Honourable senators, I rise to speak at second reading of Bill C-21, which makes amendments to the Criminal Code and the Firearms Act.

The bill proposes changes to Canada’s firearms laws designed to better protect communities from gun violence, with particular emphasis on addressing gender-based violence, combatting smuggling and cracking down on ghost guns, which are untraceable firearms often built illegally on 3-D printers.

Also, crucially, the bill formalizes the national freeze on the sale, purchase, transfer and importation of handguns, enacted last year.

I’m supportive of these measures and look forward to seeing Bill C-21 progress through the remaining stages of the legislative process, but my reason for speaking today is to discuss the role of firearms in Indigenous communities and to share some thoughts that I hope will be useful to senators as our debate and study of the legislation continue.

For many Indigenous families, mine included, hunting is central to our history, culture, livelihoods and sustenance. Indigenous harvesting rights are treaty rights and were enshrined in Canada’s Constitution in 1982. Any law affecting firearms must preserve these rights. Moreover, the right to hunt and trap is deeply connected to Indigenous food security, connection to culture, rites of passage and identity formation.

With permission from my husband and my son, I want to share one of my family stories that illustrates this. My husband, his brothers, my brother, my father and other extended family members gather for a week every fall at a family hunting camp. My youngest son, Gabe, has attended the camp since he was a small boy. He has learned so many life lessons at hunting camp, including bush skills, survival on the land, tracking, his sacred relationship with animals he harvests and gun safety.

One day he went out with his dad and my father. They had smudged earlier that morning, and as the smudge passed under the guns and over the ammo, he prayed that he would become a hunter that day. His prayers were answered when he was the first to spot a deer on the cutline, and it stayed long enough for him to convince his dad that it was his time. He did exactly as he was taught. He got out of the truck slowly and with purpose. He aimed. He took a deep breath. He aimed again, and when he was completely sure that he could make the perfect shot, he fired.

When the deer fell, he walked to the animal with tears in his eyes. He put tobacco down and he thanked the deer for giving its life so that his family could eat. His dad showed him how to make the other offerings and to ensure the cleanliness of the food he was bringing home. In this moment, with humility and gratitude, he understood the complexity of our sacred right to hunt.

Allen called me, and I was in tears. We knew Gabe had entered the next stage of his life, that this was an important rite of passage in his journey.

When they arrived home, Gabe helped his dad prepare, package and freeze the meat. The next day, we hosted a feast with four elders. Gabe helped me make the deer stew, and he offered all the rest of the meat to the elders at our kitchen table — the elders who gave him teachings about becoming a man; his responsibility to his family, his community and the animals he would harvest; and his sacred relationship with the land. A few years later, when he brought his first moose back to hunting camp, he was presented with tobacco and given his first eagle feather. He had proven that he could survive in the bush, and that he was able to feed his family.

It is with so much pride that I can say all three of our sons are capable, traditional hunters, and I will never, ever go hungry. Indeed, colleagues, hunting, fishing and trapping are activities that forge stronger community bonds, provide a vehicle for the transmission of sacred teachings and foster a sense of responsibility to our community and natural world. As the late Dr. Harold Cardinal told my husband, Allen’s formidable bush skills were transferable — and one of the reasons he was a successful CEO.

Senators, my family has a variety of guns, large and small, that are specific to the animal that will be harvested. There are also family guns that have been passed down from generation to generation. My dad has gifted my grandfather’s guns to our sons as an acknowledgment of their hard work at camp, and the fact that they are such amazing traditional hunters. Every single one of these guns is legal and is stored safely.

Allen, my husband, was the co-producer of two videos about Indigenous peoples’ hunting rights and acquiring a Possession and Acquisition Licence, or PAL. Alberta Fish and Wildlife and the RCMP were partners in these video productions in an effort to build relationships between police, conservation officers and Indigenous hunters. Every Canadian — Indigenous and non‑Indigenous — who wants to purchase a firearm must apply for a PAL. There are also long-standing provisions within the licensing process that help Indigenous people acquire their PAL and, therefore, ensure that Indigenous hunting rights are preserved.

At the same time, Indigenous communities have frequently been impacted by firearms violence — often for reasons stemming from intergenerational and historic trauma. Like other Canadians, Indigenous people want and deserve to be protected from threats to community safety, such as gender-based violence and gang violence, and to have measures in place to reduce the risk of suicide.

Senators, my husband has been crystal clear: If ever one of his guns were to become prohibited, he would decommission or surrender it because the right to hunt — a sacred right given to us by the Creator, not by the government — is not tied to the use of a particular firearm, and the right to live in a safe community is also sacred.

Senators, the truth is that Bill C-21 would not change the classification of a single firearm. Last fall, the government proposed amendments during committee study in the other place that would have made some classification changes. At the time, some Indigenous communities and organizations felt that they hadn’t been sufficiently consulted on the amendments. I’m glad that the government took a pause at that point, and spent several months having conversations with Indigenous organizations and rights holders, including the Assembly of First Nations; the Métis National Council; Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami; the Manitoba Métis Federation; Tribal Chiefs Ventures Inc., which represents several First Nations on Treaty 6 territory in Alberta; the Manitoba Keewatinowi Okimakanak; the Métis Nation British Columbia; the Hunting, Fishing and Trapping Coordinating Committee, which deals with the harvesting rights in northern Quebec; the Native Council of Prince Edward Island; the Wolastoqey Nation in New Brunswick; and the First Nations Chiefs of Police Association.

From what I have heard about these discussions, several key themes emerged: First, many Indigenous people and organizations agree with the principle that certain firearms are too dangerous and not appropriate for civilian use. Second, the preservation of harvesting rights, and of the firearms used to exercise these rights, is a top priority for Indigenous communities. Third, it is important for many Indigenous people to be able to pass their firearms down from one generation to the next. Finally, it was repeatedly emphasized that Indigenous organizations and rights holders want to work with the government on matters related to regulation of firearms. Early and ongoing consultation can help maximize buy-in among members of Indigenous communities, maximize the effectiveness of the laws and minimize misinformation about what a particular law or amendment does.

The result of the extensive consultations was that the amendment introduced last fall was withdrawn. Other amendments, such as the amendments focused on combating the spread of ghost guns, were reintroduced and adopted. In its current form, Bill C-21 would enshrine the handgun freeze that has been in effect for a year; maintain the prohibition of approximately 1,500 assault-style rifles that was enacted in 2020; and establish a technical definition of assault-style firearms to be applied going forward in order to prevent newly designed or manufactured assault-style firearms from entering the Canadian market.

For hunters, the bottom line is if there is a long gun that you are using for hunting today, you will still be able to use it when Bill C-21 passes. For all Canadians, including Indigenous people, the bill will help protect us from gun violence and make our communities safer.

Colleagues, let’s send Bill C-21 to committee and study it as soon as possible. Hiy hiy.