Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, Tia Wood, Susan Aglukark and others have shared a songs to mark the National Day Of Truth and Reconciliation.
Toronto Star: Since the Truth and Reconciliation Commission released its 94 Calls to Action to redress the legacy of residential schools, the subject of reconciliation has become an important theme in Indigenous art and music.
However, nearly a decade later, many Indigenous leaders and artists fear that progress on these calls to action has stalled. “I can’t really help but feel how much the sentiment has been on the wane,” Anishnaabe musician Adam Sturgeon told the Star, pointing out that very few of the Calls to Action have been completed.
Others, like Marek Tyler, — a Cree musician who performs as ASKO — believes that the word “reconciliation” has lost some of its meaning: “For many of us, it has been reduced to a symbol rather than a true commitment to change.”
For Cree singer Tia Wood, reconciliation isn’t possible without unearthing the truth about the intergenerational trauma that stems from colonization and residential schools. “We have to share our stories and remember our histories first.”
To mark National Day for Truth and Reconciliation — which is on Monday — the Star asked six Indigenous artists and musicians to share a song that reflects the current state, of truth and reconciliation in Canada. Here’s what they had to say.
Willie Dunn: I Pity the Country
Willie was an important Mi’kmaq activist, film director and singer songwriter, who was influential in my generation of Indigenous musicians. The song is meaningful to me because it is a powerful critique of colonialism and an acknowledgment of the work my ancestors have done to affirm Indigenous life. I had the opportunity to cover his song, and it has become so meaningful to me in this present moment of genocide, climate collapse and in building a different future. — Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg scholar, writer and musician
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OMBIIGIZI: Ziibi
As we gear up for National Day for Truth and Reconciliation Day, I can’t help but feel how much the sentiment has been on the wane. Very few, if any Calls to Action have been put in place and Indigenous people continue to fight — quite literally for their lives — to this day. Well, Sept. 30 is also my friend and collaborator Daniel Monkman’s birthday. This year, I’ll be celebrating by listening to their song “Ziibi” where Daniel sings “free to leave another one, dog born in a cage, scared to leave what is a reservation. Name and numb us instead with, without a home …” — Adam Sturgeon, Anishnaabe singer-songwriter and member of the bands OMBIIGIZI and Status/Non-Status
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Susan Aglukark: Circle Of The Old
I wrote and recorded a song leading up to and during the Truth and Reconciliation process called “Circle Of The Old.” This song observes the conflict in those who became the first elders out of residential school, what they must have been holding/carrying.
In this song, reconciliation is about creating space in each of us to deeply understand how far back that pain goes and to hold that space while we all do out part to keep moving forward, healing and creating safe spaces.
In the bridge, the Inuktitut the words are and mean:
kapiasungilanga — I am not afraid (physically)
ilirasungilanga — I am not in emotional fear
ijirasungilanga — I will (no longer) hide
kapiasungilanga — I am not afraid (physically)
— Susan Aglukark, Inuk singer-songwriter and activist
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Tia Wood: Remember Me
I didn’t have to travel far from home to suggest this song! It was written by my uncle Randy Wood and recorded by my sister Fawn Wood. It was written to honour my late uncle and it has been embraced by the community as an unofficial anthem for remembering survivors (and the kids that didn’t make it home either).
My feelings around reconciliation are complicated. My parents are both survivors, so the intergenerational trauma of colonization has ripped through my family. I don’t think true reconciliation is possible without that truth. We have to share our stories and remember our histories first. We also need help rebuilding what was taken from us by uplifting our own communities — revitalizing language, our songs, supporting Indigenous art, our knowledge systems and having access to our lands. This song is a reminder that my culture is alive and healing everyday. — Tia Wood, Cree singer from Saddle Creek, Alberta
ASKO: wâkôhtowin
The word ”wâhkôhtowin,” is a nêhiyaw (Cree) term that embodies kinship, good relationships and interconnectedness. This concept extends beyond family ties to include our connections with people, the land and every living being. In the spirit of wâhkôhtowin, this song reminds us that we are actively working to rebalance the shared history of Indigenous and non-Indigenous Peoples. Our path forward requires nurturing these connections and fulfilling our obligations to each other and all living beings.
“Reconciliation” is now a widely used term that some feel has lost its power. For many of us, it has been reduced to a symbol rather than a true commitment to change. When institutions or governments invoke a “reconciliation plan” without taking meaningful action to understand the deep wounds inflicted by colonialism that need healing, it feels tokenistic and contributes to silencing calls for justice.
Addressing colonialism’s ongoing impacts and honouring Indigenous laws, traditions, and relationships — like wâhkôhtowin — requires more than apologies or surface-level gestures. It demands a fundamental shift in how relationships are built and respected. By grounding our actions in principles like wâhkôhtowin, we move beyond the reconciliation and work to embody what it means to live in a relationship with one another.
I want us all to be available to challenge our status quo and rebalance our shared history. — Marek Tyler, Cree and Scottish/Irish artist who performs as ASKO
Wolf Castle: Ulgimoo
Across Turtle Island, artists are taking control of their stories. My latest single “Ulgimoo” is an example of just that. The song’s namesake is inspired by a Mi’kmaq legend of Chief Ulgimoo. As the story goes, Ulgimoo was an old Mi’kmaq Chief that protected his home from invading forces.
The most striking image of the story is of the 104-year-old Ulgimoo leaping from a fire and suddenly transforming into a young man.
The entire story is about being underestimated. There have been many times in my life that I have been judged at face value. I am an Indigenous rapper, and it’s funny to me when people are surprised that I am so “well spoken,” that I am cultured and even surprised that I have a bachelor’s degree and graduated valedictorian of my college. It’s almost as if they don’t expect someone that looks like me and acts like me could possibly have achieved these things. It’s fun to subvert those ignorant viewpoints.
“Ulgimoo” is a reclamation of an Indigenous story — and a real perspective of what Indigenous art and success looks like. — Wolf Castle, Mi’kmaq rapper from Pabineau First Nation