Story by Lynda Brown / Photos from the Ottawa Inuit Children’s Centre by Stephanie Foden

I was given a T-shirt years ago that features in bold letters the words “Lifelong Urban Inuk.” Those words began as a joke between friends but have come to define who I am and who I represent. We urban Inuit are creating a new and exciting culture, earnestly trying to preserve a noble heritage steeped in tradition and knowledge. In Ottawa we are a mix of those born in the North and those born to Inuk parents yet raised in the south. Opportunity to learn from elders, artists, storytellers, and performers is abundant.

We are trying to fix something that has been broken. My mom was born way up north, near Broughton Island, in an area that most Canadians know very little about. The shame and culture shock she experienced at residential school is why she didn't pass along the Inuktitut language and didn't teach me the things that I'm now teaching my kids.

I was born in the North to a white father and Inuk mother in the 70s. Back then mixed blood children were not befriended by either the Inuit or white children. I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin. I was teased for speaking only English.

My parents decided to leave the north when I was 6, hoping that in Alberta my sisters and I would find a place to fit in. I can’t specifically recall any open hostility there, but I continued to feel ashamed to identify with being Inuk. We tried to assimilate into white urban culture. We were aware of our history but it was rarely mentioned. Here, too, fitting in was a struggle. For a short time I tried to pass myself off as Chinese in grade school. My personal identity struggle consumed me during my high school years but I focused on academics and was the first in my family to go to pursue higher education.

At Trent University in Peterborough, I discovered a new world—a community of Inuit students who openly accepted me. Some were like me, others came directly from the North and were immediately confronted with a culture clash. For them, fitting in and understanding local nuances was difficult to say the least. Their experience was very similar to that of most immigrants to Canada.

We collected ourselves and formed an Inuit student union. Those of us raised in the south helped the “northerners” cope with being away from home. In turn, we learned from them what we thought was lost: the knowledge of who we are and what we came from.

We organized culture nights showcasing Inuit games and “country food.” As I tasted the food of my childhood a light was lit deep inside me—a light that I wanted to glow stronger. For the first time, I delved into my culture and family history, met so many Inuit and learned so much.

I also met an extraordinary man of Scottish descent. We fell in love as we walked to class together. When I graduated we packed up the rented van and moved to Ottawa, where I had been offered a job with Tungasuvvingat Inuit, an organization that helped me obtain my university funding.

Outside of the North, the nation’s capital is home to the largest population of Inuit. It is a close-knit community that builds unity by holding numerous feasts and gatherings throughout the year. Through these connections I stumbled upon the Inuit Head Start in 1998, a children’s preschool that focuses on culture and school readiness.

As a volunteer at Head Start, I saw children learning how to sing and drum. It inspired me to want to learn, too. Soon I was hired as an employee and started a journey of learning my culture through the eyes of children.

I began to reclaim the Inuit language and found the most beautiful expression of song, called throatsinging, where two women face each other, join hands, and produce sounds which mimic the sounds of the artic. The light inside me glowed stronger but I craved more so I joined a drum group for young women. Our group learned many traditional songs from our elders and other performers and we are now invited to perform at many important venues across the country.

After years of practice our group added throatsinging into our performance and started performing for Prime Ministers and foreign heads of state. We continue to travel everywhere to showcase our culture and teach anyone about it.

It's important to me that my three children grow up fully aware and proud of their Inuit culture. All of them attended Head Start, where they began to learn their language and heritage. I have also try to include my children in our performances as much as I can. When they were babies I carried them on my back, in my amauti, during shows. As they grew, they started to drum and perform traditional games.

This summer, my 12-year-old son drummed at the Blue Skies folk festival in Clarendon, Ontario, while I sang. Last year, my eight-year-old performed for Prime Minister Harper on Parliament Hill. Since then he has learned from elders how to make a traditional drum and boys clothing. He goes to Ottawa Inuit Children Centre's Tukimut After-school program, offered free to Inuit as place where they can learn more about their heritage.

After years of performing, I experienced the highlight of my career as an Inuit performer on Canada Day 2011 on Parliament Hill. Included in the audience were Prince William and his new bride Kate Middleton. I met noted Canadian musicians Sam Roberts and the band Great Big Sea. Performing alongside such a cross-section of Canadian talent was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. To begin the show my best friend Heidi and I led a procession of drummers onto the stage. I will never forget that moment.

I am part of something wonderful. A community that is developing it’s own culture: the Urban Inuk. We are a tapestry of old and new, of North and South. We are learning to bridge the gap between the technology of today and the ways of our ancestors.

We are ensuring that our children get the opportunity to learn Inuktitut, receive traditional teachings, and eat country food. The non-profit organization I work for, The Ottawa Inuit Children's Centre has created the first full-day kindergarten for Inuit children, all of whom perform traditional songs and drum. The children are invited to special events where they are applauded and cheered. They all experience pride in their culture and have the ability to express it in an artistic way.

I still remember, however, that when I was a child I would deny my background, my culture, myself. While the painful effects of the residential schools linger, my mother has now reclaimed her identity as an Inuk. She no longer has to pretend she is someone she is not—and neither do I. That light that was sparked back in university now glows strong with pride and confidence. I can see it radiate through my children and I am confident that it will never be extinguished.

Traditionally, the Inuit are known for being resourceful and able to adapt and survive. We are using these strengths to build a new culture for Inuit who choose to live in Canada’s cities. Though we are stumbling through our infancy, we will grow larger—and stronger.

The Ottawa Inuit Children’s Centre (OICC) is home of the Sivummut Head Start Program, the Tumiralaat Child Care Centre, the Family Literacy Program, the Bridging the Gap, the Tukimut Program, the Akewego Program and the Inuktitut language program Uqausivut.

Toronto photographer Stephanie Foden shot extensively at the OICC in April and May of 2011.

“I was drawn to the OICC with its theme of culture and community,” said Foden. “The experience was completely refreshing and inspirational. It helped me give meaning to my work, which is so important to me.”