
Defining Health Care: When Healing Reflects Culture and Community
by Broden Halcrow-Ducharme
How can we learn and maintain languages that hold a deep connection to health and well-being?
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Is the funding fair enough to allow communities the freedom to create care that reflects their own needs?
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What happens when care is offered but does not reach the people who need it?
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And what does healing look like when culture and community are finally part of the health care system?
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These questions are not new. They are asked every day by Indigenous people across Canada, in remote regions without clinics, in cities where language barriers silence Elders, and in communities where care depends on systems that rarely see the whole person.
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Health care is meant to support life, yet for many Indigenous people, it has been shaped by systems that overlook culture, language, and community. When care does not reflect Indigenous knowledge or ways of healing, it can feel distant and impersonal rather than supportive.
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Many Indigenous families and community members have spoken about the importance of creating health care that reflects who they are. Too often, government systems and funding programs conflict with Indigenous ways of providing care, which are deeply rooted in connection, family, and community.
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One community described fighting for years to secure funding for a local health centre. The building was designed to include space for medical care, family gatherings, and first responder services. But after the project was taken over by outside authorities, the community lost access to the building entirely. This experience reflects a wider issue across the country. When care is controlled by people outside the community, it can lose its meaning and its connection to those it was meant to serve.
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Even with these challenges, Indigenous people continue to lead change and rebuild systems of care that reflect who they are. Across the country, Indigenous-led clinics and wellness centres are reimagining what health care looks like. In Vancouver, for example, Lu’ma Native Housing began as a housing initiative and later opened a medical clinic that combines Western and traditional medicine. The clinic includes healing rooms, Elders’ support, and space for ceremony. It welcomes anyone seeking care that treats the whole person, not just the symptoms.
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Healing, however, does not end with physical recovery. Addictions, trauma, and grief must also be met with care for the spirit. Many Elders remind us that wellness begins when the spirit feels safe, supported, and whole. This understanding of care contrasts sharply with mainstream systems that focus only on the physical body.
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Land-based healing has become an essential part of this approach. Many people find balance and renewal by reconnecting with the land, using it as a place of recovery, reflection, and learning. Elders guide songs, teachings, and ceremonies that restore belonging and purpose. Language revitalization also plays a central role in this healing process. Studies, including those cited by the First Nations Health Authority, show that communities with strong language preservation experience lower suicide rates and greater overall well-being.
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These examples show that Indigenous-led health care is both powerful and necessary. It rebuilds trust, strengthens identity, and creates spaces where people can heal in ways that make sense to them. But this work needs continued support and long-term commitment. True wellness grows when communities lead, when governments listen, and when culture is treated as the foundation of care rather than an addition to it.
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Access to culturally grounded health services is about more than medicine. It is about respect, belonging, and balance. When care reflects culture and community, healing becomes something everyone can share in.
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