i

REFLECTIONS ON RURAL SOCIAL WORK RESULTING FROM A PRACTICUM
WITH THE GITANMAAX MEN’S GROUP AT THE GITANMAAX HEALTH AND
WELLNESS CENTER

by

James Woodworth
B.S.W., Thompson Rivers University, 2005

PRACTICUM REPORT SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF
THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
MASTERS
OF
SOCIAL WORK

UNIVERSITY OF NORTHERN BRITISH COLUMBIA
June 2021

©James Woodworth, 2021

ii

Abstract

The purpose of this report is to summarize my practicum experience with the Gitanmaax
Men’s Group at the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre in Gitanmaax Village, BC. The
agency serves Gitanmaax membership living within the community of Gitanmaax village as well
as those living off-reserve in the surrounding area. This report outlines the learning goals of my
practicum and how those objectives were met through reflection, supervision, mentorship, and
practice. Unforeseen learning came as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic and the impact it was
having on the Gitxsan nation and on the transfer of cultural knowledge to the younger
generation. Along with strengthening my social work skills, my practicum allowed me to explore
rural ethics in social work and how these connect to practice. This account of what emerged from
my practicum learning concludes with suggestions around ethics, self-care, service delivery, and
one’s role as a non–First Nations person working in a First Nations community.

iii

Table of Contents
Abstract .......................................................................................................................................... ii
Table of Contents ......................................................................................................................... iii
Acknowledgements ...................................................................................................................... iv
Chapter One: Introduction ...........................................................................................................2
Introduction ..................................................................................................................................2
The COVID 19 Pandemic ............................................................................................................4
Chapter Two: Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre ............................................................6
Geographic Location ....................................................................................................................6
Practicum Settings ........................................................................................................................7
Learning Goals .............................................................................................................................8
Chapter Three: Theoretical Orientation ...................................................................................10
Locating Self ..............................................................................................................................10
Theoretical Orientation ..............................................................................................................13
Chapter Four: Literature Review ..............................................................................................17
Colonization ...............................................................................................................................17
First Nations Men’s Wellness ....................................................................................................22
Attachment Theory .....................................................................................................................25
Fatherhood and Parenting ...........................................................................................................27
Engaging Men ............................................................................................................................30
First Nations Land-based Programming ....................................................................................32
Ethics in Rural Social Work .......................................................................................................36
Becoming an Ally .......................................................................................................................40
Chapter Five: Activities, Tasks and Learning ..........................................................................43
Role as a Social Worker .............................................................................................................43
Community Planning and Program Development .....................................................................44
Differing Worldviews through Concepts of Time .....................................................................48
Adapting Service Delivery .........................................................................................................50
Who is the expert? Self Determination, Ownership and Control ...............................................52
Self-Care through Self Awareness .............................................................................................56
Introducing Self ..........................................................................................................................57

iv

Connecting Genealogy to Practice .............................................................................................59
The Ethics of Rural Social Work ...............................................................................................63
My Role as a Non-First Nations Social Worker in the Gitxsan community ..............................67
Personal Reflections on COVID 19 ...........................................................................................69
Chapter Six: Considerations and Implications for Rural Social Work Practice ...................73
Self-Care and Ethics ...................................................................................................................75
Service Delivery Coordination: First Nations Ownership and Inclusion ...................................78
Post Covid Response ..................................................................................................................81
Non-First Nations Social Workers Working with First Nations Communities .........................82
Conclusion ..................................................................................................................................85
References ..................................................................................................................................86
Appendix A: Learning Contract .................................................................................................96

v

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to acknowledge and thank the team at Gitanmaax Health and Wellness
Centre and the Gitanmaax Band for giving me the opportunity to complete this practicum. My
field supervisor, Mark Larsen (BA, MSW, RSW), connected with me on a weekly basis and
helped guide and shape my learning despite the numerous challenges we faced during the
pandemic. Thanks, also, to Gitanmaax Wellness Worker Mike Johnson for challenging my
assumptions and increasing my awareness around the importance of connecting the mind, body,
and spirit through land-based programming for Gitanmaax men. I would like to thank Dr. Susan
Burke for her incredible patience as my academic supervisor; your honesty and support provided
me the space and energy to complete this degree. Monique Gray-Smith for your guidance on my
reflective journaling pieces for the learning that came through during this practicum. Katie
Ludwig for your continued dedication in teaching and helping me learn to understand and speak
sim’algyax. Thank you to both Dr. Bruce Bidgood and Dr. Tammy Pearson for being on my
committee and the feedback you provided. To my parents, brother and in-laws, thank you for
everything you have shown me over the years; having you in my life has provided my greatest
teachings. Most importantly, I would like to thank my wife, Virginia, for your love and
wholehearted support during this process; without it, I am not sure I would have been able to
complete this journey. I love you. To my children, Braiden, Brilee, and Darion, and my
grandchildren, Peyton and Dahlia, I love you all so much: you are the reason for the work I do
and I dedicate this project to all of you.

2

CHAPTER ONE: Introduction
Attempting to liberate the oppressed without their reflective participation in the act of
liberation is to treat them as objects which must be saved from a burning building; it is to lead
them into the populist pitfall and transform them into masses which can be manipulated.
– Paulo Freire (2000)
Introduction
My practicum took place at the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Center. The primary
focus of my practicum was working with men within the Gitxsan territory by engaging with
land-based programming. The practicum process was a personal, reflective exploration of my
current location, and past experiences that led to deeper understandings of my role, and identity
as a social worker. Elements of wellness and land-based programming were woven together to
develop a framework for the Gitanmaax Men’s Wellness program that could be used as a support
mechanism and learning tool for other Gitxsan villages within the nation. The secondary focus of
the practicum examined how I—specifically as a white male social worker—situated myself in
the practicum process alongside a majority of Gitxsan men. I came to the topic with a passion for
issues that impact men’s health, First Nations people, and the most precious resources of our
communities: children.
Since 2005, I have lived in the communities of Gitsegukla, Telkwa, and New Hazelton,
which are situated in Northwestern British Columbia (BC) within the Gitxsan and Wet’suwet’en
territories. Before moving to Northwestern BC and starting a career in the field of social work, I
became aware of issues related to men’s health through the efforts of organizations such as BC
Male Survivors of Sexual Abuse, the Men’s Project, the Lifeline Centre in Ottawa, and the
National Organization of Male Sexual Victimization (now Male Survivor). Since 2005, the
windows into men’s wellness have grown to include organizations such as the Gitanmaax Men’s

3

Program; DUDE’s Club; the Domestic Peace Program, operated by the Northern Society of
Domestic Peace; and the Movember Foundation. My identity formation has been a meandering
path that continues to venture inward and is influenced by my social relationships, physical
location, employment, and education. The deceitfully simple question—who am I? —is
necessarily rooted in my privilege that intersects with my age, race, class, and gender, all of
which coincide with the positive and negative experiences that shaped my emotional wellbeing
during my adolescence and young adulthood. People are quick to discern that I am a white,
straight, male, middle-class social worker. I believe that as I grew within Western societal
structures—particularly the patriarchal conventions that have operated in my own world, society,
and family—they did not allow me space to speak about the personal issues of sexual abuse.
Simultaneously, within these same structures, I have been afforded opportunities and privileges
that have made it inherently easier for me to navigate the systems such as employment and
education in Canadian society.
Universal gender stereotypes which include myths about what it means to be a “man”
begin to exert influence at an early age. Phrases and archetypes such as “boys don’t cry” and “the
strong silent type” shaped the foundational years of my childhood and negatively impacted my
wellbeing. Concurrently, these traditional masculine concepts allowed me opportunities to enter
spaces of education, employment, and everyday life that brought many benefits, including the
fact that I could visibly see myself represented in my educators, jobs aspirations, media, and
history books. Coming to terms with traditional masculine concepts has brought me deep
awareness of the impacts that collective societal beliefs and structures, such as the nuclear
family, can impose on individuals. I approached this practicum placement with humility and
openness so that I could better understand how I might serve as an ally of the Gitxsan people

4

and, in this context, of local men to improve their wellness. My practicum was also a means to
examine my role as a white ally in this work—if there is, in fact, such a role to be filled. My
family was my guiding force as I reflected on the question of what it means to be a non–First
Nations ally working and living within a First Nations community.
This practicum increased my awareness and understanding of the colonizing forces and
structures that continue to oppress First Nations people. I found that reflecting on the layered
complexity of what it means to be a non–First Nations person living, working, and conducting
research in First Nations communities was the most essential learning that evolved during my
practicum placement. Growing racial tensions and calls to address systemic racism in our
country and, indeed, around the world, make this topic exceptionally important.
The Covid-19 Pandemic
It is important for the reader to understand the significant impact that COVID-19 had
prior to, during, and at the conclusion of my practicum. The coronavirus disease (COVID-19) is
an infectious disease caused by a newly discovered coronavirus that causes respiratory illness
that can severely impact older people and those with underlying medical problems (World
Health Organization, 2021). On March 11, 2020, the World Health Organization (WHO)
declared that the COVID-19 virus constituted a worldwide pandemic. Program planning,
activities, meetings, and supervision discussions were all affected by the frequently changing
British Columbia Public Health Orders that resulted from the COVID-19 pandemic.
On March 18, 2020, the province of British Columbia declared a state of emergency due
to an increase in COVID-19 cases and the seriousness of COVID-19 outbreaks in long-term care
facilities. The Provincial Health Officer, Dr. Bonnie Henry, began a structured Monday–Friday
3:00 pm update that included a summary of new COVID-19 cases, deaths, and hospitalizations

5

along with public health orders and reminders to social distance, wear masks, and restrict nonessential travel. The ebb and flow of Public Health Orders (PHO) and restrictions that were
included with these daily updates would drastically shift the practices within my practicum. The
continually changing PHO and restrictions ranged from barring social gatherings to allowing
gatherings of a maximum of 50 people. The most recent PHO restrictions, issued in April of
2021 resulted in the Province of British Columbia setting up roadblocks, restricting nonessential
travel, and fining individuals attempting to travel out of specified regions (except for medical
reasons). My practicum experience encompassed the full range of PHO restrictions along with
many unintended consequences the pandemic has imposed on the Gitxsan nation with respect to
their cultural practices. In preparing for my practicum, I did not forecast the role the COVID-19
pandemic would exert on my practicum; however, it became an integral part of my learning.

6

Chapter 2: Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre
If you take a bucket of water out of the Skeena River, the Skeena keeps on flowing. Our rights
still flow and they will flow forever.
Gitxsan Hereditary Chief Delgamuukw, Earl Muldoe
(Fournier, 1993, p. A19)
Geographical Location
The Gitxsan territories are situated along the Skeena River in Northwestern British
Columbia. Anspa’yaxw (Kispiox), Sik-e-Dakh (Glen Vowell), Gitanmaax, Gitsegukla,
Gitwangak, and the community of Gitanyow make up the Gitxsan villages located on Gitxsan
territory. The First Nation village of Hagwilget is also located on the Gitxsan territory, but
identified as a Wet’suwet’en village by Indigenous Services Canada despite many families also
identifying as Gitxsan through their maternal lineage. Old Hazelton, South Hazelton, New
Hazelton, Two Mile, Kitwanga Valley and Kispiox Valley make up the remaining off-reserve
communities within the Gitxsan territories. The Gitxsan name for the Skeena River is Xsi’yeen
(River of the Mist) from which the word Skeena is derived (Sterritt, 2016). In 2011, the Public
Health Services Authority ([PHSA], 2016) reported that 56% of the population in the Upper
Skeena (Gitxsan territory) were First Nations descendants. The PHSA report does not
acknowledge that the majority of First Nations living in the area are primarily of Gitxsan
descent. Furthermore, the PHSA splits the Gitxsan territory into two public health regions rather
than keeping the Gitxsan villages connected as one nation. The PHSA identifies people living in
the easternmost villages of Kispiox, Glen Vowell, Gitanmaax, and Gitsegukla included in the
Upper Skeena, or Hazelton catchment area. The communities of Gitwangak and Gitanyow are
not combined with other Gitxsan communities, and are grouped with people living in the

7

community of Terrace, located 100 km west. As people, the Gitxsan have existed since time
immemorial, long before the first European set foot on the territory; they were first
acknowledged and recorded in 1822 by the first Hudson Bay trader, William Brown (Baskin,
2013). It is this writer’s opinion that a PHSA report that identified the Gitxsan people as one
cultural group would bring a more wholesome representation of health statistics within the
Gitxsan nation.
Practicum Setting
The Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre was established in 2017 after Gitanmaax
separated from the Gitxsan Health Authority to operate independently when providing health
services to Gitanmaax band members. The Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre provides
nurses, physiotherapists, mental health counsellors, and halayts (Spiritual healers); pre-natal
care, drug and alcohol counselling, disease control, and HIV/AIDS awareness; patient
transportation; and Elder, youth, and men’s programming. The programming is rooted in a
Gitxsan wellness model that was developed in collaboration with the Gitxsan Government
Commission and included the participation of hundreds of Gitxsan community members who
identified four interconnected themes and pillars that include the Wil’naa’tahl’ (matrilineal
relations), Wilxis’witxw (patrilineal relations), Lax Yip (land/territory), and Otsin (spirit) (Gitxsan
Government Commission ([GGC], 2015). The Gitanmaax Band Office (2012) community vision
is to restore and maintain healthy traditional values while actively participating in the new
economy. In working toward this vision, the Gitanmaax Band Office (2012) envisions a healthy
community that is sustainable in its economy and social infrastructure, values all people for their

8

knowledge and skills, and makes available opportunities and resources to empower community
members to reach their potential.

Learning Goals
For my practicum placement, I completed over 450 hours at the Gitanmaax Health and
Wellness Centre with mentorship and supervision from the Gitanmaax Wellness Worker and the
Clinical Social Worker, who agreed to support my practicum placement. Some key activities I
was directly involved with at Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre included assisting with the
logistics, planning, and structure of land-based programming for men, think tanks (planning
meetings), community networking and engagement (community service/land-based activities),
and individual and community wellness activities as agreed upon with my supervisor. The centre
aims to ensure the sustainability, growth, and success of its health and wellness programs
through a holistic approach grounded in a Gitxsan worldview. For the purposes of my practicum,
the Gitanmaax Comprehensive Community Plan (CCP) was utilized to help focus my attention
on a specific need identified by the community. The learning goals for my practicum were
grounded by the Gitxsan phrase Yuxgyatxw’m didils, which translates to “healthy living” and
stems from the first goal of the CCP, which aims to improve the health and wellbeing of
Gitanmaax members.
Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, we had to adapt some activities which strengthened my
practicum by enabling me to weave unexpected experiences into my learning goals. A detailed
account of my original learning goals for this practicum are provided in Appendix A. In brief
they included the following:

9

1. Using social work theories and methods to assist Gitanmaax village in its work with
men and learn aspects of community organization, development, and clinical practice.
(How do non–First Nations workers best support community development when working
within a First Nations community?)
2. Using social work theories and practice with individuals and groups. (How does one
balance and integrate Western and First Nations ways of thinking into practice?)
3. Identity as a social worker. (What is my role as a non-Indigenous social worker in an
Indigenous community?)
4. Gaining a deeper understanding of social work ethics in rural and Indigenous
communities. (How do ethics impact rural social work?)

10

Chapter 3: Theoretical Orientation
To build community requires vigilant awareness of the work we must continually do to
undermine all the socialization that leads us to behave in ways that perpetuate domination.
bell hooks (2003)
Locating Self
Indigenous scholars speak about the importance of understanding one’s social location
(Knudsgard, 2019). Because my practicum occurred within a Gitxsan organization, it is
important that I contextualize myself in my work, practicum, and community and provide some
history to describe who I am today without coming across as self-absorbed as such I find this to
be a difficult balancing act. In this practicum placement, it is important that I identify myself as a
father, grandfather, and husband who is 45 years old, white, middle-class, and as having lived
and worked as a social worker in the Gitxsan territory for 15 years. I approach this work luu giim
go’ot (with one heart) to cultivate insight for myself, my children, and to identify the strengths d
all Gitxsan children possess as individuals and as part of a nation. My wife, Virginia, is fully
Gitxsan in lineage. We have three children and two grandchildren who are Gitxsan, in keeping
with their matrilineal roots. It is through our shared lived experiences that I have witnessed the
most painful and heart wrenching racism and discrimination directed at my family. During these
experiences, I have slowly come to learn about and witness the racism and discriminatory
thoughts that exists in me, which I continue to acknowledge, decipher and address. I believe I am
someone with a colonized mind who is working toward decolonizing my heart. On this journey, I
am attempting to find tools and practices to decolonize my mind so it aligns with my heart. This
process has created an unsettledness in myself, leaving me in a perpetual state of reflection about
my own beliefs and biases, and, at the same time, focussed on the strengths in myself, my family,
and the community my children belong to. My journey started in a place called Neptune City,

11

New Jersey, where I was born, and led to what I can only describe as an epiphanic moment at the
age 22; my epiphany guided me into the field of social work and eventually led me to the
community of Gitsegukla at the age of 29 due, in large part, to the heart of my wife, Virginia.
I am a white male with genealogical roots in France, Italy, England, Ireland, and
Bialystok, Poland. My paternal lineage can be traced to the first English and French colonizers of
North America. My upbringing was based on the foundation of white privilege and the
patriarchal systems that permeate North American society. My mother was 17 years old and my
dad was 15 when I was born. I was raised by a stepfather whom my mom met not long after as I
was born. My stepfather worked in the Standardbred horse racing industry for his entire life, and
my mom stayed at home to raise their children—including my sister (who died of SIDS), my
brother, and me—until I was about 13. The Standardbred industry is one that is controlled and
operated primarily by white men. Like the patriarchal systems that permeate North American
culture, the Standardbred business is a dying industry. Growing up at the racetrack, nearly all of
the drivers, owners, trainers, and businesspeople were white men. Female workers in the industry
generally took on grooming roles for substantially less pay. To be a man in the horse industry is
to take on cowboy-like characteristics such as chewing tobacco and manifesting the toughness
one learns when working on a farm.
It is the untold stories of my life as an athlete, cyclist, social worker, husband, and white
guy that prepared me for the work I do today. I have worked various jobs in my life; however,
the most influential employment followed earning my social work degree—first as a Child
Protection Worker for seven years, then as a Family Key Worker at Bulkley Valley Child
Development Centre for three years, as a Team Leader of Child Protection Services with the
Ministry of Children and Family Development for two years, and for the last two years with

12

Gitxsan Child and Family Services as a Practice Manager and Project Coordinator. Additionally,
my wife, Virginia, and her family have taught me valuable lessons about the oppression and
discrimination First Nations people face not only in the Bulkley-Skeena area, but in BC and
Canada as a whole. I continued to approach my work, and practicum, as a novice social worker
who is continually learning the value and importance of family, collectiveness, oneness,
spirituality, patience, and most importantly, kindness.
The time I spent playing soccer as a child, teenager, and young adult enabled me to
develop relationships I could never have foreseen. Soccer is one of the most popular sports in the
Gitxsan territory, and having played the sport as a child, teenager, and young adult helped me
gain a spot on the roster of the Gitsegukla Tigers soccer team. My relationships with my in-laws
and Gitsegukla Tigers teammates created a sense of belonging in a community where I was, at
least visually, an obvious outsider. It was through these relationships that I witnessed the
devastating impact of the suicide death of two teammates. As I type these words, the thought of
these two young men taking their lives brings me to tears. It brings to the surface all of the things
most important to me and leaves me wondering what more could have been done to prevent
these deaths from happening? The pain these men felt in a society that teaches boys not to cry
and men to be warriors and protectors cannot be overstated. I believe the pain of these tears must
motivate change. The academic, linear requirements of a practicum do not provide a natural
vessel to accommodate the depth and width of my passion for the Gitxsan people; nevertheless, I
feel confident that my practicum placement with the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre was
part of a path that enabled me to explore and develop ways that I can better serve the Gitxsan
nation.

13

Theoretical Orientation
I used Structural Social Work and Two-Eyed Seeing as the theoretical frameworks for
my practicum placement with the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre. The current field of
social work teaches students the importance of critical thinking and Structural Social Work.
Social work attempts to eliminate the oppressive structural elements of society that contribute to
inequities in society in the hope of promoting equal opportunity for all and the greater good of
humanity. My theoretical tendencies with regard to social change are most aligned with
Structural Social Work because I am most critical of the structural systems in place that appear to
function as machines of oppression rather than facilitators of social justice and equality.
Structural Social Work critiques contemporary social, economic, and political institutions, as
well as practices, while simultaneously seeking to change them (Mullaly, 1997). More
specifically, Narhi and Mattheis (2018) define Structural Social Work as the critical and radical
social work traditions that focus on the large socio-economic and political dimensions of society
and how capitalism increases inequality among individuals and communities. Through this lens,
Structural Social Work seeks to dismantle colonial, patriarchal, and capitalist domination and
views the societal structures as barriers to individual growth and equality. Because I work in a
community where the majority of people identify as Gitxsan, I also used “Two-Eyed Seeing” as
a theoretical orientation during my practicum placement. My objective was to balance First
Nations and Western ways of knowing. Structural Social Work was used as my primary “eye’”
to heighten awareness of my own inherent bias and counter my own Western worldview.
Lavalee and Levesque (2012) identify Two- Eyed Seeing as a term coined by Mi’kmaq
elder Albert Marshall. Two-Eyed Seeing requires an attentiveness to bi-cultural ways of knowing
and incorporates the strengths of First Nations and Western perspectives to flesh out

14

understanding of how to contextualize and address a particular issue. Through Two-Eyed Seeing,
we recognize that academic knowledge has been monopolized and directed primarily by Western
perspectives. Two-Eyed Seeing opens up spaces and dialogue for multiple ways of
understanding rather than favouring a single, dominant discourse. Albert Marshall suggests
Westernized academic perspectives tend to categorize or colonize knowledge and ways of
knowing in an attempt to fit knowing, co-learning, and collaboration into a discipline or specific
content or subject area (Hovey et al., 2017). Two-Eyed Seeing acknowledges there are many
ways of seeing the world and that these varied perspectives are of equal importance and strength.
With my personal and professional connections to the placement community, Two-Eyed Seeing
was of great value and guided my learning goals throughout my practicum with the Gitanmaax
Health and Wellness Centre and the community itself.
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRCC) was established for the
purpose of documenting the history and impacts of Indian residential schools across Canada
(TRCC, 2015a). In June 2015, The TRCC released an executive summary of their findings and
94 “calls to action” regarding reconciliation between Canadians and First Nations people. When
highlighting each “call to action,” the TRCC (2015b) begins by stating “we call upon.” I believe
the TRCC final report and its calls to action essentially entreat non-native Canadians to
incorporate a Two-Eyed Seeing approach to issues First Nations people face and to acknowledge
First Nations’ worldviews. Hovey et al. (2017) explain that understanding and interpretation are
inseparable in the process of learning from the other; this is because what one learns from
another person must first be interpreted through existing understandings, discussed, and then
added to a new, developing worldview. The form of interpretation described by Hovey et al.
(2017) guided me throughout my practicum as I challenged my own worldview through my

15

learning goals with the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre. This lens enabled me to deepen
my awareness and knowledge of Gitxsan views about men’s wellness in relation to other non–
First Nation service providers in the community, such as Northern Health. Two-Eyed Seeing
widens our horizons because individual perspectives are no longer disconnected and competing,
but, rather, they share a common understanding and a new worldview where we are able to say,
“I see with you” (Hovey et al., 2017).
The Gitanmaax Band Office (2012) identified seven planning areas and 18 communitybased goals in their summary of their five-year (2012–2017) Comprehensive Community Plan
(CCP), which was developed with community members. Community goal number one, which
focusses on the planning area of health and wellbeing, aims to cultivate a high level of skills,
knowledge about, and understanding of health issues among community members, all of which
are based on a holistic perspective that connects to the Gitxsan language, culture, and land
(Gitanmaax Band Office, 2012). This goal was a good fit with the theoretical orientations of
Two-Eyed Seeing and Structural Social Work that I used while reflecting on my own
identification as a white settler and while engaging in the planning, design, counselling
strategies, think tanks, cultural activities, and development of land-based healing activities within
the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre. When referencing or using the term “settler” it is
important to clarify that I am referring to people who are non–First Nations. For the purpose of
this report, I have chosen to reference Knudsgaard’s (2019) definition of the word settler, which
refers to the people who represent the legacy of colonization of First Nations people and the
dominant colonial ideology.
While using the frameworks of Two-Eyed Seeing and Structural Social Work, I also
operated from a theory of hope that change can happen while also listening to the reality

16

described by the individuals and the community that I live in and work with. My beliefs about
Structural Social Work have been influenced by my own personal and professional experience
with government systems and by my own interpretations of the beliefs and thoughts of the
people I interact with every day. Mullaly (1997) states that, “Given that oppression is perpetrated
and perpetuated by dominant groups and is systematic and continuous in its application, a logical
question is: why does it occur?” (p. 139). As a person who can be perceived as someone from the
dominant group, was I or am I part of the Mullaly’s “why”? Gitxsan leader and First Nations
child advocate Cindy Blackstock (2005) posits that “the beliefs that we know good, are good,
and can instill good in others, are so ingrained in the social work fabric that there is little
meaningful conversation about our potential to do harm” (p. 1). Keeping these perspectives in
mind, throughout the practicum I reflected on the question of how can non–First Nations social
workers, such as myself, do more good than harm when working within First Nations
communities?

17

Chapter 4: Literature Review
It is ideological power that allows an individual or group to influence others’ concepts of
reality, and their ideas of what is possible and what is valuable.
Anne Bishop (2002)
This literature explored issues related to men’s health with a focus on rural social work
and work within a First Nations community. This literature review addresses several topics,
including colonization, First Nations child welfare, First Nations men’s wellness, Attachment
Theory, fatherhood and parenting, the engagement of men in social services, ethics in rural social
work, and the concept of allyship. While these topics are diverse, they intersect on many levels
and connect to larger conversations about men’s health in Northwestern BC. The themes of child
welfare, First Nations fatherhood and parenting, and Attachment Theory may not seem directly
related to the larger conversation about men’s health; however, within a First nations
perspective, children are at the heart of the community. Government funded Indian Residential
Schools (IRS) operated by churches have affected and created the most devastating impacts on
First Nations people while, undermining First Nations ways of parenting and disconnecting
children from their territory. Consequently, it is imperative that these topics are included in the
literature review. It became clear during my review that there is a general lack of information
specific to men’s health and wellness. In particular, research that addressed First Nations men’s
wellness was lacking. The literature reviewed concentrated primarily on programs related to
justice and violence.
Colonization
Colonization is defined by the Oxford Learner's Dictionary of Academic English as “the
action or process of settling among and establishing control over the First Nations people of an

18

area” (Colonization, n.d.). Because my practicum placement occurred in the Gitxsan territory
where the majority of people identify as First Nations, the topic of colonization cannot be
ignored because it directly affects men’s health here, as well as in First Nations communities
across Canada. Holyk (2002) asserts that in order to enforce the colonial ideologies of the West
within the Gitxsan territory, those who settled (both settlers and the government) on lands
occupied by First Nations people used both ideological and physical force in their attempts to
remove First Nations peoples. Holyk notes that within Gitxsan territory, as elsewhere on
Northwest Coast, this force took the form of banning feasts and creating reserves.
In January 2011, Gitanmaax village began the process of researching and developing a
community-based approach to build a 5-year Comprehensive Community Plan (CCP) for their
community, which produced the Gitanmaax Comprehensive Plan (2012–2017): Goals and
Strategic Directions “Honouring Our Voices” (Gitanmaax Band Office, 2012). In the Gitanmaax
CCP plan, Gary Patsey writes that the federal government established the reserve system in the
1890s over the continuous objections of the Chiefs, and, eventually, four parcels of land were
established: Anlaw, Gitanmaax, Ksoo-gun-ya, and Tsitak, totalling 1,407 hectares (Gitanmaax
Band Office, 2012, p. 4). For First Nations people, colonization is evident in the history of Indian
residential schools, the Sixties Scoop, and the child welfare system, all of which are widely
understood to have disrupted traditional parenting, caused cultural dislocation, and introduced
violence and substance abuse (John, 2016). These causes of intergenerational trauma were
systematic in nature: they first disconnected people from the land through reserve policies and
the creation of land ownership for settlers, and second, individuals were disconnected from their
families by means of the imposition of the residential school system. Intergenerational trauma
has been compounded by hardships imposed by the administration of the Indian Act; by decades

19

of racism and attempted assimilation; and by discrimination embedded in the laws, policies,
practices, attitudes, and actions of the state (John, 2016).
It is important to acknowledge that intergenerational trauma impacting First Nations
people originated from sources of oppression such as colonization and residential school that
intersect at all levels—personal, familial, and cultural (O’Neill et al., 2016). The negative effects
of colonization and residential schools have had a devastating impact on all First Nations
peoples, and not least on First Nations men. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of
Canada (TRCC) identifies the residential school period as the beginning of an intergenerational
cycle of trauma and neglect (John, 2016). The displacement of children from their families and
home communities as a result of residential schools impacted lives on many levels, including
children’s physical and emotional attachments to land, people, and culture. Social determinants
of health are the conditions in which people are born, live, learn, work, and grow; they include
elements such as income, social status, employment, and education. Unfortunately, individuals,
communities, and nations that experience inequalities in the social determinants of health bear
not only an additional burden in the form of health problems, but they also often experience
restricted access to resources that might ameliorate those health problems (Reading & Wien,
2009).
The first five calls to action articulated in the TRCC report speak directly to changes
needed in the child welfare system. Speaking to the current reality of First Nations people,
Senator Murray Sinclair, a keynote speaker at National Child Welfare Conference, held from
October 23 to 26, 2018, declared that “the monster that was created in the residential schools
moved into a new home and that monster now lives in the child welfare system” (Krugel, 2018).
First Nations children and youth are the fastest growing demographic in the province of British

20

Columbia and, as such, they are a powerful force in determining our future (John, 2016). Despite
the tremendous potential of First Nations youth to contribute to economic success in BC, many
are held back as they struggle to overcome myriad challenges in their families, communities, and
the child welfare system that is meant to support them (John, 2016). According to Ministry of
Children and Family Development data from 2019, as of March 2019, 65.6% (4,111) of the total
number of children and youth (6,263) in care in BC were First Nations. Furthermore, the
Ministry of Children Family Development data reports that in March 2019 rates of First Nations
Children and Youth in Care were 43.8 children per population of 1000 children in BC whereas
rates of non-First Nations children was 2.6 children. This means that First Nations children and
youth in BC are more than 16.5 times as likely to be in care than non–First Nations children and
youth.
Present-day issues affecting First Nations child welfare cannot be understood in isolation.
These issues are inextricably linked to larger structural factors related to colonization, including
the legacy of residential schools (Trocmé et al., 2011) The larger structural factors of
colonization, residential schools, the Sixties Scoop, health care, education, politics, and the
current state of the child welfare system have all directly impacted First Nations men’s health.
Prior to contact, First Nations families and communities cared for their children in accordance
with their cultural practices, spiritual beliefs, laws, and traditions. The arrival of non–First
Nations settlers, and the subsequent imposition of colonial policies on First Nations territories,
disrupted traditional systems of child rearing and imposed practices that resulted in the removal
of tens of thousands of First Nations children from their homes and communities. The mass
removal of First Nations children began with the introduction of the residential school system
and was continued by the child welfare system under the policies of the Sixties Scoop (Trocmé et

21

al., 2011). The Sixties Scoop refers to a period of time when massive numbers of First Nations
children across Canada were taken from their families and placed in foster homes or placed for
adoption at the objection of their families and communities. Due to structural and historical
factors such as colonization, family poverty, and chronic underfunding of services on reserves,
First Nations children are vastly overrepresented in the child welfare system and experience
significant gaps across the board in education and health outcomes (TRCC, 2015a).
Canada’s decentralized governance and split jurisdictions make reform of the child
welfare system problematic. The Constitution of Canada assigns provincial and territorial
governments control over and responsibility for child welfare and for the funding of off-reserve
programs; for its part, the federal government is responsible for funding on-reserve programs
(Barker et al., 2014). The complicated funding mechanisms of government generate inconsistent
policies and practices and result in generating fragmented data across the country; these
deficiencies make it difficult to track trends and outcomes for children and youth exposed to the
child welfare system (Barker et al., 2014). Canada’s role has been limited to funding each
provincial system for First Nations children who are “ordinarily resident on reserve” and who are
in care; if a child is not “ordinarily resident on reserve,” no federal funding is available to them
(John, 2015). On June 21, 2019, the Canadian federal government passed Bill C-92, An Act
Respecting First Nations, Inuit and Metis Children, Youth and Families, which created new child
welfare laws for First Nations children living on reserve and also opened potential pathways for
First Nations to assume jurisdiction over their children and youth.

22

First Nations Men’s Wellness
The impact of a stressor on individual functioning is influenced by a person’s past
experiences and current environment, so the collective trauma on individual wellbeing needs to
be considered in the context of a group’s historical and contemporary stressor experiences
(Bombay et al., 2014). In the context of working with Gitxsan men from Gitanmaax village, I
considered the historical and current traumatic experiences individual First Nations men have
endured directly and tried to understand them in conjunction with the intergenerational trauma
imposed on their immediate families, communities, and the larger First Nations population in
Canada. Socio-economic indicators, reflecting the impacts of past and current state policies and
practices, point to a chronic state of marginalization and the underdevelopment of First Nations
communities. All of this has led to the dependence of many individuals, families, and
communities on government level support for many everyday services (John, 2016).
The mental health and recovery of First Nations people in Canada have always been tied
to history, identity, politics, language, and dislocation (Lavallee & Poole, 2010). The sociohistorically conditioned challenges that many First Nations fathers face must be recognized so
that efforts to harness their potential are understood as part of a long-term, multigenerational
process of healing and strengthening First Nations families (Ball, 2012). Ball notes that as access
to the land and jobs in industries that are dependent on natural resources have diminished, few
First Nations fathers have had the means to take their children out on trap lines, fishing boats, or
hunting grounds. As a result, jobs that traditionally enabled First Nations men to form culturally
authentic father roles as breadwinners and teachers are rapidly vanishing (Ball, 2009). The ideal
image of men as strong providers conditions many men to define themselves by their work, and
this can result in poor work-life balance and high levels of stress (Bowering, 2011). Given that

23

Northern BC is characterized by high unemployment due to the vicissitudes of a resource-based
economy, the ideal of men as protectors and providers is often beyond men’s grasp.
Bowering (2011) reports that proportionately more First Nations people reside in
Northern BC than anywhere else in the province, with the Nisga’a Region at 92.7%, and the
Upper Skeena Region (my current location) having the second highest percentage at 69.2%.
Unfortunately, Northern BC has one of the least diversified economies, and men living here have
the highest rates of death by suicide, the highest rate of alcohol-related hospitalization and deaths
in the province, and the highest rate of hospitalization for tobacco use (Bowering, 2011). Across
Canada, males die by suicide at a rate four times greater than females (Bowering, 2011). A study
by Chandler and Lalonde (1998) showed that First Nations community control of police and fire
services, education, health, local facilities for cultural activities, self-government, and
involvement in land claims were associated with lower suicide rates when compared with
communities that lacked such control. Hallet et al. (2006) showed that First Nations bands in
which a majority of members reported a conversational knowledge of a First Nations language
also experienced low or no youth suicide. By contrast, First Nation bands in which less than half
the members reported conversational knowledge of their language, suicide rates were six times
greater (Hallet et al., 2006, p. 398). These statistics on suicide suggest that cultural knowledge is
a deterrent to suicide; recall that men die by suicide at a much higher rate than the rest of the
population.
First Nations masculinity has been profoundly impacted by colonization, and the
imposition of a white supremacist hetero-normative patriarchy has left a lasting and negative
legacy for First Nations people and their communities as a whole (Anderson & Innes, 2015).
Beydoun (as cited in Anderson & Innes, 2015) argues that the black and brown bodies of men of

24

colour incite an overwhelming fear in onlookers; whether observers are politicians, police
officers, or television viewers, they interpret minority masculinity as threatening. Many social
workers who work in the “helping” professions, myself included, can be unaware of the extent to
which gender and race biases affect their day-to-day interactions. With this in mind, the
dominant discourse about how masculinity is defined is currently being challenged and reexamined in unprecedented ways as global citizens confront the dominant patriarchal structures
that impact them. At the same time that the dominant structures are confronted in both
government and social media, there is also an opposite and equal amount of resistance to
reducing their impacts or acknowledging that systemic racism is present in our society.
In the book First Nations Men and Masculinities: Legacies, Identities, Regeneration,
Anderson and Innes (2015) argue that unpacking the way violence plays out in First Nations
men’s lives is one way to begin engaging a broader practice of gender-based analysis in the
service of decolonization. They note that statistics on violence can inform a larger discussion
about First Nations men’s lives in Canada. They point out that race and gender bias contribute to
First Nations men being more likely to adopt high-risk lifestyles that lead to violence, addictions,
and incarceration. Furthermore, Anderson and Innes (2015) note that First Nations men are
perceived more often as victimizers rather than victims, people who require protection rather
than protectors, and people who require support rather than supporters. As a result of the
colonization of their lands, minds, and bodies, many First Nations men come to not only accept
these perceptions, but they also internalize them (Anderson & Innes, 2015, p. 10).
Racialized and gendered perceptions of First Nations peoples globally are used, in part, to
justify both access to and exploitation of First Nations lands and resources, as well as the
subordination of First Nations peoples by white men and, to a lesser extent, by white women in

25

support of white male power structures (Anderson & Innes, 2015, p.10). It is important to note
that hegemonic, Eurocentric constructions of men’s roles—as heads of households, clans and
communities, and as dominant decision makers who allocate family and community resources—
may have been inconsistent with traditional First Nations family and community structures and
constructions of masculinity (Ball, 2010).
Attachment Theory
I think it is important to include the subject of Attachment Theory because of its
mainstream influence on child development, the role of fathers, and the differences between
Western and First Nations worldviews, which can play an important role in men’s health. A
widespread absence that became evident as I compiled this literature review was the lack of
information available regarding First Nations fathers. Locating information specific to father
attachment was also unproductive. Articles about fathers specifically focused, again, on negative
stereotypes reflecting a lack of involvement, marital conflict, and alcohol abuse. For this section,
I drew from resources that focused on child welfare and First Nations perspectives of attachment.
The term “Attachment Theory” is derived from the work of British psychologist John Bowlby.
Attachment Theory suggests that a key development task of infancy is forming an attachment to
the mother or primary caregiver (Mennen & O’Keefe, 2005). Attachment Theory commonly
defines the relationship of the child as being with one or two people in the immediate family,
typically the mother or father. This Westernized perspective does not take into account distinct
cultural views of attachment, nor does it consider the multitude of caregivers that may be in the
child’s life, such as those found in Gitxsan family structures. Hardy and Bellamy (2013) note
that attachment behaviours may look different across cultures but achieve the same functions,
which is to build a positive connection between the caregivers and the child for whom the

26

emotional bonds sustain life, especially for infants and young children. Attachment is regarded
as significant in shaping our capacity for interpersonal relationships and the formulation of our
view of the world and of others around us (Neckoway et al., 2007).
Simard (2009) argues that First Nations children and families often fall victim to the
misapplication of Attachment Theory and its use of developmental stages and timelines that do
not give adequate time to change individuals, families, and communities. The use of Attachment
Theory with First Nations people continues to have a negative impact on their involvement with
children protection services. This misapplication may be due to many factors, including the
differences between Western and First Nation worldviews and Western judgements of First
Nations men. Christenson and Manson (2001) believe that framing the mental health of First
Nations families in terms of adult attachment is a worthwhile endeavour to better understand the
dynamics of the family unit and as a framework to guide intervention in child welfare. However,
when thinking about attachment and its role in contemporary First Nations child welfare, it is
important to think beyond the immediate nuclear family. The extended family is likely to include
more than biological family and may, like the Gitxsan, incorporate pdeek (clan) systems—the
clans of mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers. Attachment can extend beyond the
person in front of us—whether mother or father—to include connection to a person’s culture,
land, and spirit. Simard (2009) states that research on the Anishinaabe child welfare system
suggests that the broader the application of cultural attachment strategies when working with
First Nations people, the greater the response in terms of the engagement of community
members with the cultural restoration processes of First Nations communities. In my opinion,
present-day procedures and policies applied in First Nations child welfare are beginning to align

27

with this broader definition of cultural attachment, though the practical application of these
policies has been slow to follow.
Fatherhood and Parenting
A number of former residential school students have acknowledged mistakes they have
made as parents and the guilt they feel about passing their trauma on to their own children
(TRCC, 2015a). Ball (2010) interviewed First Nations fathers to better understand their
challenges and the opportunities they face when caring for their children. Seventy-two First
Nations and seven Métis fathers, along with one non-First Nations father of First Nations
children, were recruited for the study. Through participant interviews, Ball found that personal
wellness figured prominently in fathers’ narratives, including their struggles with depression,
suicidal thoughts and attempts, substance use, violence and other problems. Due to the pervasive
misconception that First Nations fathers are disengaged and uninvolved in social service
programs, many researchers, social advocates, and policy and program developers tend to direct
their attention elsewhere and, consequently, there is a lack of information about the needs and
goals of First Nations fathers (Ball, 2010).
In BC and across Canada, there is a pressing need to increase understanding of and
support for First Nations fathers, especially in the form of policy frameworks and programs that
aim to improve the health and quality of life of First Nations children and families (Ball, 2010).
Socioeconomic exclusion exacerbates the lack of positive father role models, a lack of social
support, and low self-esteem that combine to produce a poor prognosis for fathers’ positive and
sustained involvement with children (Ball, 2009). First Nations fathers articulated a desire for
community-based agencies and political bodies to get involved in and support healing programs,

28

reduce negative stereotypes of First Nations fathers and families, and actively reach out to
support fathers in their fatherhood journeys (Ball, 2010, p. 134).
Research on non-First Nations fathers can provide us with some important insights
relevant to the field of social work practice with First Nations fathers. The Western model of the
nuclear family, in which one father figure (paired with one mother figure) is meant to meet all
the needs of a child for guidance, discipline, affection, and support, have never matched the
practices of traditional First Nations communities (Ball, 2010). First Nations fathers’ explicit
references to “circles of care” evoke a conception of family that is consistent with culturally and
historically collectivist communities in which deeply intertwined relationships among family
members provide a network of care for children and that contrasts with the nuclear family unit of
care characteristic of Western European life (Ball, 2010).
In community-based programs, the behaviours and needs of First Nations fathers tend to
be interpreted through a Euro-Western lens. This occurs, in part, because of a gap in knowledge
about First Nations fathers’ experiences (Ball, 2010). The developmental, lifespan perspective
that is associated with Attachment Theory cannot fully accommodate the significance of the
challenges and changes in the lives of First Nations fathers because they are not aligned with a
holistic network of care that is based on a collective society (Ball, 2010). Fathers in Ball’s (2009)
research spoke pessimistically about the future of First Nations fatherhood regarding the
recovery of First Nations forms of family life and men’s roles as teachers, guides, providers, and
guardians of the spiritual life of the family. First Nation fathers identified the importance of
positive portrayals of First Nations men in caregiving roles while also identifying the need for a
cultural framework around the services available to them; specifically, some fathers regretted not
being able to share their culture and language (Ball, 2009). Fathers emphasized that learning

29

fatherhood takes time and, therefore, health care and other practitioners need to be persistent,
patient, and creative in their efforts to involve First Nations fathers (Ball, 2012). Fathers who
were positively involved with their children described caring for their children as part of their
“healing journey” (Ball, 2009, p. 38).
Fathers who identify poverty as a barrier to fathering and family wellbeing attributed this
reality to government policies and interventions (Ball, 2009). Fathers described encountering
roadblocks to their efforts to access paperwork and notary services for registering their paternity
on children’s birth records, to access legal advice to establish or enforce shared custody of or
visitation with a child after separation or divorce, and to access treatment services or parenting
supports to meet criteria for the return of a child from government care (Ball, 2009). Barriers to
registering paternity included a personal lack of funds to have a signature notarized, which is
required, and a lack of transportation to sites to complete legal paperwork (Ball, 2009). Given the
low rate of paternity registration on birth records among First Nations peoples, there is a high
likelihood that many First Nations children in Canada are not registered as status individuals and
are therefore not included in statistics produced by the federal and provincial government
authorities. Deeper knowledge of the challenges First Nations men face can inform the aims of
programs intended support them in their parenting roles and would indirectly promote the
wellbeing of First Nations children (Ball, 2010). First Nations fathers’ desire to become the
“turn-around generation”—by redefining positive roles of First Nations men in raising
children—is an asset that needs to be fortified and leveraged in policies and practices that aim to
improve First Nations children’s health and development outcomes (Ball, 2012).
Brown et al. (2009) argue that the child welfare system has historically focused on
women and their children and has treated fathers as largely invisible and irrelevant to child

30

welfare practice (p. 238). They note that prevention and intervention efforts in the field of child
welfare primarily focus on the mother. Similarly, Ball (2009) found that First Nations fathers
described being left out of parent support programming due to a perception that the programs
were for mothers, which created a bias favouring mothers in home-school outreach, community
programs, and government services. Additionally, Brown et al. (2009) claim that child welfare
workers seem ill-prepared to work with fathers, which may contribute, in part, to their reluctance
to engage with fathers, which leads to fathers’ invisibility. Unfortunately, by failing to engage
fathers, as a society we may fail to protect mothers and children, which is yet another reason why
child welfare workers need to engage fathers as part of their practice (Brown et al., 2009).
In an effort to make fathers visible in child welfare practices, Brown et al. (2009), posit
that workers in the child welfare system need to determine whether fathers want to continue
relationships with their children, but also their reasons for doing so. For example, the child
welfare option of men “leaving the home” when domestic issues arise does not hold fathers
accountable (Brown et al., 2009). Workers may have to meet with fathers in jail, at a probation
office, or at an agency where fathers are getting services. For fathers who are violent, child
welfare workers need to directly engage these men as both fathers and as perpetrators of violence
(Brown et al., 2009). Excluding fathers and focusing primarily on mothers —regardless of
whether a father is a risk or an asset—fails to adequately protect children (Brown et al., 2009).
Engaging Men
The absence of an explicit theory of change that can apply when working with men and
boys means that it is sometimes unclear what change is sought, that is, whether a change in
health-related behaviours is required (a reduction in perpetration of violence, for instance) or a
broad realignment of the dominant form of masculinity in men (Gibbs et al., 2015). While First

31

Nations men seek their own understanding of history and colonization, non-–First Nations
workers and clinicians (like me) must be aware of the impacts of colonization and take
appropriate action if we are to be true advocates for reconciliation. A key learning for individuals
working with First Nations fathers is that we must carefully build strong and trusting
relationships before we can initiate meaningful intervention (Stuart et al., 2015). Relationships
that are built over time require a commitment that is often difficult to achieve when working in
First Nations communities due to high rates of turnover in frontline workers. Ensuring that male
workers are present in First Nations programs can potentially diminish barriers and increase the
likelihood that men will participate in programming that is offered (Stuart et al., 2015). Programs
should also focus their activities on factors relevant to fathering roles in First Nations
communities such as culture and connection to community (Stuart et al., 2015). Strengths-based
approaches to working with fathers and First Nations communities are important for challenging
some of the negative, disempowering approaches that have been adopted previously with First
Nations communities (Stuart et al., 2015). Brown, Callahan et al. (2009) offer the following
practice suggestions to engage fathers with the child welfare system: acknowledge their
presence, be strengths focused, purposefully engage them as both fathers and as perpetrators of
violence, and be knowledgeable about how contextual structures such as colonization, residential
school, and racism and gender impact their involvement with child welfare and family support
services.
The statistics tied to men’s health can be quite depressing, particularly in regard to men in
Northern BC and, even more so, First Nations men. However, research by Hallet et al. (2007)
indicates a positive correlation between knowledge of First Nations language and culture and
communities’ social and emotional wellbeing. Recommendations from Bowering’s (2011) article

32

“Where Are the Men? Chief Medical Health Officer’s Report on The Health and Wellbeing of
Men and Boys in Northern BC”, suggest that simple strategies such as paying attention to men,
listening to and learning from men, speaking to men in plain language, and cultivating
collaboration with industry and business can help build a road to improved health outcomes for
men in general. Knowing that the highest proportion of First Nations reside in Northern BC, it is
imperative that effective and culturally appropriate strategies are developed to interrupt the
intergenerational transmission of trauma so that individuals, families, and communities can begin
to heal (Aguiar & Halseth, 2015). By engaging men in their own health and wellness, there is
hope that healthier men will lead to better partners, fathers, providers, and role models in
Northern BC (Bowering, 2011).
First Nations Land-based Activities and Programming
The Gitanmaax Men’s Wellness Program weaves land-based practices into all of its
interventions with the men it serves. The territory and land of the Gitxsan is acknowledged at
gatherings and was a fundamental focus during my practicum experience at the Gitanmaax
Health and Wellness Centre. In preliminary discussions with the Gitanmaax Health Director,
Operations Manager, Men’s Wellness Worker, and Clinical Counsellor, a land-based pilot
program that targeted the wellness of Gitanmaax men was identified as a potential starting point
for my practicum experience. This land-based pilot project had to be put on hold for the past
year; however, it has been identified by the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness staff as a project
they want to restart in the near future and will focus, at least initially, on men from Gitanmaax
village. Although we were unable to complete this project during the practicum, I was able to

33

partake in the initial planning and development of the program in preparation for a BC public
health order that allows for increased attendance at public gatherings.
The literature I found that addresses land-based programming has focused historically on
non–First Nations individuals, youth, justice, the outdoors, and wilderness programs. Redvers
(2016) observes that finding consistent language which describes such programs is challenging;
it includes concepts such as “wilderness,” “nature,” “environment,” “outdoor,” “land,” “landbased,” and “being on the land.” Redvers points out that these terms have slightly different
connotations depending on the discipline or agency that provides the programming. For the
purpose of this literature review, proposal, and practicum placement, I will use the term “landbased” activities and programming; the rationale for my decision is that my searches of the
UNBC Geoffrey R. Weller Library academic database, the UNBC thesis collection, and internet
searches led to a plethora of literature that referenced First Nations land-based programs.
Redvers (2016) notes a distinction between land-based activities and programs with land-based
activities including berry picking to hunting, ceremonial gatherings, fasting, and moose-hide
tanning. Organized land-based programs are clearly a present-day phenomenon since the idea of
a “program” is rooted in mainstream funding and organization (Redvers, 2016, p. 77). In the
literature, I found many land-based programs appear to be in their infancy; the majority of
publications date from 2014 to 2020. This speaks to a resurgence and revitalization of land-based
programs and activities with First Nations across Canada as a means to sustain Indigenous life
and knowledge, and to contest settler colonialism and its drive to eliminate First Nations life and
First Nations claims to the land (Wildcat et al., 2014).
As previously noted by Reading and Wien (2009), First Nations individuals,
communities, and nations carry not only the additional burden of health problems, but they also

34

often confront restricted access to funding resources that might improve their health and
wellness. There is an obvious gap between what is happening at the community level with First
Nations communities, with respect to linking wellness to land-based programming, and what has
been described in non–First Nations academic publishing circles relative to mental health, which
serves to guide government policy (Redvers, 2016). The growing recognition of the importance
of First Nations–led land-based programming by First Nations scholars and leaders is
contributing to the current increase in literature and awareness of present-day activities around
health occurring on the land.
The activities that make up First Nations land-based programming work interdependently
and this is reflected in how land-based programs connect First Nations people to their emotional,
spiritual, and physical connection to the land (Thunderbird Partnership Foundation [TPF], 2018).
A prominent theme in the literature is that land-based programming must be led by First Nations,
such as the Gitxsan, and that the programming should be specific to that nation in order to
incorporate the history, stories, and traditions of their ancestors, elders, and knowledge keepers
(TPF, 2018). Dobson and Brazzoni (2016) assert that when researching, planning, and, or, doing
land-based work, it is important to remember that there is no “one” homogenous culture to draw
on because culture is defined by the land, language, and the Nation of a given people.
Maintaining awareness of First Nations’ connection to a territory and the land is important so
that we as service providers do not risk generalizing First Nations culture without considering the
differences between them, or neglect to appreciate the dynamic nature of First Nations peoples’
cultural worldviews, values, beliefs, and understandings (Vukic et al., 2011).
Understanding that First Nations health and wellness cannot be separated from the
peoples’ relationship with the land is a concept that needs to be more fully understood outside of

35

First Nation communities themselves in order for First Nations communities to be successful in
developing their own sustainable land-based wellness programs (Place & Hanlon, 2011).
Redvers (2016) observes that some research evidence indicates land-based initiatives are a
promising means to support First Nations mental health outcomes; however, there are few
materials that outline how to conceptualize, design, organize, or operate such programs to help
First Nations people increase their use of land-based approaches. The Thunderbird Partnership
Foundation (2018) published a booklet entitled “Land for Healing: Developing a First Nations
Land Based Model” to assist First Nations people overcome the absence of literature that
recognizes the need to build infrastructure and capacity in First Nations communities to establish
and sustain land-based programs. Community development, ownership, and capacity building
are significant factors that must be developed at all service levels—design, delivery,
implementation, and evaluation—to enhance mental wellness in First Nations communities
(Thunderbird Partnership Foundation, 2018).
Programs that employ a land-centred pedagogy incorporate the interaction of
decolonization, mental health, and resilience (Redvers, 2016). A holistic approach that includes
concepts of mind, body, emotion, and spirit, or the interconnectedness with family, land, and
community, is essential for First Nations people, even though it runs contrary to Western
ideologies (Vukic et al., 2011). The mental health and recovery of First Nations people in
Canada have always been tied to history, identity, politics, language, and dislocation (Lavallee &
Poole, 2010, p. 271). Grounded in the awareness that we are all unique individuals, social
workers must be aware that the effects of colonization have critically impacted the wellness of
First Nations people. The scope of this literature review does not do justice to the concept of

36

place or land or the connection between place, land, and health and their relevance to the Gitxsan
people and First Nations people in Canada.

Ethics in Rural Social Work
My practicum took place in the village of Gitanmaax, which is located in northwestern
BC on the unceded territory of the Gitxsan people. Traditionally, rural communities have been
defined by the Census Bureau based on population density and geography (Daley & Avant,
2014). When preparing to work in rural communities such as Gitanmaax, it is important that
social workers are prepared for and are aware of the ethical dilemmas they are likely to
encounter in their practice. Social workers who work and live within rural communities face
significantly different ethical challenges than those who work in urban communities. The ethical
dilemmas faced in rural social work may not have been addressed by ethics guidelines or courses
that social workers either integrated or studied in post-secondary education, professional
associations, or places of employment. This literature review includes ethical dilemmas that rural
social workers are likely to encounter, strategies to navigate these dilemmas, and the potential
benefits and learnings that social workers may gain by confronting and addressing ethical issues
when working in rural communities.
Canadian social workers who adhere to the Canadian Association of Social Workers’
([CASW], 2005) Code of Ethics may well experience struggles in implementing their ethical
responsibilities when practicing in rural communities (Daley, 2021). Mullaly (2006) asserts the
CASW Code of Ethics reflects an approach to social work that aims to comfort the
victims of social problems rather than seeking fundamental social change or
transformation of the existing system. The dichotomy of individual and collective social

37

work engenders ethical issues that represent the core of rural social work. Some
challenges rural social workers encounter includes high visibility and accessibility within the
community they work in, dual or multiple relationships, access to too much personal or sensitive
information, heightened scrutiny by community members, potentially burdensome responsibility,
and limited access to professional development (Schmidt, 2008). These challenges can generate
ethical conundrums that are often impossible to avoid in a rural community and can hinder the
promotion of trust and acceptance. The size and isolation of the community and the expectations
the populace has of the social worker are characteristics that directly impact the practitioner’s
ability to establish clear boundaries with clients when operating within a rural practice
(Scoplettiti et al., 2004). Building trust can also be undermined by the community’s previous
experience with social workers or frontline workers who may not have been very successful in
following ethical guidelines, maybe because of under qualifications or lack of clinical
supervision. Trust may also be slow to develop because of a community’s experience with
having a revolving door of helper’s coming in and then leaving after a short time. Setting
appropriate boundaries in rural communities is no small task and learning to navigate the
complex nuances of dual and multiple relationships while at the same time building trusting
relationships is a key part of rural social work.
When rural social workers are confronted with conflicting pressures from clients, the
agency, and/or the community, they need to protect themselves from obscuring judgement so
that their decisions about social work practice are not influenced by competing interests (Collier,
2006). Collier (2006) believes that to meet the conflicting pressures of rural social work, one
must firmly and consistently ground their judgements and actions on agency policy, standards of
the profession, the needs of the client, and community pressure—in this order (p. 96).

38

Consultation, supervision, and reflective practice play important roles in ensuring that issues
arising from dual relationships are managed well (Scoplettiti et al., 2016). For rural social
workers, this may require actively seeking consultation and supervision to offset working in a
remote physical location and/or the lack of other workers with whom to consult and reflect. The
use of an ethical decision-making model, the assessment of potential harm, collaborative work
with clients, the use of informed consent, and consistent documentation can help practitioners
alleviate or diminish ethical issues commonly encountered in rural social work (Daley, 2021).
Limited attention has been paid to the emotional impact of working in a community where social
workers are easily visible and accessible; the negative effects of this, such as burnout, that can
occur as a result of these intersecting relationships must be considered when developing
strategies and supports to manage dual relationships (Scopletti et al., 2016).
The appropriate use of boundary setting can be a polarizing topic among social workers
when they discuss differences between urban and rural social work practice. Separating
professional relationships and responsibilities from personal connections is an arduous task for
social workers living and working in a rural community. Scopletti et al. (2016) states that some
health professionals contend that establishing strict boundaries around where you meet clients
and what is disclosed with other professionals need to be exercised consistently. Though
potentially well intended, the establishment of strict boundaries within a rural community can be
not only difficult, but it can also be detrimental to building relationships and trust; this is an
important consideration to manage in light of the fact that increased familiarity, understanding,
and connection can increase the likelihood of success in social work (Scopletti et al., 2016).
Scopletti et al. (2016) advocate for the use of and distinction between the terms “boundary

39

crossings” and “boundary violation” to help workers navigate conundrums that arise in rural
practice.
The terms boundary violation and boundary crossing are used to describe client and
patient relationships within the medical field and are most commonly referenced by nurse
practitioners, physicians, psychiatrists and psychologists. The focus on ethically sound individual
relationships and boundary setting serves as the foundation for Mullaly’s concerns about the
need for the CASW Code of Ethics to focus on the client’s issues and not on problems related to
a social system in need of transformation (Mullaly, 2006). A “boundary crossing” is defined as a
deviation from a therapeutic relationship that is essentially harmless, non-exploitative, and
possibly supportive of the therapy itself (Aravind et al., 2012). In a rural setting, such boundary
crossing may occur when the client you are working with has children that attend the same
school as your own children. In contrast, a “boundary violation” is harmful or potentially
harmful to the client (Aravind et al., 2012). Two examples of boundary violations include
entering into a sexual relationship with a client or financially exploiting a client. The CASW
(2005) Code of Ethics invests the primary responsibility of navigating dual and multiple
relationships with the social worker. For non–First Nation social workers working within rural
First Nation communities such as Gitanmaax, the need to provide a culturally safe space for
relationships between non–First nation and First Nations people to occur without bias and
discrimination is an additional reality.
Ermine (2007) argues that ethical space is formed when two societies with different
worldviews are poised to engage with each other. In the current context, this includes First
Nations and Western worldviews. The idea of ethical space entertains the notion of a meeting
place or initial thoughts about a neutral zone between entities or cultures (Ermine, 2007).

40

Greenwood et al. (2017) suggest that non–First Nation health organizations, systems, and service
providers must create space—ethical space—to accommodate and integrate Indigenous
knowledge that is specific, local, and relevant to the communities being served and thereby shape
the delivery of health services to those communities. Engagement within an ethical space
promotes a dialogue that begins to set the parameters within which to interact based on
appropriate, ethical, and humane principles (Ermine, 2007). Appropriate ethical principles are set
out in First Nations laws that articulate fundamental values that guide behaviour and aim to
honour the balance in relationships, which includes one’s physical, mental, emotional and
spiritual connection with all beings, human and nonhuman (Greenwood et al., 2017). As part of
my practicum experience with the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre, I was able to speak to
identified Gitxsan knowledge holders to further my understanding of Gitxsan protocols and
ethics which helped to influenced and shape my learning and social work practice in the Gitxsan
territory.

Becoming an Ally
The primary focus of my practicum placement at the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness
Centre was men’s health. However, I would be negligent if I were to ignore the fact that I am a
white male working and living in a First Nations community. Appropriately, then, this part of the
literature review focuses on the concept of being an ally and the role of non–First Nations
workers within First Nations communities. Bishop (2002) defines an ally as “a member of an
oppressor group who works to end a form of oppression which gives her or him privilege, for
example a white person who works to end racism or a man who works to end sexism” (p. 152).

41

This definition is not as simple as it sounds because a white person can work to end racism but
may not necessarily be viewed as an ally as a consequence of their behaviour and actions.
In her research entitled “Do No Further Harm: Becoming a White Ally in Child Welfare
Work with First Nations Children, Families, and Communities,” Atkinson (2010) identifies five
emerging themes that she asserts contribute positively to becoming a white ally. These themes
include the importance of relationships, an individual’s personal journey, professional journey,
racism, and white ally potential. Atkinson argues that knowing one’s place on the dominant–
oppressed spectrum is necessary to working effectively with First Nations peoples. In order to
know one’s place, a constant reflection upon self and values is required by the individual who
aims to work as an ally with First Nations peoples. Fraser (2004), who identifies himself as a
white male social worker, advocates that exercising a de-colonizing approach by deconstructing
colonial ideologies will help social workers to better reflect on and understand their own
internalized sense of dominance when working with First Nations people. Throughout the
literature, it is clear that a continuous reflection upon self where one is able to question and
critique their own biases and beliefs with themselves and others is required to reprogram many
of the oppressive characteristics, behaviours, and practices that are instilled by living in a society
of white dominance. I negotiated this self-reflection by participating in ongoing conversations
with key Gitxsan informants, which included mentorship with the Gitanmaax Wellness Worker
and weekly supervision with my field supervisor.
Lang (2010) remarks that what seems to matter most in the process of becoming an ally is
not the way you look, but the way you are. Reflective journaling, narrative stories, and
generating artwork in the form of poetry and photography contributed significantly to Lang’s
research. Interestingly, Lang notes that much of the research that addresses the goal of becoming

42

an ally has focussed on the relationship between a “white” ally and the “Other”. Lang states that
there is a common misconception that an ally is most often perceived as white; however, the
reality is that an ally can come from any racial and cultural background. Her observation
highlights the oppressive nature of the society we live in, even when the goal is to offer
partnership and collaboration. Most importantly, Lang’s study affirms that becoming an ally is a
process learned through experience and critical self-reflection. The literature that explores the
notion of being an ally clearly articulates that allyship can never be self-defined or selfdetermined; to be considered an ally, one must actively examine one’s own role in oppressive
structures and continuously communicate with those with whom one would align oneself.

43

Chapter 5: Activities, Tasks and Learning
We are asking to get back the land of our grandfathers—we want our places, and we want our
places to be free as they were before; as our fathers had a free living in their own land, we
want to be the same way.
William Jackson, Kisgegas House chief, to Mckenna-Mcbride Commission on July 13, 1915, in
Hazelton, BC (Tennant, 1990, p. 97)

My practicum experience at the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Center gave me the
opportunity to increase my knowledge in the field of rural social work and the Gitxsan
community. I was able to build on my previous learnings as a social worker; my current
employment at Gitxsan Child and Family Services Society and my time living in the community
of Gitsegukla with my wife and in-laws. The primary focus of this practicum was to participate,
engage, and assist in program development for a land-based service delivery model to address
men’s wellness. The changing landscape, policies, and public health orders surrounding the
COVID-19 pandemic provided unforeseen learning opportunities connected to the impact that
the pandemic was having on the Gitxsan nation where Gitanmaax is located. Through this
experience, I was able to gain knowledge about community organization and development, and
specifically, to do so as a non–First Nations social worker working within Gitanmaax village.
What follows are the insights uncovered through my practicum experience as I linked my
learning goals to my rural social work practice.
Role as a Social Worker
Since 2005, my work has been primarily within the Gitxsan territory. The bulk of this
work has been in the field of child protection while working with the provincial government
along with six years’ working in the non-profit sector. Prior to the past two years, my
employment has always existed with agencies predominately rooted in Western schools of

44

thought. For this practicum, I wanted to expand my learning by utilizing the social work theories
of Structural Social Work and Two-Eyed Seeing. Using these social work theories and practice, I
wanted to assist Gitanmaax Health and Wellness in their work and development of programming
focused on men. My experience with the Gitanmaax Men’s Group guided my learning through
aspects of community organization, development, and alternate pathways to wellness not rooted
solely in clinical practice. In completing this practicum, I sought to expand my practice with
individuals and groups. Additionally, I wanted to explore my identity as a social worker and,
more precisely, my role as a non–First Nations social worker working in the Gitxsan community.
Lastly, I pursued a deeper understanding of social work ethics in rural and First Nations
communities. The following pages are a synthesis of my practicum learning through a Two-Eyed
Seeing approach and the aim to balance my own worldview with that of my wife, children, and
the larger Gitxsan community where I work and live.
Community Planning and Program Development
For the purposes of my practicum the Gitanmaax Comprehensive Community Plan
(CCP) was utilized to help focus my learning on a specific need identified by the community. As
part of the Gitanmaax CCP that was completed between 2012 and 2017, community feedback
stressed the importance of land-based practices such as fishing, hunting, berry picking and
medicine gathering in promoting and contributing to the wellness of community members. The
first three goals of the Gitanmaax CCP aim to improve the health and wellbeing of Gitanmaax
members (Gitanmaax Band Office, 2016). Many of the goals and strategic directions of the CCP
overlapped each other; however, we decided to focus our energy on goal number one, which was
to cultivate a high level of knowledge, skills and understanding about health issues among
community members based on a holistic perspective that connects to the Gitxsan language,

45

culture, and land (Gitanmaax Band Office, 2016). The Gitxsan phrase Yuxgyatxw’m didils, which
translates in English to mean “healthy living,” directed this part of my learning (Gitanmaax Band
Office, 2016).
At the beginning of my practicum, social gatherings of up to 50 people were permissible,
and during the first few weeks of November the men’s group met indoors with an average of 20
men attending at Gitanmaax Hall. As safety measures, social distancing and hand sanitizing
stations were put in place, along with mandatory mask wearing in order to follow COVID-19
protocols to allow safe gatherings for the Gitanmaax men’s group. With indoor gatherings for the
practicum’s beginning in November, 2020, the Movember campaign was used as a framework to
promote men’s wellness within the community by encouraging participation of positive social
and physical activities. The Movember campaign is a worldwide campaign that raises awareness
about a host of men’s health issues such as mental health and suicide, and prostate and testicular
cancers (Movember Foundation, 2021).
On November 19, 2020, British Columbia Provincial Health Officer Dr. Bonnie Henry
announced wide-ranging new rules for controlling the spread of COVID-19, including
mandatory masks in indoor public and retail spaces and restricting social gatherings to household
members only for everyone across the province (Bethany, 2020). The new Public Health Order
(PHO) as well as the nature of the local response to and concerns about COVID-19 dramatically
shifted service delivery at Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Center. The surrounding Gitxsan and
Wet’suwet’en villages in the area responded by blocking access roads and creating checkpoints
as well as earlier travel restrictions which weren’t seen in non-FN communities. To ensure safety
and needs were met within these new COVID-19 pandemic restrictions, I participated in
conversations with staff along with both my field and school supervisors to help problem solve,

46

brainstorm and adapt to this new PHO—and with others as they presented themselves.
Gitanmaax Health and Wellness was identified as an essential service and navigating the
COVID-19 pandemic to ensure we were meeting the needs of the clients while keeping everyone
safe became a recurring theme and conversation throughout the practicum. Fortunately, the
initial three men’s groups held at Gitanmaax Hall were structured in a manner that re-established
the group by seeking input about the type of programming they wanted to take part in the future
given COVID-19 restrictions.
The progression of my practicum gave me a greater appreciation of the connection
Gitxsan people have with the land. This appreciation allowed me to understand that the concepts
of a land-based service delivery model as they related to a holistic Gitxsan wellness program
were not new ideas. I learned and continue to learn that the importance of Gitxsan connection to
the land has been raised by Gitxsan leadership and ancestors from time immemorial—long
before the beginnings of colonization and the influx of the first white settlers into the Gitxsan
nation. By listening to the Gitanmaax men discuss the programming they wanted, I learned that
their wellness is rooted in cultural experiences that connect them to the land, culture and
language. The responses included activities such as walking, hiking, medicine gathering, fishing,
hunting and drum making. The responses reaffirmed the findings and goals found in the strategic
planning identified in the Gitanmaax CCP. This also reinforced the importance of a land-based
service delivery model as a central path forward, not only for Gitanmaax men’s wellness, but for
the entire community. While these initial ideas provided a path for my learning, they also
highlighted some of the negative impacts that COVID-19 pandemic restrictions were having on
the delivery of land-band services to the community. To ensure the safety of ourselves and
community members, we began to strategize ways that we could meet people outside (and

47

considering COVID-19 protocols) encourage men of the group to stay engaged by participating
in activities that took place outdoors and on the land.
During the practicum I was able to meet with staff from the Gitanmaax Band Office and
the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Center to better understand the planning required for
upcoming land-based men’s programming. I met with two Gitxsan Hereditary chiefs and was
able to connect and network with other organizations which included staff from Northern Health,
Hazelton High School, Hazelton Rainmakers fire crew, members of the Hazelton Trail Society,
and other surrounding Gitxsan village service providers. As a participant in these planning
meetings, my inclination was to figure out what it was that I could offer. What could I contribute
that would check off my learning goals while at the same time offer something to benefit the
community? Could my experience at a men’s trauma and addictions centre in Ottawa, Northwind
Healing in Dawson Creek, cycling across Canada, hiking and my previous work as a social
worker provide any assistance to the community? Perhaps my family connections?
What I learned during the networking process is that the questions and conversations that
I had about program planning and development for men focused on the Gitanmaax men’s
connection to the land I was currently on. As much as I wanted to be an active participant, I
could not speak to cultural protocols regarding the Gitxsan and their lax yip nor could I speak to
the work of the Wilp (house groups) to whom the territory belonged. Furthermore, I could not
speak to the traditional medicines on the territory or rites of passage ceremonies. As a part of
these conversations, the most impactful act I could perform as an “outsider” was to simply listen.
While I did ask questions, provided feedback, and was included in the planning, I found I was
most effective as a listener and observer. Through listening and observing, I was able to gain a
better understanding of the Gitxsan worldview and vision.

48

Differing Worldviews Through the Concept of Time
Gitxsan concepts of time are not linear. They are cyclical. Furthermore, First Nations
believe in expansive concepts of time in which the past, present and future are mutually
reinforcing (Blackstock, 2011, p. 6). The Gitxsan concepts of time presented important lessons; I
had never considered it in such depth until my practicum placement. While lots of ideas for landbased programming were produced, not all of these ideas were fulfilled or completed. Because I
was not able to complete all the tasks, my supervisor suggested I could perhaps summarize a
calendar of activities and suggestions which could be used for future men’s programming. The
Gitanmaax Men’s Group had identified activities that included hunting, fishing, berry picking
and medicine gathering expeditions. In an attempt to complete what seemed like a simple task, I
realized that I could not simply pick a date or week on the calendar to gather fish, medicine or
berries. Instead, the activities that I was attempting to put into a calendar were based on the
cyclical patterns of seasons. We could not forecast an exact date when the oolichan, salmon,
moose, berries and medicine would be ready for harvest and processing.
Reflecting on the land-based group activities that were both possible and impossible to
complete, I began to understand the very real differences between Western and Gitxsan concepts
of time. As a practicum student, it was easiest for me to complete my hours by working a
regularly set weekly schedule of Monday and Tuesday which helped to exclusively protect my
practicum work with Gitanmaax men from my employment with Gitxsan Child and Family
Services Society. While this regular schedule provided the structure to complete my practicum
hours, a regular part time schedule did not always work within the land-based service delivery
model. It was a matter of luck, or perhaps circumstance that the fishing derby we planned and
scheduled for January 30, 2021 actually took place. A slight change in the weather could have

49

impacted the fishing conditions in a number of ways and we would have had to cancel the
activity. Another example occurred when we planned a trip to fish for oolichan. Once again, I
realized we were running on different calendars, and mine was not based on when the oolichan
were compelled to come up river. For this activity, we arrived a week before the oolichan during
a season when they were not as plentiful. While the oolichan trip did not go exactly as planned,
perhaps that was the lesson?
My mind is and always will be westernized. I tend to overthink, analyze and critique
matters that most often require none of the aforementioned. In 2000, I embarked on a cycling
journey that took me over 16,000 km from my hometown of Langley, BC, and eastward to
connect with family in New Jersey. From New Jersey I went up the East Coast to Newfoundland
before turning around and cycling back across Canada to Langley. I was equipped with my
bicycle, a trailer, a tent, and some food. I had no set itinerary, took in some beautiful scenery,
came across wildlife and met some extraordinary people. However, the cyclical concept of the
seasons, the land and their interconnectedness increasingly resonated with me over these past six
months.
The lax yip is central to the wellbeing of the Gitxsan. Lax meaning “on top of” and yip
meaning “the land.” Lax yip describes a physical space and the nature of one’s relationship with
that space (Gitxsan Government Commission, 2015). As my practicum evolved, it became clear
how important pursuing a land-based service delivery model focused on holistic wellness would
benefit not only the Gitanmaax men we were serving, but also the larger Gitxsan nation—
regardless of gender. I found both the concept and definition of attachment as defined in my
literature review were much deeper for the Gitxsan nation. Concepts of attachment were
intertwined with the land, Gitxsan ayookw (laws), and kinship responsibilities. For Gitxsan men,

50

attachment included responsibilities to their wilnaatahl (mother clan), where intergenerational
knowledge transfer was tied to their specific lax yip and Wilp (house), and the roles and
responsibilities within the Gitxsan extended even further to include the wilxa’witxw (father clan)
(Gitxsan Government Commission, 2015). These Gitxsan concepts of attachment included
protecting the values, places, resources, stories and cultural obligations associated with their
land, as well as the processes that connected them with their families, ancestors, land, water, air,
trees and food.
Much like my cycling journey, this practicum enabled me to better understand my family,
parts of where I was from, and who I was. My cycling and this practicum were both land-based
journeys; however, the language that I use in this report and in my everyday life is not always
one that is connected or rooted to the land, water and air that surrounds me. Gathering the rich
learning from this reflection was like trying to translate Gitxsan to English and was not easily
defined. As I moved forward, I found that the most appropriate way to describe this
interconnectedness was through the Gitxsan word ot’sin which translates to “the spirit that
permeates everything” (Gitxsan Government Commission, 2015).
Adapting Service Delivery
The COVID-19 pandemic created several obstacles to the practicum process we had
hoped to follow and how we interacted with Gitanmaax men as individuals and in group settings.
One of my identified learning goals was to utilize social work theories and practice with
individuals and groups. Initial strategies for this learning goal included meeting with the men’s
group every Tuesday; however, this was not possible due to restrictions resulting from the
pandemic. To adapt to the restrictions, we used an outreach model as a means of engagement.
The outreach approach included going to homes and connecting with men at their front porches

51

and doorways. In limited numbers, we also went for hikes in areas close to Gitanmaax. On these
hikes we conversed, identified landmarks, trails and medicines found in the Gitxsan territory. In
the final month of the practicum, we began to create maps of trail routes via GPS tracking and
narrative descriptions. As an outreach service, we transported a few men to appointments, and
we assisted with the cleaning and decluttering of a client’s home to provide homemakers better
access for individual follow-up. These experiences and interactions combined to enhance and
build my relationship with the Gitanmaax men that we worked with most frequently. At the same
time, I was able to recognise the challenges many Gitanmaax men were facing, particularly
regarding access to transportation and social disconnection from people, traditional protocols, the
land, language and culture that men were experiencing as a result of COVID-19 restrictions.
Early planning with the Gitanmaax men’s group included plans for a moose hunting
expedition to secure moose meat for Gitanmaax elders who were confined to their homes during
the pandemic and were unable to access traditional foods. Along with providing moose meat to
elders, this was an opportunity to learn about the process of tanning moosehide and then use that
learning to raise awareness around the Moose Hide Campaign. The Moose Hide Campaign is a
grassroots movement of Indigenous and non-Indigenous men and boys who are standing up
against violence against women and children (Moose Hide Campaign, 2021). This activity was
not fully realized; however, it is an activity that the Gitanmaax men’s group is hoping to
complete in the future. Discussing and planning the process of organizing a moose hunt showed
it to be a more complicated process than simply going out and finding a moose. The logistics of
finding the right people—trained to find and shoot the moose—combined with organizing
vehicles, finding the people needed to process the meat and adhere to the cultural protocols
required meant there was insufficient time to undertake this activity. COVID-19 restrictions also

52

imposed additional logistical complications. Because we were unable to complete some landbased programming such as the moose hunt, I began to enter these planned activities into a
seasonal calendar for future programming.
Connecting with individual Elders and hereditary leadership was an important aspect of
my learning. Prior to starting my practicum, conversations around land-based programming
focused on the goal of holding a weeklong program on a specific Gitxsan lax yip. The location
had the required infrastructure and was also approved by the First Nations Health Authority. As
we discussed land-based programming in greater depth with Elders and knowledge holders,
another perspective about land-based programming revealed itself. It was brought to our
attention that all the programming that was being done with the Gitanmaax Men’s Group already
employed a land-based service delivery model: the fact that we were holding groups at
Gitanmaax Hall, going for hikes, and providing outreach services to Gitanmaax men constituted
a land-based service delivery model in the minds of those leading the programming. Based on
these gatherings and conversation, a land-based service delivery model was not exclusive to the
medicine gathering, hunting, fishing, or outdoor recreation programs. It was a concept that was
integrated into everyday life. This awareness drove home just how deeply embedded the
concepts of land and holistic wellness are for not only the Gitanmaax men’s group, but the larger
Gitxsan nation.
Who Is the Expert? Self-Determination, Ownership, and Control
The practicum taught me valuable lessons about myself and ways I can improve my
social work practice in the future. In initial planning meetings with the men’s group at the
Gitanmaax Hall, myself, along with the Gitanmaax Wellness Worker met with a retired Chief
Health Medical Officer for Northern Health. This person has been a sporadic but active

53

participant with the Gitanmaax Men’s Group and has extensive knowledge in the field of
medicine. In light of his credentials and publications, it would be quite easy to defer to him for
his “expert” advice on men’s health, and I found myself predisposed to do so. It was not until we
went for a hike in January 2021 on the Breakover Trail near Hagwilget Village, however, that I
began to question who the “real” expert on the topic of wellness was, especially for Gitanmaax
men.
During the hike, the topic of medicine and wellness was a central discussion. The
Gitanmaax Wellness Worker identified and spoke of the traditional medicines available on the
land we were living on and hiking through. He described this conversation and similar
conversations as the “philosophy of medicine.” The Gitanmaax Wellness Worker described the
body’s own ability to heal itself and used the analogy of someone with a cut on their finger; he
described how placing a band-aid on your finger creates conditions for the cut to heal. At one
point during the conversation, the former medical officer acknowledged this concept and the
remarkable ability our bodies have to heal themselves. With that, they concurred that “real”
healing most often is enabled beyond the cut on the surface by creating the conditions (band aid)
for our own body to heal the cut itself.
It seems rudimentary to acknowledge that the most critical component of a successful
program in any Indigenous community ought to be led, owned and controlled by the community
itself. In developing the Gitanmaax Men’s Group, we determined that rebranding and naming the
program were priorities to address. The Gitanmaax Men’s Group had formerly been known as
the Gitanmaax DUDE’s club. Key stakeholders from the Gitanmaax band, health, and men’s
group considered it important that Gitanmaax men differentiate themselves from the larger
DUDE’s club organization to which the Gitanmaax Men’s Group was originally connected a few

54

years prior. The men communicated that they were unique from DUDE’s club and other First
Nations across British Columbia and Canada. The group strongly affirmed that their land-based
service delivery model could not be replicated by any other organization because it was rooted in
who they were as Gitxsan. The Gitxsan men did not want to feel like the activities they were
organizing and practicing were being used to fund or accelerate competing interests relating to
men’s wellness. In other words, the Gitxsan culture could not be appropriated and replicated by
another organization to adopt and control. The localized nature of the Gitanmaax men’s program,
which included Gitxsan-specific programming, required a name and logo that represented the
Gitxsan people and language. The rebranding and logo were completed in March and April of
2020, and an official rollout was planned for the remainder of 2021.
After reflecting on our hike and conversation on the Breakover Trail, I began to think of
this issue in terms of First Nations ownership and control. Ownership and control over
programming is one condition (the band aid) that I believe allows for healing (i.e., improved
wellness of Gitanmaax men) to occur. Like our bodies’ ability to heal themselves, it makes sense
that the most direct pathway to healing derives from the ideas and services that come from the
community itself. Recognition and acceptance of First Nations’ demands, nationally and
internationally, for the right to control the collection, use, ownership and application of
information is limited and highly contested (Walter et al., 2020). Acknowledging First Nations
ownership and control of their programming and supporting the efforts toward that realization
are two different things. Throughout the practicum I found myself taking steps forward and back
in my efforts to become a better listener and supporter of what the Gitanmaax men wanted to see
in their everyday programming.

55

Personally, one step backward would occur when I focused my attention on the narrative
playing in my own head rather than being fully engaged with the person or conversation directly
in front of me. My inner thoughts and ideas about programming would fully occupy my mind,
rather than listening intently to the ideas of the group and the meaning that was most important
to them. I found myself struggling to get out of my own head. Another step backward could
occur if I didn’t seek clarification or was not open and curious about conversations I did not
understand. This happened, for example, when we were planning and talking about a rites of
passage program for Gitanmaax men. Had I not asked clarifying questions about the intricacies
under discussion, I would not have adequately understood the planning required to prepare
participants for the program. For me, these steps forward and back required a holistic form of
listening that brought awareness into how my body, mind and spirit communicated with others.
Perhaps, taking two, three, or four steps into important conversations would enable organizations
with an approach similar to my own to widen their outlook and assessment of First Nation
individuals and communities. After taking a step back and then a step forward and listening with
a holistic ear, it is quite likely that one will more fully integrate and account for the perspectives
of clients. Holistic listening and genuine curiosity helped me balance my own Western ways of
thinking with the interests and vision of the community.
I came to learn that my own theories, ideas, experiences and ways of practice, which I
believed valuable, were often at odds with what Gitanmaax men and the community wanted,
needed and valued. I learned by improving my listening skills and through self-reflection that
everyone was better served when I assessed critically my own perspective and ideas. Critical
self-reflection would not neutralize all the biases I have, but I believe it opened the door to better

56

communication and heightened my ability see things from perspectives I may not have imagined
or inhabited previously.
Self-care Through Self-awareness
As much as I felt connected to the Gitxsan community through my wife and in-laws, and
as a result of simply living in the community of Gitsegukla, I realized I had a lot to learn about
myself and my practice when working within First Nations communities. In fact, the more I
learned during my practicum, the more I became aware of how little I knew. My practicum
experience included self-reflective exercises such as journaling, regular supervision with my
field supervisor, and conversations with the Gitanmaax Wellness Worker and other knowledge
holders in the village of Gitanmaax and the larger Gitxsan community. My reflective process
also included a review of readings about allyship and participation in, and completion of, an
online course called Ripples of Resiliency, facilitated by Monique Gray-Smith. Additionally, I
was able to converse about the course content with Monique Gray-Smith on a couple of
occasions.
When I first moved to the Gitxsan territory, I knew very little about Gitxsan protocols. I
am and always have been what I would call a deliberate learner. I have actively engaged in
Gitxsan language classes for the past four years, albeit with limited improvement. The
combination of my participation in the Gitxsan language class, the Ripples of Resiliency course
and the Gitanmaax Men’s Group highlighted for me the importance of how I acknowledge,
introduce and bring myself into the work that I do within the Gitxsan nation. For me, the process
of learning how to introduce myself, my family and where I come from into Gitxsan
communities was a personal exploration that brought me greater understanding about my own
ancestors. While exploring my own ancestry is something I have often dabbled in, it is

57

something I explored more fully during my practicum, and this helped me gain insight into my
heritage. Furthermore, the exploration of my genealogy grounded me in such a way that I was
better able to relate to the work I am doing today on the Gitxsan territory.
Introducing Self
It is common for the Gitxsan to introduce themselves through their genealogical roots and
network of connections at community gatherings, within the feast hall, and sometimes, even
when sitting around the fire with the Gitanmaax Men’s Group. Introductions help the people in
attendance understand where you come from, who you are connected with, and how you tie into
the Gitxsan community. Over the last few years, Katie Ludwig has facilitated a Gitxsan language
class in the community of Gitsegukla in which I have become an active participant. What follows
is an example of how I have learned to introduce myself in sim’algyax within the Gitxsan
community:
Simgiget Sigidim haanak’ ganhl kubawilksisxw
(Male chiefs, female chiefs and children of chiefs)
Luu am hl goodi’y nuun gya’asi’m
(I am happy to see everyone)
Luu am hl goodi’y nuun siwilaksin hl sim’algyax
(I am happy to be learning sim’algyax)
Luu am hl goodi’y nuun hla nax’niihl sim’algyax
(I am happy to be learning to understand sim’algyax)
T’oyaxsi’y nisi’m win bekxw si’m.
(Thank you everyone for coming.)
James Woodworth hl we’y
(My names is James Woodworth.)
Virginia Sampare-Woodworth wes neksi’y
(My wife is Virginia Sampare-Woodworth.)

58

Gwilun ga bi hl hlgi’y.
(I have three children.)
Darion Starr gant Brilee Woodworth gant Braiden Woodworth
(Darion Starr and Brilee Woodworth and Braiden Woodworth.)
Elizabeth Hollingsworth hl wes noo’y
(Elizabeth Hollingsworth is my mother.)
James Bussiere hl wes nigwoodi’y
(James Bussiere is my father.)
Florence Woodworth hl wes nits’iitsi’y
(Florence Woodworth is my grandmother.)
William Woodworth hl wes niye’ey
(William Woodworth is my grandfather.)
Margaret Silverstein hl wes agwi nits’iitsi’y
(Margaret Silverstein is my great grandmother.)
David Silverstein hl wes Agwi niye’e’y
(David Silverstein is my great grandfather.)
Sue Ellen gant Chris Woodworth hl ga nixdaatxwi’y
(Sue Ellen and Chris Woodworth are my aunt’s.)
Steven gant William Woodworth hl ga nibipxwi’y
(Steve and William Woodworth are my uncle’s.)
Joe Hollingsworth hl wes wegi’y
(Joe Hollingsworth is my brother. [wegi’y is only used by men referring to a
brother].)
Meg gant Katie Woodworth hl ga gutxsa’ootxwi’y
(Meg and Katie Woodworth are my cousins.)
Roddy gant Violet Sampare hl wes ga hlemsxwi’y
(Roddy and Violet Sampare are my in-laws.)
Gitxsan Child and Family Services hl win hahlee’elsdi’y
(I work at Gitxsan Child and Family Services.)
New Hazelton hl win joga’y.
(I live in New Hazelton.)

59

Connecting Genealogy with Practice
Normally, an introduction would be placed at the beginning of a paper. This lesson did
not take hold for me, however, until January 2021 and represents a much richer presentation of
myself than how I identified myself early in this paper. It must also be the noted that the
introduction above does not include indicators of pdeek (clan) or wilp (house group) because I
have not been adopted into the Gitxsan nation. This is an important piece of information that
would normally be included by members of the Gitxsan nation in accordance with their Ayookw
(laws). Seeing and hearing the family tree above, you may be able to find and understand how I
am connected to the Gitxsan people. Most obviously, my wife, children, and in-laws are included
and can help people understand how I am connected. By tracing the roots of my genealogy
through my maternal grandmother, Florence Woodworth, I was able to find some commonalities
with the Gitxsan culture, which have illuminated personal insights into my upbringing and
helped me better understand who I am and where I come from.
David Silverstein, my grandmother Florence’s father, and my great-grandfather, was of
Jewish ancestry and immigrated to the United States in the early 1900s. He eventually settled in
Neptune City, New Jersey, my birthplace. Census information from the time show that my greatgreat grandparents, Simon Silverstein and Anna Silverstein Kutsky, were born in Bialystok,
Russia, which is now located in present-day Bialystok, Poland. The same census information
indicates that the native tongue of both Simon and Anna was Yiddish. Deepening my research
into the religion of Judaism, I came to learn that—like the Gitxsan culture—Judaism traces
descents through the maternal lineage. My great grandmother was Roman Catholic, so many of
Jewish traditions were neither passed down to nor practiced by that nuclear family.

60

Interestingly, I have come to learn that there is a unique bagel connected to my Jewish
heritage that originated in the city of Bialystok, Poland, which is called the bialy. The bialy’s full
name was Bialystoker Kuchen and originated in the city of Bialystok, which was located in
Russia until 1918 and now falls within Poland (190 kilometers northeast of Warsaw). In
searching for the most authentic and delicious bialy, Mimi Sheraton (2001) wrote an entire book
aptly titled, The Bialy Eaters: The Story of a Bread and a Lost World. The search for the bialy
was made especially difficult because almost the entire Jewish population of more than 60,000 in
Bialystok and the surrounding region were killed during WWII. Only a small group of Jewish
women living with false papers remained afterwards (Crago, 2012). Bialystok, Poland, no longer
has a Jewish demographic in the region; however, according to Mimi Sheraton, the most
authentic and delicious bialy can still be found in New York City at a tiny bakery established in
New York City in 1936, called Kossar’s Bagels & Bialys. Interestingly, tracing my lineage
brought me to food, which I have found to be a staple of cultures and the connections that bind
us as people and to the land. While the exploration of my genealogy continues, and this example
is only a small part of my history, my feeling is that these types of discovery and self-reflection
can only guide us when we are working with others in the field of social work. Reflecting on the
experiences of our own ancestors can unearth a mixture of positive and negative events and
emotions, and I wondered how the anxieties, traumas, loves, and triumphs of my own family
shape who I am and how I present myself in my daily interactions.
Self-care was not a learning goal clearly identified at the outset of my practicum, nor
during the midterm evaluation; however, its relevance was a crucial takeaway of my experience.
In one’s efforts to become an effective social worker in a rural community, you quickly
recognize that work often falls outside the boundaries of a nine-to-five workday. This reality can

61

bring additional stresses. In my rural social work experience, I regularly see clients, co-workers
and other health professionals at the grocery store, on a hike, grabbing a coffee, getting gas for
my vehicle, or picking up my children from school, to name a few contexts. I am also more
likely to see familiar faces when visiting neighbouring towns and cities such as Smithers,
Terrace, Prince George, and Prince Rupert. The topic of self-care was a conversation that
weaved in and out of my regular supervision meetings, my work with the men’s group, the
Ripple of Resiliency course, and the weekly hikes I took part in. Finding a balance between my
personal life, practicum and work life was one of the greatest obstacles I was forced to confront.
During my practicum I began to realize that I was lacking the physical activity that I had
previously utilized through bicycling and hiking as a form of self-care. Being reintroduced to
hiking during my practicum created a ripple effect into my personal life, and I committed myself
to exploring the hills, mountains and trails behind my home through daily hikes. These daily
hikes helped to re-focus my thoughts and let go of the stresses that I found in my day-to-day
work. This realization that I needed to start taking better care of myself helped guide and support
me through the practicum.
The Ripples of Resiliency course and the training from one of my mentors regarding First
Nations medicine and Indigenous Focused Orientation Training (IFOT) were key tools that set
the tone for my learning in the area of self-care. Monique Gray-Smith offered invitation and
reflections after each course module of Ripples of Resiliency. In follow-up conversations with
Monique, we discussed the practice of journaling as a form of ceremony and a means to put
down and let go of the day’s work, and to disconnect from the workspace. Seemingly simple
questions, such as “what two things did I learn today?”, helped give structure to my selfreflective process and differentiated my learning goals into elements of self-care and learning.

62

The enduring themes of my own physical, emotional and spiritual health compounded by
the COVID-19 PHO restrictions forced me to look at the concept of self-care on a larger scale. I
began to think about how my body and psyche as a social worker responded to people and their
stories in my day-to-day work. Triggers from outside influences and events increased my level of
awareness that I was at risk of burning out if I did not start caring of myself. My understanding
of self-care shifted into more well-grounded practices that connected my self-care with the landbased service delivery model I was using as part of my practicum. I was reminded that
connecting with the rhythm of land and my own heartbeat was one of the best ways to heal
trauma within myself, and that the connections could be made through the landscape that
surrounded us. By simply sitting next to the river, being on the land, and looking at the stars, I
could let go and put down the trauma I was vicariously exposed to on a daily basis through my
practicum and work. For me, the importance of self-care was a reminder that hiking, cycling,
journaling, reading, playing music and simply being outdoors were all essential medicine for my
personal and professional lives.
Working as a rural social worker with limited access to resources, it can be easy to fall
into a mindset in which one feels remorseful or guilty for taking time off. When living and
working in a rural community, the work often feels like it is present twenty-four hours a day,
seven days a week. For me, this combines with additional awareness that I am always observed
in my every action, including everything I do outside of work hours. This made it difficult to
disengage or separate my mind from the work. In a rural context like Gitsegukla, if I decide to
take time off to see a counsellor, walk during work time or go for a vacation, I felt that I was
neglecting my job duties as a social worker. Taking time off meant leaving the work to someone
else—someone who might also be working beyond their limits. In light of these challenges, I

63

began to wonder if the self-care of a rural social worker was inextricably linked to the many
ethical issues inherent in dual relationships and conflicts of interest.
The Ethics of Rural Social Work
As part of my practicum proposal review, there was significant discussion with the
committee about the complexities of ethics in a rural social work context. The ethical dilemmas
of rural social work—combined with my being a person who is working, living in and married
into the Gitxsan community added additional layers of complexity. The topic and process of
navigating ethics in rural social work became an integral piece of my daily learning and
navigation during the practicum. To support my learning around ethical rural social work
practice, I engaged in regular dialogue with my practicum field supervisor. We discussed ethical
considerations that we had both experienced in our rural social work practice over the years. My
field supervisor spoke about a time early in his career when he was working in the small, remote
community of Atlin, BC (M. Larsen, personal communication, November 7, 2020). He
eventually wrote a letter to the Canadian Association of Social Workers (CASW) to address his
concerns about their code of ethics, or more specifically, dual relationships. In his letter, he
raised concerns about his ability to avoid dual relationships as described in the CASW code of
ethics and he outlined the difficulty of adhering to the CASW code of ethics for remote and rural
social workers such as himself. He recalled being told little more by the CASW than the advice
to “be careful” in his practice.
In relating my own experience, I mentioned my frequent encounters with clients,
including a recent experience at the local grocery store. On one occasion during my practicum, I
was standing six feet away from the till with a face mask on when someone who also had a
facemask on standing on the other side of the till asked me if I was a social worker. I replied that,

64

yes, I was. He said, “I thought I remembered you.” I didn’t say anything and his friend at the till
quipped, “He is not very social for a social worker.” I had no idea who the individual was, or
what context I had encountered him, so I didn’t engage. This interaction at the grocery store
reminded me that the work in rural communities never stops, and it transcends expectations for
social work practice around boundary setting and professional codes of ethics. Although we, as
professionals and individuals, must be mindful of our practice and adhere to a professional code
of ethics, I began to question whether there should be more of an ethical responsibility on the
part of the profession or the employer to provide additional support to rural social workers? If the
code of ethics does not align with our professional obligations or is extremely difficult to apply,
whose responsibility is it to support rural social workers in their day-to-day practice?
Throughout the practicum experience I was supported by my field supervisor and the
wellness coordinator in navigating these ethical concerns. Reflecting on my practicum and my
previous work in the Gitxsan territory, I believe that having to navigate potential ethical conflicts
has made me a more private person than I normally am. Because I married into the Gitxsan
community, my interactions outside of work are typically with members of that community. I
believe that an essential part of rural social work is becoming a part of the community, which
means attending community events, gatherings, funerals and feasts. My circle of friends, family
and work are in many ways the same, and this tends to make me more reserved in my
conversations and interactions with people in general. By nature, I am an introverted person;
however, during the practicum I realized that I spend a fair amount of time thinking about
scenarios and analyzing potential conflicts without much of an outlet or opportunity to discuss
my thoughts and feelings.

65

As mentioned in my literature review, high visibility is a concern for many social work
professionals working in rural and remote communities. Simply avoiding the community
altogether, however, is not the answer because we can end up isolating ourselves and creating the
risk that we won’t be known or accessible to the community. From another perspective, visibility
can connect us to the larger community and thus be able to get to know people, learn about the
culture and better understand the strengths and struggles of individuals and a community. This is
one of the conflicts I have experienced with fly-in/fly-out services. As a rule of thumb, when I
am in the community, I most often follow the lead of whomever is engaging with me. If someone
engages with me at a place such as the grocery store, I might ask them if we can take up the
conversation at a different time and place. Because my practicum was with Gitanmaax Health
and Wellness and the clientele we work with was men, the risk of potential conflict was reduced
somewhat as my current place of employment at Gitxsan Child and Family Services Society does
not include the community of Gitanmaax. Additionally, immediate and extended family
primarily live in the communities of Gitsegukla and Kispiox. The reality of my rural social work
practice is that there are frequently conflicts to navigate that could spill into my work, practicum
and personal life. Navigating these potential conflicts with other professionals can help ground a
social worker in ethical practice, and I believe my weekly meetings with my field supervisor
allowed me to appreciate the importance of consulting with others around these conflicts when
they arise. The literature review for this topic was also beneficial as the distinction between
boundary crossing and boundary violations helped given me a tool to navigate ethical challenges
as they arose.
Many times, a conflict can arise because of unfamiliarity with a person’s genealogy. For
the Gitxsan community, a perceived conflict of interest within the family may not be interpreted

66

as an ethical consideration, but rather a responsibility, obligation and extension of their Gitxsan
laws. What I came to learn during my practicum is that there are many layers to ethics, and these
include how one engages with the community in which one is working. What are the protocols
we need to consider when working in a community? To help understand unwritten protocols, I
will use a metaphor that was shared at a Gitxsan community gathering. The example describes a
person driving a vehicle over the Hagwilget bridge, which is the bridge that connects the
communities of New Hazelton and Hagwilget to Gitanmaax village. The Hagwilget suspension
bridge is a one-way bridge with no traffic lights on either side. Despite (or because of) the
absence of traffic lights and signage, unwritten protocols exist. The first person to stop on either
side of the bridge has the right of way to proceed when the lane is clear or when cars have
already safely crossed the bridge from the side on which the newest arrival is waiting.
Discussions about a land-based service delivery model must also accommodate a number of
Gitxsan nation protocols that apply on the land and in the feast hall. As discussed in the literature
review section, there is an ethical space in which we, as rural social workers, must accommodate
and integrate local knowledge. In this case, the ethical structure is shaped by the Gitxsan
knowledge holders and hereditary systems that were in place pre-colonization and upon whose
land I live and work.
During my practicum I bumped up against some of these unwritten protocols. The
Gitanmaax Wellness Worker regularly sought out Elder advice and guidance before deciding on
a course of action. Having these conversations provided greater clarity regarding the land-based
planning and programming regarding men’s wellness. For the Gitanmaax Men’s Group to
effectively provide a land-based service delivery model, it was important to understand the
territories and the house groups to which those lands belonged. Gatherings that occur on the

67

Gitxsan territory are typically permitted by the house group that represents the specific land
within the territory. For the Gitxsan, this is not only protocol, but it is also an ethical practice that
one must follow.
My Role as a Non–First Nations Social Worker in the Gitxsan Community
As part of my practicum, I sought to explore what my role was as a non–First Nations
social worker completing a practicum with Gitanmaax Health and Wellness. I reflected further
on my role during my participation in the Ripples of Resiliency program, my ongoing
supervision, and my conversations with the Gitanmaax Wellness Worker. A review of literature
on the topic of allyship was also helpful; nevertheless, I had difficulty relating or connecting with
the term “allyship,” perhaps because it is something that is difficult to define for myself. In 2006,
when I first settled in the Gitxsan territory to live and to work as a social worker—who happens
to be non-First Nations—defining allyship was not a question I pondered. However, since that
time, this has crept into my consciousness and is an approach and practice I now reflect upon
daily.
One of my greatest insights into allyship came about when the Gitanmaax Men’s Group
went to the Skeena River to fish for oolichan. Upon arriving at our destination, we learned from
fisheries and the locals that the oolichan were still a few days away from arriving. Despite no one
catching any oolichan, the men went into the water to dip their nets and try their luck. I was
encouraged to go into the river, and I joked that the authorities would question what a white guy
was doing in the water fishing for oolichan. Later that evening, the Gitanmaax Wellness Worker
approached me to discuss those conversations from earlier in the day.
He explained that I was part of the Gitanmaax Men’s Group and that none of the
participants in the group viewed me as being separate from the group. By expressing my

68

discomfort in the manner that I had, I was not really speaking for the group, but was instead
identifying my own baggage, anxiety and awareness of being an outsider. He said that if anyone
had said anything, they would have had my back and everyone was also aware that my father-inlaw is Waagl’lo, Roddy Sampare, and, as such, I was connected to the larger Gitxsan
community. This conversation made me think about my earlier comments and my presence in
that space in a different manner. Did I always carry this unconscious insecurity about being a
white outsider to the table? Perhaps in this practicum and report as well? This was an invaluable
lesson that made me contemplate how I was unwittingly projecting my discomfort, assumptions
and beliefs on others and my context. Was I doing this in other areas of my life?
“What was I hoping to contribute to the Gitxsan community?” This question was also a
subject of my reflective journaling and helped gain clarity about my role and the work I do.
Reflecting on my role as a rural social worker brought me back to the importance of setting a
positive example for my children, grandchildren, wife, in laws and extended family. For me, I
believe I do this by listening and becoming a better communicator in all aspects of my life. This
remains an important piece of learning that I am still navigating. I have found that divergent
worldviews can bypass each other in translation, even when people are speaking the same
language. By taking care of myself and becoming aware of my behaviours and motivations, I can
open myself to new perspectives and ways of seeing things. These are key factors that help me in
my work and as a non–First Nations social worker in the Gitxsan community.
Personal Reflections on COVID-19
The impact that the COVID-19 pandemic has had on my learning was unforeseen. The
social impact on my personal and professional lives may not be fully appreciated until I take the
time to reflect on all that happened prior to my practicum, during my practicum, and the

69

uncertainty of what is to come. On April 29, 2020, my paternal grandmother, who was living in
an extended care facility, passed away. In late 2019 and early 2020, our family was making plans
to visit family in New Jersey in the mid-2020. Part of our motivation was to enable my children
to see my side of the family, including my grandmother. These plans never materialized and
remain on hold. From more than 5,000. kilometres away I watched my grandmother’s funeral
virtually; only a few people attended the service and the funeral service had to be completed in a
15-minute timeframe.
In the Gitxsan territory, fear of the COVID-19 pandemic played out in similar and
different ways. For the Gitxsan people, there was fear that the vaccine might destroy their
communities—much like the impacts of colonization and smallpox. All seven Gitxsan
communities set up village entry checkpoints during the pandemic; the community of Gitanmaax
was one of the last to do this and one of the first to take it down. From December 2020 through
April 2021, I had to drive my child through a checkpoint so they could attend school at
Majagaleehl Gali Aks. My work with the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre also required
us to pass through checkpoints to work with clients. Many people in the area have argued both
for and against the checkpoints at different points in time. Ironically, as I write this report, the
provincial government of BC has announced a new PHO regarding travel restrictions and is
considering the idea of checkpoints to prevent non-essential travel and movement. In essence, I
wonder who is learning from who? Is the province of British Columbia learning from the First
Nations communities?
In February 2021, two of my in-laws were impacted by COVID-19, one of whom was my
father-in-law, Waagl’lo, Roddy Sampare. Waagl’lo was hospitalized for two months after being
diagnosed with COVID-19. His first hospital visit was at Wrinch Memorial Hospital in Hazelton,

70

BC; after he tested positive for COVID-19, he was taken to Mills Memorial Hospital in Terrace,
about 150 kilometers away. Waagl’lo was placed on a ventilator for eight days and there were
more than a few days when we feared he would become another COVID-19 casualty. When he
was taken off the ventilator, his health slowly improved and, in early April, he was sent to
Bulkley Valley Hospital in Smithers. A few days later, he was returned to Wrinch Memorial
Hospital and it was then that we were able to see and talk to him through a window in his room
at the back side of Wrinch Memorial. We are fortunate that he has survived; many Gitxsan were
not as lucky.
Waagl’lo is a hereditary chief of Gitsegukla and comes from the Ganeda (frog) clan. He
is a fluent speaker of Gitxsan and a long-time commercial fisherman with extensive knowledge
of the salmon, which are so important to the Gitxsan, and about Gitxsan structures, laws and
territory. This experience occurred during my practicum, and I was occasionally asked, “How is
Super?” because my father-in-law’s nickname is “Super Frog.” Quite often we do not see with
clarity the importance of people and things until we’re impacted on a personal level. It is in the
individual and collective psyche that my learnings have deepened the most. I observed a
collective empathy emerge within the Gitxsan community that is difficult to describe or explain.
It is even more difficult for a white settler such as myself, who for most of his life has prioritized
the immediate nuclear family to the exclusion of a larger community. It is in a state of collective
empathy that we begin to relate to and connect with others. In this moment of learning, I had and
have retained a deep appreciation for the urgency of First Nation leaders desire to protect their
people and, in particular, the knowledge holders and elders of the community. An individual and
community cannot replace the depth and magnitude of expertise and traditional knowledge many
elders have. By protecting the elders, the Gitxsan villages were essentially protecting their

71

children and in doing this I recognized the value and worth of people like Waagl’lo. While these
events were happening, we still had to go to work and I still attended to my practicum. There was
little we could do while Waagl’lo was in the hospital and perhaps this was the hardest part. We
couldn’t hold his hand or sit by him to offer words of encouragement. All we had in those days
of his suffering was conversation among our inner bubble and moments of prayer. Our natural
inclination to help out and be supportive was constrained to texts and screen calls until those too
stopped in the hope that the energy we were emitting through our cell phones and bodies would
somehow make its way to him.
The checkpoint was a small inconvenience compared with the complications many
Gitxsan families faced when dealing with the death of a loved one. With gatherings restricted to
a bubble of 10 people, families struggled, and continue to struggle with being unable to fulfill
Gitxsan cultural protocols surrounding laying someone to rest. Traditional feasts and ceremonies
have been reduced to scaled-down versions of those that previously enabled the Gitxsan nation to
process its grief, offer condolences and to carry out their Gitxsan Ayookw. The Gitxsan nations’
ability to uphold Gitxsan traditions in the feast hall have been severely impacted by the global
pandemic and COVID-19 restrictions. The social impact of not being able to carry out Gitxsan
law cannot be underestimated, and the long-term implications are unknown. The passing of
Elders due to COVID-19 made the importance of a land-based service delivery model—with its
connections to language and territory—even more critical for future generations of Gitxsan
children.
During the pandemic, a new way of supporting families dealing with the loss of a loved
one emerged. In response to the pandemic, friends, family and community members have started
lining the roads and highways in large numbers as a sign of respect, honour, and dignity when

72

members are returned to the nation to be laid to rest. This is one of the ways the Gitxsan
community and culture has adapted to the pandemic reality. At the Gitanmaax Health and
Wellness Centre, we adapted to this new way by showing up at the side of the road, at a distance,
to show our respect and check in with people in their grieving process. I recall someone telling
me that they were disturbed by the focus on death and on memorials; they wished there were
more positive things to bring the community together. Not long after this conversation, I was told
by someone that the Skeena River was once the transportation hub for all the Gitxsan
communities. Traditionally, when someone died, the Gitxsan people would stand by the river as
a sign of respect as the remains were brought back to the home community by way of the Skeena
River. In some ways, perhaps the pandemic has brought us full circle. What I have learned for
certain is that the Gitxsan are among the most resilient people I know.

73

Chapter 6: Considerations and Implications for Rural Social Work Practice
Reconciliation means not saying sorry twice.
Cindy Blackstock (as cited in Sterritt, 2011, p. 17)

For my practicum, I had some difficulty finding a field supervisor in the community who
held the qualifications of a Master of Social Work (MSW) degree. Additionally, I was hoping to
connect with someone who had a solid understanding of rural social work in the Gitxsan nation
to support my learning. The preparation for my practicum began a couple of years ago and only
started to coalesce in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. I stopped and started the practicum
process on one occasion and wondered if I would be able to complete the program. In hindsight,
if it had not for this disruption, I would not have had the privilege of completing my practicum
through the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre, nor experienced the richness that the
Gitanmaax Men’s Group and my mentors brought to my learning.
At the beginning of the pandemic, I had expended the spring and summer reflecting on
my personal and professional life by completing a virtual bicycle journey. As part of this virtual
journey, I was able to create my own cycling route from New Hazelton, British Columbia to
Ottawa, Ontario. Every kilometer I cycled within my surrounding area brought me a kilometer
closer to Ottawa, Ontario. The virtual journey was tracked online predominately through
Facebook, and I provided daily updates about where I had cycled locally and how far the
kilometers had placed me on the virtual map for that day. As part of this journey, I was
reconnected with the Gitanmaax Wellness worker through social media and the larger Gitanmaax
Men’s Group. They reached out to see if I would be able to help with a fundraising campaign for
childhood cancer in August 2020. In response to the pandemic, a community drum group was
also initiated by the Gitanmaax Men’s Group drumming every Monday night at 7:00 PM at

74

Wrinch Memorial Hospital through the spring, summer and fall of 2020. Through my
intermittent participation in the Monday night drumming group, I was met by my field
supervisor. I share this because these small interactions speak to the heartbeat and life of rural
social work. The regular reminders of our connectedness to one another helped to start a dialogue
about a possible practicum placement with Gitanmaax Health and Wellness, one that focused on
developing a land-based service delivery model for Gitanmaax men.
My practicum with the Gitanmaax Men’s Group was undertaken to fulfil the
requirements of my Master of Social Work at the University of Northern British Columbia. The
experience gave me the opportunity to expand my skills as a rural social worker on a graduate
level. Completing my degree requirements within the community in which I work and live
allowed me to reflect on my life experiences while connecting the literature of rural social work
and my MSW courses to my own social work practice. Many of my assumptions and my selfidentity as a social worker were challenged during my practicum, which helped my learning to
evolve. In the face of ongoing challenges resulting from the COVID-19 pandemic, the team at
Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Center assisted me with tweaking and adapting my practicum
experience to meet my learning goals.
Through my practicum experience I was offered some contemplations about self-care and
ethics that contributed to my learning. Considerations about current and post-pandemic service
delivery are also offered for Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre. Although these
considerations are related to my role with Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Center and the men’s
program, they may be applicable to other villages situated in the Gitxsan territories. Lastly, I
shared potential practice contemplations for non–First Nations workers considering or currently
working in the Gitxsan nation.

75

Self-Care and Ethics
At the beginning of my practicum, I completed a literature review on the topic of ethics. I
found conducting this review a helpful guide when it came to navigating aspects of my own
ethical concerns and considerations. Exploring the topic of rural social work ethics uncovered
themes of self-care that became a recurring practice of my practicum. Self-care was not included
in my initial literature review; however, I have found it to be one the most important facets of
rural social work. The importance of self-care was underscored by the COVID-19 pandemic and
by my theoretical orientation of Two-Eyed Seeing. Self-care was a particularly critical aspect of
social work within the First Nations people and organizations I worked within and alongside.
This was especially true for the local health and social workers who reside in, live in, or arrived
from their own location, to work. For myself, the topics of self-care and ethics were
interchangeable.
Reflecting on my 15 years’ experience working within the Gitxsan community I found
myself connecting my periods of struggles with wellness to the ethical dilemmas that I
confronted during specific times during work and life. During my practicum, I began to realize
that during large chunks of my career I did not have access to the support or supervision I
required in order to debrief some of the ethical issues I was facing. Perhaps this circumstance
was of my own making because I didn’t reach out or access these services. Oftentimes, in rural
social work, we are left to our own devices. Meeting with mentors on a regular basis during my
practicum gave me the opportunity to debrief in a way I have rarely experienced in rural social
work practice. Having access to supports with knowledge of rural social work in the Gitxsan
territory helped me improve and support my own wellness. Additionally, the land-based
activities we undertook as part of our programming helped me recognize that I was lacking

76

outlets and activities that could have helped me release many of the stresses I faced in my dayto-day practice. Increasing my physical activity and having two mentors, one of whom was the
Gitanmaax Wellness Worker and the other my field supervisor, helped establish a foundation on
which I became more grounded and centred in my social work practice. I started to posit the
question, “How much ethical responsibility rests with the individual social worker and how
much responsibility rests with the education system, employer, organization, or professional
association the worker is employed by or affiliated with?”
For a social worker who chooses to practice rural social work, it is important that they
spend time taking care of themselves so they can better care for others. The importance of selfcare has been highlighted as a necessity in the field, but it is not something I consciously
identified as a requisite discipline or necessity for my own rural social work practice until I was
immersed in my practicum. The high rate of social worker turnover in Gitxsan villages and the
difficulty of retaining health professionals speak to a growing need for health workers to care for
themselves and—perhaps as an equal partner—for the employers and professional associations
to support them. Developing individual and collective organizational wellness plans to address
stressors inherent in rural social work could help better prepare and retain workers in rural
communities. I believe that understanding ourselves, where we come from, and how our
individual backgrounds impact the work we do are critical foundations to establish when
working within First Nation communities.
In the province of British Columbia, the British Columbia College of Social Workers
(BCCSW) is a professional association with which social workers can register. A Code of Ethics
and Standards of Practice manual guides the minimal level of performance expected of social
work in British Columbia (British Columbia College of Social Workers, 2021). Professional

77

development is a yearly requirement for all registered social workers. Currently, registered social
workers must complete a minimum requirement of three hours of professional development each
year that addresses ethics. I believe that three hours of training is insufficient, particularly for the
professional development of social workers who practice in remote and rural areas. The
professional development requirements of the BCCSW comprise a self-directed process that
allows workers flexibility to concentrate on specific ethical issues related to their field of work. I
believe the profession of social work would benefit from the creation of ongoing one- or two-day
courses that focus on specific aspects of rural social work practice. Professional development
could be supplemented by mandatory training that addresses First Nations peoples in Canada.
Perhaps this could also address ethical components of the social work profession? Brownlee et
al. (2019) suggest that introducing rural and remote social workers to the planned and intentional
use of self-reflection in practice would establish safeguards for clients and workers when they
confront an issue such as dual relationships.
Additionally, when speaking of dual relationships and conflicts of interest, the BCCSW
standards of practice manual refers the social worker to footnotes 11 and 12, within Principle 2,
for more information (BCCSW, 2021). I believe that practice in rural social work would be best
served through the integration of the concepts of dual relationships and conflict of interest into
the main body of the document rather than defining them as a footnote. Utilizing the concepts of
boundary crossings and boundary violations that are commonly found in the health profession
may provide remote and rural social workers a more tangible frame of reference when navigating
ethical concerns when they arise. Brownlee et al. (2019) suggest that procedures that address
rural practice could include a flow chart that depicts consultation with a supervisor, regular
reviews of relevant codes of ethics, as well as consideration of decision-making models and

78

concepts such as boundary crossings and boundary violations. Last, a social worker could also
consult with the appropriate regulatory social work association.
Ongoing professional development in the areas of ethical considerations and self-care,
including regular intentional self-reflection with a supervisor or consultant, may be a means to
assist communities’ retention of workers, especially social workers new to the field. There are
efforts on several organizational levels to acknowledge the difficulties of recruiting and retaining
rural social workers. Strategies to recruit and retain rural social workers include salary bonuses,
increased schedule flexibility, and, in some cases, travel per diems to include lodging,
transportation and meals. I believe there is growing recognition within First Nations
organizations and communities of the importance of self-care; perhaps government agencies
would be wise to listen to local stakeholders on this subject.
Service Delivery Coordination: Ownership and Inclusion
Because of the COVID-19 pandemic, it was difficult or strongly discouraged to gather in
groups, not only to work with clients, but also as organizational practice. On some level, it
appeared that organizations in the Gitxsan territory siloed themselves away from other
organizations and communities for the safety of staff and to implement COVID-19 policy and
procedures. Understandably, this focus was important for preventing the spread of COVID-19 in
BC; unfortunately, I believe it slowed efforts to bring about reconciliation between government
and First Nations agencies. Prior to the pandemic, governments were already failing in their
efforts to reduce the inequities of social determinants and health outcomes that exist between

79

First Nations and non–First Nations citizens. First Nations peoples are generally under-resourced
when it comes to responding to the crises like the current one (Power et al., 2020).
In my work at Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Center, we most often learned of or were
notified about the hospitalization of clients only after their discharge. This revealed a significant
gap in communication between the Northern Health body and the men we were working with.
There’s no doubt that confidentiality is a significant concern; however, due to the high number of
health workers who fly in and out of the Gitxsan communities, it is vitally important that local
service providers who live and work in the community are a part of relevant conversation. As a
component of the path toward self-determination it seems logical that each community, including
the Gitxsan communities outside of Gitanmaax, must be represented and involved in
conversations at the point of hospital discharge. Article 23 of the United Nations Declaration on
the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, adopted by the UN General Assembly on October 2, 2007,
states:
Indigenous peoples have the right to determine and develop priorities and strategies for
exercising their right to development. In particular, indigenous peoples have the right to
be actively involved in developing and determining health, housing and other economic
and social programmes affecting them and, as far as possible, to administer such
programmes through their own institutions.

Had it been included in the discharge process, Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre would
increase awareness of the developing issues and would be better situated to advocate and plan for
the members of the community. It was concerning to see how not only Gitxsan men, but also
community members at large, could fall through the cracks when local service providers were
unaware of their needs.

80

Enhanced communication between the Northern Health Authority and the Gitanmaax
Health and Centre, and perhaps all the Gitxsan village health authorities, is central in ensuring
the wellness of the Gitxsan membership. In seeking a renewed relationship with Canada, the
Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRCC) calls for recognition of Indigenous peoples’
rights to self-determination; this includes constructive action from all levels of government
including federal, provincial, municipal and First Nations to address ongoing legacies of
colonialism; working toward a more equitable and inclusive society; respect for Indigenous
knowledge systems and their guardians; “political will, joint leadership, trust building,
accountability, and transparency; as well as a substantial investment of resources” (Truth and
Reconciliation Commission, 2015b: 3–4). A renewed effort to ensure that Gitxsan partnership is
at the table will go a long way toward improving the wellness of Gitanmaax membership in the
future.
Gitxsan ownership of and inclusion in the delivery of health services on their territory is
an essential activity that must be navigated by the competing health authorities. Efforts to bridge
service delivery between Northern Health (Wrinch Memorial Hospital), First Nations Health
Authority, and Gitanmaax Health and Wellness appear to be sporadic, at best, due to a large
degree to the revolving door of health workers in the area. The lack of a stable workforce creates
significant gaps and poor communication between the health authority and the communities. The
Gitxsan community leadership repeatedly communicate their concerns about wellness strategies
to the larger health authorities, and the improvements that they envision would benefit their
communities. Initiatives move slowly because conversations need to be communicated to
different administrators who have different ideas, directions, and goals. Due to the high number
of health workers who drive and fly in and out of Gitxsan communities, it is vitally important

81

that local service providers—those who live and work in the communities—are present at all
round tables that address and plan for members of their communities. At the end of the day,
when considering service delivery with and for the Gitxsan nation, rural health and social
workers must ask themselves, “What is best for the client?”. This must be asked in a context that
takes into consideration the Gitxsan traditional health systems. In 2016 a Community Health
Improvement Committee (CHIC) was established as part of the settlement resulting from a
longstanding human rights lawsuit which accused Wrinch Memorial Hospital in Hazelton, BC of
discrimination against First Nations people (“Three Rivers Report”, 2016). The original purpose
of the CHIC was to identify and close gaps in health outcomes for both First Nation and nonFirst Nation communities. My own immediate family has experienced the systemic racism
inherent in our health care system. My wife was turned away from Wrinch Memorial Hospital
and told by a nurse that she had to have her baby in Smithers or Terrace after her water had just
broken, because there was no doctor on site. On route to the Terrace hospital, on a snowy
morning in December on the infamous Highway of Tears, our child was born in the parking lot
in a place that was previously known as the Cedarvale Grill. This is very brief snapshot and was
not reported to the Human Rights Tribunal. Perhaps, with this example in mind, provincial and
federal health authorities and the Community Health Improvement Committee could establish a
renewed commitment among levels of government and providers of care to create a more
responsive and supportive foundation of care and accountability.
Post-COVID-19 Response
COVID-19 has had a detrimental impact on the Gitxsan social community, preventing
them from gathering and carrying out their traditional laws. As a result, many feasts have been
put on hold and people were unable to use traditions and ceremonies that normally support their

82

friends, family, and community. As the pandemic restrictions subside, there may be an additional
need for grief and loss support services for the village of Gitanmaax, and potentially, the Gitxsan
nation as a whole.
Power et al. (2020) state that cultural determinants of health must be recognised as the
remedy for First Nations and that they be built into health policy, practice, and research.
Additional support for wellness may be best supported by cultivating a renewed focus on a landbased service delivery model to provide teaching, learning and healing, with Gitxsan
membership at the forefront. The Gitxsan community has lost several knowledge holders during
this pandemic. Concurrently, these loses have occurred as the younger generations have been
limited in their ability to interact and participate in cultural activities such as attending feasts and
ceremonies, and the processing and harvesting of both fish and berries. To ensure traditional
cultural practices are passed on to future generations, it is imperative that both the federal and
provincial governments look toward increasing funds in the area of language, culture and landbased programs to support the wellness and continued resurgence of First Nations communities
as they advance on the path toward wellness. In supporting this learning, a path forward for the
Gitanmaax Men’s Group is laid out for the years ahead.
Non–First Nations workers working with First Nations communities
Having read literature on allyship and explored my role as a non-Indigenous social
worker living and working in, and married into the Gitxsan community, I feel it is important to
offer some ideas about non–First Nations social workers working in First Nations communities. I
am by no means an expert in this area and simply offer suggestions based on my own
experiences, the personal feedback I received from the Gitxsan community, and my subsequent
reflections. Ultimately, the term allyship was something that I found difficult to connect with and

83

will use the term non-First Nations worker to reflect on this part of my practicum. I try to refrain
from using the term ally, despite the fact that the term ally, along with settler and colonizer, are
the most commonly used to describe non–First Nations and First Nations relations.
When I first moved to the Gitxsan territory over 16 years ago, I had very little knowledge
of the community I was visiting. The notion of exploring the history and community I was about
to visit was not a consideration. It was not suggested in my academic social work studies, nor in
the Interdisciplinary Rural Program of BC (IRPBC) that I took part in during my practicum in
Hazelton, BC. My practicum was not very far removed from the location involved in the Gisday’
wa- Delgamuukw vs British Columbia court case and one of the most important legal decisions
in First Nations history. Furthermore, it is important to challenge the stories we believe about
ourselves and to focus our energy on the nature and limits of our own identity, values, and
experiences as colonizers (when appropriate) and to share pertinent insights (Regan, 2010). I
bring this up because I believe it is important for a social worker to have a level of selfawareness about the impact that their own ancestors have had on the communities they live and
work. When entering a First Nations community or territory exploring our own roots can
increase our own understanding of where we come from as people, our culture, habits, and
behaviours, and how our own ancestors have made us who we are. For me, this has been an
important learning process that gained clarity during the practicum.
When I first started working in the Gitxsan territory, I recall a social worker with several
years’ experience describing how a member from the Gitanmaax community was hesitant to
engage with him because they thought he was probably going to leave in a year or two. This
comment had a profound impact on the social worker, and they readjusted their initial short-term
commitment from five years to 10; now, 30 years later, that person still lives in the community.

84

When working in any rural community, particularly one of First Nations, it is helpful consider
whether one is simply passing through the community on our way to something else or whether
one brings a genuine commitment to the people and community around them. The clients and
community will likely be assessing this very question and will affect how much they want to
invest into their relationships with the worker. One’s commitment to the community in which
they work is vital.
Early in my career in Hazelton I suffered from a condition I have dubbed white saviour
mentality. This approach was characterized by an assumption that I knew more than the people
descended from and living in the community where I was working. In Knudsgard’s (2019) thesis,
How One Becomes What One Is: Transformative Journeys to Allyship, White Raven advises to
not come with an idea to save but to come with the idea to learn and support First Nations
people’s journeys, choices and leadership. Reflecting on my own thoughts and pursuing what I
perceive to be the best way forward can (indeed, will most likely) create barriers to the work
process in a First Nations community. A perception that what I believe as the “right way” can
easily take root in my mind; this is something I have learned to be warry of. Staying humble in
one’s work in your personal and professional lives is an essential approach to practice and life.
Humbleness in our work and life opens us to new ideas and perspectives about the work we do.
While gathering around a fire one day at the KSAN campground with other service
providers, my mentor from Gitxsan Wellness stated, “first we learn to listen, and then we listen
to learn.” He had been taught this by an Elder, and it became a concept that resonated with me
throughout me my practicum. Listening became an essential component that flowed in and out of
every element of my practicum. Once again, this is a concept that is rudimentary to social work
and life itself. However, this was a listening that incorporated all facets of our life physically,

85

mentally, emotionally and spiritually that differed from what I remembered from the school of
social work. I was not listening only to the words people said, but also their actions, stories and
moral teachings. The practice entailed listening to my mind, body and spirit. If I am sick in my
body, perhaps there are other areas in my life that are out of balance and connected to that
sickness. Listening, in this broader sense, was a more holistic combining of elements of Twoeyed Seeing with two-eared listening.
Conclusion
Completing my practicum with the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness Centre gave me the
opportunity to learn about First Nations–led community development in rural communities. Not
only did this practicum enable me to work alongside Gitxsan men, it also gave me time and
space to reflect on how I can improve my social work practice as a non–First Nations individual
who lives and works predominately with Gitxsan people on the Gitxsan territory. I approached
the practicum as an observer, learner, and participant with the Gitanmaax Health and Wellness
Centre in working toward men’s wellness on the unceded territory of the Gitxsan people, and I
am extremely grateful for the learning this experience has enabled me to explore and build.

86

References
Aguiar, W., & Halseth, R. (2015). First Nations peoples and historic trauma: The processes of
intergenerational transmission. S.l.: National Collaborating Centre for First Nations
Health.
Anderson, K., Innes, R. A., & Scholars Portal. (2015). First Nations men and masculinities:
Legacies, identities, regeneration. University of Manitoba Press.
Aravind, V. K., Krishnaram, V. D., & Thasneem, Z. (2012). Boundary crossings and violations
in clinical settings. Indian Journal of Psychological Medicine, 34(1), 21–24.
doi:10.4103/0253-7176.96151
Atkinson, G. H. (2010). Do no further harm: Becoming a white ally in child welfare work with
First Nations children, families, and communities [Master’s thesis, University of
Victoria]. UVicSpace. https://dspace.library.uvic.ca//handle/1828/3091
Ball, J. (2009). Fathering in the shadows: First Nations fathers and Canada’s colonial legacies.
The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 624(1), 29–48.
doi:10.1177/0002716209334181
Ball, J. (2010). First Nations fathers’ involvement in reconstituting “circles of care” American
Journal of Community Psychology 45(1–2), 124. doi:10.1007/s10464-009-9293-1
Ball, J. (2012). “We could be the turn-around generation: Harnessing First Nations fathers’
potential to contribute to their children’s well-being. Paediatrics & Child Health, 17(7),
373.
Barker, B., Alfred, G. T., & Kerr, T. (2014). An uncaring state? The overrepresentation of first
nations children in the Canadian child welfare system. Canadian Medical Association
Journal (CMAJ), 186(14), E533–E535. doi:1503/cmaj.131465

87

Baskin, T. (2013). Gitxsan alternative governance model -- will it work [Master’s thesis,
University of Northern British Columbia], University of Northern BC Institutional
Repository. https://doi.org/10.24124/2013/bpgub1584
Bethany, L. (2020, November 19). B.C. brings in sweeping new measures to control COVID-19,
including mandatory masks. Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/b-c-brings-in-sweeping-newmeasures-to-control-covid-19-including-mandatory-masks-1.5808617
Bishop, A. (2002). Becoming an ally: Breaking the cycle of oppression in people (2nd ed.).
Fernwood Publishing.
Blackstock, C. (2005). The occasional evil of angels: Learning from the experiences of First
Nations peoples and social work. International First Nations Journal of
Entrepreneurship, Advancement, Strategy and Education, 1(1).
Blackstock C. (2011). The emergence of the breath of life theory. Journal of Social Work Values
and Ethics, 8(1).
Bombay, A., Matheson, K., & Anisman, H. (2014). The intergenerational effects of Indian
Residential Schools: Implications for the concept of historical trauma. Transcultural
Psychiatry, 51(3), 320–338. http://doi.org/10.1177/1363461513503380
Bowering, D. (2011). Where are the men? Chief medical health officer’s report on the health &
wellbeing of men and boys in Northern BC. Northern Health Authority of British
Columbia. https://www.northernhealth.ca/sites/northern_health/files/aboutus/reports/chief-mho-reports/documents/where-are-the-men.pdf
British Columbia College of Social Workers (2021, May). Code of Ethics and Standards of
Practice. https://bccsw.ca/registrants/code-of-ethics-and-standards-of-practice/

88

Brown, L., Callahan, M., Strega, S., Walmsley, C., & Dominelli, L. (2009). Manufacturing ghost
fathers: The paradox of father presence and absence in child welfare. Child & Family
Social Work, 14(1), 25–34. doi:10.1111/j.1365-2206.2008.00578.x
Brownlee, K., LeBlanc, H., Halverson, G., Piché, T., & Brazeau, J. (2019). Exploring selfreflection in dual relationship decision-making. Journal of Social Work, 19(5), 629–641.
https://doi.org/10.1177/1468017318766423
Canadian Association of Social Workers [CASW]. (2005). CASW Code of Ethics. Ottawa:
CASW. https://www.caswacts.ca/sites/default/files/attachements/casw_code_of_ethics.pdf
Chandler, M. J., & Lalonde, C. (1998). Cultural continuity as a hedge against suicide in Canada’s
First Nations. Transcultural Psychiatry, 35(2), 191–219.
doi:10.1177/136346159803500202
Christensen, M., & Manson, S. (2001). Adult attachment as a framework for understanding
mental health and American Indian families: A study of three family cases. American
Behavioral Scientist, 44(9), 1447–1465. https://doi.org/10.1177/00027640121956890
Collier, K. (2006). Social work with rural peoples (3rd ed.). New Star Books.
Crago, L. (2012). The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum encyclopedia of camps and
ghettos, 1933–1945. Volume II, Part A, Ghettos in German-occupied Eastern Europe.
Indiana University Press.
Daley, M. R. (2021). Rural social work in the 21st century: Serving individuals, families, and
communities in the countryside (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press.

89

Daley, M. R., & Avant, F. L. (2014). Down home social work: A strengths-based model for
professional practice (pp. 5–17). In T. L. Scales, S. Cooper, & C. L. Streeter (Eds.), Rural
social work: Building and sustaining community assets (2nd ed., pp. 5–17). Wiley.
Dobson, C., & Brazzoni, R. (2016). Land-based healing: Carrier First Nations’ Addiction
Recovery Program. Journal of Indigenous WellBeing: Te Mauri-Pimatisiwin, 1(2), 9–17.
https://journalindigenouswellbeing.com/media/2018/07/45.37.Land-based-healingCarrier-First-Nations%E2%80%99-Addiction-Recovery-Program.pdf
Ermine, W. (2007). The ethical space of engagement. Indigenous Law Journal, 6(1), 193–203.
Fournier, S. (1993, June 27). Our rights will flow forever. The Province, A19.
Fraser, C. A. (2004). Becoming authentic allies with First Nations people [Master’s thesis,
University of Northern BC]. University of Northern BC Institutional Repository.
https://doi.org/10.24124/2004/bpgub1281
Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed. Continuum.
Gibbs, A., Vaughan, C., & Aggleton, P. (2015). Beyond “working with men and boys”:
(Re)defining, challenging and transforming masculinities in sexuality and health
programmes and policy. Culture, Health & Sexuality, 17(sup2), 85–95.
doi:10.1080/13691058.2015.1092260
Gitanmaax Band Office. (2012). Gitanmaax Comprehensive Community Plan: (2012–2017)
Goals and strategic directions “Honouring Our Voices.” http://www.gitanmaax.com/wpcontent/uploads/2016/11/CCP-Gitanmaax-1.pdf
Gitxsan Development Corporation. (1993, June 25). Home page. Retrieved September 16, 2020,
from http://www.gitxsan.com/

90

Gitxsan Government Commission. (2015). Gitxsan Wellness Model.
http://www.gitxsangc.com/images/uploads/Gitxsan_Wellness_Model_Summary_FINAL.
pdf
Greenwood, M., Lindsay, N., King, J., & Loewen, D. (2017). Ethical spaces and places:
Indigenous cultural safety in British Columbia health care. AlterNative: An International
Journal of Indigenous Peoples, 13(3), 179–189. doi:10.1177/1177180117714411
Hallett, D., Chandler, M. J., & Lalonde, C. E. (2007). First Nations language knowledge and
youth suicide. Cognitive Development, 22(3), 392–399.
doi:10.1016/j.cogdev.2007.02.001
Hardy, C., & Bellamy, S. (2013). Caregiver-infant attachment for First Nations families. Child
and Youth Health. National Collaborating Centre for First Nations Health.
Holyk, T. J. (2002). From colonization to globalization: The Gitxsan nation’s struggle for
jurisdiction within their traditional territories [Master’s thesis, University of Northern
BC]. University of Northern BC Institutional Repository.
https://doi.org/10.24124/2002/bpgub247
hooks, b. (2003). Teaching community: A pedagogy of hope. Routledge.
Hovey, R. B., Delormier, T., McComber, A. M., Lévesque, L., & Martin, D. (2017). Enhancing
First Nations health promotion research through two-eyed seeing: A hermeneutic
relational process. Qualitative Health Research, 27(9), 1278–1287.
doi:10.1177/1049732317697948

91

John, E. (2016). First Nations resilience, connectedness and reunification – From root causes to
root solutions: A report on First Nations child welfare in British Columbia. Retrieved
from First Nations Summit website on June 24, 2018 from http://fns.bc.ca/pdf/FinalReport-of-Grand-Chief-Ed-John-re-Indig-Child-Welfare-in-BC-November-2016.pdf
Knudsgaard, H.B. (2019). How one becomes what one is: transformative journeys to allyship
[Master’s thesis, University of Victoria]. UVicSpace.
https://dspace.library.uvic.ca//handle/1828/11480
Krugel, L. (October 26, 2018). Residential school ‘monster’ now lives in child welfare system:
Sinclair. The Canadian Press. https://www.ctvnews.ca/canada/residential-schoolmonster-now-lives-in-child-welfare-system-sinclair-1.4151517
Lang, S. (2010). Being allies: Exploring indigeneity and difference in decolonized antioppressive spaces [Master’s thesis, University of Victoria]. UVicSpace.
https://dspace.library.uvic.ca//handle/1828/3360
Lavallee, L. F., & Levesque, L. (2012). Two-eyed seeing: Physical activity, sport, and recreation
promotion in First Nations communities. In J. Forsyth & A. Giles (Eds.), First Nations
peoples & sport in Canada (pp. 206–228). UBC Press.
Lavallee, L. F., & Poole, J. M. (2010). Beyond recovery: Colonization, health and healing for
First Nations people in Canada. International Journal of Mental Health and
Addiction, 8(2), 271–281. doi:10.1007/s11469-009-9239-8
Mennen, F. E., & O’Keefe, M. (2005). Informed decisions in child welfare: The use of
attachment theory. Children and Youth Services Review, 27(6), 577–593.
doi:10.1016/j.childyouth.2004.11.011

92

Ministry of Children and Family Development. (2019, March). Children and Youth in Care
(CYIC). https://mcfd.gov.bc.ca/reporting/services/child-protection/permanency-forchildren-and-youth/performance-indicators/children-in-care
Moose Hide Campaign. (2021, May 25). Moose Hide Campaign. https://moosehidecampaign.ca/
Movember Foundation. (May 2021). Our Cause. Movember Canada. Retrieved from
https://ca.movember.com/about/cause
Mullaly, B. (1997). Structural Social Work: Ideology, theory, and practice. Oxford University
Press.
Mullaly, B. (2006). Forward to the Past: The 2005 CASW code of ethics. Canadian Social Work
Review, 23(1/2), 145–150.
Narhi, K., & Matthies, A. (2018). The ecosocial approach in social work as a framework for
Structural Social Work. International Social Work, 61(4), 490-502.
doi:10.1177/0020872816644663
Neckoway, R., Bownlee, K., & Castellan, B. (2007). Is attachment theory consistent with First
Nations parenting realities? A Journal of Innovation and Best Practices in First Nations
Child Welfare Administrative Research, Policy, & Practice, 3(2), 65–74.
O’Neill, L., Fraser, T., Kitchenham, A., & McDonald, V. (2016). Hidden burdens: A review of
intergenerational, historical and complex trauma, implications for First Nations families.
Journal of Child & Adolescent Trauma,11(2), 173–186. doi:10.1007/s40653-016-0117-9
Oxford Dictionaries online (n.d). Colonization. In Oxford Dictionaries online. Retrieved
September 26, 2020, from https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/colonization

93

Place, J., & Hanlon, N. (2011). Kill the lake? Kill the proposal: Accommodating First Nations’
environmental values as a first step on the road to wellness. Geojournal, 76(2), 163–175.
doi:10.1007/s10708-009-9286-5
Power, T., Wilson, D., Best, O., Brockie, T., Bourque Bearskin, L., Millender, E., & Lowe, J.
(2020). COVID‐19 and indigenous peoples: An imperative for action. Journal of Clinical
Nursing, 29(15–16), 2737–2741. https://doi.org/10.1111/jocn.15320
Public Health Service Authority (2016). BC Community Health Profile: Hazelton.
http://communityhealth.phsa.ca/HealthProfiles/PdfGenerator/Hazelton
Reading, C. L., Wien, F. (2009). Health inequalities and the social determinants of First Nations
peoples’ health. National Collaborating Centre for First Nations Health.
https://www.ccnsa-nccah.ca/docs/determinants/RPT-HealthInequalities-Reading-WienEN.pdf
Redvers, J. M. (2016). Land-based practice for Indigenous health and wellness in Yukon,
Nunavut, and the Northwest Territories [Master’s thesis, University of Calgary].
University of Calgary Library database, doi:10.11575/PRISM/26717
Regan, P. (2010). Unsettling the settler within: Indian residential schools, truth telling, and
reconciliation in canada. UBC Press.
Schmidt, G.. (2008). Professional work in remote, northern communities: A social work
perspective. University of Northern British Columbia Community Development Institute.
Scopelliti, J., Judd, F., Grigg, M., Hodgins, G., Fraser, C., Hulbert, C., Endacott, R., & Wood, A.
(2004). Dual relationships in mental health practice: Issues for clinicians in rural settings.
Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 38(1), 953–959. doi:10.1111/j.14401614.2004.01486.x

94

Sheraton, M. (2001). The bialy eaters: the story of a bread and a lost world. Broadway Books.
Simard, E., (2009). Culturally restorative child welfare practice: A special emphasis on cultural
attachment theory. First Peoples Child & Family Review, 4(2), 44–61. Retrieved from
Simon Fraser University Library online website on June 24, 2018 from
http://journals.sfu.ca/fpcfr/index.php/FPCFR/article/viewFile/137/123
Sterritt, A. (2011). Reconciliation on trial. Briar Patch, 40(2), 17.
Sterritt, N. J. (2016). Mapping my way home: A Gitxsan History. Smithers, BC: Creekstone
Press.
Stuart, G., May, C., & Hammond, C. (2015). Engaging First Nations fathers. Developing
Practice: The Child, Youth and Family Work Journal, (42), 4–17.
https://sustainingcommunity.wordpress.com/2016/08/03/engaging-aboriginal-fathers/
Tennant, P. (1990). Aboriginal peoples and politics: The Indian land question in British
Columbia, 1849–1989. University of British Columbia Press.
Three Rivers Report. (2016, January 6). Smithers Interior News. Retrieved May 31, 2021 from
https://issuu.com/blackpress/docs/i2016010606431941/18
Thunderbird Partnership Foundation. (2018). Land for healing: Developing a First Nations landbased service delivery model. https://thunderbirdpf.org/wpcontent/uploads/2018/07/Thunderbirdpf-LandforHealing-Document-SQ.pdf
Trocmé, N., Sinha, V., & Fallon, B. (2011). Kiskisik awasisak: Remember the children—
Understanding the overrepresentation of First Nations children in the child welfare
system. Assembly of First Nations.
Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada ((TRCC) 2015a). Honouring the truth,
reconciling for the future: Summary of the final report of the Truth and Reconciliation

95

Commission of Canada. http://publications.gc.ca/collections/collection_2015/trc/IR4-72015-eng.pdf
Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2015b). Truth and reconciliation commission
of Canada: Calls to action. Retrieved from
http://publications.gc.ca/collections/collection_2015/trc/IR4-8-2015-eng.pdf
UN General Assembly, United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples:
resolution / adopted by the General Assembly, 2 October 2007, A/RES/61/295, available
at: https://www.refworld.org/docid/471355a82.html [accessed 12 May 2021]
Vukic, A., Gregory, D., Martin-Misener, R., & Etowa, J. (2011). Aboriginal and Western
conceptions of mental health and illness. Pimatisiwin: A Journal of Aboriginal and
Indigenous Community Health, 9(1), 65–85. http://www.pimatisiwin.com/online/wpcontent/uploads/2011/08/04VukicGregory.pdf
Walter, M., Kukutai, T., Carroll, S.R., & Rodriguez-Lonebear, D. (Eds.). (2020). Indigenous
data sovereignty and policy (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doiorg.prxy.lib.unbc.ca/10.4324/9780429273957
Wildcat, M., McDonald, M., Irlbacher-Fox, S., & Coulthard, G. (2014). Learning from the land:
Indigenous land-based pedagogy and decolonization. Decolonization: Indigeneity,
Education, & Society, 3(3), I–XV.
https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/des/article/view/22248/18062
World Health Organization. (2021, May 25). Coronavirus. World Health Organization.
https://www.who.int/health-topics/coronavirus#tab=tab_1

96
APPENDIX A: Learning Contract

Learning Goals

TASKS, ACTIVITIES, AND
STRATEGIES

PERFORMANCE
INDICATORS

To help achieve goals

Observable indicators of
achievement

Use social work theories
-I will assist and participate
and methods to assist
with larger community
Gitanmaax village in their programming as required.
work with men and learn
aspects of community
organization, development,
and clinical practice

This will include the delivery
of COVID 19 and holiday care
packages for members along
with any other activities as
they arise.
This community work may
also include
wellness/Health/Community
Fairs and events if/when
applicable
I will read applicable material
and wellness strategies as
identified by practicum
supervisor including
suggested literature on
theories of change and
program design

-I will participate in meetings
Actively participate in
and think tanks with supervisors
strategic planning relating to
and agency and will engage in
Gitanmaax men’s group
networking using my lens as a
developing the framework for
social worker and bringing
a land based activities that are
those theories to the practicum
suggested or arise during the
practicum (Gitanmaax has
identified year round land
based camps and Moose Hide
campaign)

97

Networking with other
organizations and stakeholders
that work with men such
Dude’s Club, Movember
campaign, First Nations
Health Authority

Use social work theories
and practice with
individuals and groups

Identity as a social worker

I will participate and assist with
planning for weekly group
meetings using SW theories and
practice with Gitanmaax men’s
group

Group meetings with
Gitanmaax men’s group will
take place every Tuesday and
will include a variety of topics
and workshops including
drum making, suicide
prevention, cultural learning
from identified Gitxsan
leaders and the wants and
needs to group.

I will assist facilitator with
program set up and facilitation
of group activities along with
individual follow up of clientele
when requested or required.

I will seek input, clinical
strategies and feedback from
field supervisor a minimum of
once every second week when
working with both individuals
and groups.

I will engage in reflectivity
throughout my practicum
regarding topics such as my
role as a non-Indigenous social
worker in an Indigenous

Reflective daily journaling
insights and feedback from
supervisor, wellness worker,
and other knowledge holders.

98

community. As part of that, I
will seek outside feedback.

I will participate in the course
Ripples of Resilience and
engage in reflective feedback
with Monique Gray Smith
after each lesson (there are 6)
as part of my learning.
I will meet with field
supervisor Mark Larsen once
every two weeks.
I will meet and discuss
learning and direction with
wellness counselor Mike
Johnson every week.
I will read the thesis, How one
becomes what one is:
Transformative Journeys to
Allyship as part of the
reflective process.
I will have a trusted Gitxsan
Elder/expert read the final
draft of report and evaluation
of program.

Evidence-based evaluations I will receive Ongoing feedback Meet with field supervisor
of SW practice
from facilitators, supervisors,
Mark Larsen one time every
and community members.
two weeks for a period of one
hour to review learning and
identify any gaps or
opportunities that could be
added to the learning goals.
Mid term evaluation with
academic supervisor Susan
Burke, field supervisor Mark

99

Larsen and Bruce Bidgood at
approximately 225 hours.
Final Evaluation with
academic supervisor Susan
Burke, field supervisor Mark
Larsen and Bruce Bidgood to
be arranged after completion
of practicum.

Deeper understanding of
Within the first two weeks of
Social Work ethics in rural my practicum I will research
& Indigenous communities and add topic of rural social
worker’s for my literature
review.

I will read the following books
and resources on this topic:
- Rethinking Rural Health
Ethics.
-Social Work with Rural
Peoples
-Rural SW: Building &
Sustaining Community
Capacity
-First Nation ethics guide on
research and Aboriginal
Traditional Knowledge

I will connect and reflect with
my field supervisor on regular
basis about the topic of SW
ethics in a rural First Nations
community.

I will speak with identified
Gitxsan knowledge holders to
develop a better understanding
of Gitxsan protocols/ethics
that influence these ethics and
my role as an ally in the
practicum placement