Working toward a bigger slice of the funding pie

For every $173 donated to nonindigenous charities, only a single dollar is given to Indigenous charities, said Brascoupé

Since first visiting the Anishnawbe Health Toronto (AHT) 25 years ago, Melanie Ashkewe said the Indigenous health centre has helped her with an array of issues, from alcoholism and diabetes to a brain tumour and everyday complaints such as frozen shoulder and foot problems.

The 52-year-old, who has been sober for eight years, said the largely Indigenous staff members at the clinic are reliably helpful and nonjudgmental.

“Everyone from the dietitians to the chiropodist is on a first-name basis,” Ashkewe said. “It’s just a lot friendlier and it makes me feel comfortable with the whole surroundings.”

What’s more, although patients have access to conventional health-care practitioners, including doctors, psychiatrists and dietitians, they can also avail themselves of Indigenous healing practices, such as traditional ceremonies, medicines and births, and consult with elders, medicine people and healers.

For Ashkewe, who has “been through a lot,” simply being able to talk to one of the elders helps her manage her emotions and her sobriety. “I would not be where I am without Anishnawbe Health,” she said.

Wanda Brascoupé, curator of the Indigenous Peoples Solidarity Fund by Unite for Change, said providing Indigenous people with culturally appropriate services is a necessity if positive change is to occur.

“No one understands how Indigenous communities work and where there are unmet needs,” she said, “better than Indigenous people themselves.”

And yet, many Indigenous-led charities (those whose leadership consists of at least 50 per cent Indigenous people and who serve an Indigenous population) fly under the radar when it comes to attracting funding dollars. “NonIndigenous charities get $173 for every $1 that goes to Indigenous charities,” said Brascoupé.

Part of the problem, she said, is that Indigenous-led charities tend to be smaller, and “they are doing things on the ground, or that are a bit more relational in terms of community.” They can do “phenomenal work,” she said, “but they just don’t get the notoriety. People don’t even know they exist. And how can you give if you don’t know they exist?”

Brascoupé (who is of Bear Clan, Kanien’keha, Skarù rę’, and Anishinawbe descent) and the people at CanadaHelps (an online platform to connect charities with donors) recently teamed up to try to change that.

Last year they launched the Indigenous Peoples Solidarity Fund to highlight the awesome work Indigenous-led charities are doing and to give donors an easy way to funnel dollars to Indigenous-led causes such as AHT.

In part, the move was meant to meet a need. When CanadaHelps surveyed Canadians about waht five causes most resonated with them, Indigenous charities regularly topped the list, particularly for younger people. For instance, 22.3 per cent of 18-to-24-years-olds and 18.3 per cent of 25-to-39-year-olds identified Indigenous causes as a priority (compared to 13.7 per cent of GenXers and 13 per cent of Baby Boomers).

The recent revelations about mass grave sites at Canada’s now defunct residential schools have also contributed to a groundswell of support, as Canadians faced our country’s dark past, and the devastation wreaked on Indigenous communities. “The Indigenous Peoples Solidarity Fund offers a small pathway to create change,” Brascoupé said.

The fund supports more than 50 Indigenousled charities across Canada that focus on everything from health care to the arts, suicide prevention, the environment, fostering growth, healing and reconciliation.

In addition to AHT, are charities such as Winnipeg-based Clan Mothers Healing that provides support to women survivors of sexual violence and exploitation; Toronto’s Na-Me-Res that focuses on housing for Indigenous men; and Iqaluit-based Qaggiavuut that aims to help Nunavut’s performing artists.

“One donation goes to all of the charities in the fund,” said Brascoupé. And all the charities are governed, led and largely staffed by Indigenous people.

“There is so much brilliance in Indigenous communities, but government systems don’t always provide the space or the opportunity for that brilliance to shine at a community level,” she said. “We wanted to support those who were doing transformational work within their own communities.”

As Ashkewe can attest, that kind of support can have an impact that carries on through the generations. “I love the fact that I remember yesterday,” she said, but even better, as she proudly points out, her two children, now 21 and 23, are both doing well.

“If I kept drinking over the past eight years, I don’t think they would be where they are right now,” she said.

“There is so much brilliance in Indigenous communities...”

MELANIE ASHKEWE