As a child, I had the freedom to engage in sports and recreational activities of my choosing, supported by parents who encouraged my participation. This experience starkly contrasts with the reality faced by Indigenous children in residential schools, where sport was often used as a tool of assimilation rather than a means of personal development or enjoyment. As Scraton and Flintoff (2013) discuss in A Companion to Sport, sport can serve as both a site of empowerment and a mechanism for control, depending on the structures that govern participation. Similarly, Wetherly, Watson, and Long (2018) highlight in Sport, Leisure and Social Justice how systemic inequalities shape access to and experiences within sport. In the context of residential schools, play and physical activity were not freely chosen but rather imposed within a broader framework of colonial control. This highlights the importance of autonomy in sport, as true freedom is not just about participation but the ability to engage on one’s own terms.

Aiden Baker, an Indigenous athlete, has faced significant hardship, finding healing and strength through lacrosse — his form of medicine. William Nahini, a residential school survivor, turned to boxing as a way to cope and heal. Chief Robert Joseph, also a residential school survivor, used sport as a means to preserve Indigenous traditions, even speaking his native language on the soccer field.

These individuals share a common experience…they endured trauma and fear brought on by colonialism. Yet, through their chosen sports, they discovered a powerful form of medicine. In moments of hardship, their sports provided comfort, joy, and resilience, ultimately becoming a therapeutic outlet during challenging times.

Waneek Horn-Miller critiques the government’s approach to Indigenous sport development as remaining fundamentally colonial, as it continues to impose externally determined priorities rather than supporting Indigenous self-determination in sport. This reflects broader concerns surrounding the sport for development ideology, which, as McKee and Forsyth (2018) argue, often reinforces existing power structures by shaping narratives about race, class, and progress (p. 56). While sport is frequently framed as a universally positive force, such initiatives risk replicating the patterns of the White Savior Industrial Complex, where Indigenous communities are positioned as passive beneficiaries rather than active agents of change. Without meaningful Indigenous leadership and decision-making, these programs continue to reflect colonial structures rather than fostering genuine empowerment.

Canadian hockey discourse is shaped by binding cultural symbols that reinforce national identity, particularly through narratives of resilience, toughness, and communal pride.

• The Outdoor Rink (“Backyard Hockey Myth”) – The idea that true Canadian hockey players develop their skills on frozen ponds or backyard rinks reinforces a nostalgic, rural, and often exclusive vision of the sport. This ignores the barriers faced by those in urban areas or warmer climates who lack access to these spaces.

• The Role of Don Cherry and “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Hockey” – Cherry’s long-standing presence in hockey media reinforced the notion that “real” Canadian hockey is tough, physical, and dominated by working-class white men. His rhetoric often marginalized European and non-white players, upholding a narrow definition of Canadian hockey identity.