♪ ♪ >> Welcome to Canada Files.

I'm Valerie Pringle.

My guest today is Susan Aglukark.

Who is an award-winning singer and songwriter from the North.

Who blends her native Inuktitut language with English in contemporary songs to tell the stories of her people.

Over her 30-year career, she's become the artist-in-resident for Northern Canada.

She's on a mission to inspire and help other Inuk children with her Arctic Rose Foundation.

>> Valerie: Hi Susan.

>> Susan: Hi Valerie.

>> Given how busy you are, still as an artist.

Working on memoirs, writing songs, back on tour, children's books.

Why do you feel it's so important to spend so much of your time giving back to kids in the North?

>> Um, I remember early in the career, there were quite a few years I feel like I wasted.

Not sure of anything really.

Am I a singer, a songwriter.

Could I be an artist?

Could I really do any of this?

If I hadn't been in the career, if it hadn't been for the arts, I wouldn't have become who I've become.

And I never imagined I could be who I am today.

And I want to share that.

Our lives in the North and the Indigenous community are incredible beautiful lives.

But we know the trauma that's there.

We don't have to be the trauma.

And if it hadn't been for this, I would not have known that.

I would have thought that's perfectly normal.

And that's the rest of my life.

It doesn't have to be.

I know how fortunate I have been that I had these opportunities that brought me to that realization.

And that's what I want to share.

And that's why it's important.

Through the arts and the artist's lens and experience-- to share that.

>> So you're a role model.

When you go north...I mean, we say first Inuk to win the Juno award-- the Canadian Grammy.

Governor-General's Performing Arts Lifetime Achievement.

Order of Canada, honorary degrees, etc.

So you have to carry that.

>> Yeah, and I don't feel like that's what it is.

In the beginning, it sure felt that way.

Because I struggled so much with ...

I didn't feel like I had earned any of it.

You know, the early years-- I'd say the first 5 or 6 years of the career was, I don't think so.

I don't think I'm a singer.

I don't think...

I don't deserve this life.

But from that point, oh wait, why not?

And how do I deal with this ...level of fear.

( speaking Inuktitut ) is the word in Inuktitut to be in a state of emotional fear.

That's when the real 'I want this' started to wake up.

Discovering all this becomes this-- oh my goodness, gotta share this.

It's a pleasure to share.

It's not just a duty or a responsibility.

It is--I love seeing the light come on in the eyes of the participants in these rooms.

When they believe they can.

>> You grew up in Arviat, the daughter of a Pentecostal minister, one of seven kids.

What were your parents' lives like, as they grew up?

>> Um, that's part of that discovery piece.

Realizing what we didn't know.

Our generation of Inuit were the first to live our entire lives in the settlement.

So I've never lived traditional.

My parents did.

Their birth and formative years was on the land.

( speaking Inuktitut )is the word my mother uses to describe them.

We're from the land.

So their lives were tents and igloos.

When we hear the word Eskimo, and we imagine what that Eskimo's-- visual of the Eskimo is.

That was my parents!

>> They were hunting.

>> They were hunting, fishing, living off the land.

When you think how, in one generation, that life changed.

And that generation was ours.

All my life has been settlement life.

I've only know that life, that community.

So their life--I remember signing a record deal.

And I knew in my heart of hearts, if I tell my parents, when I tell my parents I signed a record deal, there's going to be two reactions.

One's going to be, "Isn't that like rock-and-roll?"

(laughter) You know?

And the other's going to be, "Oh you can't do that.

That's the devil's music."

>> And it was.

That was the reaction.

>> Well, your dad was like oh!

How did you ever get your hands on a guitar?

Did he get his hands on a guitar?

>> As preacher's kids, participating meant we were all handed an instrument.

This is what you're going to do during services and worship.

So every sibling, with the exception of maybe one but she's a lawyer so we can let that go-- played an instrument and sang.

So we were all given an instrument.

What do you want to try?

I'll try the guitar.

Okay, and you?

I'll try the piano.

Actually we can all play a little bit of everything.

So sometimes, we... >> Like just hymns?

>> Just hymns.

>> No Elvis Presley.

>> No, we were not allowed... to listen to anything that wasn't gospel.

With the exception of when the radio station is on during lunch, noon hour, evening dinner and morning.

You'd listen to whatever the radio is playing.

But until you left your home, and you were an young adult, and can make your own decisions.

You could not listen to anything but gospel music.

I remember moving to Ottawa before all this started.

I found a Mariah Carey CD.

I'm like 22-23, living on my own.

My own job.

I buy this Mariah Carey CD.

I threw it away the next day.

I'm living in Ottawa.

They're up in the north.

And I still have this fear that oh no, they're not going to be happy so I threw it away.

That's how strong that upbringing was.

With the influence of ministers and church in our lives.

>> One of the most powerful memories I have, really even from my career, was being in a tent one time.

In Igloolik on the land with five generations of women in that tent.

A tiny baby to the great-great-grandmother who didn't speak English but her grand-daughter was translating.

You just thought wow!

What these people have seen.

And again, the changes in lives.

>> In a matter of a generation literally is when everything changed-- everything shifted.

There was knowing ...no returning.

That was my parents.

We knew when we left it, we can't go back to any of that.

In a generation, that changed.

>> How has your mother coped with it as she sees these changes?

>> The way I describe it in the book is from igloos to apple pies.

She makes the best apple pies in the world.

...they embrace it.

The book is called Kihiani .

Which in Arviat-specific dialect translates to "because we must".

Inuit always understood there's some things beyond our control.

They are what they are.

I think our parents' generation were the generation who went through the greatest change.

And knew it's going to happen.

Change is inevitable.

So they did incredible.

My mother maybe has two or three days of formal education.

If you call it that.

My dad had maybe grade 6 or 7.

With that, they made incredible lives.

Built and raised seven incredible children.

We've all ended up in careers we love.

So that generation went from nuna , the land, to formal education to long careers.

My mom still, at almost 80, I think she's... an academic-level developer.

She's just incredible-- always reading and writing.

She's self-taught.

She had a honorary Grade 12 diploma.

Inuktitut is still her primary language.

She speaks enough English to have a conversation.

That's Inuit from the land.

They did incredible adapting in a generation.

>> One of the things that's been such a part of your journey, and you've been very brave about it, is your talking about being sexually abused as a child.

You went to court, testified before the Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women Inquiry.

That took a lot of courage.

>> Thank you....I don't know that courage is the right word.

'Cause...you're presented with situations.

I think every Indigenous artist has that story.

Where we can never just engage in the fortunate dream life you're living.

As an Indigenous person, 100% of us will always also be advocates.

I say that 100% of the Indigenous community has trauma.

So for the longest time, the next couple of generations-- we are going to have to fight.

So given these opportunities, we have to.

So again the book, Kihiani , we have to--because we must.

The phrase ( speaking Inuktitut) is we don't have a choice.

Um, if things are going to change and get better, and I believe they do, I live with hope.

We have to engage.

So given those opportunities, and we've learned to live with-- and thank God for the arts, triggers We have to speak up.

And that's just our reality right now.

And will be for another generation or two.

>> You say when you moved to Ottawa because you went to become sort of part of the civil service.

Get away from Arviat at that time.

Because of how difficult that was.

But that you-- and you've mentionned this, you were full of fear.

Just about everything in your life?

>> Everything, um, I think the best way again-- an Inuktitut word.

Inuktitut is such a powerful language.

Very concise, precise language.

The word is ( speaking Inuktitut )emotional fear.

A state of emotional fear, deferring always to the other person.

Who is almost always a white person because that was our influence, our teachers.

But it is never us.

So that was me in Ottawa when I first moved there.

Which meant some days were worse than others.

Those bad days, I would go to catch my bus to go to work.

Sometimes I would feel something's a bit off with the driver so I think I'm going to walk today.

Which is an hour walk to work.

But I would rather walk than feel this ( speaking Inuktitut .

That was the first years of living in Ottawa.

And pursuing a career in the studio, song-writing.

Not because anyone there did anything.

But we have that instilled in us.

The environment we grew up in--this settlement generation is that first generation of this state of ( speaking Inuktitut ) deferring, institutionalizing.

That was us.

>> How did you find your voice?

>> ...I didn't hear it as my voice.

I'm going to say until 2011 or 2012.

Until...and up to then, it was the preacher's kid's voice.

I sang because I had to, because it felt good.

It was an outlet.

Um, to say I'm a singer didn't happen until 2011-2012.

And then it was like, ah, you're good !

>> But you are good.

>> And good enough for me is where I needed to get to.

I got there and I heard it.

Okay, I think I hear what people hear now.

So it took a long time for me to say I found my voice.

>> And yet, people reading your story, at the time, you were in your twenties.

You had a record deal.

You were starting-- making albums.

Very successful albums.

You were outselling big artists!

You outsold Sting at one point.

>> Well, charts yes.

...knocked him down a notch.

(laughter) On the charts.

I don't know--I didn't outsell.

Actually, it's an odd story.

I've sold a lot but by industry standards, not enough.

So it was never enough to say successful in that way.

But definitely as an Indigenous artist, one of the top.

>> You were saying, people must have wondered at first.

Songs of yours were full of rage and anger.

A song about your cousin for example, Cathy, about suicide.

...they were heavy topics.

>> They were.

And again, they had to be told.

Between Arctic Rose and This Child , a lot of it was written in those two albums.

I really feel like, with This Child especially, with "Cathy I", what it was becoming about was..

I was coming to appreciate the power of expression.

The more I wrote, sang and expressed what I was holding, the more I could release.

Again, I didn't know that you could.

This was just simply happening as it was happening.

So a song like Cathy I , I wrote because (breathing out), how does it happen?

How do we lose somebody so close to us?

How do we let that happen?

That's what was...going on.

In the writing of the song, Cathy I .

>> Well, it was your therapy even though... >> You weren't doing therapy.

>> Exactly.

>> Do you still suffer from stage fright?

>> Not anymore... >> You got over it-- Nelson Mandela, the Queen, the prime minister.

All these fancy people you've sung for.

>> You know what I did to do that.

I remember this one day-- I was just so tired.

Of that Susan behind the curtain, Susan on stage fear.

( speaking Inuktitut ).

I was hiding behind the curtains and I was like, "Maybe they won't find me.

Maybe I don't have to do this concert.

Maybe it will go away."

And I was like, why?

...look at what you have!

After that, I started creating this process in my mind.

Where when you cross over to the stage, I created her.

Ekaterina, I named her Ekaterina.

For the next two hours, you're Ekaterina.

>> Where'd you get that name?

I hid--one of the Olympics, watching on CBC.

It was a skater.

>> Katarina Witt?

>> Yeah!

>> Stunning.

>> Yeah.

>> So I named this person.

You're beautiful, talented.

You can do this.

Okay, I'm going to name you Ekaterina.

Because right now, Susan doesn't feel that.

That's where I got it from.

>> Does she still exist, Katarina?

>> Or have you been able to let her go back to sleep?

>> I let her go.

>> Later on, ...okay, it's time to look at what you have.

>> Interesting, all those sort of imposter syndrome or not worthy.

That was also--you felt as a high school drop-out.

I'm not smart enough.

You know, even though you'd come from a strong-centered family.

That you had all those doubts about yourself.

>> Well...I mean, it's not specific to Indigenous.

That's the complexity of trauma.

We know one trauma.

We don't know the others.

We don't speak about all the other traumas.

So they're compounded now.

I understood this.

>> Specifically what?

Sexual assault?

>> That and when we think of what was not available to us in terms of support.

For example, my parents knew.

But they didn't know how to support it.

And that not supporting added to the trauma.

Right?

So we can trace this compounded complex drama.

That's happened to all of us who've have experienced abuse of any form.

So when I understood that, I could start to put it away.

You know, understanding what was going on, allowed me to release the anger in stages, and bits and pieces.

And start to make room for loving it.

And that was part of that whole--I found my voice.

Voice is not just this.

Voice is this .

I love the stage now.

I have this platform.

I'm going to use it.

And becoming that instead.

>> And your husband and son have been important.

>> Very very important.

I laugh because I had moved away.

I moved to Toronto.

I had decided I'm going to live the rest of my life alone.

I want the child.

I knew I was going to have a child.

I just wanted to be alone.

And course, studio and within months, I meet a guy.

It's like uhhhhhh.

That's the guy!

Um, and it couldn't have been more perfect.

Who he is and him in the arts.

And where I was at.

Even now where we are, we're going to be celebrating 30 years together.

Couldn't have been better.

>> How do you straddle two worlds?

You know, living in southern Ontario and spending time in the Arctic in the north.

>> Uh, I think what I brought with me to Ontario which was...I don't feel like I'm any different today as an Inuk person, had I stayed and spent my life in the north.

Or the other way around.

I don't think, as an Indigenous person, I wouldn't have been any different.

I hope that makes sense.

So when I go home, and I'm home a lot, the only thing that's different is that everybody knows me.

(laughter) But otherwise, I'm still just Susan.

I'm still just their friend-- just the person, you know.

You run across the road to the neighbour's place, no invitation--just walk in the door and have a cup of tea.

And they do that with me.

Nothing's really changed.

So I don't feel any less Inuk for being in Ontario longer than I've been in the north.

>> And you say home , when you go north.

So...the north is home.

>> So that's Yellowknife, Whitehorse, Nunavut or Nain, Labrador or Greenland, actually.

>> As you look forward, I mean sometimes you think, how do you-- we talked about you straddling the world of Ontario and the world you inhabit in the North.

How do you see life going forward in the north?

Not being affected, changed, transformed utterly by just technology and how the world is going.

>> I think of my parents and we were so fortunate, realizing in hindsight.

We had access to the other generation--grandparents.

And to, a short period of time, great-great grandparents.

What I remember to this day, about them is, that they were compelled by their version of a beautiful life-- a life of hope.

So that has survived the generations.

In the work we do, we talk about the important distinction between community and environment.

So community is intact.

Because thousands of years that our ancestors have occupied built and lived their best lives in these places is the community.

The struggle is the environment.

Of crises that resulted from the residential schools, the acts of colonization against generations of Inuit First Nations.

That's the environmental crisis.

The distinction is important to know.

And we know the distinction.

Community ( speaking Inuktitut ) We're fine.

Intact.

( speaking Inuktitut ).

We're Inuit.

We still live our contemporary traditional Inuit life.

It has survived and it will continue.

What we're working to heal from is the environmental crisis.

Environment crisis is not community.

That comes from the ancestor-- parents, grand-parents bringing us up through, and in spite of what they were going through.

While they were rising us in these communities.

I think that that is why we can still be our traditional, contemporary selves in these communities.

And we'll stay that way.

It is strong.

Change was inevitable.

We knew that.

But we haven't lost that fundamental traditional self in this transition.

It has stayed intact.

I think it always will.

As long as that stays intact, ( speaking Inuktitut ) we're going to be fine as Inuit people.

>> And the work you're doing with Arctic Rose Foundation and kids and arts-- giving them a safe space.

Maybe, you say allowing them to dream.

I mean, 'cause they're confronting lots of drama and suicide--people know about all the troubles.

You're trying to do your best to counteract that.

>> Yuh, I think one of the things that we feel is the strongest thing to leave-- to wake up in them is the dreamer .

So we talk about dreamers in this room.

What we understand as the artists-- we have a Blackfoot therapist, psychologist that works with us.

What we understand in our work is we are re-engaging the dreamer.

We start there.

Then we nurture the dreamer.

But we have to work with believing, when they come to the room, what does it feel like, to be a dreamer.

That's what we're working on.

That's where we start.

And that's the state our children and youth are in when they come to the Arctic Rose room.

>> And you're hands-on.

This is not I'm lending my name.

>> I'm hands-on.

The program, Messy Book, is what it's called.

Is a program I started developing years ago.

That's the program that is all arts.

And the process versus product approach.

I developed it because I've lived it.

I get it.

It works.

>> The final question we ask is what does being Canadian mean to you?

>> So I touched on it a bit.

When I think of what my ancestors did.

To get here and to stay here.

And all I could think is the power of hope.

And if we can keep nurturing and believing in that, as a country, I'm that Canadian.

As long as we can keep honouring this as Indigenous people, that's what being Canadian means to me.

Is always honouring that incredible journey Indigenous people did and do, respectively.

To be in this country, to make this country what it is.

As long as we see and honour that, I'm that Canadian.

That's what being a Canadian means to me.

>> Well thank you, Susan.

Such a pleasure.

>> Thank you.

>> We'll be back next week with another episode of Canada Files .

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