Toxic drugs killing First Nations residents in B.C. at nearly 6 times the rate of overall population: report

First Nations people are disproportionately represented in toxic drug poisoning deaths in British Columbia, according to new data from the First Nations Health Authority.

First Nations members represented 16.4 per cent of toxic drug deaths in B.C. in 2022, despite making up only 3.3 percent of the province's population, according to the FNHA's Toxic Drug Data report.

It shows that 373 First Nations people lost their lives to drug toxicity last year, meaning First Nations people are dying from toxic drugs at 5.9 times the rate of the general population.

At a news conference in Vancouver on Friday, FNHA acting chief medical officer Dr. Nel Wieman described 2022 as "the most devastating year for First Nations people." 

"We've lost too many loved ones to the toxic drug supply," Wieman said.

• Nearly 600 people died from toxic drugs in B.C. in first 3 months of the year: coroners' service

The report comes on the heels of preliminary data released by the B.C. Coroners Service that showed almost 600 people in B.C. died in the first three months of 2023 because of the toxic drug supply. 

At least 11,807 lives have been claimed by toxic drugs since a public health emergency was declared over the issue seven years ago.

Wieman said more than a third of the First Nations victims in 2022 — 36.5 per cent —  were women, meaning First Nations women are dying at 11.2 times the rate of female B.C. residents as a whole. Less than a quarter of all toxic-drug deaths in B.C. in the first three months of 2023 were women.

'This is the ugly truth'

But men, at 63.5 per cent, still make up most of the toxic-drug deaths among First Nations.

One of those taken was Darius Smallboy, a 23-year-old Cree youth living in Vancouver. 

"My son had such a loving and caring spirit," said Rex Smallboy, who is originally from Maskwacis, Alta.

Darius left behind three sisters, a mom and a community in East Vancouver that thought the world of him, according to several online posts in his memory. He was a powwow drummer, a singer and a young man known for his big heart.

"[He] showed me that you could be strong and still be taken away," Smallboy said through tears, while talking to CBC before the news conference.

During a trip home from a visit with his maternal family when he was 21, Darius slipped on some ice and broke his collarbone.

"And that's when everything changed," said Smallboy. After his surgery, he became addicted to painkillers.

Smallboy said he was unaware of how deeply entrenched his son was in substance use, even though he noticed small changes over the years.

"As a parent, I was in denial. I didn't want to see my son in that light. And his death, he showed me this is the ugly truth." 

Addiction among First Nations linked to colonialism

Now Smallboy wants to open up conversations about addiction among Indigenous people, men in particular, and make them feel safe to express emotions like grief.

"That whole side of colonialism taught us how to be tough and not express our feelings and not to have needs," he said.

The FNHA says intergenerational trauma from surviving "the residential school system and other racist federal government and provincial government policies, including the Sixties Scoop, are for many a deeply rooted cause of harmful substance use."

"My son showed me that the most beautiful person is not safe. It is a part of being hurt," said Smallboy. 

Not enough being done

During the news conference, Wieman said the drug-poisoning crisis is the worst it has ever been.

"We have to treat this as it is — a public health emergency," she said.

"It's sad, and it actually makes me angry," said Chris Livingstone, interim executive director of the Aboriginal Front Door Society, a safe place for Indigenous people in Vancouver's Downtown Eastside. 

• Indigenous advocates call for more culturally informed addictions treatment in B.C.

Livingstone started the Western Aboriginal Harm Reduction Society in 2002 when he says he was living on the street and a drug user. 

"As an Indigenous person and someone that is down here, I can recognize the disconnection," said Livingstone, who is Nisga'a from Laxgalts'ap.

• Northern B.C. First Nations say they need more resources to deal with the illicit drug crisis

"You're disconnected from your family and your culture. There's no access to housing, and the supports out there are not enough to help people make changes in their lives," he said. 

'Real safe supply' needed: Livingstone

He also says in the bigger picture, policy changes are still needed to address the crisis. 

"There's a certain amount of drugs making their way into this country, so there should be a way for us to find out where they are coming from and stop that part of it," Livingstone said. 

"Even before that, doctors, nurses and health-care professionals need to get a real safe supply to the people."

He says people in the Downtown Eastside access safe supply through the Rapid Access Addiction Clinic at St. Paul's Hospital. But he says he doesn't know anyone who has succeeded in addressing their addiction through the program.

He thinks the program needs to be expanded to serve a diversity of needs. He also believes that Indigenous people could benefit from land-based programs to help them reconnect with their culture, people and land.