By Erin Isaac and Cady Berardi The thoughts and sentiments shared in this essay are our own and do not represent the Nova Scotia Museum or Shelburne Historical Society. As part of the significant cuts set out in the 2026-2027 Nova Scotia provincial budget, the Department of Communities, Culture, Tourism and Heritage announced last week that they needed “to focus… Read more »
By Sarah Kittilsen In the summer of 2025, I was rifling through a box of uncatalogued materials at the Farm Equipment Museum in Bible Hill, Nova Scotia, when I happened upon an old record book. Tattered and yellowed with age, it had been used by fourteen-year-old Frank Daniels in the early 1930s to document what he expended and earned while… Read more »
Tuck and Yang’s Decolonization is not a metaphor provides an interesting touchpoint to identify a pattern of “settler moves to innocence.” What does this mean, and what is the pattern? As Indigenous peoples are literally removed from the land and disposed of its resources such as hunting and fishing, but also access to natural resource revenue, they are also figuratively removed and replaced with appropriated words, such as Sakaw. This is an instance that Tuck describes as “settler nativism” where setters attempt to “deflect” their identity by appropriating, in this instance, Indigenous words to be used as place names. There are many instances of this in Canada – itself a place name rooted in an Iroquoian language
This pattern is rooted in colonial and patriarchal power. The settler claims control the land through displacement and replacement of Indigenous peoples. In this specific instance, the Papaschase First Nation who occupied Reserve 136. Settlers, such as those on the Names Advisory Committee and City Council, then use Indigenous words (i.e. Sakaw) as place names to assuage feelings of guilt. This “move to innocence” allows for a feeling of moral resolution without addressing the ongoing colonial structures that led to the theft of land in the first place.
Ultimately, The Fort McKay Métis Nation: A Community History makes a vital contribution to Métis historiography and to the growing body of scholarship that centers Indigenous voices in historical research. Fortna’s work is respectful, informed, and grounded in his deep connections with the community. In a time when questions of Indigenous rights, land, and sovereignty remain urgent, this book offers both historical grounding and forward-looking insight into the future of Métis political and social movements. Accessible to both scholars and community members, the book’s concise narrative (at 225 pages) ensures its broad appeal, particularly among those interested in Indigenous histories and community-driven scholarship.
With my work now, I try to share engaging and unexpected stories — history that will catch people’s attention — and then connect those stories to their broader historical context. The story of the Toronto Circus Riot for instance — sparked by a brawl between clowns and firefighters at a downtown brothel — has a lot to teach us about the influence of the Orange Order and systems of power in Victorian Toronto. My hope is that if I can catch someone’s attention, provide them with some of that broader context, and point them toward the work of historians who’ve explored that context more deeply, that person might be curious enough to want to carry on learning more.
By educating the public about heritage designation, incorporating heritage into urban planning, and connecting with our wider communities, we can cultivate a brighter future for Ontario’s heritage industry.
In what seemed to some MTHA workers a bizarre self-fulfilling prophecy of failure on the matter, MTHA also took it upon itself to modify the behaviour of all residents. Toward that end, it hired the criminologist and security “expert” Clifford D. Shearing to write a pilot study on how to solve MTHA security problems.
In correspondence with North York Mayor Mel Lastman, Sheila Mascoll accused the mayor of the sort of neglect of and insensitivity toward Jane-Finch that had cast an unreasonable racist pall on a neighborhood where thousands lived, worked, and played.
In a reflection of the city itself, the racial, religious and ethnic dynamic of public housing had changed dramatically over the preceding decade. And for all the discussion among consultants, MTHA administrators, Community Relations Workers, and tenants themselves, Metropolitan Toronto Housing Authority managers and employees seemed oblivious to initiatives that might specifically address that transformation and how it was impacting the lives of tenants.