The effect of the Tina Fontaine case: ‘It could have been me’

Despite the rules against cellphone use in their high school, 16-year-old Madyson Arscott sat in their computer science class with their iPhone 6 held under their desk. Septum and lip piercings hung off their face, below their short golden-blond hair, while they consistently refreshed their Twitter feed. Their screen was filled with comments directed towards them, about the not-guilty verdict for the murder of the Indigenous teen Colten Boushie.

Arscott aggressively typed on their tiny touchscreen keyboard, replying to the tweets on their @Decolonizeont account. They were replying to a user who argued Boushie had it coming, and that Arscott’s people “fall into these situations because they were all alcoholics.” They ignored the dirty looks from their teacher and saw a direct message notification.

Arscott was confused when they saw the user who had sent the message was actually anonymous. The message read, “if you don’t smarten up maybe you’ll be the next one.” They couldn’t breathe. Arscott’s head was spinning, their heart rate was quickening, and their eyes started welling up with tears. Arscott knew that message could be right.

Sixteen-year-old Madyson Arscott spoke about the importance of standing up for Indigenous youth at the Justice for Tina Fontaine rally on Saturday, March 3.

Arscott is a sixteen-year-old Ojibwe high school activist from Toronto, who actively runs social media campaigns for Indigenous rights. A few weeks after receiving the threat on Twitter, they created the Justice for Tina Fontaine rally. This was in response to the acquittal of Fontaine’s alleged murderer, Raymond Cormier. Indigenous communities and allies joined forces with Arscott to protest against the Canadian child welfare system for its treatment of Indigenous youth, like Fontaine. Arscott did not expect more than 100 people to show up to their rally, however on that sunny Saturday afternoon, in Nathan Phillips Square, brightly coloured tents and loud music played. Three blocks down, hundreds of female activists also marched in honour of International Women’s Day, holding #MeToo signs and wearing pink hats.

Arscott waited in the back corner of the urban plaza for more participants. Their group of 19 volunteers stood in a tight circle, wearing colourful long beads and scarves, and began a traditional healing dance. However, their gathering soon multiplied into hundreds as “Indigenous Youth Matter” and “She was worth the effort” signs flooded into the space proudly held by community members, allies and later International Women’s Day marchers. The space was transformed as everyone seemed to be wearing the same frowned mouth and stern look. Media personnel and bulky video cameras flashed over Arscott’s face as they described their grief to the audience. “She was a fifteen-year-old girl and they found her body in the river.” With closed eyes and heavy breaths, they said, “It just hits so close to home for me because I turned 16 a few weeks ago. Tina was the same age as me when she died. It could have been me. It could have been any of us.”

In 2014, Tina Fontaine was under the care of Child and Family Services (CFS) in Winnipeg. She was last seen being placed in a hotel from a private contract worker employed by child welfare. Nine days later, her 72-pound body was found at the bottom of Winnipeg's Red River, wrapped in a duvet cover and weighed down with rocks. More than three years later, Raymond Courier, a 56-year-old-man who had sexual relations with the teen, was found not guilty for her murder.

Throughout the ceremony, Jenny Blackbird, from Kehewin Cree Nation and coordinator of Indigenous Studies at University of Toronto, held out a copper cup of sacred water for Fontaine. Beside her, sage burned in shells and enveloped the grounds with a strong cedar like smell — which in her community spreads good omens and healing. “After Tina, there are discussions of how a lot of our vulnerable youth don’t feel safe,” said Blackbird while wearing ‘Justice for Tina,’ ‘Justice for Colten,’ and ‘Support Indigenous Youth’ pins on her long black parka. “I mean, they might have not felt safe before, but now it’s even more apparent that the justice system really doesn’t care about Indigenous cases, and these child welfare services don’t care about Indigenous children,” said Blackbird. She emphasized that non-Indigenous people who stereotype the deaths of Indigenous teens with alcoholism or welfare, don’t see the bigger picture of the system failing their youth.

Jenny Blackbird honoured Fontaine by holding a cup of sacred water.

Ryan Walsh is the program leader of Giiwedin Anang Council, an Ottawa based program which provides support to Indigenous youth in child welfare. He said that vulnerable Indigenous youth are more likely to thrive by living with community members. Walsh is a part of the Algonquin nation and works with Indigenous girls in similar situations as Fontaine. He said that “at-risk teens,”who are less likely to succeed into adulthood, all have one thing in common: they all want to go home. “The risks at home might have been neglectful, but putting them into a foster home often makes then unhappy and they tend to run away,” said Walsh, who believes group homes makes these teens targets for traffickers and criminals.” “Indigenous communities are fighting these services, because they want them to come home to relatives and elders who really know what’s best for their children,” he said.

Suzanne Smoke — a member of the American Indian Movement — also spoke at the rally, denouncing the government for its treatment of the Indigenous community. “How dare you take our children,” Smoke said into the microphone. “Don’t dare walk into any of our communities and into any of my sisters’ homes and think that you know better than us - the original people on our sovereign land, how to raise our children on this land.”

Arscott, Blackbird and Smoke all stood in solidarity with Fontaine and sang their traditional Strong Women song in unison with the audience. Wooden drums played fast beats to raise the spirits of those in the rally. The crowd also danced in circles and cheered on the speakers, who all emphasized Indigenous communities needed to moderate child welfare to prevent cases like Fontaine’s.

Near the end of the rally, Arscott gave a speech to over 1,000 participants. Posters and heads hung low; some crowd members wept, while others carried solemn expressions. The wind swept against the large Justice for Tina banner behind Arscott and the drums lay on the floor. Arscott’s face was red and tears were streaming down their cheeks. Arscott clutched the microphone tightly in one hand, while the other shakily held up their iPhone. “I have taken it as a responsibility to continue this fight for children and their children to live safely on this land. I was not surprised by this verdict.” They took a long pause, catching their breath. “And, as sad as it is, it will not be the last of its kind.”

Photos by Yusra Javed