My Reflections on the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation
Today, on the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, I reflect on what it means to be the daughter of immigrants and a settler on this land, while confronting the truths of both the past and the present.
My family immigrated from the Philippines, a nation shaped by centuries of colonization — first by Spain, then by the United States. The impacts of that history are still felt in the Philippines today, in its politics, its economy, and the ways people see themselves. When my family came to Canada seeking opportunity, we arrived in another place deeply marked by colonialism. The opportunities we found were built on systems that displaced Indigenous Peoples, stole children, and attempted to erase entire cultures. Colonialism is not history; it is present — alive in intergenerational trauma, unequal access to resources, and everyday systemic barriers.
This context makes the work we do here in Edmonton deeply meaningful. In 2020, the City took a step toward acknowledging Indigenous presence and identity through the Indigenous Ward Naming Knowledge Committee. This group of Indigenous matriarchs, representing First Nations, Métis, and Inuit communities, gifted new names to the wards through ceremony — names that reflect deep connections to land, language, and community. Representing Ward Nakota Isga, meaning “the people” in the Sioux language, is more than symbolic. It underscores my responsibility as a settler to the Indigenous Peoples whose territory I serve. Ward Nakota Isga borders Enoch Cree Nation, and I am committed to building and strengthening these relationships, using my platform to advocate for Indigenous voices, amplify their priorities, and ensure collaboration guides the work I do. These lands are not a blank slate for settlers — they carry stories, stewards, and responsibilities.
And, those responsibilities are not abstract. Earlier this year, 14-year-old Samuel Bird, an Indigenous boy, went missing from Canora. His disappearance is a devastating reminder that the harms of colonial systems — neglect, racism, and structural violence — continue to endanger Indigenous children and families. Samuel Bird should be safe. Every Indigenous child should be safe.
His story is inseparable from the broader truths of this country, and it reinforces that reconciliation means so much more than words, performance, and symbolism. 
Samuel Bird has been missing since June 1, 2025. His family is leading the searches to bring their son home.
Support their efforts here.
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission gave Canada 94 Calls to Action, a roadmap created by Survivors themselves. Yet too many remain unanswered, leaving harm to persist. Reconciliation demands action — from governments at all levels, institutions, communities, and settlers like me who benefit from the systems that caused this harm.
Reconciliation is not a single day of reflection or a symbolic gesture. It is a lifelong commitment. For me, it means listening deeply to Indigenous Peoples, amplifying their truths, being willing to sit with discomfort, and confronting colonial structures when they perpetuate harm. It means holding myself accountable every day, even when it is hard.And still, despite generations of trauma and loss, Indigenous communities, Survivors, Elders, and youth have shown extraordinary generosity when they do not have to. They have shared their language, their teachings, their resilience, and their strength with us. That generosity humbles me, and it motivates me to do my part. I hope it does the same for you.
In closing, we owe it to Survivors, to their families, to children like Samuel, and to future generations to carry these truths forward and turn them into real, ongoing action every day, not just on September 30th.This work demands courage, accountability, and relentless commitment — and it is a responsibility we must shoulder together, as a community willing to confront uncomfortable truths and strive for justice, equity, and healing.
