said in a public presentation on Indian Residential Schools, “It’s funny how Aboriginal [men & women] now learn their culture in a Federal institution when it was an institution that took it away.”[1]

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission had several calls to action listed under the heading of “Justice.”[2] The TRC, in one of their calls to action, writes, “We call upon the federal government to eliminate barriers to the creation of additional Aboriginal healing lodges within the federal correctional system.”[3]  There are several healing lodges that currently operate in Canada.[4] These lodges are still managed by Corrections Services Canada (CSC) that operate under its guiding legislation which includes the Correctional and Conditional Release Act (CCRA). Specifically, s. 81 of the CCRA empowers the Ministry of Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness to enter into agreements with Aboriginal communities “for the provision of correctional services to aboriginal offenders.”[5] Because CSC still manages these healing lodges, some of their policies still apply to prisoners especially as it relates to who can access these healing lodges and who cannot access these lodges.

For instance, the CSC, pursuant to the Corrections and Conditional Release Regulations (CCRR), assigns a classification to each prisoner. These prisoners, including Aboriginal prisoners, receive a classification of either minimum, medium or maximum security. Section 18 outlines these classifications in the CCRR. And under CSC’s policies, their policies only permit prisoners that receive minimum and medium security classification to be transferred to healing lodges.[6] By implementing such a policy, the CSC views this step as minimizing risk and exposure. In the same report that outlines the CSC policies permitting only minimum and medium security prisoners to be transferred to healing lodges, the report states that these same policies impede ninety percent of Aboriginal prisoners from being transferred to a healing lodge.

The CSC’s classification system is obviously a contested one. Much of the time, the classification tends to over-classify Aboriginal women, despite the absence of a legitimate risk to staff and inmate.[7] In other words, Aboriginal women are more likely to receive a higher security classification in the absence of any real or legitimate risk to inmates or staff. These same women may also receive a higher security classification for showing reluctance to participate in culturally irrelevant programming. When the Gladue sentencing principles were applied to my criminal justice experience, much of the programming was not relevant to my nation, which was due in part to geographic location (another barrier to accessing culturally relevant programming since many prisons are located far away from Indigenous communities). Nevertheless, should Aboriginal women really be the ones to bear the burden when it comes to inaccessible culturally relevant programming?

While some people may argue that the security classification system is broken, I propose that it is doing exactly what it has always intended to do: get rid of the Indian problem. The Indian Act came before the Criminal Code and it is through both pieces of legislation that legitimized the criminalization of Indigenous bodies to further the colonizer’s goals: access and exploit Indigenous lands. Though the TRC’s calls to actions are an important starting point, some of these calls to actions are lacking or perhaps, some of these calls to actions are also missing the point. This point being that part of the barriers that prevent healing lodges is the fact that they are still being managed by the CSC and the CSC has policies in place that prevent Aboriginal prisoners, especially Aboriginal women in the prison system, from accessing such support.

In that same breadth, however, I am cautious in calling for more support in a system that incarcerates a majority of already-marginalized folks, like Indigenous, Black, and Brown bodies.

On the topic of Indigenous prisoners, we see this increased incarceration of Indigenous people within the so-called “Aboriginal justice” or “restorative justice” approaches within the CSC. First, we see Indigenous folks opting to be placed into jail to access supports, like in the case of R v Armitage. Second, we see the CSC implementing policies which prevent Aboriginal prisoners from accessing s. 81 healing lodges and the TRC’s calls to action did not address this second point. Rather, the calls to action simply asked barriers to creating healing lodges to be eliminated instead of asking barriers preventing Aboriginal prisoners from accessing such lodges to be removed. Third, regarding so-called restorative justice approaches to sentencing, Aboriginal prisoners must plead guilty first before they can access such measures and the restorative justice approach only applies to an Aboriginal prisoner at sentencing (because, you know, god forbid, we consider implementing programs that prevent Aboriginal people from going into the prison system in the first place).

When I heard my past counsellor describe the prison system as “giving back” Aboriginal culture to Aboriginal peoples, especially when it was an institution (Indian Residential Schools) that took it away, that truth hit me like a ton of bricks. As someone who has experience in the so-called restorative justice system, as an offender, I struggle with communicating how “restorative justice” is part of the problem when it comes to addressing the over-representation of Indigenous people in the prison system. There is nothing restorative about forcing an Indigenous person to plead guilty to access cultural supports. There is nothing restorative about forcing an Indigenous person to opt to stay in prison to access cultural supports. And most certainly, there is absofuckinglutely nothing restorative about preventing ninety percent of Aboriginal prisoners from accessing healing lodges and even more problematic, there is nothing restorative about assigning higher security classification to Indigenous women in prison when no real or legitimate risk to other prisoners or staff is present.

We have to think beyond the prison system when it comes to healing our communities and we have to think beyond so-called restorative justice when it comes to healing individual community members including our women whose population count in prisons has grown by 112% over nearly a decade. We also have to think beyond so-called restorative justice especially when institutions like CSC work to implement policies that create more injustice than justice. We must question the institutions and the policies we hold up as helping and we must question whether the outcome and effect of the policies is something we want for the healing of our communities and for future generations. Because as Indigenous people know, not everything that is labelled “justice” actually delivers us justice.

[1] http://kwetoday.tumblr.com/search/liz+akiwenzie#12584361957

[2] http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/File/2015/Findings/Calls_to_Action_English2.pdf

[3] http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/File/2015/Findings/Calls_to_Action_English2.pdf

[4] http://www.csc-scc.gc.ca/aboriginal/002003-2000-eng.shtml

[5] http://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/acts/C-44.6/page-23.html#docCont

[6] http://www.oci-bec.gc.ca/cnt/rpt/pdf/oth-aut/oth/aut20121022-eng.pdf

[7] See D. Milward, “Sweating It Out: Facilitating Corrections and Parole in Canada through Aboriginal Spiritual Healing” (2011) 29 Windsor YB Access to Just 27 [Milward, “Aboriginal Healing”] at 40-47.