Content warning: This article includes references to residential schools and their ongoing impacts. If you need support, the National Residential School Crisis Line is available 24/7 at 1-866-925-4419.
“This is their safe space. This is their community. It’s built for them, by them,” says Tiffany Lee, director of the Jane Paul Indigenous Women’s Resource Centre.
For many people who walk through the doors of Jane Paul Indigenous Women’s Resource Centre, safety isn’t a given — it’s something they’ve often had to go without.
Located in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, and operated under the Nova Scotia Native Women’s Association, the centre supports Indigenous women, girls, and Two-Spirit people — many of whom are navigating complex, overlapping challenges, including housing instability, violence, and exploitation.
Originally, the centre focused primarily on supporting those most at risk of trafficking and sexual exploitation. But in recent years, the organization’s work has evolved considerably.
“We’ve really broadened our scope,” Lee explains. “We still serve the most vulnerable members of Indigenous communities, especially women, Two-Spirit, and gender-diverse people, but now we’re seeing a much wider range of needs.”
That shift reflects a changing reality, fuelled in part by the rising cost of living. What once showed up primarily as chronic homelessness now often looks like people struggling to afford rent or buy groceries.
In response, the centre has grown — from a small team of five to a staff of 13 — and now offers a wide range of supports, including a food bank, housing support, cultural programming, and violence prevention services.
At the Jane Paul Indigenous Women’s Resource Centre, the approach matters as much as the services themselves.
When someone arrives, they are met first with care and dignity.
“We pride ourselves on providing a non-judgmental, safe environment,” says Lee.
From there, support is tailored to the person, not the program.
“People don’t fall into neat little boxes,” she says. “Nine times out of ten, it’s our entire team working together; we call it a circle of support.”
That approach reflects a reality that front-line workers know well: experiences of trafficking and exploitation rarely exist in isolation. They are often intertwined with housing insecurity, mental health, substance use, and systemic barriers, each requiring a coordinated response.
And when the centre doesn’t have the capacity to meet a need internally, partnerships help fill the gaps.
“That collaborative approach is critical,” says Kendra MacKinnon, a partnerships specialist at the Canadian Centre to End Human Trafficking. “The Jane Paul Indigenous Women’s Resource Centre is one of the only Indigenous-specific resources in Cape Breton — and there are very few programs offering this kind of culturally grounded, community-led support.”
Through provincial coalitions and training initiatives, including human trafficking awareness and land-based healing approaches, the Jane Paul Indigenous Women’s Resource Centre plays a key role in strengthening the broader response to human trafficking.
“They’re deeply collaborative,” MacKinnon adds. “Whether it’s housing support, mental health, cultural programming, or street outreach, they’re meeting victims and survivors of human trafficking where they’re at, in ways that reflect community needs.”
At the heart of this work is a deep understanding of the systemic factors that create vulnerability in the first place.
“We use the term intergenerational trauma quite often,” Lee says. “But it’s really about understanding what that looks like in community, not just in a clinical sense.”
For many Indigenous people, that trauma is rooted in the legacy of residential schools — systems that forcibly separated families, severed cultural ties, and normalized violence.
“We didn’t learn how to love; we learned violence. We learned how to survive,” Lee recalls hearing from Elders about their experiences in residential schools.
These impacts continue to shape people’s lives today, sometimes in ways that are not immediately visible. In some cases, experiences of violence or exploitation may not be recognized as such.
“We see a lot of people who are being trafficked or sexually exploited, and they don’t recognize themselves as being such,” she says.
That’s why creating a space grounded in trust, culture, and community is so essential.
At the Jane Paul Indigenous Women’s Resource Centre, Mi’kmaq traditions and cultural teachings are foundational.
“Culture and tradition are ingrained in everything we do,” Lee explains.
From weekly “tea and talk” sessions with Elders to land-based activities and access to traditional medicines, the centre creates opportunities for people to reconnect in ways that feel meaningful to them. And participation is always a choice.
“Not everybody practices traditional culture — and that’s okay,” Lee says. “We very much let it be their choice.”
That commitment extends to how programs are designed and refined.
“So many organizations build services without asking, ‘Is this what people actually want?’” Lee notes. “We try to engage regularly with clients to make sure we’re getting it right.”
And while the work can be challenging, there are moments that make it all worthwhile.
“We celebrate the little victories,” she says. “But then you also get those big moments that sneak up on you… like seeing families who were chronically homeless now housed.”
“It takes time,” Lee adds. “But when people feel safe enough to reach out for help — that’s everything.”
To learn more about the Jane Paul Indigenous Women’s Resource Centre, visit the Nova Scotia Native Women’s Association’s website.
