On a cold winter morning, I’m on the phone with Mary Bell, my great auntie, a knowledge-keeper and a residential-school survivor. She’s practically a grandmother to me. I’m calling her 800 kilometres away from Toronto. I know she’s sitting on her rocker in Goulais...

I am an Indigenous woman, and I’m a survivor of genocide. Reading the results of the National Inquiry into Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women and Girls final report and recommendations hit me like a gut punch. Perhaps it hit me differently than it hit you. One of...