Confronting Oppression: The Weight of Balance
by Broden Halcrow-Ducharme
The scales of justice have never truly been balanced.
For many Indigenous families, fairness has always felt out of reach. One side holds power and policy, built by systems that protect themselves even when those systems remain corrupted. The other carries the truth of loss, waiting, and unanswered calls that echo through generations.
This imbalance began long before the courtroom. It comes from a history of colonial laws built without Indigenous voices, where protection was promised but rarely delivered. Justice, for many, has never been a place of safety, only another system to endure.
Families searching for their loved ones often face barriers instead of answers. Investigations move slowly, reports are left unfinished, and lives are reduced to headlines before the full story is known. What should bring closure often deepens pain.
In this imbalance, grief becomes endurance. Families hold on to memories and repeat the names of those they love so they are never forgotten. They carry their hope like a stone, heavy yet sacred, a reminder that even when systems fail, love endures.
Colonial laws were never made to protect Indigenous lives; they were made to control them. That legacy continues, shaping how decisions are made and how trust is broken again and again.
To confront injustice is to begin the slow work of balance. It means moving from silence to truth, from neglect to accountability, from policy to compassion.
The justice we are looking for is not written in law books or sealed inside reports. It is not built on punishment or fear. True justice is moral; it knows the difference between what is right and what is wrong. What is right is truth, care, and responsibility. What is wrong is silence, delay, and the protection of systems that cause harm.
Right is when families are believed the first time they speak. Wrong is when their words are questioned or their pain is ignored. Right is when harm is met with action, not excuses. Wrong is when institutions hide behind process while people continue to suffer.
Justice must live where honesty and care meet. It must stand with families who are still searching and with those who never stopped speaking. Justice is not the end of the story; it is the act of doing what is right, even when no one is watching.
To seek justice is to share the weight until it steadies us all. It is felt when balance begins to return, when voices are heard, and when love outweighs loss. Until balance returns, we will keep naming what is wrong and standing for what is right.
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