Jocelyn Formsma didn’t set out to become one of Canada’s most prominent Indigenous advocates. Growing up in Chapleau, a community of 3,000 people in northern Ontario, she played outside a lot as a child and climbed trees.
On the feminist day of struggle on March 8th, the wochentaz becomes feministaz. While the rights of women, trans, inter and non-binary people are being attacked and rolled back around the world, the issue asks what can help against powerlessness and helplessness. Our answer: solidarity. On 52 pages, feministaz shows how solidarity is lived on a large and small scale. The topic will also be covered for four days on taz.de. You can read the entire editorial here.
As a child of the Moose Cree First Nation, she was part of an Indigenous community that has long struggled with the effects of colonization while fiercely preserving its culture and identity. It was a childhood characterized more by freedom and less by opportunity. “The world seemed limited,” she says simply.
That only changed for Formsma in the 11th grade, when her family moved to the city. Through an internship she found her way to a so-called friendship center. These are Indigenous-run, non-governmental community centers of which there are over 100 in Canada. “It gave me the opportunity to see a bigger world,” she says. Since then, Formsma has known first-hand how much a single open door can change the entire course of life.
There were Indigenous women who taught me everything I know today, who encouraged me and gave me opportunities before I was even ready
Jocelyn Formsma
Other indigenous students were also essential for Formsma during their law studies in Ottawa. “Your presence showed me that it was possible.” And it was possible. A steep career followed: first she worked as a lawyer, then she became CEO of the National Association of Friendship Centers. The very organization that had once opened the door to a larger world for her.
Formsma was the youngest chairwoman of the Aboriginal Peoples Television Network, speaking on the rights of indigenous peoples, at the United Nations and at the World Conference. “It wasn’t something I dreamed of,” Formsma says today, “but just a series of opportunities that came my way and I took them, and so I learned and developed.”
There is a lot of power in knowledge about networks. If you know who is connected to whom, you remain able to act and remain resilient. On International Feminist Day of Struggle, we want to make people visible who are committed to a life that respects the rights of everyone. They also have networks. We started at the front door and started searching. We wanted to know: Who lives and fights in solidarity? And we got to know people who until recently were complete strangers to us.
Today she is president of the organization Indspire, which provides scholarships for indigenous students. In all of this Indigenous rights work, Formsma is frustrated by the persistent gap between intention and action. “There are so many reports, but none of them are being implemented,” she says. Instead of investing funds in community-based programs, they would often go to conferences.
However, Formsma remains optimistic, especially because of the young people. They give hope for the future she is working towards: “Our own version of Wakanda (a fictional highly developed state from the Marvel universe, editor’s note) are communities that are innovative, healthy, and thriving on their own terms.” She pauses and reflects: “The image in my head is children playing, speaking their language, carefree, full of love and happiness.”
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When she thinks of feminist solidarity, she thinks of the women who have shaped her. “Throughout my career, there have been Indigenous women who have taught me everything I know today, who have encouraged me and given me opportunities before I was even ready.” Their strength and endurance would rarely be recognized as they deserve. Formsma wants to change that too.
