
She remembers afternoons sitting by the window with her Ktunaxa grandmother Mary Paul. The 9-year-old Doreen Manuel would watch her grandmother’s hands string beads through a needle to create intricate patterns of beadwork stitched into fabric. Doreen, an award-winning bead artist of the Secwepemc/Ktunaxa First Nations, learned how to bead this way—she learned by being shown the way.
“To be a teacher in the Indigenous world, you have to be yourself a role model. You teach as much through your movements as you do through your words,” shares Doreen, who is also an acclaimed Indigenous filmmaker and educator in the arts world.
On the day we met Doreen, she wore a red dress. Her long black hair fell gracefully down her waist, and she walked with bare feet. She showed us around her living room, where she featured pieces of beadwork she had created and carefully collected over a span of 50 years—a rare display of Indigenous art ranging from powwow regalia, beaded leather jackets and buckskin vests, to pins, necklaces and earrings, made more iridescent with precious stones. On a long table are ornately beaded moccasins with designs that reflect the footwear’s significant role and history in Indigenous cultures across Turtle Island, or what is now known as Canada.
Her latest work is beading what she calls “statement art.” Her dream is to see her growing collection displayed at an exhibit or in a museum. Pairs and pairs of solidly beaded Converse shoes stand out, punctuated with words like Resist, Unceded, No Man Camps, and No Racism. There’s the pair of bright orange shoes stitched with 215 and a child’s hand holding a bouquet of tiny flowers, in honour of the hundreds of children who never came home from residential schools across Canada and spurred by news of remains of children in unmarked graves at the Kamloops Indian Residential School.
Doreen’s father, George Manuel, attended this notorious school where he contracted tuberculosis that resulted in a lifelong limp. Her mother also faced horrendous abuses from residential schools, a colonial project that started in the 17th century till the 1990s, seeking to assimilate generations of Indigenous peoples by “killing the Indian in the child.” Doreen herself and her siblings went to residential schools, where they experienced and witnessed terror.
For her father, the experience pushed him to the forefront of the fight for Indigenous peoples in Canada. Once known as the Grand Chief of Neskonlith Indian Band and Elected President of the Union of BC Indian Chiefs, George Manuel is a world-renowned leader and fierce defender of Indigenous rights and sovereignty.
It was also by watching her father that Doreen came to be an activist and community leader herself. As a young teen, her father would debate with her, challenging her with questions before he went to work in the morning. Young Doreen would patiently wait by the stairs for her father to come home, and then they would pick up from where they had left off. She later witnessed how her father led the national movement called the Constitution Express, where hundreds of Indigenous people traveled on a train to Ottawa to ensure that existing Aboriginal and treaty rights were included in the 1982 Constitution. During the ’70s, George Manuel organized Indigenous peoples from several continents, describing their union as the “Fourth World,” and proposed an international declaration to uphold and protect Indigenous rights. This would later evolve into what is now known as the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

In the documentary Unceded Chiefs, Doreen tells the story of Indigenous resurgence and resistance, a story of how her father and BC First Nations leaders fought against then Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau’s White Paper Policy in 1969, a piece of policy that attempted to abolish legal documents pertaining to Indigenous peoples, including the Indian Act and treaties, and assimilate all Indigenous people. Due to protests and widespread criticism, the policy was withdrawn.
During a 2020 interview with Georgia Straight, the film’s director, Doreen, shared her perspective: “So when I saw my dad take people on like that, today I have no problem taking anybody on—and keeping myself informed so that I can have those conversations. Because it’s only through educating people that we are going to make the changes.”
Doreen Manuel fights for her family’s legacy of political activism, a lifelong work of her father George Manuel, a leader in the North American Indian movement who led Indigenous people in Canada and around the world to draft an international declaration to uphold and protect the rights of Indigenous peoples—now known as UNDRIP, or the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

Breaking ground in film
Doreen entered the film industry in the 1990s, following years of dedicated service as a community worker. During this time, she assisted women in escaping violence, created programs for sexual abuse intervention, and designed life skills programs. “I was floundering through life, trying to make a living to support my children [as a single mother] and then I was offered to do this job.” Doreen vividly remembers a conversation with one of the participants. When asked about her goals in the program, the woman revealed a heartbreaking story: her children had been taken away by social services. Despite this loss, her deep desire was for her children to seek her out one day. She expressed her hope of becoming a person they would be proud to find. Doreen, deeply moved, recalls the moment with tears filling her eyes. “I thought to myself, I want to do anything in my power to take care of this woman,” she says, but that meant quitting drinking and smoking and sobering up. “I couldn’t tell them not to drink. I had to show them; I had to do it myself. We can only take somebody as far as we ourselves have gone.”
She remembers the story of the Shuswap community of Alkali Lake (north-central BC), a reserve plagued with alcoholism. It began with the fur trade when a European immigrant offered liquor in exchange for pelts; prior to that, the community never knew of alcohol. The members said 100 percent of their community was impacted, leading to devastation and death that ranged from suicide, murder, and fire. Healing and sobriety came with the act of one woman, Phyllis, who decided one day to stop drinking. Her spouse followed, and then from there, many more decided to go for treatment that ranged from community circles to the use of sacred pipe ceremonies and sweat lodges. It’s an astounding story of healing that left a profound impact on Doreen’s life.
Doreen’s journey towards her own healing is what eventually led her to tell stories through filmmaking. “I thought about film because I could see its value for cultural preservation, language preservation, business advancement and political initiative,” she says, adding that it took a lot of determination to get into it. “I didn’t think I was smart enough because it’s technology. I could barely hook up a VCR to a television. I went off to school, and I was right, I really struggled with the technology—but I did learn it.”
In the accolades celebrating her many achievements as a filmmaker, Doreen is hailed as fearless. She courageously guides young Indigenous people to become writers, producers, directors, and even camerapeople, inspiring them with her courage and leadership. “In all of Western Canada, there are only two properly trained Indigenous assistant directors—two! And so when people wonder why I am fighting so hard, I tell them that when I can recommend more than two, that’s when I’ll settle down,” Doreen says of the racial inequality in the industry. “It’s hard to get representation for Indigenous people. We train them but they can’t get jobs because nobody would hire them.”
These days, when a filmmaker puts out a call for a crew, Doreen tells them to recruit Indigenous people, and she’s got a list going. Most of those on the list are students she had trained and mentored herself, having developed and implemented curriculum for more than 30 years, leading her to become the Director of the Bosa Centre for Film and Animation at Capilano University, the first Indigenous woman to head a major academic filmmaking training institution in Canada.
“I’m decolonizing curriculum. And people often ask me what I mean by that. People who have gone through trauma have learning blocks. It’s like physically having a block in front of you, and you can’t see through it. So, you have a harder time learning. And I know how to build all of that into curriculums for Indigenous people.”
Battling misrepresentation, racism in film
A huge part of Doreen’s work is battling the long history of stereotyping and problematic representations of her people in the film industry. Literature and documentaries show how Indigenous representation in North American film all began with Hollywood pitting “hostile Indians” against heroic cowboys, and portraying them as exotic, savage, lazy and drunk. The early films painted a picture of Indigenous peoples needing to be controlled, justifying moves to place them in reserve lands and “civilize” their Native nature.
In the late 20th century, there was a shift to putting Indigenous peoples into a more romantic light, with movies such as Pocahontas where females were depicted as either noble, spiritual beings or heavily eroticized.
This lack of intersectional portrayal and racist tropes, Doreen says, are deeply tragic. “Hollywood has depicted us in a certain way, the ‘Hollywood Indian,’ and it’s derogatory. So what I’m trying to build is authenticity, where people see this beauty—they see us as beautiful people and appreciate us. To show that we’re not all drunks or bad. We are artists, musicians—we’re such a variety of different types of good people.”
Award-winning bead artist Doreen Manuel of the Secwepemc/Ktunaxa First Nations presents her collection of beaded art that spans more than 50 years, many of these made by her and the others by fellow Indigenous bead artists. Her latest collection features what Doreen calls “statement art,” with beaded words like UNDRIP, Resist, and Unceded stitched into sneakers.
In Canada, Doreen is part of the movement to bring about a renaissance of Indigenous-made films. There are now movies that feature both the pain and joy of Indigenous peoples, with Indigenous artists taking their stories into their own hands and expanding representation across film, television and media.
Movies like Bones of Crows (a depiction of the trauma of Canada’s residential school system), Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner (an adaptation of an ancient Inuit legend), Wildhood (a coming-of-age LGBTQIA+ drama) and Falls Around Her (a portrait of the resilience of a northern First Nation) are among the most celebrated Indigenous movies made in Canada.
“I would like Canada to be proud of the Indigenous peoples whose land they reside on. Hollywood has all its excuses about why they can’t. But there’s no reason why we can’t make a stand in Canada and be different and be authentic,” says Doreen, whose son Esteban recently received a grant to do a documentary, My Grandfather & Me, based on his relationship with George Manuel, whom he never met, and how he knew him through the stories and values that were passed on.
Institutions like the National Film Board of Canada play a key role in surfacing Indigenous stories. Under the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s report in 2015, NFB and other bodies are key in reframing the national collective memory and understanding history. Part of NFB’s initiative is to address systemic inequities in the industry and address Indigenous creators’ concerns.
“We need to tell our own stories,” says Doreen, and she says this with the hope that as more Indigenous filmmakers are elevated to the forefront of the industry, stories will finally be told the right way.


Building up the next generation
To the Manuelistas, a name that close followers of George Manuel gave themselves, setting the path for the future is a lifelong mission. “It’s a generational battle for us. We teach our children not by telling them you have to do it. The ones who need to rise will rise.”
As the sixth among the children, Doreen did not see herself being a leader early on in her life. “I got to sit in the back seat a really long time. But then as my older brothers and sisters started passing away, I started getting pushed further and further into the front seat. I realized I had to step up, so that’s where I am now.”
Manuel’s late brothers Arthur and Robert are known for their activism asserting Indigenous rights. Arthur Manuel is described as a fearless advocate with an illuminating vision for Indigenous peoples, as outlined in books he co-authored: Unsettling Canada: A National Wake-up Call and Reconciliation Manifesto.
For Doreen, the work that her family has done ensures a future where generations to come would have their land and Aboriginal title and rights. “Their minds are open and their hearts are open,” she says of the next generation. “So, my hope is they’ll keep it going. We keep it going.”
Much like how her grandmother had taught her, it takes an infinite amount of time to weave things together—one bead after the other. In the room where Doreen had her display of creations, she held up a long necklace of flowers, of tiny beads of red and yellow, which was the first piece of beadwork she made under her grandmother’s teaching. Her grandmother, who was in her 80s at the time, gave her an unfinished vest as a gift and asked her to complete it. It would take years before Doreen could string it all together.
“You learn patience and perseverance,” Doreen says, not only of beading and creating art, but of the work that lies ahead. Teaching the next generation and new immigrants coming to Canada about the true history of these lands is at the core of this work.
“How do you undo years of colonialism and harm? It’s like peeling an onion,” she says, and it requires a lot of learning and healing. There’s one story that Doreen believes needs to be told, but it’s one she’s not ready to take on yet, and she’s not sure that it’s even a story for her to tell. “It’s a story that’s been swept under the rug. It will cost my community because it’s part of the culture. But sometimes you need to tear something apart to heal it.”
Until then, Doreen will be behind the scenes running multiple programs, on a platform addressing a huge crowd, or on her social media tagging people to hire an Indigenous crew.
