Honouring a brother’s last wish with action
Power of community offers men path to healing
Sitting with his sister over a cup of coffee, Billy Anaquod shared a vision.
“If I ever turn my life around,” he said, “I’d like to open a support group … where men can go and just have somebody to listen to them.”
He said it with simplicity, recalls Angeline Anaquod.
Not trusting anyone but his sister, Angeline was Billy’s only confidant to talk to about his experiences from eight years in residential schools and the difficulties that plagued him because of it.
“So many things happened to me there,” he told her.
An alcoholic and drug addict, Billy longed for more people to talk to, specifically, men like him that had similar experiences.
“I felt nobody has ever listened to me,” Billy said to his sister. “That’s how it’s been all my life. I’ve reached out to addictions and that’s my crutch.”
Four months later, Billy died. He never got the chance to make his dream a reality, but 17 years later, his sister did.
Several rectangular tables are arranged in a big square in the middle of the room, chairs tucked neatly under them until the men filter in one by one and take a seat.
Indigenous art fills the walls of the Red Ribbon room inside the All Nations Hope Network, including pictures incorporating words like family, courage and truth.
Sipping on tea and nibbling on muffins, bannock, cookies or some other snack of the day taking up space on the long skinny table at the back of the room, the men spend two hours every week talking about whatever they choose.
They are the men of Billy ’s Place, the men’s only support group founded in honour of Billy Anaquod.
Hosted by Angeline, the men meet every Tuesday in Regina’s north central neighbourhood.
It was during one of these Tuesdays in July that a man came stumbling into the meeting late, bumping the attendance that day up from two to three.
Almost immediately, fellow group member Craig Quong stood up from his chair and helped the man get a cup of tea. Alex Pelletier, another member who was in the middle of sharing with the group, continued on while the newest addition found his seat, scarfed down a muffin and then went for a second helping.
When it was his turn to speak, he apologized for still being “half cut” from the night before.
On methadone as a way to wean off a drug addiction, the man was distraught as he talked about his struggles with drugs, alcohol and other life challenges.
In tears, he expressed his frustration with what the prescription opioid is doing to his body and his desperation to be free of it.
“Sorry,” he said again after an emotional outpouring.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” said Quong. “You’re trying, that’s all that matters.”
Angeline told him how proud she was that no matter what is going on in his life, he still makes it to the meeting.
It was a moment that exemplifies the heart and soul of Billy’s Place.
“I see the men in the group using each other as a resource, listening to one another, supporting one another,” said Angeline.
“Everybody gets their chance to speak ... and everybody shares,” she said. “It’s so amazing.”
Angeline hasn’t missed a Tuesday since the group began on Sept. 5 of last year.
On average, about six men attend the weekly meeting. Some days, only one or two show up. Other days, there are as many as 12 and even more on special occasions like Christmas parties or Father’s Day celebrations.
Every meeting starts with a smudge and a prayer.
A circle of trust, non-judgment and compassion is created and the men are free to share anything they’d like with the group — the good, the bad and everything in between.
“Some of them are homeless. Some of them are looking for a house, face addictions, grief and loss,” said Angeline. “A lot of them just live day-to-day.”
Most of the men have a history in residential schools as well as prison, a place Billy told his sister resulted in a lonely life.
“When we open up, I always welcome them. I treat them with respect when they walk through that door,” she said. “I really believe, too, it’s how you talk to somebody, your tone of voice, and your body language. Right away they always say they feel comfortable in this room.”
If there are any new people in the room, Angeline tells the story of Billy’s vision. She said sharing Billy’s story of struggle goes a long way towards helping the men feel comfortable to open up about their own.
Billy was just 49 years old when he died. He struggled throughout his life with the trauma he experienced during his time at the Lebret Indian Industrial Residential School. Often homeless, he used drugs and alcohol as ways to cope.
But it wasn’t all bad. Billy was still a family man who respected his mother, loved his sister and doted on his nieces and nephews.
He loved music and played bass for an old-time fiddle band called Highway Express, for 12 years.
“Things that he was not able to talk about, I believe he let it go in his music,” said Angeline.
Despite his less healthy coping strategies, it was a heart attack that claimed his life during his sleep one December night in 2000.
Eighteen years later, Angeline recalled the conversation she had with her brother four months before his death — the one that ended with a vision, but started with a question from Billy.
“How are you doing sis?” And then another. “What do you want to do with your life?”
I see the men in the group using each other as a resource, listening to one another, supporting one another. Everybody gets their chance to speak ... everybody shares.
Angeline was struggling with her own drug and alcohol addictions at the time. While she never went to a residential school, addiction was something she and Billy had in common.
But his death sparked a change in Angeline.
“I was really, really devastated,” she said. “It always takes something tragic for someone to turn their life around and so that’s exactly what I did.”
She cleaned up, went back to school and became an addictions counsellor, working initially in her home community of Muscowpetung First Nation and later in Regina.
During the 17 years after her brother’s death she spent taking care of herself and her family, she never forgot Billy’s vision. She consulted with her community, friends and family. She prayed about it; talked to elders. Finally, in September, she hosted the first Billy’s Place men’s only support group meeting.
“It went really, really well,” recalled Angeline. “I’ve seen the challenges the men face on a daily basis and they’re really honest about it.”
For many of the men, a meeting at Billy’s Place was the first time they ’d been able to talk about their lives. For others, it’s the first time they felt like they finally belonged somewhere.
For 48-year-old Quong, it’s somewhere he can be honest and open about his struggles as a single father.
“My kids were apprehended in Alberta because their mother had addictions,” said Quong who has been going to meetings since the group started.
After a long, interprovincial struggle to get them back, he finally gained custody of three of his children who have lived with him for the past five years in Regina.
“I don’t think anybody was taught to be a parent,” he said. “I’m learning every day.”
Billy ’s Place is also a space where Quong can open up about his past.
Half Chinese, half Metis, he was bullied as a child. A self-labelled “bad kid,” he went through the court system and ended up incarcerated. Since then, he said he’s had to learn how to be part of society.
Now he tries to use his life experiences and struggles to teach his kids and help others.
“Growing up … we were told to be the tough ones, not to cry, not to say stuff,” he said. “So we bottled stuff up. It’s evolved I think to where guys need to be able to say something.”
He said they talk about everything from A to Z and also take part in programming that Angeline put together, like domestic violence awareness and education.
“We’re able to open up in here and talk about it and try to help each other deal with the stresses in life,” he said.
“It’s relief because you don’t have it bottled up. You’re not ready to explode if you’re having a bad day.”
Like Quong, Pelletier has had his fill of challenges. Originally from a Metis community in Manitoba, Pelletier is two-spirited, which he describes as being a gay man in touch with both his masculine and feminine side. He has spent the past 46 years in Regina.
A good friend of Angeline’s, he started going to Billy’s Place about six months ago.
“I was a little nervous, but once I opened up and I ... told a little bit of my story, I felt more comfortable,” said Pelletier.
He said the group has helped him build positive relationships with men, something with which he once struggled.
“I didn’t know how to relate with men other than sexually because I was abused as a little child,” said Pelletier. “I was always afraid of men. If there was a group of men standing, I’d walk around because I was afraid and ashamed of myself.”
Like Quong, he talks to the group about his own joys and struggles, but also hopes that sharing his experiences will help others face their issues instead of feeling like they have to keep their struggles a secret.
Pelletier said having a safe space like Billy’s Place, is an important piece in the healing puzzle.
“For this to happen, for men to talk about their issues ... it just makes my heart happy because I know they’re going to start healing.”
“It helps the men tremendously — physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually,” said Angeline.
“I know sometimes it’s really hard for people to express their emotions.”
But week after week, they come back and do just that.
Nobody knew Billy like Angeline did and so it hurt when she would hear people talk.
“I heard that Billy Anaquod died,” she once overheard a man saying to a woman in a restaurant after his death.
“Oh, he was nothing but a drug addict anyways,” the woman piped back.
“My heart just broke,” said Angeline. “I was so hurt.”
But Angeline knows Billy was more than just a drug addict.
He was a son, an uncle, a friend. He was a musician, a residential school survivor. He was a confidant to his sister and took care of his friends better than he took care of himself.
So what would Billy say if he were alive today to see his sister taking care of people now, inspired by his vision?
“He would probably say, ‘sis, my baby sis, I’m really proud of you,’ ” said Angeline. “I know he would say thank you. This is what the men need.”
Quong and Pelletier agree. Both giving and getting a lot out of the weekly meetings, they see the effect Billy’s Place has on the men who attend and they hope to see it grow.
“Men don’t get the supports that they need in the community compared to women,” said Quong. “I think there should be more groups like this.”
Even so many years after his death, Angeline says it’s still difficult to talk about her brother. It’s a healing journey she says will last a lifetime.
She misses the simple things: Visiting with Billy while she worked in her garden and his daily phone calls where he would check in on her and the kids even if he was away at a gig.
“He was always visiting around. Whenever me and my mom would come back from a feast, my brother would always say, ‘Do you have any giveaways?’” recalled Angeline with a laugh.
“I’d go put all the soup in an ice cream pail, whatever we got from the feast,” she said.
“He would go riding away and take it to all his friends that were hungry. That’s the kind of person he was.”
His memory and his vision live on through the men who spend two hours every Tuesday afternoon talking, sitting, eating, laughing and crying with each other.
“It really humbles a person when you start to realize that no matter who we are, we all have feelings and we all need that nurturing,” said Angeline.
“Billy ’s Place has not only opened their minds and their hearts, but has opened their souls.”
Through his death he saved his sister and gave other men like him the opportunity he never had. He was not just a drug addict. He was Billy Anaquod and he is Billy’s Place.
It helps the men tremendously — physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I know sometimes it’s really hard for people to express their emotions.