Indigenously Positive: A new series about Native joy and empowerment
Bella DavisNew Mexico In DepthMarcus Moquino sat behind a booth painting shoes with intricate, colorful designs, pausing occasionally to talk with shoppers on a bustling November weekend at Isleta Resort and Casino. In the next room over, other Indigenous artists tattooed clients as dance groups and bands performed.I was at the Indigenous Tattoo and Music Fest with a few questions for anyone who was open to talking with me. One thing I wanted to know: What do you want to see more or less of in news coverage of Native Americans?When I asked Moquino, Kewa Pueblo and Hopi, that question, he didn't hesitate. 'I would like for us to actually get acknowledged,' he said.I heard similar sentiments in conversations with over a dozen Indigenous people from tribal nations here in New Mexico and beyond. For the most part, Native Americans are either invisible in the news media or portrayed in stereotypical, harmful ways, people told me time and time again. In a 2018 report by Reclaiming Native Truth, researchers wrote that popular narratives of Native Americans – including in the news — tend to focus on disparities. Those narratives 'often fail to trigger moral urgency among non-Native populations to address oppressive conditions' and can also 'lead to feelings of hopelessness among the communities such narratives purport to describe.'As New Mexico In Depth's Indigenous affairs reporter since 2022, I've written about educational inequities and Native people making up a disproportionate share of the state's homeless population. I've met numerous families whose loved ones have gone missing or been murdered and documented state officials' response to the crisis. These are systemic issues, rooted in colonization, that I think journalists are obligated to shine a light on — to center those most affected, make the causes clear, and examine potential solutions. And as a Yurok woman, it's meaningful to me to report on injustices affecting my own community that have gone underreported for far too long.At the same time, I don't want those to be the only kinds of stories I tell. So, I'm partnering with New Mexico PBS on a collaborative series uplifting Indigenous joy and resilience. The first episode of Indigenously Positive, a collaboration between New Mexico In Depth and New Mexico PBS.
To help inform the direction of the project, we headed to the tattoo festival and out to a couple events in Gallup.Journalists, many of the people I talked with said, should emphasize Indigenous people's strengths and successes and give more attention to artists and language teachers and young entrepreneurs and community members working to make our world a better place. 'Even our education system in the United States isn't really accurate and sometimes talk about us as a historical people but we're still here and we're still thriving and we're doing wonderful things,' said Ptisawquah (Potawatomi/Kickapoo/Assiniboine), a vendor at the festival who makes plant medicines. I hope you'll watch this first episode of Indigenously Positive. Episodes including this one will air on the station's public affairs show New Mexico in Focus. You'll also be able to find them on YouTube.If you have any suggestions about what we should explore or who we should talk with, I'd love to hear them. You can reach me at bella.NMID@gmail.com.This story was originally published by New Mexico In Depth.This series is a collaboration between New Mexico In Depth and New Mexico PBS. Bella Davis was the reporter/producer for this episode; NMPBS Multimedia Producer Benjamin Yazza directed and produced it; NMPBS' Joey Dunn contributed camera work.
Bella Davis is an Indigenous affairs reporter focused on issues including education and the missing and murdered Indigenous women and relatives crisis. She is a Yurok tribal member, born in Eureka, California and raised in central New Mexico. Bella's position at New Mexico In Depth is made possible in part by the national organization Report for America. Previously, she worked at the Santa Fe Reporter, New Mexico In Depth through a one-year fellowship, and her college newspaper, the Daily Lobo. She holds a bachelor's degree in journalism and mass communication from the University of New Mexico.
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Hamilton Spectator
16 minutes ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Family clings to hope after child's body found near Panama jungle where Hamilton man and two kids vanished
The family of a 31-year-old Hamilton man who vanished into the Panamanian jungle with his two young children last month says they're 'holding onto hope' after authorities discovered the body of a minor on the banks of a river. According to federal Panama police , the remains were found in the Changuinola River near the Panama-Costa Rica border May 31, a little more than a week after Ghussan Iqbal, his two-year-old daughter Nousaybah and seven-month-old son Musa went missing. The unidentified body has been sent for DNA testing. 'Our family is sitting and waiting, and it's very challenging to not know … if we're grieving or we're not grieving,' sister-in-law Nagham Azzam-Iqbal said in an Instagram clip June 2, one of many update videos she's posted since she and her husband, Sulman Iqbal, left Hamilton to help with the search. The Ancaster couple flew to Costa Rica on the night of May 22 before crossing into Panama by bus and foot. A day earlier, Iqbal's wife, Fatima, woke up to find her husband and kids gone. The three haven't been seen since. Iqbal graduated from McMaster University and lived on the Mountain before he came to the city of Changuinola about a year ago, just before Fatima gave birth to their first son, said Azzam-Iqbal in a previous interview. She noted Fatima is also originally from Panama. Ghussan Iqbal, 31, graduated from McMaster University and lived on the Hamilton Mountain before he moved to the Panamanian city of Changuinola about a year ago, just before his wife, Fatima, gave birth to their now seven-month-old son. He went missing with his kids on May 21. Prior to the move, Azzam-Iqbal said Iqbal was hospitalized for psychosis at St. Joseph's Healthcare Hamilton. He has untreated mental-health issues and 'tends to disappear' during psychotic episodes, she added. The family is offering a $1,000 reward for any information that leads to the location of Iqbal or his children. 'We're holding onto hope given everything,' said Sulman, Iqbal's brother, in an Instagram video, adding he and his wife plan to stay in the country at least until DNA results for the recovered child arrive. 'Thank you to everyone for standing with us.' Initial search efforts for the trio were hampered by a slew of issues. Changuinola is sparsely populated with just more than 30,000 residents, a good chunk of whom live in remote, tucked away Indigenous communities. The terrain is difficult to traverse; tall trees, thick greenery and tangled vines surround a few mountain roads flanked by a low-lying river. And then there's the weather: bouts of torrential rain and persistent heat have pummelled Changuinola since May 21 — with more of it forecast for the next week and change. Meanwhile, despite the involvement of police and firefighters, Iqbal's family has expressed frustration about the scarcity of resources. Early in the search, they relied on traditional methods like flashlights, megaphones, word of mouth and volunteers, including one who Azzam-Iqbal said flew down to Changuinola to supply a drone for overhead monitoring. But in recent days efforts have intensified, according to the family, with dogs and dive teams now being deployed to the search area. Azzam-Iqbal said in a video a new prosecutor has been assigned to lead the case. After lamenting over the lack of clear communication from authorities, she said the prosecutor has promised to connect with the family every night for daily updates. 'He made a real effort to build those lines of communications,' Sulman said alongside his wife, who later clarified their frustrations were never directed at police, firefighters and search and rescue teams. 'Since day one, they've been out in the field searching for Ghussan, Nousaybah and Musa, and we're so grateful,' Azzam-Iqbal added. 'The weather is hot, the conditions are difficult, and the teams go out and spend time away from their families to look for ours.' In another development, Panama's attorney general announced last week it was creating a specialized unit for missing persons. Among the functions of the unit is to ensure co-ordination between prosecutors, police, family and national or international organizations involved in the search, thereby improving response times and 'providing comprehensive care to victims and their families.' The unit comes amid involvement from Canadian government officials — Iqbal and Nousaybah are both citizens. What that involvement has entailed remains unclear. Hamilton Mountain MP Lisa Hepfner said she is in 'frequent contact' with Iqbal's Hamilton-based family and working closely with Global Affairs Canada to resolve the situation. 'I continue to be very concerned about this distressing situation,' she said in a statement. Global Affairs said officials are actively engaged with local authorities and consular assistance is being provided to the family. No other information was shared due to privacy considerations. 'The safety and security of Canadian citizens abroad is a top priority for the Government of Canada,' the federal office said over email. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
L'nuey and Parks Canada seek board members to co-manage protected lands, historic sites
The First Nations group L'nuey and Parks Canada are looking for board members to help co-manage P.E.I.'s protected lands and historic sites, taking the next step on an agreement they have spent years crafting. "The agreements were signed and negotiated over many years. I believe the negotiations started even way back in the early 2000s," said Geraldine Arsenault, the field unit superintendant for Parks Canada on Prince Edward Island. "These agreements for both the new national park reserve and for the Toquktmekl agreement, these agreements were both signed at different moments in 2024." The new boards will consist of five members, including two selected by L'nuey and two chosen by Parks Canada. The fifth, who will chair, will be appointed by the board members. "Now we're at the phase of implementation of these agreements, and the first part of that implementation is to form the boards themselves, so that they can advise on the governance of these places," said Arsenault. The boards will oversee places like Pituamkek National Park Reserve off P.E.I.'s North Shore and national historic sites such as Province House in Charlottetown, Cavendish-North Rustico and the working inn at Dalvay-by-the-Sea. Jenene Wooldridge is the executive director of L'nuey, an organization focused on Indigenous rights for the Mi'kmaq community on P.E.I. "We advance and protect Mi'kmaq rights, and we focus on the areas of governance development, all negotiations and consultations for the Mi'kmaq," she said. "L'nuey is proud to be able to support the Mi'kmaq leadership over the past number of years. They have been steadfast in making sure that these agreements come to fruition and that we are able to now get into the implementation phase." Bringing Indigenous perspectives Arsenault said reconciliation has been very important for Parks Canada. "We've been working for a very long time with the Mi'kmaq of Prince Edward Island to really bring in the Mi'kmaw perspective to how we manage our national historic sites and our national park," she said. "And now with the new national park reserve Pituamkek, it really brings a piece of Mi'kmaw traditional lands into the family, if you will, of protected sites." Wooldridge said the boards will have different priorities. "Pituamkek is a brand-new national park reserve, so it's really building it from the ground up. It's going to be looking at what the potential visitor experience could look like, where are their protected sites, that wouldn't be so good for visitors or lots of people being around," she said. "Also access will be a discussion, I'm sure, for those co-management boards, so it's really more of the operational discussions that will be happening, building from the ground up for Pituamkek." Wooldridge said that the other board will look at existing national historic sites and the national park. She said they hope to have these board positions filled by the fall. "The recruitment is open now, and we encourage Mi'kmaw community members who have interest or expertise in culture, governance, environment, you know, community engagement, to put their names forward because all of those perspectives matter." She said non-Indigenouse Islanders are also welcome to put their name forward if they have experience in those areas.
Hamilton Spectator
10 hours ago
- Hamilton Spectator
‘Pretendian' or ‘victim': Inside this would-be Ontario lawyer's attempt to remake a life built on fraud
Before the headlines, Nadya Gill's life was filled with promise. Originally from the GTA, she played on Canada's youth national soccer team . At 16, she entered university in the U.S. on athletic scholarships, where she excelled on the pitch and in the classroom and earned the first of five post-secondary degrees. A coach told a Connecticut TV station her competitive drive could easily lead her to becoming a lawyer, a doctor, or 'a UN ambassador.' She graduated from law school, where she won awards and worked summers at the Crown law office in Toronto. After passing the bar exam, she landed a dream articling position at a sports law firm. It allowed her to work remotely and play professional soccer in Norway . Then came the rumblings online; her life fell apart — and she had to pick a new name. Two years ago, Nadya Gill and her twin, Amira, now 26, were outed as 'pretendians,' first by online sleuths and then a reporter in Nunavut , for falsely claiming to be Inuit to receive scholarships and grants. In September 2023, the RCMP charged the sisters and their mother, Karima Manji, with fraud. Last year, it was Manji alone who pleaded guilty, admitting she sent enrolment forms to Nunavut Tunngavik Incorporated (NTI) with the false information that she'd adopted her own daughters from an Iqaluit woman. The forms were approved and she was provided enrolment cards that entitled the twins access to benefits earmarked for Inuit students. Manji had in fact given birth to her daughters in Mississauga in 1998. In court, it was revealed that the girls had received more than $158,000 for their education from September 2020 to March 2023. To many, Nadya's successes were a slap in the face and a reminder of the harm caused by more famous Canadians who've been exposed for falsely claiming to be Indigenous. In March 2024, Toronto Life magazine published an exposé on the family under the headline, 'The Great Pretenders: How two faux-Inuit sisters cashed in on a life of deception.' It went to press before a judge in Iqaluit sentenced Manji to three years in prison and called the twins 'victims.' On a warm sunny morning this past week in an Etobicoke park not far from where she grew up, the Star spoke with Nadya Gill under her new name, Jordan Archer, about her involvement in Canada's first criminal case of Indigenous identity fraud. It's the first time she has spoken publicly about the scandal that she says has destroyed her life. In the basic facts, Archer's story is this: She's a first-generation Canadian, born to a mother who immigrated from Tanzania and lived for only a brief period in Nunavut. Her father, Gurmail Gill, is British. No member of the family is Inuit, nor of Indigenous background. Still, Archer says, the story the public thinks they know is wrong — not that her version will convince everyone who sees her as a villain. For the first time since the scandal broke in 2023, Jordan Archer speaks about being at the centre of Canada's first criminal case of Indigenous identity fraud. 'How would you have expected me to know,' Archer says, referring to her teenage self while sitting on a park bench in athletic wear after jumping off an old hybrid bike. 'Put yourself in my shoes. If your mom came up to you, gave you the story, with proof.' 'Proof,' Archer says, was the Inuit enrolment card her mother applied for — by outright fraud — in February 2016, when Archer was 17 and already going to school in the U.S. Like many teens, Archer says she was only too happy to let her mother handle all her applications, finances and logistics. Manji was controlling, the kind of 'soccer mom' who would scold her daughter after a match if she hadn't performed up to her standards. She was also someone a judge would call a 'habitual and persistent fraudster.' At the time she filed the false applications, Manji was already facing serious fraud charges. In August 2017, she was sentenced to defrauding the charity March of Dimes, her longtime employer, of $850,000, for which she received a non-custodial sentence after reimbursing $650,000. Karima Manji, seen after her arrest in the March of Dimes fraud case. As unlikely as it may sound — the case was publicized — Archer says she wasn't aware of those charges until much later. At the time, she was living in the U.S. and had distanced herself from her mom, who still controlled many of her life decisions. She returned home from school in the U.S. at 20, which is when Manji told her: 'You're going to Saskatchewan … to a program where you'll do property law in the summer. It's for Indigenous students.' That's when, she says, Manji presented her with 'officially issued proof' — the Inuit enrolment card — and told her 'the story.' Manji had lived in Iqaluit in the '90s and had grown close to an Inuit family. That much was true. As her mother explained, when the father became ill with cancer, Manji took care of a daughter. That connection, Manji lied, had made her eligible for Inuit enrolment and, by extension, so were her daughters. Should Archer have questioned things? Maybe. But she says she believed her mother. In the interview, she likened the logic of her mom's explanation to a marriage — it wasn't a blood tie but 'a connection.' (In retrospect, this explanation is nonsense. To qualify, an applicant must both be Inuk according to Inuit customs and identify as an Inuk .) Still, Archer emphasizes that she accepted and embraced the connection she now thought she had — believing in some way that 'I belonged to the Iqaluit community.' She says she immersed herself in learning about Indigenous culture and participated in ceremonies, activities and educational sessions. She volunteered for the Akwesasne Community Justice Program and facilitated Kairos blanket exercises where participants step into roles of Indigenous groups throughout Canadian history. If she knew about the fraud, why would she do that, she asks. 'I think if you're trying to hide something, you stay under the radar.' As for what the card meant, Archer says she was kept in the dark as her mom secured tens of thousands of dollars for her education. 'I know the card gets you benefits, you have some kind of status with it, but I had no idea what (Manji) was doing with it.' Who questions their parents about things that happened before they were born, she asks? 'I know my dad's from England … I didn't say, 'Show me your birth certificate.'' The Iqaluit RCMP charged both Manji and the twins with defrauding the NTI — the organization tasked with enrolling Inuit children under the Nunavut Land Claims Agreement — in September 2023. As is often the case with fraud, the big lie ended up being trivially easy to disprove. Manji had written on the application forms that Nadya and Amira were the birth daughters of a real Inuk woman named Kitty Noah, and then the application was approved without a shred of proof. (While there's no question her mother 'dug this hole,' Archer asks how the bogus application forms could have been accepted without a birth certificate.) Manji then used the girls' status cards to apply for benefits from Kakivak Association, an organization that, among other things, provides sponsorship funding to help Inuit students from Baffin Island pay for education. By early 2023, while Archer was articling and had already played in Norway, social media users began questioning the story of the successful 'Inuit' sisters from Toronto with the South Asian names. 'Our communities are small, we know each other. We know of each other and our families. There are only around 70,000 of us in Canada,' famed Inuk throat singer Tanya Tagaq wrote in a tweet asking how the twins could get scholarships meant for Inuit students. 'The resources and supports are limited.' In late March 2023, a reporter with Nunatsiaq News asked Amira to respond to the social media allegations. In a statement, Amira passed on Manji's story, that the twins' 'Inuit family ties' were through a family her mother had lived with. (Amira Gill declined to be interviewed for this story. 'My sister has chosen to keep her life personal, away from the public eye,' Archer said when asked about her twin.) But that's not what Manji put on the form; NTI soon released a statement that Noah was not the twins' birth mother and asked the RCMP to investigate. Kitty Noah has since died. When she found out she'd been listed on the application, she was 'flabbergasted,' her son later told CBC . Today, Archer says she struggles to make ends meet. She's working part-time at a hockey rink as a community service representative, 'directing people to the lost and found.' A Zamboni driver recently asked about her background. 'How much time do you have?' Archer told him, recalling the exchange. 'No matter what career I try to explore, I don't want this to come back.' She lost friends along with her articling job. In the wake of the case, the Law Society of Ontario initiated an investigation into her status as a lawyer. To practise law in Ontario, applicants for a licence must be of 'good character'; Archer feels she has no choice but to abandon a law career, at least at this point. She says she used to be puzzled when people described being debilitated by stress, but 'now, I really, really do understand. There were months when I wouldn't move or go anywhere.' Last fall, Archer thought she'd found a lifeline and signed a contract to play pro soccer. She felt she had been forthright about her past before signing but, ultimately, the league decided to rescind its approval of the contract. She was devastated. But it was also a 'turning point' — the realization she had to do something to try to clear the air and provide a 'fulsome' picture of the story. 'No matter what career I try to explore, I don't want this to come back.' She's since written a memoir, titling it 'When Life Conspired Against Me.' A summary provided to the Star described the book as an examination of the toll of the public backlash that destroyed her professional reputation. She's 'a victim of online bullying and was crucified in the media, despite not being involved in the fraud,' the summary reads. (The book does not have a publisher.) 'I'm serving a life sentence for a crime I didn't commit,' Archer says in a prepared blurb. 'I was the victim, but that means nothing when the court of public opinion plays both judge and executioner. In their story, I'm the villain, and that's all that matters.' Looking back, Archer says she now knows her mom would have pursued any chance at an advantage. 'She saw, you know, a bureaucratic loophole and she just went for it,' she says. 'Whether it was an Indigenous community or any other community, she would have just gone for it.' Confronting her mom was 'one of the hardest things I've ever had to do,' she told the Star in the days after the interview. Their relationship is messy, she adds. 'She didn't just hurt me, she detonated my life … and yet she's my mom.' She feels a 'heavy, inescapable obligation' to still be there for her mother, but 'supporting her didn't mean forgetting the harm. It didn't mean pretending everything was OK.' Soon after Manji pleaded guilty last year, the Crown withdrew the charges against Nadya and Amira. In response, the then-president of NTI called the withdrawal of charges against the twins 'unacceptable.' The twins 'benefitted from their mother's fraud scheme, and yet their role in the scheme will go unanswered,' Aluki Kotierk told Toronto Life. There's little chance Archer's story will convince anyone who believes she should have known. 'How can they say they didn't know they were not Inuit,' one First Nations advocate wrote on X. To those skeptics, Archer says she never claimed to be Inuk by blood; that was her mom's lie. Still, she hopes the doubters read the judge's words. Karima Manji, who is not Indigenous, pleaded guilty to one count of fraud over $5,000, after her twin daughters used fake Inuit status to receive Karima Manji, who is not Indigenous, pleaded guilty to one count of fraud over $5,000, after her twin daughters used fake Inuit status to receive 'The true victims of Ms. Manji's crime are the Inuit of Nunavut,' Iqaluit judge Mia Manocchio wrote . Manji 'defrauded the Inuit of Nunavut by stealing their identity. She has further victimized the Noah family and the memory of Kitty Noah. This is an egregious example of the exploitation of Indigenous Peoples.' 'Finally,' Manocchio continued, 'Ms. Manji has victimized her own children, her two daughters, whose lives and careers have been severely compromised by her fraud.' Manji is now serving a three-year sentence — a term that, the judge wrote, serves as 'a signal to any future Indigenous pretender that the false appropriation of Indigenous identity in a criminal context will draw a significant penalty.' Manji was also ordered to pay back $28,254 — what remained after she had already reimbursed $130,000. (Not that the 'proven fraudster' deserved any credit for paying back the fruits of her crimes, Manocchio wrote — 'if such were the case, then a fraudster with means could essentially buy their way into a reduced prison term, whereas an impecunious fraudster would serve the longer term.') Reached by phone at a halfway house, where she was in the middle of drywalling, Manji, 60, insisted to the Star that Nadya — she doesn't call her Jordan — was unaware of the scheme. 'I never, ever said a word to Nadya,' she said. 'She trusted me 120 per cent, if you can imagine, when this all started, she was in the States … her whole focus was on soccer.' Manji said she is appalled by the hurt she caused not only to Inuit communities, but to her own children, 'especially Nadya.' (The girls have an older brother.) While serving some of her sentence at Grand Valley Institution for Women in Kitchener, Manji said it would take weeks to read her daughter's letters, because 'I just feel so awful.' Unprompted, Manji offers up an explanation for her actions: She was brought up in a strict, conservative family and believed that if you were a doctor, lawyer or engineer, 'you would do fine in life.' She had an unhappy upbringing and marriage and wanted to make sure her kids didn't go through that. 'If I made sure they were successful in terms of their education and career, that they wouldn't have to have gone through what I've gone through,' she says.
