By Kira Locken & Gowlene Selvavijayan
A group of full spectrum doulas, or “birth companions,” are making reproductive care an
d services more accessible to Indigenous folks in the Ottawa-Gatineau region.
Paige Kendell, Marion Morton and Michaela Montour — three Indigenous women from different walks of life — crossed paths at an Indigenous-specific full spectrum doula training program organized by the Native Youth Sexual Health Network and Doulas of North America.
“We had noticed that there were no organizations of Indigenous doulas,” Kendell said to the Leveller.
In March 2016, the three founded Sacred Generations Doulas, which according to Kendell is the first collective of Indigenous doulas to be formalized in Ontario. The group sought to make doula care and knowledge accessible to Indigenous people, who usually face barriers and stigma — such as financial accessibility, language barriers, dismissal of Indigenous tradition and costly transportation — when attempting to access reproductive care.
Full spectrum doulas offer support for an entire spectrum of pregnancy outcomes, including birth, abortion, adoption, miscarriage and stillbirths, as well as advocacy for patients’ rights. This is in contrast with traditional doulas, who tend to simply offer support in the birth process.
The role of a full-spectrum doula has parallels in traditional Indigenous culture. “In every Indigenous community, there was always something called ‘aunties’, which is essentially the same kind of idea [as a full-spectrum doula] — they’re the support in a woman or girl’s life growing up and teach them about their health, their hygiene, their wellbeing, their birth and menopause,” Kendell said.
Modern medical practice tends to cut Indigenous women off from their communities, in contrast. Those seeking reproductive services from rural Indigenous communities are often forced to come into the city alone to access these services.
Health Canada’s website explains that their Non-Insured Health Benefits program limits reimbursement for the transportation of “non-medical escorts.” This means that supportive family and friends may only be covered at the request of a health professional if for instance, “the client has a physical/mental disability such that he or she cannot travel without help; is medically incapacitated; is a minor and needs to be accompanied; requires legal consent by a parent or guardian; or requires a translator, if translation services are not available at the health facility.”
Kendell asserts that the stress these people experience while travelling to another city alone, in addition to the usual stress of giving birth, is “unfair.”
“It creates very traumatic birth experiences,” she said.
While the Sacred Generations doulahs cannot travel to distant Indigenous communities, they can make mothers feel at home in the city, by giving them a caring and culturally-appropriate pregnancy experience. They work hard to make their program more accessible and comfortable for their Indigenous clients, who make up the vast majority of their practice.
“We’re trying to make it a little bit easier [for them] by including Indigenous traditions like smudging during a child’s birth or providing specific ceremonies to make it more comfortable for mom and baby until everybody else arrives,” Kendell explained.
Sacred Generations also acts as a liaison between their clients and hospital staff, ensuring their client has all the information they need to give informed consent regarding medical care offered to them.
“We all come from different situations where consent was not given,” Kendell said.
Canadian society as a whole has also done a poor of respecting the consent of Indigenous women, from the disproportionately high levels of First Nations women subjugated to forced sterilizations in the past (Alberta, 1937-1972), to the shocking levels of sexual violence they face in the present.
To Kendell, the group’s decision to prioritize consent is also rooted in personal experience.
Three years ago, Kendell’s decision to have an abortion was stigmatized by some of the people around her. She was called a slut by someone she trusted. This person also threatened to end all communications with her should she go through with her decision. Despite her abortion being her choice alone, she felt pressured to lie and told the person she had miscarried.
“[Consent] is something that isn’t taught,” Kendell said.
By making this knowledge and doula services more accessible, Kendell says the group hopes to reclaim Indigenous birthing traditions and teachings and bring it back to their communities, into their homes.
“Being in this city, being on Algonquin territory… and especially having a really white way of life, we don’t really have that same [traditional lifestyle]. So [we’re] providing [the knowledge of traditions] back to the Indigenous people and showing them traditional ways of managing womanhood,” Kendell said.
The organization hopes to expand its reach so that every Indigenous community and Indigenous midwife has a full spectrum doula.
The collective says they want to “reach every community, and not just provide that care, but teach other people to provide that same care that once existed in the form of aunties.”
This article first appeared in the Leveller Vol. 10, No. 2 (Oct/Nov 2017).
