Unsettling Colonial Mapping: Sonic-Spatial Representations of amiskwaciwâskahikan


kisiskāciwani-sīpiy – amiskwaciwâskahikan // Original art by k.barnes

Originally featured on the femlab blog (a feminist exhibition space on the University of Alberta campus): https://ualbertafemlab.wordpress.com/ 

This project is supported by the Digital Rights Community Grant Program, a partnership between Digital Justice Lab, Tech Reset Canada and Centre for Digital Rights.

This map is a sonic exploration and representation of the North Campus of the University of Alberta. Campus has a long history as Native Land, be it as a traditional meeting place for diverse Indigenous peoples (Cree, Blackfoot, Métis, Nakota Sioux, Dene, Saulteaux/Anishinaabe, Inuit, Haudenosaunee and many others) on the banks of the kisiskāciwani-sīpiy (North Saskatchewan River), as a Papaschase settlement, or as the homestead of Métis leader Laurent Garneau.  All of this was long before the University’s founding in 1908.

With this digital experiment, it is our goal to detail spacetime aurally on this land where we learn, grow, and imagine, with a focus on Indigeneity, gender and sacred ecology. To hear the stories of the Land and its people reimagines mapping as a potentially decolonial praxis where boundaries aren’t lines on a map at a specific place in time drawn by the powers that be. It is a deconstruction of a colonial land claim, and we respect the knowledge from the Land imparted upon us through its story.

Deepest gratitude to Kaitlyn Grant and Femlab, Dr. Mo Engel, HUCO 530, Dr. Trudy Cardinal, Drs. Christopher Sturdy and Marisa Hoeschele and the Songbird Neuroethnology Lab, UAlberta Libraries and Archives, the many librarians invested in the project, CJSR, Shout4Libraries, Kahn Lam, Violet Archer, Ursula Pilmeier, kisiskāciwani-sīpiy, and all who make our campus vibrant–– be it human, animal and other.

Satahóntsatat – Listen  

Pauline Oliveros has taught me a lot about sound. Her declaration that “everything is sounding”  shifted my listening practice and, somewhat painfully, revived a personal awareness of the bioacoustic environments through which I move (Oliveros, 2017). Pauline’s life’s work was oriented towards deep listening: “creating an atmosphere of opening for all to be heard, with the understanding that listening is healing” (Oliveros, 2017). This resonates with me, I believe that all kinds of healing happens when we allow ourselves to listen to (and feel) that which animates our surroundings. However, I find deep listening really fucking hard.

When I typically navigate campus I usually have my oversized headphones on, blasting the world away through music. I usually have a certain amount of time to run errands on campus, or I’m rushing from one meeting to class to another meeting. There’s no time for intentionality or exploration. Sound easily distracts me. As such, my surroundings fade behind the auditory boundaries I’ve constructed in an effort to focus. Still, sounds seep past the headphones. It’s rhizomatic, to use the terminology of Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari. I reconstitute this plane, this campus, through my headphones. To retread into the realm of Deleuze and Guattari, “Each of these becomings brings about the deterritorialization of one term and the reterritorialization of the other; the two becomings

interlink and form relay in a circulation of intensities pushing the deterritorialization ever further” (2014, p. 10). More simply, making this map forces a reorientation. Headphones off, listening intently with my audio recorder at hand, ready for action.

I always have my headphones. In a panicked, I-can’t-leave-the-house-until-I-find-them, sort of way. My headphones allow me to disengage with the sonic environment – or rather, to curate my own, one in which I choose what I want to hear when I want to hear it. However, it is not lost on me that this protective act of retreating disconnects me from the intimate (and intimately-connected) kenetic and sonic awareness that Pauline champions. And so, headphones off, I too reorient towards a campus that is sounding.

This reorientation is and always will be informed by our own orientation(s): how we move through the world, the social locations we inhabit, the relationships we prioritize. As arbiters of its content (and process), we have deeply embedded ourselves in the map. Which, by way of its creation, operates as a proposition, an “argument of existence” (Wood, 2010, p.34) of particular places on campus asserted through our curation and navigation of it.

Memories shape the sounds of this space, and this map. As a student, I’m lucky to be surrounded by incredible Indigenous scholars who shape my understanding and perspectives, and their wisdom echoes inside me while I track sounds. Listening for the crunch of snow, voices in the distance, the wind, I also hear the voice of Trudy Cardinal (Cree/Métis) describing the importance of listening to learning, and the respect inherent in that act, saying “When I’m honouring what I’ve lived as Indigenous pedagogy, it comes from my grandmothers. It’s not that they lived the traditional Indigenous lifestyle on the land, it’s just their way of being and knowing. It’s an embodied knowledge, if we learn to listen to that again.” In other words, listen, learn, and live.

Experiencing campus beyond the visual-productive places of a university, we hope to understand how sound shapes our experience of place,  how sound – its vibrations, movement, audible expressions, emotional cues – informs our encounters of campus and the meaning we assign them. If we accept the assertion that everything is sounding and imprinting on our experience of space, this map becomes a sonic composition reliant on sensory ways of knowing. It is our belief that this can challenge colonial logics of mapping, wherein the focus on delineating space through borders and built landscapes gives way to more fluid, embodied, and complex relationships of spacetime.

One of the first things I attempt to track down is the squirrel that makes its home outside of the Administrative building; earlier in the summer, this particularly bold lil critter tried to steal my bubble tea after I stopped by the finance office to drop off tuition paperwork. I’ve been informed that this squirrel is rather well-fed by certain staff in this building, so the odds are high that this rodent remains. A bit of snooping shows that there are no squirrel tracks. I listen for the high-pitched chirps of a squirrel– nothing. It’s enough for me to question whether squirrels hibernate. A quick Google search tells me that “No, squirrels do not hibernate, but they do sleep a lot!” No such luck on this front.

As one listens to the map they are accompanied by our footsteps. This continuous sound is reflective of our own experiences of movement, including the particular physicality of our bodies as they navigate campus. Additionally, the footsteps operate as an acknowledgment of our imprint on the map – they  move through space and time, reconfiguring and affecting it (and the map) as we walk about campus. Our footsteps are always present in the map – engaging with and co-creating the sounds and places of the university.

Looking for a sure thing, I decide to trek to the North Campus LRT station to record the arrivals and departures at the main platform. The sounds of University Station are affective, evocative: hearing the two-toned ding and the calm voice announcing “Next train…”, the following rush of folks down the escalator, scarpering on the mid-level platforms, and squeezing through the closing train doors before you are left behind to wait for the next train. This seemingly mundane experience is a strong memory triggered by the soundscape around me. Artist and scholar Lucy Lippard says that place is “space combined with memory” (1997, p. 9), but what role does sound play in creating said space, memories, and therefore place? Sound scholar Mickey Vallee explains the need to address places as “the intersections between time, space, materiality, memory, and bioacoustics [which reveal] those vibratory intersections that are otherwise imperceptible to the normal sensorium, but come about instead through technologies of transduction” (2018, p. 210). In other words, sounds play a part in shaping space. It too is mapping. These sounds are part of a map, a memory. They are place-making.

And so, we understand this to be a project about place, which according to Lippardis “temporal and spatial, personal and political. A layered location replete with human histories and memories … it is about connections, what surrounds it, what formed it, what happens there, what will happen there “ (1997, p.7). As such, this map engages sounds both as we experienced them sounding and through recordings that speak to particular happenings and experiences of campus across time and space.

While I wait on the platform to capture the sounds of the Century Park train, an Education student strikes up a conversation with me about my recorder and what I’m doing. We talk about this audio mapping project, as well as the student experience and how it sends us on strange, previously unexpected trajectories–– the movement of life. He used to be an engineering student, as encouraged by his family, but he chose to be true to himself and switch. As someone who switched programs in my undergraduate, and didn’t know that the Digital Humanities field existed until three years ago, I can empathize. The two-toned ding strikes and the conversation ends as I return to my original purpose for being on the platform. He’s quiet, watching what little action happens during the recording. It’s his train that rolls in, and after I switch off my recorder, I wish him well and he gets on the train. It’s an experience I wish I had recorded. Now when I hear “Next train: Century Park, on Track Two”, the conversation with this young man is what I really hear.

Omg. Have you heard of the songbird people? I dunno, it is a department at the U of A? Maybe? But also maybe it is like the secret garden, you sneak through the hedges and into a new dimension –  everything slows down, the busyness of 40 000 people gives way to the songbirds and you can’t not lay on the ground and listen (in solitude but not isolation). Maybe that is what it is? Okay, so it is not a department. Also, not a secret garden. It is a project: songbird neuro…. AND they have a theme song. They have a theme song?

What is this?


Kateryna and Kendra, among many other things, are graduate students in the Digital Humanities program at the University of Alberta in ᐊᒥᐢᑲᐧᒋᐋᐧᐢᑲᐦᐃᑲᐣ, Treaty Six territory. They are committed to feminist collaboration that prioritizes relationships, care, and systems-fuckery in their work together.

Kateryna Barnes’ dual Indigenous-settler heritage comprises displaced Kanien’kehá:ka of Akwesasne who retain their stories and working-class Ukrainian refugees with amazing recipes. Currently, her research explores decolonizing digital space (particularly video games), settler-colonialism as horror culture, and the educative potential of flawed simulacra.  Kat explores terrain and creates spaces sonically, be it through her headphones or her memories.

Kendra Cowley is a third generation settler of mixed-european heritage: Scottish and Polish immigrant homesteaders turned urban middle-class family living in amiskwaciwâskahikan, Treaty Six territory since the 1920s. Forever a schemer, committed collaborator, and self-deprecating artist, Kendra is interested in digitally-mediated (counter)narratives of madness, disability justice, and imagination work. She likes to make noise — sometimes music.

References (blog)

Barnes, K. SE. (2019). Trudy Cardinal [Personal interview]. 2019, January 24.

Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (2014). A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia. London: Bloomsbury Academic.

Kerry, and Brien. (2017) “Listening as Activism: The ‘Sonic Meditations’ of Pauline Oliveros.” The New Yorker, 19 June 2017, www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/ listening-as-activism-the-sonic-meditations-of-pauline-oliveros.

Lippard, Lucy R. (1997). The Lure of the Local: Senses of Place in a Multicentered Society. New Press.

Malpas, J. (2015). The Intelligence of Place: Topographies and Poetics. London, UNITED KINGDOM: Bloomsbury Publishing PLC. Retrieved from http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/ualberta/detail.action?docID=2194781

Vallee, Micky. (2018). Sounding the Anthropocene. Interrogating the Anthropocene: Ecology, Aesthetics, Pedagogy, and the Future in Question. edited by jan jagodzinski. Palgrave, 201-214.

Wood, Dennis. (2010). Rethinking the Power of Maps. Maps Blossom in the Springtime of the State. Oxford: Oxford Press.

References (map)

Archer, V (1993) VISTAS: Prairie Sounds from Alberta, Sasktchewan and Manatoba: ikpaqhuaq [CD]. Edmonton.

Archer, V (1993) VISTAS: Prairie Sounds from Alberta, Sasktchewan and Manatoba: Prairie Suites  [CD]. Edmonton.

Barnes, K. SE. (2019). Trudy Cardinal [Personal interview]. 2019 January 24.

Cheng Thom, K. (Writer), & Lam, K. (Narrator). (2018). The River. Live performance in Alberta, Edmonton on 2018 December 7.

Cowley, K. (2019) Maureen Engel and HUCO 530 [Personal interview]. 2019 January 21.

Dobson, P. (1981). Ethel Anderson [Personal Interview]. 1981 November 9. https://era-av.library.ualberta.ca/media_objects/avalon:3741

Matthews, M. (1993). VISTAS: Prairie Sounds from Alberta, Sasktchewan and Manatoba: The Far Field [CD]. Edmonton.

“Natalia Bruttles [Interview]”. Shout for Libraries: Homelessness and the Library.  Accessed on 2019 January 22.

Sturdy, C. & Hoeschele, M. and the Songbird Neuroethnology Lab. Chickadee Sounds. Accessed on 2019 January 19. http://www.psych.ualberta.ca/~csturdy/research.htm

“Ursula Pilmeier [Interview]”. Shout for Libraries: Palentines Day.  Accessed on 2019 January 22.

Valente, L. (2000) Liana Valente Sings: Songs of Canada’s Violet Archer. [CD]. Edmonton.


Flashing through history

Originally published on UAlberta News and Medium.

Education professor Lindsay Gibson’s Canada 150 flash cards. Photo by Kateryna Barnes.

Education professor Lindsay Gibson’s Canada 150 flash cards. Photo by Kateryna Barnes.

Dry history lessons that don’t resonate with students may be a thing of the past if a University of Alberta professor can get a new, interactive learning tool into classrooms.

In advance of the 150th anniversary of Canadian confederation, social studies education professor Lindsay Gibson is releasing a set of 150 flash cards focusing on events in Canadian history. One side of each card names a historical event paired with an archival image; the other has the date, a further description of the event and its consequences. Gibson’s goal with the cards is to discover if K-12 students’ accounts of Canadian history could be improved.

“Students have difficulty putting the various events they have learned about in their K-12 education into a meaningful narrative. These cards are a tool that will help them build some coherence and understanding of Canadian history,” explained Gibson.

“We’re storytelling animals. It’s how we make sense of the past. Is it possible, with a tiny bit of instruction, to completely change the stories students might tell about Canada?”

The concept of the flash cards came to Gibson when a friend’s six-year-old daughter invited him to play a “history game” called Timeline. The game’s cards have illustrations of a historic event on one side and the date on the other. Players correctly place cards in a timeline with the goal of getting cards out of their hands. Gibson wondered how something similar could work in a Canadian context.

Chinese-Canadian flash cards developed for teachers in British Columbia. Photo by Kateryna Barnes.

Inspired, Gibson created a set of similar cards to help British Columbia teachers bring Chinese-Canadian history into their classrooms. After the positive response, he expanded the project to cover Canadian history just in time for the 150th anniversary.

After developing a list of 150 events with the help of Canadian historians, Gibson created his first prototype. He chose to work with Grade 11 students who had finished studying the entirety of Canadian history in British Columbia’s social studies curriculum. Before he brought the cards into the classroom, he asked students to list the most important events in Canadian history and write Canada’s story. The results surprised him: only two students mentioned Indigenous peoples occupying the land prior to European contact and there were numerous historically-inaccurate claims.

“Students would make egregious errors,” said Gibson, “such as Pierre Trudeau being the Prime Minister who led Confederation and also brought in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms at the same time. At the end of 12 years of social studies, this is what you think?”

As part of his study, Gibson also asked the students to make their own timelines of what they thought were the most historically significant events and discuss them with classmates.

Graeme Stacey, the class’ teacher, was impressed by how the cards changed the landscape of his classroom.

“It was a totally engaging activity,” said Stacey. “There was no downtime, no kids on their phones or working on something else.”

“At the end of the day, we hope that students can tell a coherent, plausible narrative of Canadian history, but also one that is nuanced.”

The next step is for Gibson to get the cards into Alberta classrooms and discover what teachers here do with them and the degree they impact students’ ability to develop a logical narrative. Though he has already designed some accompanying lesson ideas focused on different historical thinking concepts, he recognized that there are many potential ways for a class to use the cards.

“I’m really excited to get them into the hands of teachers,” said Gibson. “What will they do with them? They are bound to come up with ideas that I haven’t even contemplated.”

While Gibson is excited to see what other teachers do with the flash cards, he also hopes students start to build their own stories of the past.

“At the end of the day, we hope that students can tell a coherent, plausible narrative of Canadian history, but also one that is nuanced,” said Gibson.

“I really want students to think critically about Canada’s 150th anniversary. Is it historically significant? With these cards, I hope to deepen their understanding of history and build this framework so they can deconstruct and or reconstruct the story they tell, rather than tell them ‘here’s the story.’”

Gibson’s flash cards will be available in mid-June through The Critical Thinking Consortium.


Film about Edmonton’s Indigenous history no walk in the park

Originally published on UAlberta News.

Conor McNally above the historic Garneau Theatre

Conor McNally above the historic Garneau Theatre

Making a film isn’t a walk in the park, but Conor McNally (BA’15) may have found a way to make it about a walk.

The graduate from the Faculty of Native Studies was in his final semester when he was encouraged to go on a river valley walk with Education professor Dwayne Donald. Donald uses the walks to paint a picture of the Indigenous history of the river valley surrounding the University of Alberta’s North Campus and tell traditional Cree stories. The film, ôtênaw, which is Cree for “a settlement” or “a city”, gives viewers the chance to explore what Donald calls “the pentimento” or layers of Edmonton.

“The thing that really struck me was the delivery,” says McNally about Donald’s walks. “Presenting that history on the land, in the locations he’s talking about and interweaving it with Cree philosophies– I thought, ‘This is the best!’”

The experience inspired McNally to pitch the idea of filming the walk to Donald. McNally sees natural similarities between oral storytelling and film-making, which is why he thought it would make a perfect documentary.

“For Indigenous storytelling, there are limitations to the written word,” McNally explains. “A lot of it is being with people and people feel it differently as opposed to reading it in bed, wearing pyjamas. There’s more respect in person.”

The film, which is screening at Metro Cinema as part of April’s FAVA Fest, was awarded the festival’s Award of Excellence for “Outstanding Long-Form Documentary”.

ôtênaw: uncovering the layers of community


Film still of Dr. Dwayne Donald

Once he got the green light, McNally leveraged some additional resources, such as a freezer full of 16mm film and grants from the Alberta Foundation for the Arts and the Edmonton Arts Council.  In ôtênaw, McNally superimposes different shots of the river valley and archival images over Donald’s storytelling. McNally explains that Donald’s narration lead the way for the visuals.

“Looking at the rough edit I had, I’d say ‘it’d be great if I went down to the EPCOR power plant and shot some stuff there’,” says McNally.

McNally utilized another valuable resource while making the film– his community and their artistic skills. With the help of a friend, he reused animated painted slides from another project to emphasize Donald uncovering layers of Edmonton’s history. He also brought in other film-making friends to help him collect extra footage.

“It’s weird to call it ‘my film’ when there’s so many other people involved in every step of it,” says McNally. “The day we filmed Dwayne’s walk, I had this whole crew of people helping. My parents were watching my daughter and they invited the team  over for chili after the walk.”

McNally notes that it was easy to connect with Donald beyond the film’s subject matter, bonding over their favourite hockey team, the Oilers.

“We had this moment where Dwayne thought he’d met me before and I was sure we hadn’t, but sometimes you meet someone and you think ‘We could be old friends’,” says McNally.

“I feel like I’ve learned so much from him, especially after watching the film a trillion times!”

The feeling of respect forged between McNally and Donald is mutual.

“Conor is a pretty cool guy and I admire him a lot,” says Donald. “He’s very passionate and committed to doing work that shows connectivities. To be a self-taught filmmaker and employ the sensibilities he does in this film– I love the music, the Elder’s words and the artfullness of it all.”

While Donald wasn’t originally comfortable with the idea of making a film about the river walks and storytelling he shares, he had the sense that something good could come of McNally’s initiative, and trusted him. McNally hopes that viewers take home a little more knowledge about their city and its story.

“All my films are about Edmonton in some way– I was born here and I’m not leaving anytime soon,” explains McNally. “I just want to raise awareness about these stories, because so many Edmontonians have no clue about any of this history. While Dwayne’s walks are free and open to the public, with film, one advantage is that it can be shown across the country. In that regard, I think it’s cool to tell very local stories and share them with a global audience.”

ôtênaw will screen at FAVA Fest on Wednesday, April 19 at Metro Cinema and at Vancouver’s DOXA Film Festival in May.

Weaving Indigenous culture into elementary music curriculum

Originally posted in Illuminate – June 2016.  A special thank you to the workshop facilitators and organizers: Nicole Schutz, Laurel Nikolai, Jeremy Albert, Holly Yuzicapi and Dr. Kathy Robinson. All photos by k.barnes.

Dr. Randy Wimmer (Dean of Education), Holly Yuzicapi, Jeremy Albert, Laurel Nikolai, Nicole Schutz and Dr. Kathy Robinson

Dr. Randy Wimmer (Dean of Education), Holly Yuzicapi, Jeremy Albert, Laurel Nikolai, Nicole Schutz and Dr. Kathy Robinson

A two-part professional development workshop focused on integrating First Nations, Métis and Inuit music and culture into elementary music education had a successful launch at the University of Alberta’s Faculty of Education this June and is expected to return to campus in the fall 2016 term.

At the recent workshop, current Education graduate student Nicole Schutz and alumna Laurel Nikolai (MEd ‘09) showed more than 20 local music teachers and 10 current students in the elementary education program different ways to weave Indigenous music and culture into their kindergarten to Grade 6 classrooms by making flutes and teaching them how to play songs.

Learning by doing

The hands-on workshop encouraged participants to decorate and play their flutes, much like they would with their students. Schutz, who is Métis herself, said that making the workshop as interactive as possible was a deliberate choice.

“We move, sing and dance all the time with our students,” said Schutz. “Why not do it with the First music of Canada? We want them to feel it and know it through the way it is supposed to be done.”

Both Schutz and Nikolai’s personal experiences teaching music in schools with large First Nations, Métis and Inuit populations provided a frame of reference when designing the workshop. It also illustrated the need to educate teachers on how to integrate First Nations, Métis and Inuit content and perspectives into the curriculum.

“As music teachers and elementary teachers, we learn through doing it and experiencing the songs and dance. We really want to connect to this through stories and [enable students to] have their own stories of making the instruments that they are putting love and time into, then pass these stories on,” said Nikolai.

“It is our job as educators to do as much as we can, share as much as we can, find accessible resources and people who can pass teachings and experience onto us so we can be comfortably educated to share this with our students,” she adds.


Participants learning to play songs on their flutes

Responding to the Calls to Action

Workshop participants point to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’sfinal report, released last year, as well as the provincial government’s promise to focus more on including Indigenous culture and history into Alberta’s curriculum as two reasons—among many—why professional development like this is needed.

“With the release of the 94 Calls to Action from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, this workshop is a response to some of those calls by learning more about Indigenous ways of knowing and being which will translate to their students,” explained event collaborator Jeremy Albert, who is a First Nations, Métis and Inuit consultant with Edmonton Public Schools (EPSB).

“We’re looking to build from here and get these teachings into our schools so our First Nations, Métis and Inuit and non-Indigenous students can be exposed to this education.”

The importance of good materials

As well as receiving a lesson in making, painting and playing Indigenous flutes, workshop participants also received a walk-through of an Edukit for music teachers, developed by EPSB. The kit consists of detailed lesson plans including songs, dances, picture books, poems, and stories that can be used throughout the school year.

“We’re crying out for materials and understanding to bring this music to our students,” said Kathy Robinson, associate professor of elementary education and workshop facilitator.

All of the workshop facilitators expressed a desire for the workshop’s positive impact to spread to classrooms across Edmonton. Event collaborator and EPSB First Nations, Métis and Inuit consultant Holly Yuzicapi explained that learning about First Nations, Métis and Inuit art and culture could teach students another way to express themselves.

“Every culture has forms of expression—art, music, singing, dance—it’s really people having the ability to share feelings and stories,” said Yuzicapi.

“You hear people say ‘I’m dancing for healing’, or there is history and significance behind certain songs or stories. When we turn to those things, we are acknowledging expression,” she explained. “When we deal with traumatic things in our life, we can turn to art to help us express feelings, but we don’t teach it that way. When you think about all of our cultural songs, the songwriter is sharing their feelings. So, technically everyone is a songwriter, a dancer and an artist.”

The EPSB Edukit will be available for loan at the H.T. Coutts Education Library. Part two of the workshop, to be led by Elder Francis Whiskeyjack, is expected to take place at UAlberta in the fall term and will focus on drumming and drum-making. To learn more about the course, contact Laurel Nikolai or Nicole Schutz.

Goodbye, Advanced Online

For my final story in Advanced Online, I was very lucky– I got to host Humber News ExpressHNE is a more casual and quick dose of the top headlines of the day. I was responsible for choosing the stories, writing them, lining them up, hosting, and cutting the video. I did have help from my friend, Justin Vasko, who was a fantastic videographer and human teleprompter.

Pro tip: make sure your human teleprompter holds your sheets of paper *just below* the camera lens. Or make sure you have a real teleprompter. Either way, I’m still pretty happy with how it turned out, -17 C and all.

For two minutes of Friday’s top headlines, check it out:

Words of inspiration

Boyden degree

I recently had the opportunity to talk to author Joseph Boyden when he received his honorary degree from Humber College, and he was shared some words of wisdom with me before his convocation speech and talked about Idle No More.

To read my Humber News Online article, click here.

Radio interview below. (Apologies for the less-than-optimal audio quality; conference centres aren’t great locations for interviews)

Interview with NWAC President Michele Audette

It always excites and amazes me when I get a great interview– even if it is short.  I had one today with Michele Audette, the President of the Native Women’s Association of Canada.  I had lined up a quick interview for our radio show @Humber to give a recap to the UN Special Rapporteur for the Rights of Indigenous Peoples’ visit to Canada.

Her first answer blew me away and I’m so glad that we were able to get the piece to air today, despite a tight line-up. (h/t to our @Humber crew and Prof Judy Charles who helped me get there and Lorna at NWAC for arranging the interview.)