The granddaughter of famous First Nations activist Dorothy Maquabeak Francis reflects on intergenerational trauma, racism in policing, and relationship-building.

It’s 35 below freezing in Edmonton, as a 27-year-old RCMP officer and Cree woman sits with her face pressed to the chilled window glass of her patrol car. Above her, ribbons of jade light— the Aurora Borealis—move like silk across the obsidian night sky.

Cree legend has it that the Aurora Borealis is part of the life cycle, and the dancing lights are the spirits of the dead communicating with those they left on Earth. 

Maquabeak, or Jade MacLean, was gifted her name, which translates to “Bear Sitting Woman” in ceremony. Maquabeak shares her name with her great-grandmother, Dorothy Maquabeak Francis, a prominent Indigenous storyteller, Red Power Activist, and founder of the first Aboriginal Friendship Centre. 

“My great-grandmother was an incredible Ojibwe woman,” Maquabeak told SAD in an interview. “Her English name was Dorothy Francis, [and] her First Nations name was Maquabeak, meaning Bear Sitting Woman [...] to have the bear with you is a sign of strength. She worked so hard in her life to bring changes for our people.”

The Red Power movement, with which Dorothy Maquabeak Francis was affiliated, was an Indigenous sovereignty movement centred around unified and militant action. It was spearheaded by Indigenous youth to incite social change and defend unceded land in North America. 

Red Power Activists used a radical, civil disobedience approach, resulting in FBI surveillance, arrests, and in some cases, death.

“I was passed down my great grandmother’s name during a ceremony, and I can't help but feel I was placed here to do her work on the opposite end of the spectrum,” Maquabeak said. 

Maquabeak comes from a family that doesn’t like or trust the institutions of policing. 

In the thick of the national dialogue surrounding law enforcement and systemic racism, and as a Cree police officer, she views herself as an agent of change and healing, believing that the spirits of her ancestors carved her a unique path. 

In an increasingly polarized time, Maquabeak said she advocates for restorative justice systems, with the ultimate goal of transforming the system from the inside.

“I come from a family of Indigenous people who absolutely hate the police. This is stemming from a bad past of how they were treated,” she said. “But on the same note, this is another reason I wanted to join the force. What better way to start change by entering that very force?”  

The RCMP and Indigenous peoples in Canada have a long, complex, and often brutal history. 

Beginning in the 1990s, Starlight Tours—a deadly practice by the police force in Saskatchewan also known as the “Saskatchewan Freezing Deaths”—made the Prairies all the more dangerous for Indigenous residents.

More recently, the mishandling of cases involving missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and two-spirit peoples (MMIWGS+2S), became a national crisis of domestic abuse, police ignorance, and colonial legacy.

Meanwhile, countless cases of excessive force and law enforcement's role in removing Indigenous children from their families have damaged generations of Indigenous peoples across the land. 

The RCMP was originally created to force Indigenous people off their lands and enforce the residential school system. These tensions are still present today, as Indigenous communities continue to be incarcerated at disproportionate rates, currently representing 42 per cent of the female prison population. 

Land defending youth are routinely brutalized while peacefully protesting against the pipelines being drilled through their sacred, unceded territory. 

In 2019, it was revealed that the RCMP were prepared to use lethal force against land defenders, including women and children, who blockaded against the drilling of the Coastal Gaslink Pipeline through Wet'suwet'en land.

In Feb. 2021, Braided Warriors began occupying the lobbies of downtown buildings to protest the TransMountain Pipeline Expansion (TMX), and were consequently filmed being aggressively shoved and dragged outside by their hair. The altercation resulted in several youth arrests. 

Maquabeak has had exposure to these tensions, not only as a law enforcement officer, but as an Indigenous youth growing up.

“I've seen firsthand the mistreatment of First Nations people,” Maquabeak said. “Our elders were taken from their families to residential schools where they were taught that our culture was wrong. Our languages and spiritual practices were banned, our land was stolen, and our parents and grandparents were physically abused and raped by teachers and priests.”

“This has resulted in complex, intergenerational trauma which we know leads to addiction and abuse,” she explained. “It has created a vicious cycle that we are still seeing.”    

The effects of intergenerational trauma are ongoing. Statistics Canada found that suicide rates among First Nations, Métis, and Inuit peoples are three times that of non-Indigenous people. 

Notably, the rate was approximately twice as high in Indigenous populations living on reserve as it was in individuals living off the reserve. Statistics Canada itself makes the case for an association between high suicide and addiction rates and the historical and ongoing impacts of colonization. 

The organization’s analysis cites residential schools, removal of Indigenous children from their families and communities during the “Sixties scoop,” intergenerational transmission of trauma, marginalization, and income disparities as probable factors that impact the mental health of Indigenous peoples. 

Maquabeak echoed these findings, saying there is a salient connection between trauma, poverty, and substance abuse.

“This [cycle of intergenerational trauma] is why there are so many issues on reserves,” she explained. “The stealing, fighting, drugs [and] alcohol.”

In 2019, immediately after she completed her RCMP training, Maquabeak asked to be placed somewhere that policed reserves. Today, she polices two reserves in Alberta; the Enoch Cree Nation, which has more wealth, and Paul First Nation, which has less. She says the differences are striking. 

In addition to being closer to the heart of Edmonton, Enoch has a casino, which brings in a lot of revenue for the band and pays members on their reserve to work. Paul Band, conversely, is nearly an hour away from the heartland, meaning there are significantly fewer work opportunities for residents. 

“Paul Band does not have the money Enoch does. Some of the homes on Paul Band that we walk into look like another world; no doors or windows, flooded basements, no heat. They keep the oven on and open to heat their home, and the children will sleep on the floor in the kitchen to stay warm.”

Disparities in resources and infrastructure, as well as in mental health and addiction rates, between the two reserves show clear correlations between poverty and geography. Such inequities can be explained, at least in part, via spatial poverty traps.

“The question is whether that's because Paul band is isolated—it’s a 40+ minute drive away from Edmonton—or because there are just not a lot of work options for members of Paul Band compared to Enoch, which is right in the hub,” Maquabeak said. 

In her work with the RCMP, Maquabeak said she embodies a restorative approach rooted in transformative justice models. She takes her elders’ sacred teachings into account while consciously choosing to be a part of the system. 

She wholeheartedly agrees that there are horrific disparities between Indigenous and settler communities and that there are countless injustices inflicted on them by the government, as she experienced these things firsthand. 

However, since the system still very much exists, she said she’d rather be the one in charge of caring for her people. 

In contrast to widely held public perceptions, differential confidence in the police between Indigenous people and non-Indigenous people is statistically minor. A surprisingly large majority view the police favourably, regardless of the type of police force, with the biggest disparities existing across generational gaps, not ethnic or cultural ones. 

Maquabeak feels that she is received better by First Nations people than her non-Indigenous coworkers. When given the opportunity to execute discretion on calls, she elects to build positive relationships through a restorative approach as opposed to pressing charges. This takes compassion and patience.

 “A lot of the time, [people] see the uniform and respond with hostility, but this isn't reflective of me as a person, and I understand that. It's them responding to what they have grown to perceive this uniform to be,” she explained. “Taking the time to humanize the uniform and speaking as one human being to another makes such a difference.” 

One can’t help but draw parallels between The First Peoples Principles of Learning and Maquabeak’s self-reflectiveness, her desire to lift up her community, and her earnest attempt to see from every perspective. 

A main component of The First Peoples Principles of Learning is that learning is holistic, reflexive, reflective, experiential, and relational. For Maquabeak, that entails empathizing with and understanding the perspectives of people who believe that the police cannot be reformed.

When asked how she feels about seeing cases of excessive force against activists and Land Defenders, including those who believe that the police should be abolished, Maquabeak said it’s extremely disheartening.

“It's frustrating. More members than not feel the same and don't believe a heavy hand should be used. It is not the right thing to lead. It is difficult, but with my identity as an Indigenous woman, mother, and a law enforcement officer, I can genuinely see both sides of the struggle.”

She said the people behind the badge are just regular, complex human beings with friends and families, but that does not, under any circumstances, excuse excessive force.

“This is another reason why I really advocate for body cameras,” she said. “It will hold police accountable to their own actions and show what could have caused the incident to turn south.”

Body cameras have long been held as key to police reform. Though limited, a handful of studies conducted prior to 2017 suggested that use of the technology reduces police misconduct and excessive force incidents. More recently than 2017, however, meta-analysis studies have repeatedly concluded that body camera use has statistically insignificant effects. 

Maquabeak still advocates for their use, maintaining the belief that body cameras help hold police accountable, at the very least, in providing evidence for cases of misconduct. 

She stressed that, more than body cameras, diversity within the force is vital to creating lasting and effective change. She stated that systemic racism does exist within the force, but she’s already seen changes.

“I notice that from non-Indigenous members, there is judgement towards the reserves. Never in front of the public or clients, but the chatter in the detachment can be negative towards Indigenous people.”

“I believe the RCMP is working hard to change their previous ways of policing. But we desperately need more visible minority members. In my troop, I was the only First Nations member.”

On average, the diversity of Canada’s police force doesn’t accurately reflect the diversity of its communities. 

Visible minorities make up just 12 per cent of the RCMP’s force as of 2020. These figures have remained stagnant for nearly a decade and are notably lower than the majority of other work forces in Canada. The number of law enforcement officers who identify as Indigenous has decreased over the past decade, making up a mere 7.2 per cent.

In addition to increasing diversity, difficult conversations about transformations within the force are far from over. 

Maquabeak believes relationship building is one of the most important parts of her job. She views her position as one of immense responsibility, and said it’s deeply important for citizens to feel they can trust RCMP members to truly serve and protect. She said she isn’t naive about the realities of policing in Canada, though, and knows it will take significant time and sincere effort to build up this broken trust. 

 “I am 100 per cent for restorative justice models,” she said. “[The RCMP is] actually very on top of teaching this model to all RCMP cadets, which is nice to see. The way we went through training is very inclusive, and I believe—compared to a few years ago—it’s very culturally sensitive.” 

 “[They brought] in an Elder to do a blanket exercise to show what effects the Canadian government has had on Indigenous peoples,” she recalled. “We even have a smudging and prayer room for people who use Indigenous spiritual traditions. I used it quite often and found it was relieving to have that option available to me when I really needed that spiritual support.”

 Maquabeak’s duality of identity represents a lesser-publicized, however ever-present facet of our settler state. She chose to become a law enforcement officer with the awareness that there are deeply entrenched, historical tensions between Indigenous peoples and institutions such as the RCMP. Her personal lived experiences as an Indigenous woman growing up in Canada are precisely what motivated her decision to join the force, and she continues to advocate for restorative and transformational justice models moving forward. 

“I want the people in this organization to earn the trust of the people we serve. It will take time, but us as law enforcement officers need to do the legwork to get the ball rolling, and that is my goal. In the words of my great grandmother, ‘I want to help all people of this world [...] we need a spiritual renewal.’”

Born in Matsqui, Rachael Moorthy is a novelist, artist, and multilingual postcolonial scholar of complex and tangled roots. She is passionate about elevating the perspectives of those with marginalized identities that don't fit into a marketable monolith, specifically, Black-diasporic, descendants of orphans and foster kids, Indigenous identities, and those who, like her, are weaved from loose threads of all of the above.

To carry the bear with you is a sign of strength. Descendant of "Sitting Bear Woman" Dorothy Maquabeak Francis, Jade Maquabeak McLean is an Anishinaabe mother of three and RCMP officer who advocates for Restorative Justice Models and diversity in the force.