InaGoodWay: Learnings from
Indigenous-Informed Community Animation
Preparedby:Naheyawin
ABOUTTHECOMMUNITY ANIMATIONSERVICE
The Community Animation Service is a part time, paid position that draws on asset based community development and systemic design approaches to nurture community connections amongst residents living within Apartment Buildings in Edmonton. Working 68 hours per week, the Community Animator strives to create meaningful experiences with residents rather than doing programming for them. The concept was co-created with community members, emerging from The Future of Home: Inclusive Housing Solutions Lab. This 18 month social innovation process brought people with disabilities, allies, service providers, housing providers and developers, and architects together to ideate around how to support inclusive, accessible, and affordable housing and support models for people with intellectual disabilities.
BEGINNING
tatawâw – welcome. There is room here for who you are, where you are from, and who you are becoming.
This guide was created on lands known as amiskwacîwâskahikan (Beaver Hills House), part of Treaty 6 territory and the Métis homeland. The work it describes grew from relationship with Elders and Knowledge Keepers from Enoch Cree Nation, whose wisdom and generosity made it possible
We're grateful to Walter Callingbull and the Knowledge Keepers who opened doors, shared teachings, and trusted us with their time. What is useful here carries their fingerprints. What falls short is ours to keep learning from. We're also grateful to the Indigenous residents and community members whose lives and experiences shaped this work in ways large and small.
This guide is offered in the spirit of sharing what we learned so others don't have to start from scratch. It's offered with humility, knowing that every community and context is different – and with hope that the work of creating belonging continues to grow, in this place and others.
ARRIVING
This guide is for people doing community animation work in buildings where Indigenous residents live. It's for community animators,
property managers, and anyone else trying to create conditions where genuine belonging can grow across difference – whether you're new to this work or have experience and are curious what another project learned along the way.
WhereThisGuideCameFrom
What you'll find here came from a specific place: a community animation pilot at Edgemont Flats, a mixed-income apartment building in Edmonton on Treaty 6 territory, near Enoch Cree Nation. Over the course of that project, we worked alongside Elders, Knowledge Keepers, residents, and partner organisations to learn what it takes to build community in ways that honour Indigenous perspectives. We made mistakes. We were surprised by what worked and what didn't. This guide gathers those learnings so they might be useful to others
Your context will be different. The relationships you build will shape what's possible in your community. But we hope some of what we learned will help.
The sections that follow move from understanding through to practice: WhatYou'llFindHere
Understanding: Context on this land and why this work matters
Preparing: What to consider before you begin
Relating: Approaching Elders, Knowledge Keepers, and Indigenous community members
Creating: Making spaces welcoming for gathering and connection
Gathering: Hosting circles and other shared experiences
Sustaining: Tending this work over the long term
You might read straight through, or start with whatever section speaks to where you are right now. Some people will want the contextual grounding first; others will flip to the practical sections and return to the rest later. As your work unfolds and new questions emerge, you may find yourself drawn to parts that didn't seem relevant the first time.
You don't need to finish this guide before you're ready to begin. The community you're working with will teach you what it needs – if you show up consistently, stay curious, and remain willing to learn. That willingness is what this work asks of you.
UNDERSTANDING
Picture the land beneath your building before the foundation was poured. Grass. A creek, maybe. People moving along paths worn by generations of walking. Seasons changing for thousands of years.
The building is new. The land is not. Knowing where you are helps you understand what you're stepping into
Place
The land where your building sits has history.
If you're in Edmonton, you're in amiskwacîwâskahikan – Beaver Hills House in Cree. A gathering place for thousands of years. Treaty 6 territory. Métis homeland. Enoch Cree Nation is nearby. The Papaschase Cree had a reserve in what is now south Edmonton before being displaced in the 1880s. People have always been here. They're still here.
If you're somewhere else, the same is true. Every building sits on land that held other lives, other names, other relationships
This matters for your work because you're not starting something new. You're entering a story already in progress – one where Indigenous people have deep roots, and where their relationship to place has often been disrupted by the same systems you're now part of. Knowing even a little of that history changes how you show up.
Finding your context: Native Land Digital (native-land.ca) shows traditional territories, treaties, and languages for any location. Local friendship centres and libraries often have resources too, or can point you toward them.
Housing
Place is one layer. Housing is another.
Housing carries particular weight for many Indigenous people. Reserves were created through displacement. Urban housing often meant discrimination from landlords, or being steered toward certain neighbourhoods, or losing children to welfare systems that saw poverty as neglect. Some people grew up in group homes, foster care, residential schools. Some have experienced homelessness. Others have stable histories and warm memories of home.
You won't know what someone carries by looking at them. But knowing that housing isn't neutral ground helps you understand why a resident might be cautious about programming that comes from property management – even well-intentioned programming. Why someone might hang back, or test whether you're going to stick around, or seem uninterested in activities that work fine elsewhere.
It's not about you. It's about what came before you.
WhatYou'reTryingtoCreate
With that context, you can see the work more clearly.
You're trying to create conditions where people can feel at home – especially people who have reason to be wary. That's different from running programs. Programs have agendas, outcomes, attendance numbers.
Conditions are quieter. You tend them over time.
Signs of progress are subtle. Someone stays after to keep talking. An Elder mentions they've been thinking about something since the last gathering. Two residents who didn't know each other start to connect. A person who's been hanging back finally comes to something.
That kind of belonging can't be scheduled or measured the way programming can. But when you understand the ground you're working on – the place, the history, the weight that housing carries – you can start to see why the slower work matters. And why it's worth doing.
PREPARING
There's a moment before you begin anything. A pause. You're sitting with your coffee, or standing at a doorway, or just catching your breath between tasks. Something in you is gathering itself.
WhatYouBring
This work asks for that kind of settling. Before the first event, before the first conversation with an Elder, before you knock on anyone's door – there's an internal preparation that helps us show up well. You arrive with something. Skills, relationships, resources, institutional access Maybe you're good at logistics – the practical
work of making things happen. Maybe you're a warm presence who helps people feel at ease. Maybe you have colleagues who can open doors, or a budget to work with, or the ability to advocate within your organisation. These are real contributions. The work needs them.
You also bring your own position and history. Whether you're Indigenous or nonIndigenous, new to this place or deeply rooted here, you carry your own experiences of home and belonging and institutions. We don't shed these things at the door. They shape how we see and what we notice and where our blind spots live.
And there are things you can't provide: cultural knowledge you haven't lived, relationships that haven't been built, trust that hasn't been earned Knowing the difference between what you bring and what you need to receive from others is part of the preparation.
TheShapeoftheRole
The role is like tending a garden. You prepare conditions, stay attentive, respond to what's actually growing. Sometimes that looks like logistics. Sometimes invitation – reaching out, following up, letting people know they're welcome. Sometimes facilitation – holding space, guiding a conversation.
And sometimes it looks like stepping back: letting Elders lead, letting residents take ownership, letting things unfold in ways you didn't plan.
There's a line between being present and being pushy. You won't always get it right. But staying curious about it – noticing when you've stepped over, adjusting – is part of the practice.
YourOwnLearning
Indigenous residents, Elders, and colleagues shouldn't have to carry the full weight of educating everyone around them. Coming prepared is a form of respect.
Some learning you can do on your own: reading, listening, attending public events and workshops. Learning about the territory you're on, the Nations present here, the history of this place Seeking out Indigenous voices through books, podcasts, films – as groundwork, with relationship still to come.
Startingpointsforself-directedlearning
Local friendship centres often offer workshops and public events
Public libraries carry Indigenous authors, films, and learning resources
Native Land (native-land.ca) helps you learn whose territory you're on
The University of Alberta's free "Indigenous Canada" course offers foundational context
Look for local Indigenous-led organizations hosting public talks or cultural events
Some learning only happens in relationship –through the work itself, through trust that builds over time. But the more you do ahead of time, the less you ask of people who are already asked constantly.
Discomfort
If you're feeling anxious about this work, that makes sense. You might worry about saying or doing the wrong thing. You might wonder if you're the right person for this. You might feel the weight of history you didn't create but still carry.
These feelings are part of the territory.
What helps is letting them be present without letting them drive. The anxiety of getting it wrong can push us toward perfectionism, which paralyses – or toward over-functioning, which crowds out others The desire to be seen as good can make us defensive when we receive feedback, or make us centre our own feelings in moments that aren't about us.
You will make mistakes. What matters is how you respond – with openness, with willingness to learn, with genuine care. Trust builds through consistent presence over time. You can't rush it. And sometimes the most important things happening are the ones you can't see yet.
None of this preparation is ever complete. We keep learning as we go. But taking some time before we begin – that pause, that settling –helps us arrive a little more ready to meet what's there.
RELATING
Picture yourself at someone's kitchen table for the first time. You've been invited, but you don't know the rhythms of this home yet –where things are kept, what matters here, what stories live in the photographs on the wall. You're a guest. You're learning.
Building relationships with Elders, Knowledge Keepers, and Indigenous community members feels something like this. We're all guests in a conversation that started long before us.
ThePeopleWe'reLearningAlongside
At Edgemont Flats, we're on Treaty 6 territory, near Enoch Cree Nation. The Elders and Knowledge Keepers who have guided this work carry teachings and language that connect this place to its longer story. One Elder who has offered guidance is among a small group who speak the traditional language fluently. When someone like this shares their time with us, we're receiving something precious.
Some Indigenous residents in our building have deep roots in this territory Some carry connections to other Nations and other places. Some are finding their way back to culture after generations of disconnection. We don't always know someone's story, and we don't need to.
HoldingInvitationsLightly
When we reach out to an Elder or Knowledge Keeper, we're making a request and waiting to see what's possible. We might ask: What timing would work for you? What would you need to feel comfortable? What protocol would be appropriate?
These conversations take time. That's part of the gift.
Onmakingfirstcontact
Consider who in your organisation holds an existing relationship with the Nation or community you're reaching out to When a senior leader makes the first contact, it signals that you're taking the relationship seriously Being transparent helps – copying relevant partners on correspondence, being clear about what you're asking and why
When we invite Indigenous residents to a gathering, we hold the invitation lightly. Some people come right away. Some take months or years to feel ready. One of the Elders guiding this work offered early encouragement: just keep doing the work in a good way, and people will start to come over time.
We're planting seeds, and the harvest comes in its own season.
When Elders and Knowledge Keepers offer their time and teachings, we honour that contribution through protocol gifts and honoraria.
Tobacco is often part of protocol when making a request. It's offered when you're asking someone to share their knowledge or provide guidance. Practices vary between individuals and Nations, so a simple question – "What protocol would be appropriate?" –opens the door.
Honoraria recognise the value of what's being shared We ask what the person prefers, and we follow their lead.
Honorariainpractice HonouringWhat'sShared
Amounts typically range from $100 to $500, depending on what's being asked and for how long
Some Elders prefer cash, offered discreetly in an envelope (not handed over publicly or counted out in the open) while others prefer an e-transfer Some Nations have invoicing processes where the Nation pays the Elder directly, then invoices your organisation When in doubt, ask: "How would you prefer to receive your honorarium?"
Meaningful gifts can also be part of honouring the relationship – something made by people in your community, something thoughtful. What matters is that the care comes through.
StayingConnected
Relationship lives in the quieter moments –the times when we're not asking for anything.
This might look like:
Checking in when there's no specific ask Sharing how the work is unfolding
Letting someone know their guidance is still shaping what we do, even when they're not in the room
Inviting input on direction, on the shape of things, not only on execution
There will be times when we're unsure how to proceed – a question we don't know how to answer, something we're not sure what to make of. These are good moments to reach out.
We're learning how to be good relatives. That's a practice we stay in, and it shapes what becomes possible in the spaces we create together.
CREATING
You know the feeling of walking into an unfamiliar space and somehow feeling at ease? Something about the light, the way things are arranged, the smell of food, the warmth in how you're greeted. You can't always name what makes it work, but you feel it.
Creating welcoming spaces is a bit like that. We're not engineering outcomes – we're
tending conditions. We're asking: What might help people feel like they can be here? What might make it easier to arrive as yourself?
DifferentDoorwaysIntoCommunity
Not everyone enters community the same way.
Some people light up in a crowd. Others prefer quieter connection – a conversation on a walk, a shared task, a wave across the parking lot that becomes a longer chat over time. Some residents are ready to dive into planning and hosting. Others just want to know someone knows their name.
Our work at Edgemont Flats has included:
Large gatherings like summer barbecues and watch parties
Smaller circles where people can share and listen
Drop-in activities with low stakes – crafts, coffee, a walk through the neighbourhood Passive invitations – a community board, a garden plot, a door sign residents can make themselves
One-on-one check-ins and doorknocking, just to say hello
None of these is more important than another. They're different doorways, and people find their own way in.
When we host timing matters. Who can come during a weekday afternoon? Who's only TimingandAccessibility
available evenings or weekends? What about people working shifts, or caring for children, or managing chronic illness that makes commitment difficult?
We learned early that some of the Enoch Cree Nation members we hoped to include couldn't attend daytime gatherings because of work. Adjusting our timing wasn't a concession – it was part of the design.
Practicalconsiderations
Test different days and times to learn what works for your community
Think about physical accessibility: Can people who use wheelchairs or walkers participate fully? Is there accessible parking and a clear path to the space? Consider sensory needs: Will the space be loud? Bright? Crowded? How might that affect someone with sensory sensitivities?
Plan for dietary needs and food safety when food is part of the gathering If smudging will take place, communicate this in advance – and note that it's a scent-aware consideration for some participants
We try to think about these things before they become barriers. And we stay open to learning what we missed.
CommunicatingandInviting
How we invite people shapes who feels invited.
A formal flyer might reach some residents. A conversation in the hallway might reach others. We've used newsletters, door hangers, text messages, and word of mouth. We've learned that video content sometimes lands better than written materials, especially for people who engage more through social media.
What we say matters too. When we explain that speaking is optional, that listening is valued, that there's no pressure to commit beyond today – we're trying to lower the threshold. We're saying: You can come and see. You can leave if it's not for you. There's room for how you are.
InclusionAcrosstheWhole
We've come to think about inclusion across the whole range of activities rather than trying to make every single event work for everyone. A nature walk won't be accessible to everyone – but maybe a related indoor activity, like pressing leaves or sharing stories about favourite outdoor places, creates another way in.
Not everything is for everyone, and that's okay What matters is that, across time, there are ways for different people to participate, contribute, and belong.
And some of those moments – the circles, the ceremonies – ask for their own kind of attention. That's what we turn to next.
GATHERING
There's something about sitting in a circle. No head of the table. No front of the room. Just people, facing one another, with space in the centre.
In many Indigenous traditions, the circle is a sacred form. It represents wholeness, equality, the cycles of life. When we gather this way, we're drawing on something old –a way of being together that many cultures have practised, though it holds particular meaning here on Treaty 6 territory.
Hosting a talking circle asks something of us. We're not facilitating in the way we might facilitate a meeting. We're holding space. We're trusting the form to do some of the work.
BeforetheCircle
Preparation begins long before people arrive.
If Elders or Knowledge Keepers will be present, we've already had conversations about protocol – what's needed, what they're comfortable with, how they'd like to open or close the gathering We don't assume We ask.
We think about the space. Is it welcoming? Is there enough seating? Can people who need to sit in chairs do so comfortably, while others might prefer the floor? Is there room for a smudge, if that's part of how we'll begin?
We think about who's coming. Some participants might never have been in a circle before. Some might feel anxious about being asked to speak We try to communicate in advance what to expect – that there will be a talking piece, that speaking is optional, that listening is honoured.
Whatgoesintoacirclegathering
Smudging materials, if an Elder or Knowledge Keeper will lead a smudge (and someone present who has been taught to use them)
A talking piece – something meaningful that will be passed around the circle Chairs arranged in a circle, with extras available
Any materials for activities (if the gathering includes making something together)
Food, if a meal is part of the gathering Honoraria and protocol gifts for Elders and Knowledge Keepers
DuringtheCircle
The circle has its own rhythm. Our job is to trust it.
When an Elder opens with ceremony – a smudge, a prayer – we follow their lead. Participation is always optional. Some people will smudge. Some will observe. Some might step aside. All of these are fine.
When the talking piece moves around the circle, we listen. We don't interrupt, respond, or fix. We receive what's shared. If someone passes without speaking, that's complete.
If someone speaks for a long time, we stay with them. The circle teaches us something about the pace of real listening.
Samplesharingprompts
We've used prompts like:
"Tell us about a place that felt like home to you – what made it feel that way?"
"What's something you appreciate about living here?"
"What's one thing you'd want your neighbours to know about you?"
Simple prompts often go deeper than complicated ones. We're inviting stories, not answers.
Sometimes what emerges in circle is unexpected. At one gathering, a participant shared something concerning – thoughts of ending their life. The circle held it. The Elders present responded with care. Afterward, we followed up.
We can't predict what will surface when people feel safe enough to speak. But we can have a plan for how to respond, and we can trust that the circle itself has capacity to hold difficult things.
Whatwelearnedaboutaccessibility
Some participants benefit from hearing the prompt repeated partway through Visual aids can help – the question written on a card or flip chart in the centre
People with intellectual disabilities may need more time, or a supporter nearby,
We stay attentive without hovering or simply the reassurance that they can pass
AftertheCircle
When the formal circle closes, there's often a shift – energy loosens, people start to talk in smaller groups, food gets shared. This informal time matters. Connections often deepen here.
We take time afterward to notice what happened. What surprised us? What worked? What might we do differently? We check in with Elders and Knowledge Keepers –not just to thank them, but to hear what they observed.
We follow up with participants when something significant was shared. We don't let hard disclosures disappear into silence.
And we document – not every detail, but the shape of things. Who came. What themes emerged. What questions we're carrying forward. This helps us learn over time, and it honours what people offered.
SUSTAINING
There's a kind of attention that's about staying with something. Not forcing it forward. Not abandoning it when it gets hard. Just staying with it, like staying with the current of a river.
TheLongView
Sustaining this work asks that of us. The work doesn't end when the event does. It lives in how we carry what happened, how we tend the relationships, how we keep showing up even when progress feels slow. Community doesn't build on our timeline. It builds on its own.
The mâmawi-pimâtisiwin framework we've been developing draws on the six nêhiyawak seasons as a way of understanding how community initiatives move through cycles:
sikwan (break-up) – when new ideas first surface, like ice beginning to crack miyoskamin(spring) – when ideas find collaborators and take shape through conversation nîpin (summer) – when planning happens, resources are gathered, logistics come together takwâkin (fall) – when plans become reality, when we harvest what's been planted mikiskaw (freeze-up) – when we pause to reflect, process, learn pipon (winter) – when we celebrate, rest, and let new seeds form in the quiet
This isn't a schedule. It's a rhythm. Some initiatives move through quickly. Some take years. What matters is recognising where something is in its cycle and offering the kind of support that moment needs.
ReflectingandLearning
Reflection isn't something we do at the end. It's woven through.
After a gathering, we ask: What happened? What surprised us? What are we learning? We talk with the people who were there – not just to evaluate, but to understand.
We document what matters. Not everything, but enough to remember the shape of what unfolded. Who came. What was shared. What questions emerged. What we want to try differently.
Over time, these reflections become a kind of collective memory. They help us see patterns. They help the next person who steps into this work.
MaintainingRelationships
The relationships with Elders and Knowledge Keepers need tending even when we're not asking for anything.
We've learned that regular check-ins matter –not just when we need guidance, but to share how the work is going, to stay connected, to honour the ongoing nature of the relationship. Some of this happens through ceremony: a quarterly smudge to cleanse and renew the intentions behind the work, a yearly gathering to reflect on the longer arc
We also stay connected to Indigenous residents and community members who've participated. A check-in after someone shared something vulnerable.
A conversation in the hallway. An invitation to shape what comes next.
Relationship is the infrastructure Everything else rests on it.
ReadingtheWork
How do we know if this is working?
The signs are often quiet. Someone who was isolated starts showing up. Two neighbours become friends. A resident offers to help with the next gathering. An Elder says, "I can see this is being done in a good way."
We're not counting outputs. We're noticing what's growing.
That said, we do pay attention. We track who's coming, what's being tried, what's shifting We gather stories – not as proof, but as ways of understanding. We share what we're learning with funders and partners, because this work needs advocates who can speak to its value.
Quiet signs of growth
Residents greeting each other by name
Someone new offering to contribute
An Elder returning, bringing someone else
Conversations that continue after formal gatherings end
People asking, "When's the next one?"
PassingtheWorkAlong
People move on. Staff change. Community animators transition out of the role.
When this happens, the relationships matter more than the tasks. A warm handoff –introducing the new person to Elders, to engaged residents, to the rhythms of the community – helps continuity survive the transition.
We try to document not just what we did, but why. The thinking behind decisions. The relationships that matter most. The things we tried that didn't work. This isn't a manual – it's a gift to whoever comes next.
The work will keep changing shape. That's as it should be. Our job is to tend it while we're here and pass it along with care.
CLOSING
You've reached the end of this guide, but the work continues – cycling like the seasons that frame it.
What we've gathered here came from one place, one set of relationships, one stretch of time. The community you're working with will be different The people will be different What they need from you will be different. Some of what's here will translate directly; some will need adapting; some will ask you to find your own way.
That's as it should be. A guide can orient you, but it sits alongside the particular relationships and place you're stepping into.
But if there's one thing to carry forward, it might be this: the work is relational before it's anything else. The frameworks and tools and
practical suggestions matter, but they matter because they support what's trying to happen between people. When we remember that, we create conditions where belonging can grow.
You'll make mistakes. You'll learn things that change how you see what you thought you knew. You'll have moments of doubt and moments of unexpected connection. This is the territory.
The people you're working alongside –colleagues, Elders, residents, partners – will teach you what only relationship can. Stay open to that teaching. It's where the real learning lives.
kinanâskomitin – thank you for being here, and for the work you're about to do.