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Winnipeg Free Press
7 days ago
- Politics
- Winnipeg Free Press
Indian Act's ‘second-generation cut-off' poses an existential threat to treaty people in Canada
Lou Moodie is gesturing at an easel with a golf club. On the paper behind his makeshift pointer is a set of unconventional math formulas, including 6(2) + 6(2) = 6(1) and 6(1) + 6(1) = 6(1). 'I call this 'Indian arithmetic!'' pronounces the 61-year-old from Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation. With that, Moodie starts quizzing the group of 15 or so people assembled at a hotel on Long Plain First Nation's urban reserve in Winnipeg, for this April training session on the intricacies of Indian status. Moodie is the retired recreation superintendent for Nisichawayasihk, some 850 kilometres northwest of Winnipeg, who, with the enthusiasm of a camp counsellor, runs a game of Simon Says and jokes about the foibles of technology. ('This mouse did not eat today!' he quips when a file won't load.) Despite moments of levity, the topic Moodie has driven nearly 20 hours round-trip to talk about — a particularly convoluted section of the Indian Act — is not a lighthearted one. Lou Moodie wants to see the cut-off repealed; in the meantime, he's trying to help families get around its limits. (Mikaela MacKenzie / Free Press) Written into law in 1876, the Indian Act has long sought to control the lives of First Nations people in Canada, including the very question of who — as far as the federal government is concerned — is an 'Indian.' And though that term is considered offensive when used by non-Indigenous people, it remains the signifier lodged in Canadian law. The part of the act Moodie is concerned with is a more recent addition — it became law on April 17, 1985. After this date, whenever a First Nations child is born to two parents with Indian status, they can be registered under Section 6(1) of the Indian Act. But when a child is born to one parent with status and one without (or where the child's father is not identified), they can only be registered under Section 6(2). People with 6(2) status are faced with a harsh reality: unless they parent with another person with status, their children will no longer be eligible for status. This is known as the 'second-generation cut-off.' Moodie describes the cut-off as genocide 'in paper form' — a discriminatory, assimilationist policy designed to legally get rid of First Nations people, akin to earlier iterations of the Indian Act, which forced First Nations children into residential schools. He wants to 'take a flamethrower to this entire sub-section' and see it repealed. In the meantime, he's trying to help families get around its limits. 'We want to determine who our members are. We, First Nations, not you,' Moodie says. 'We don't want this category 6(1), 6(2). We're not numbers — we're human beings.' Indian status is the vehicle for First Nations people to access the rights and benefits to which they are entitled. And while many First Nations people see the concept of status as offensive and paternalistic, there's also the sense that without it, the federal government could skirt the responsibilities, obligations and promises it has made to First Nations people. As far as its significance, holding status can give a person the right to hunt and fish on their treaty lands; to reap (often minuscule) treaty payments; receive financial aid for post-secondary education; and a tax exemption for income earned on-reserve. It also provides insurance for certain health-care costs, such as counselling, dental work and medications. As trailblazing Cree lawyer Delia Opekokew said in 1986, the reasons for someone desiring status are not just legal, but social. They might include the pride of being part of a collective group, with a protected birthright; the right to live in one's community; and even in death, to be buried on-reserve and remain there with the ancestors of their First Nation, Opekokew explained. The 6(1) and 6(2) delineations were added to the Indian Act in 1985 as a result of legislation known as Bill C-31, which ended the federal government's practice — over more than 150 years — of stripping status from First Nations women who married non-status men. (First Nations men who married non-status women did not receive the same treatment; in fact, their spouses were given status). While Bill C-31 enabled tens of thousands of First Nations women and some of their descendants to receive status, it quietly implemented a more restrictive system for passing on status than had existed before. The current system, which has seen several piecemeal amendments since 1985, is often described with words like incomprehensible and nonsensical — or, as an act of 'retaliation.' For children born after April 16, 1985 Today, of the 1.1 million status First Nations people in Canada, nearly 325,000 — or 29 per cent — are registered under Section 6(2). With their descendants at risk of being excluded from their rights, the second-generation cut-off has triggered a disquieting question: without treaty people, what happens to treaty lands? Even Ottawa has previously stated that the status populations of First Nations are expected to decline in the coming generations because of its restrictive rules, which could impact federal government funding. Virtually since the cut-off was enacted, there have been calls for its repeal. They've come from a Senate committee; from First Nations political bodies like the Southern Chiefs' Organization; legal scholars and advocates like Sharon McIvor, whose landmark case in 2009 forced Ottawa to remedy some of the lingering discrimination against women in the Indian Act; and recently, the United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women. 'I think we have inadvertently invited in an evil that threatens our very existence as treaty Indians,' wrote Jack Grieves of the Keewatin Tribal Council, which represents 11 First Nations in northern Manitoba, in a 1992 open letter. Predicting that Bill C-31 would ultimately lead to a declining treaty population and 'empty and unowned' reserves, Grieves went on to ask: was it already too late? 'Is there anything we can do to remedy this situation confronting our treaty people and those who thought they were getting their treaty rights back for future generations?' Growing up on the south side of Berens River in the 1960s, Carrie Whiteway Prystupa was taught to be self-reliant. Still decades before a road would eventually come to the community on the eastern shore of Lake Winnipeg, homes were built with logs, water was hauled from a hole in the ice and light came from coal-oil lamps or gas lanterns. Across the river was Berens River First Nation. In the winter, Whiteway Prystupa's family would travel there by snowmobile, and in the summer, by boat. And that's the name of where Whiteway Prystupa grew up: 'agamiing,' meaning 'across' in Saulteaux, which she grew up speaking. This isolated piece of land, cleared by her Whiteway family, was also known as the 'Métis side' of the river. As far as Whiteway Prystupa was aware at the time — and, as far as the federal government was concerned — she and her family were Métis. When Whiteway Prystupa and her family visited relatives and shopped for essentials on the reserve, that separation was clear. Some people referred to them as 'ozagamoog,' or, 'outsiders.' Carrie Whiteway Prystupa poses for a photo in the early 1960s on the 'Métis side' of Berens River, along with five of her eight siblings. From left to right (lower) is Carrie, Eileen, Diane (held by Eileen), Myrna and Jo-Ann. At top is Whiteway Prystupa's maternal grandfather Jacob, who is holding Gilbert, and grandmother Alice. Not pictured is her sister Nancy, while siblings Jackie and Stan hadn't yet been born. Alice was the granddaughter of the first chief of Berens River First Nation. (Supplied) It hadn't always been that way. Nearly a century ago, Whiteway Prystupa's grandmother, Sarah, a status member of Berens River, married a non-status man. Her Indian status erased, Sarah left the reserve and went agamiing, where, with her husband, she raised 10 children, including Whiteway Prystupa's father — none of whom held status growing up. Thirty-odd years later, in 1955, Whiteway Prystupa's mother, Helen, who also was a status member of Berens River, married her father, Fred. Helen had attended an Indian day school run by Roman Catholic nuns and her great-grandfather was a signatory of Treaty 5. Nonetheless, with their marriage, Helen also lost her status and went to live agamiing. Several years after Bill C-31 passed, Whiteway Prystupa, who was then in her early 30s and married with three kids, became a status member of Berens River for the first time. Four decades later, she explained what it meant: 'Maybe, I am not 'ozagamoo,' an outsider, after all.' But for her descendants, this reclamation of status could prove brief. Carrie Whiteway Prystupa grew up believing she was Métis. She is among those calling for a repeal of federal legislation that she says is discriminatory and fails to recognize her heritage. (Mikaela MacKenzie / Free Press) With Whiteway Prystupa's marriage to a non-status man, the second-generation cut-off has begun to loom over their family. Her first son, who was born in 1982 before C-31 was passed, was ultimately able to be registered under Section 6(1). But her younger two sons, born in 1986 and 1991, were registered under Section 6(2). Though all of her three sons have non-status spouses, their dates of birth are critical. The children of Whiteway Prystupa's oldest son have 6(2) status, while the future children of her two younger sons will not be entitled to it. It was about five years ago when Whiteway Prystupa first learned there are two different types of status — and what that could mean for her descendants. And Whiteway Prystupa is not alone; she notes many First Nations people aren't aware of the cut-off. But Whiteway Prystupa is not giving up. Whiteway Prystupa written a book called Neen Ozagamoo, or Me an Outsider, which she self-published earlier this month. (Mikaela MacKenzie / Free Press) Last summer, she heard Lou Moodie talk at a Treaty 5 summit. That meeting led to her to join Moodie and other grassroots organizers on a cross-country trip to Ottawa, where they spoke with federal politicians and staff, calling for the repeal of categories 6(1) and 6(2). Whiteway Prystupa has also written a book called Neen Ozagamoo, or Me an Outsider, which she self-published earlier this month. 'I feel I'm being discriminated against and targeted,' she said. 'That's our inheritance.' Like Whiteway Prystupa, Joy Budd grew up without status, thinking she was Métis. After Bill C-31 passed, Budd became a member of Cumberland House Cree Nation in Saskatchewan. When she was signing her first status card as a teenager, Budd remembers a membership clerk telling her she held 6(2) status — and couldn't pass it on to her children. 'At that time, I didn't know what it meant — I'm 16 years old. And now the complication has come,' said Budd, who goes by Glenda, and now lives in Thompson. For Budd's family, the story of their loss of status began with the Second World War. Like other First Nations men, Budd's biological grandfather was 'enfranchised' — removed from the Indian registrar — as a result of his service in the Canadian military. While he was away at war, Budd's grandmother married a Métis man, losing her status as a result. In the next generation, Budd's father married a Métis woman and then when Budd, with 6(2) status, had children with a Métis man, the second-generation cut-off came to pass. Her kids weren't eligible. Budd raised her kids as a single mother — and despite her working consistently, there were financial challenges associated with her children being non-status, such as saving up for costly dental work. 'We were struggling just to try and have basic needs met. That means my children, I could never afford college or university for them,' she said. Joy Budd gained 6(2) status following the passing of Bill C-31 in 1985. However, her children and grandchildren currently lack status.(John Woods / Free Press) Budd lived for two years on the Cumberland House reserve when her kids were younger, but because they were non-status, they were not allowed to go to the treaty school. Her children are now 32 and 28 years old. Even though her son had children with a woman who has 6(2) status, his three children remain ineligible for status. Two have specific medical needs, but, because they are non-status, they aren't eligible for support from Jordan's Principle for medical appointments, she said, referring to the federal government's legal obligation to ensure First Nations children have access to proper health care, among other supports. Because of amendments to the Indian Act in 2017, known as Bill S-3, Budd is likely eligible to have her status changed to 6(1). If successful, her son could receive 6(2) status and her grandkids could receive 6(1). For years, Budd has been asking questions about whether she might be eligible for 6(1) status, but she never received concrete answers. First Nations advocates point out that because of the law's convoluted nature and Ottawa's failure to communicate its far-reaching implications, only a fraction of the people eligible to register as a result of Bill S-3 have actually done so. For people who were born before April 17, 1985 (or whose parents married before that date), and whose grandmother had their status taken away through marriage, S-3 means that they are eligible for 6(1) status. In the meantime, Budd wants Section 6(2) repealed. 'What's at stake is our Indigenous culture, our treaty rights, our rights as Indigenous people,' she said. As Budd pointed out, the treaties signed between Indigenous peoples and the Crown were meant to be in place for 'as long as the sun shines, the grass grows and the rivers flow.' 'And, you know, the sun is still shining, even though it's smoky over Thompson. I know there's a sun out there somewhere,' she said. The idea for the second-generation cut-off appears to have originated in a federal committee hearing in 1982. A now-defunct First Nations organization suggested a kernel of the policy, though specified that any child with less than 50 per cent First Nation ancestry should have their status determined by their band. According to Indigenous Services' website, to request a status category amendment you must compile the following: Your First Nation's office may be able to receive your application, or these documents can either be brought in-person to Manitoba's regional office at 361 Hargrave St. in Winnipeg, or mailed to: Application Processing Unit Indigenous Services Canada Box 6700, Winnipeg, MB R3C 5R5 The committee weighed the proposal warily: '(this) would probably create another series of inequities regarding children who do and do not have status in the same family.' Still, it became law soon after. Nearly four decades later, in 2019, a report on the lingering gender discrimination in the Indian Act flagged the cut-off as the inequality of 'greatest concern.' Smaller, non-isolated communities with a higher rate of 'marrying out' were set to see the negative effects more quickly, some in a single generation, wrote Claudette Dumont-Smith, a special representative to the Crown-Indigenous relations minister. She recommended the federal government launch a consultation process over the cut-off, which began in late 2023. A committee of Indigenous organizations was appointed to advise on how to proceed. According to an initial report, these organizations emphasized the need for First Nations people to have support conducting geological research. The Assembly of First Nations Manitoba also suggested the creation of a records office that would allow people to trace how their family lost status. Indigenous Services has also published a fact-sheet for each First Nation detailing the number of members who hold 6(2) status. (In Manitoba, this group represents 15 to 45 per cent of First Nations' overall status membership — see data for each First Nation in a chart below.) The same disclaimer is found on each fact-sheet: 'even as your Nation's population grows over time, (your Nation's) total registered populations are likely to decrease in size,' however in a comment this week, an Indigenous Services' spokesperson said their latest projections show the status population continuing to grow until the end of the modelling period in 2066. Public-facing consultation events and engagement sessions have yet to begin, the spokesperson, Eric Head, confirmed. Minister of Indigenous Services Mandy Gull-Masty leaves a caucus meeting on Parliament Hill in Ottawa. Despite repeated requests, Gull-Masty was not made available for an interview by press time. (Sean Kilpatrick / The Canadian Press files) Despite repeated requests, beginning a month ago, Indigenous Services Minister Mandy Gull-Masty was not made available for an interview by press time. Head said the department is committed to working with First Nations to address the cut-off, and added that the current consultation process is not focused on 'whether to address the issue, but on how to address the issue.' Claire Truesdale, a non-Indigenous lawyer who has helped around 50 people apply for status, believes more urgency is needed. She pointed to the fact the federal government has known for years — at least since the McIvor case in 2009 — how problematic the cut-off is. 'They've acknowledged that this is a problem but they have been incredibly slow to do anything about it,' she said. The government's stance — that there is not agreement among First Nations on how to proceed — is a poor reason for failing to act with urgency, she said. 'Kids are being excluded now,' she added. Drew Lafond, president of the national Indigenous Bar Association, said the question of Indian status has essentially become a 'red herring.' 'The debate over who is — and who is not — a status Indian, I think, ignores the fundamental, or foundational question of when did Indigenous peoples, if ever, relinquish their jurisdiction over determining who is and who is not a citizen of their nation?' Lafond said. 'To my knowledge, that has never taken place,' added the lawyer, who has long worked on issues surrounding status and citizenship, and is a member of Muskeg Lake Cree Nation in Saskatchewan, though he points out he maintains kinship relationships throughout Western Canada. A federal government that 'facilitates and authorizes' the disenrolment of Indigenous people without their consent is a violation of the human rights of Indigenous people, Lafond said, referencing Article 9 of the United Nations' Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which states Indigenous people have the right to belong to their community or Nation in accordance with that group's traditions and customs. 'To say nothing of how ridiculous the formula has become over the years,' he added. In the past, the federal government has taken an ominous tone when discussing the possible effects of repealing the cut-off. During a Senate committee hearing in 2022, Christiane Fox, then a deputy minister with Indigenous Services, warned the move would lead to 250,000 more people with status, 'at minimum,' which, she added, 'will substantively impact the registration process and, of course, programs and services that are offered.' According to demographic projections by Statistics Canada, which had been produced just days before Fox's Senate appearance, the cut-off's repeal would lead to 173,000 extra registrants by 2041 in a medium-growth scenario. More recent modelling projects an even lower number: 121,800 extra registrants by 2046, according to Statistics Canada records obtained through an access-to-information request. What's clear from the records is that the federal department is closely tracking the financial implications of changing its registration criteria. (The Free Press filed a similar request with Indigenous Services nine months ago; after requesting a lengthy extension and failing to meet that deadline, the department has yet to provide the files.) The records give a sense of the possible population impacts facing First Nations — if changes are not made. In a medium-growth scenario, the annual rate of growth of the status population is projected to take a nosedive: from 2.05 per cent in 2021 to 0.05 in 2066. In a low-growth scenario, the growth rate is projected to 'turn negative' by 2055, indicating a decline in the overall population size. What's also clear from these records is that the federal department is closely tracking the financial implications of changing its registration criteria. In an email last fall, a project leader for Indigenous Service's registration reform team wrote: 'The team and I would like to begin costing out the differences in costing between keeping the registration provisions as is versus remedying the second-generation cut-off.' Seated in a Winnipeg hotel restaurant booth, Lou Moodie places a file on the table that speaks to his mission — it shows a family's successful journey in getting their child's status changed from 6(2) to 6(1). Because the father wasn't initially listed on the child's birth certificate, the child had been registered under section 6(2). Lou Moodie has made it his mission to educate First Nations peoples on how to reclaim status. (Mikaela MacKenzie / Free Press) While the federal government has taken some steps to make it easier for children to acquire status when their father is not listed on their birth certificate or is not known, the Indian Act still assumes the father is non-status if not identified. (Moodie often points out that there are many reasons for a woman not identifying the father, from relationship breakdowns to high-risk scenarios like rape or domestic violence.) In this child's case, the process involved ordering a new long-form birth certificate — not a copy — with the father included; filling out a statutory declaration from Indigenous Services, which has to be signed by a notary; and then mailing the package with copies of the parents' ID, along with, Moodie suggests, a letter of intent, reiterating the father's information. It's easy to use the wrong form or miss a spot for an initial, which can lead to lengthy delays. One of Moodie's pieces of advice is to avoid using correction tape and instead, cross out and initial any mistakes. But in this case, just a few weeks later, a letter arrived saying the child's registration category code had been amended. Since his retirement two years ago, Moodie has been travelling to First Nations to train their staff on how to convert children with 6(2) status to 6(1), as well to register non-status kids, when possible, while running a TikTok channel, where, with his daughter's help, he's amassed roughly 10,000 followers. He's also been hosting two-day conferences, with help from his family, including his wife, Edna; his son, Lou, Jr.; and his 'Irish son' Garrett, whom he adopted as an adult. He has no funding source behind him, whether from the federal government or his First Nation, which is what he tells people irritated by the $800 cost of his conferences. With nearly 325,000 people holding 6(2) status in Canada, Moodie points out that this problem isn't a theoretical one, it's already here. Depending on with whom these people parent, 'That's 325,000 treaties gone — just like that,' Moodie says, snapping his fingers. But there's another reason for Moodie's urgency. He wants his own grandchildren to be free to choose who they grow up to love, marry and have children with. 'I don't want (my granddaughter) to ever come to say to me, say, 'Papa, can I go out with this Anglo Saxon?' Don't ask me that question, if you love the man, go ahead. I'll never, ever say to you, 'no, no, you stick with your own,'' Moodie says. 'I've never agreed with that — never will.' Marsha McLeodInvestigative reporter Signal Marsha is an investigative reporter. She joined the Free Press in 2023. Read full biography Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism. If you are not a paid reader, please consider becoming a subscriber. Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism. Thank you for your support.
New Straits Times
25-07-2025
- Entertainment
- New Straits Times
#SHOWBIZ: Fans embrace Moodie-ness
Previous IT was one of those nights where everything just clicked: low lights, high spirits and a crowd buzzing with excitement at Zepp Kuala Lumpur. About 1,500 fans packed the venue recently, gathering for an experience that felt more like an intimate jam session than a stadium spectacle. By the end of the night, British pop artiste Henry Moodie, 21, made it clear this wasn't just another tour stop – it was a homecoming. Before the singer-songwriter even stepped onto the stage, the crowd received a surprise. Bradley Simpson, frontman of British pop-rock band The Vamps, strolled out at 7.30pm with a guitar slung over his shoulder, radiating ease and charisma. Welcomed like an old friend, Simpson serenaded the room with fan favourites, including a nostalgic sing-along to "Somebody to You". His six-song set was stripped back, soulful, and full of warmth – the perfect warm-up for what was to come. When Moodie emerged at 8.15pm, the atmosphere turned electric. The crowd, chanting his name, erupted as he launched into "Beat Up Car", one of his most popular tracks. With each lyric, it was clear: Malaysia had been waiting for this moment. "I've been here four times now. It does feel like coming home," Moodie said between songs, a wide smile on his face. That sentiment infused every note as he moved through a dreamy setlist, including "Indigo", "Bad Emotions", ' "Right Person Wrong Time" and "Pick Up The Phone". Fans sang every word, turning Zepp KL into a unified, beating heart of emotion. In true Moodie fashion, the night wasn't just about performance; it was about connection. Halfway through the show, he pulled out a giant die, each side featuring a pop icon, such as Adele, Taylor Swift, Coldplay, Billie Eilish, and Harry Styles. The roll landed on Adele, and Henry, settling at the piano, delivered a raw, heartfelt version of "Someone Like You". "Adele was who I grew up listening to. This one means a lot." Just when the crowd thought they'd seen it all, he slipped in a brand-new, unreleased track titled "Sunday Morning". A delicate, reflective tune, it captivated the room. Although no one had heard it before, fans picked up the melody, their voices rising in harmony – a spontaneous choir that moved him. "I was not expecting that," he said with a laugh, saying the fans had convinced him to release it sooner. But the night still had more in store. As the night drew to a close, Simpson rejoined Moodie onstage for a surprise duet of "Birds of a Feather" by Billie Eilish. Their voices intertwined effortlessly, their chemistry evident, giving fans a moment of musical magic. And just when the show seemed to end, chants of "Henry! Henry" brought him back for one last encore. The choice? "Drunk Text", a fan favourite. But this version came with another twist: Malaysian singer-songwriter Daiyan Trisha appeared mid-song to a roar of applause. Her graceful vocals blended with Henry's, creating an unexpected collaboration that brought the house down. The night wrapped with Henry thanking his tight-knit band – his guitarist and drummer – and, of course, the fans who made it all possible. The concert, part of his 2025 Asia Tour, was organised by Live Nation Malaysia. And truly, it was a night to remember. From surprise cameos to unreleased gems and impromptu karaoke, Moodie the artiste didn't just perform; he shared a piece of himself. As the lights dimmed and fans made their way out, there was a lingering feeling in the air that they had witnessed something rare, something real, something they'd talk about for a long time.
The 42
19-07-2025
- Sport
- The 42
South Africa tune up for Rugby Championship defence with nine-try win over Georgia
CANAN MOODIE SCORED a memorable try as world champions South African beat Georgia 55-10 in Mbombela on Saturday to complete their Rugby Championship build-up. When Moodie struck after 19 minutes before a 36,842 crowd in the northeast city it demonstrated the changing DNA of Springbok rugby. Gone is the obsession with a kick-and-chase approach, and in its place has come more ball-in-hand rugby, which helped deliver nine tries against the brave but ultimately outclassed Georgians. The result was never in doubt, given the one-off Test pitted the top-ranked South Africans against opponents 10 places lower, and it was far from a perfect performance from the winners. Advertisement But some of the moves from the record four-time Rugby World Cup winners thrilled the vibrant crowd, and nothing pleased them more than Moodie scoring his seventh try for the Springboks. Dynamic scrum-half Grant Williams broke to start a passing movement than involved backs and forwards before Moodie held off two Georgians to dot down in the corner to wild cheering from the crowd. It was also a Test to remember for two of the three uncapped front-rowers with hooker Marnus van der Merwe twice and loosehead prop Boan Venter once using their strength to power over for tries. The other South African try scorers were winger Edwill van der Merwe (two), replacement full-back Damian Willemse, winger Kurt-Lee Arendse and another substitute, fly-half Handre Pollard. When Arendse scored the penultimate try on 79 minutes it brought his Test tally to 20 in 26 appearances for South Africa. While fly-half Sacha Feinberg-Mngomezulu was a lively runner, he was let down by his goal-kicking, succeeding with only one of five conversion attempts. When double World Cup winner Pollard came on he placed all four conversion kicks between the posts and finished with a 13-point personal tally. As the match wore on, the South African dominance increased, but it was perennial European second-tier champions Georgia who struck first. Springboks captain Siya Kolisi had left the field for a successful head injury assessment test when the Lelos took a surprise third-minute lead through a try from hooker Vano Karkadze. Fly-half Luka Matkava converted and later slotted a penalty while the Springboks scored four tries in the opening half to build a 22-10 half-time lead. South Africa begin their defence of the Rugby Championship against Australia in Johannesburg on 16 August. – © AFP 2025
New Straits Times
17-07-2025
- Entertainment
- New Straits Times
#SHOWBIZ: Henry Moodie celebrates 500 million Spotify streams for 'Drunk Text'
KUALA LUMPUR: Rising British pop singer-songwriter Henry Moodie is celebrating a massive achievement as his hit single 'Drunk Text' has now amassed half a billion streams on Spotify. Moodie described this incredible milestone as a "surreal and unexpected blessing." In a news report yesterday, the 21-year-old artist admitted he still finds it hard to believe the track has achieved such global success. "Half a billion streams? It's crazy! I'm incredibly grateful for the support from so many people. I still can't believe it's reached this point. I don't know if something like this will ever happen again in my life, but I'm truly thankful," Moodie said. Moodie also credited TikTok as the key platform that helped propel the single into the spotlight. "TikTok changed my life. It really is the most powerful app right now. The song was a slow burner at first, with just 100,000 streams. "But once people started using the audio on TikTok, it jumped to a million, and then kept climbing. The algorithm really boosted the streaming numbers," he said. Moodie was in Kuala Lumpur to perform at his Henry Moodie 2025 Kuala Lumpur concert at Zepp Kuala Lumpur last night. Fellow British singer Bradley Simpson was the opening act.
The Citizen
16-07-2025
- Sport
- The Citizen
Moodie excited to link up with ‘world-class' De Allende
Canan Moodie and Damian de Allende will start in the midfield against Georgia on Saturday. Rising Springbok star Canan Moodie said he is eager to feed off the experience of Damian de Allende when the two play in the midfield against Georgia on Saturday. South Africa take on Georgia for just the third time in rugby, with the kick-off at Mbombela Stadium at 5.10pm. Moodie, 22, has 13 caps under his belt and is still relatively new to international rugby, though he's already featuring in his fourth season in green and gold and has a World Cup title to his name. By comparison, 33-year-old De Allende has 89 caps from an illustrious 11-year career that has seen him play in three World Cups, winning two. He could earn his 100th Test cap by the end of this season or at least in the early stages of the next one. Moodie to feed off De Allende The pair were chosen to start against Georgia, with De Allende at his customary inside centre role and Moodie on the outside. It's the second Bok appearance for Moodie this season after missing the friendly against the Barbarians and first Test match against Italy. He played 56 minutes in the second Test, attacking hard and scoring a great try in the first half. He played at outside centre again, though he is often positioned on the right wing, particularly at club level. 'I'm very grateful to get the backing of the coaches to play me at 13,' Moodie said on Tuesday. 'It's going to be very exciting for me to play with a world-class centre like Damian, to know he will make the right decisions, and I [will] just play off him. So I am very grateful for the opportunity to play again.' He said there is much competition for places in the squad, but this is healthy. 'When guys are gunning for a spot, it is very competitive in our training weeks. We got psyched up the whole week for the Italian game and we wanted to prove a point. We just had to transfer that into Saturday. I think we were all [ready] for whatever talent Italy had to throw at us.' Moodie happy for Grant Williams, who earns another start The centre added he was happy for Grant Williams — who also scored a try in the second Test against Italy — to earn a start again. 'When I was still at school and Grant was still going through his journey, the tough journey he had to club rugby… Now we get to score tries on the international stage. So it's very special momento [tries against Italy] to see how far we've come and the things we've done so far.'
