Reconnection and reconciliation: Xavier's story
A proud member of the Abenaki community of Odanak, Xavier Watso describes himself as an eternal optimist who believes that every small action can create ripples that change the world. His bright smile, flamboyant clothing and contagious energy show his joyful and vibrant personality. With remarkable ease, he tackles serious topics with humour and authenticity, captivating his audience.
Transcript for Reconnection and reconciliation
[Instrumental music]
[Xavier Watso walks in front of the Place des Arts in Montréal.]
Xavier: Being Indigenous didn't mean anything to me. I knew I was Indigenous, but I didn't feel connected to Abenaki culture and traditions.
Xavier: As a child, I didn't experience them, so I didn't miss them.
[Xavier sits indoors, speaking directly to the camera. Behind him, large wooden beams are adorned with intricate Abenaki artwork.]
Xavier: The Sixties Scoop and residential schools that my grandmother and mother went through were designed to make us lose our language, culture, and traditions. The goal was to uproot us.
[The scene alternates between Xavier walking through downtown Montréal and sitting as he speaks to the camera.]
Xavier: Today, every Indigenous person you meet has either attended a residential school or knows someone who has. The last residential school closed just 30 years ago. I was born in 1984, so I could have ended up in one.
[Text on screen: Sharing the Journey, Xavier Watso]
[Xavier walks through a wooded area, with leaves rustling around him.]
Xavier [Speaks Abenaki]: Kwaï, nd'aliwizi Sapiel Wazo, nd'aln8ba8dwaw8gan, nd'aln8ba. N'wigi Odanak, kchi wliwni
[Text on screen: Xavier Watso, Content creator, host and actor]
[The scene shifts back to Xavier, who is sitting and speaking directly to the camera.]
Xavier: Hello, my name is Xavier Watso. I'm Abenaki from the community of Odanak.
[An aerial shot pans over the community of Odanak, showing houses, trees and a main road.]
Xavier: I grew up in Yamaska, right next to Odanak, until I was five. Then, we moved to Montréal.
[Xavier walks down a quiet street in Odanak toward a house where an orange "Every Child Matters" flag is displayed.]
Xavier: In my mid-twenties, I realized I was missing a part of myself, so I decided to reconnect.
[Text on screen: Xavier's grandmother's house]
[Xavier walks into his grandmother's house. The camera then focuses on street signs translated in Abenaki.]
Xavier: When I found out there were Abenaki language classes in Montréal, I was intrigued because the language is considered nearly extinct. I invited my mother and brother to join me, and they agreed.
[The scene goes back to Xavier, seated and speaking directly to the camera.]
Xavier: Hearing the words of my Ancestors, hearing the words of my Nation, I realized how much I didn't know about myself. There was a part of me missing. There was a void I needed to fill with my culture, traditions, language, and Nation.
[Xavier strolls along the river, pulls out his phone, and begins recording himself. Three of his TikTok videos then appear on screen, playing side by side.]
Xavier: So, I started making videos about my language. I see myself a bit like a teacher on social media.
[The scene shifts between Xavier speaking to the camera, an aerial view of the river, and a close-up of a historical interpretation panel showing a photo of the Odanak presbytery in 1915.]
Xavier: I often talk about the 3 Rs. The first R stands for respect or recognition. It's important to respect what we say, recognize past mistakes, and listen when we speak.
[The scene alternates between Xavier sitting and a historical interpretation panel featuring an Abenaki leader.]
Xavier: The third R stands for reconciliation, which is what we aim for.
[The camera then focuses on an old church].
Xavier: But reconciliation can't happen without the second R, which is reparation. It's important to find a way to fix the mistakes of the past.
[Xavier walks through Odanak. The scene shifts to Xavier and two men drumming and singing.]
[The background music fades away, replaced by the rhythmic drumbeat as Xavier and the two men sing in Abenaki.]
Xavier: I feel privileged and lucky to reconnect with my culture and traditions, to rediscover and redefine what being Abenaki means to me, and to share that with others.
[Xavier is seated once more, speaking to the camera with emotion in his voice.]
Xavier: Now, it's not just about me—it's about my children seeing me and feeling proud too. I think of my grandmother and my mother.
[Xavier walks with his mother and her dog toward the river. They are smiling.]
Xavier: It's incredible to see them happy that our language, our songs, and our identity still exist and are growing stronger.
[The scene returns to Xavier and two other men drumming. Xavier is then shown walking alone near the river.]
Xavier: We still have work to do, but we have to do it together. We have to walk the same path and find ways to listen to each other and respect each other.
[Xavier turns to the camera, wearing a hopeful smile.]
Xavier: And that's how we're going to reconcile.
[Text on screen: Join the reconciliation journey at canada.ca/sharing-reconciliation-journey]
[The Canada wordmark appears.]
Loss of identity
For much of his life, Xavier thought of himself primarily as a Quebecer and knew little about his Indigenous roots. That, he explains, is because his family was affected by the Sixties Scoop: "My mother sort of repeated what she had experienced… She grew up outside the community in foster care. So for her, leaving the community, moving to the city, that's what she had experienced, so she repeated that."
The Sixties Scoop remains one of the darkest chapters in Canada's history: for more than 20 years, thousands of Indigenous children were taken from their homes and placed in foster care or adopted by non-Indigenous parents. These policies resulted in entire generations being cut off from their language, culture, and identity, leaving deep scars that many people, like Xavier, are trying to heal today by reconnecting with their roots.
Reconnection
It wasn't until his late twenties, when he took his first Abenaki language classes in Montréal, that Xavier felt a deep cultural void. This realization pushed him to slowly reconnect with his community.
First, Xavier agreed to emcee the powwow in his community, Odanak, an event that allowed him not only to draw on his talents as a host, but more importantly to be closer to his family and feel the community's love and pride in what he was becoming. He also joined the Flying Sturgeons, the drum group that his cousin started, and he discovered the power of this traditional art form. For Xavier, these experiences were key moments that helped him redefine himself and feel that, at last, he fully belonged to his Nation.
From classroom to social media
A high school drama teacher for more than 15 years, Xavier turned to social media during the era of the Idle No More movement. "It was at the same time as a kind of collective awakening of Indigenous people on Turtle Island," Xavier recalls. He quickly realized that, through social media, "we could reach people we didn't know but who had gone through the same things as we had. That's a very powerful thing for Indigenous People, too, because we were put on reserves so we would be far away, separated, disconnected."
What began as a form of activism became a new way of teaching: thanks to his videos on social media, he went from a class of around 30 students to an audience of millions of people.
The role of allies
Today, Xavier uses these platforms to proudly show what it means to be Abenaki and help others better understand Indigenous realities. He reminds people, though, that healing and reconciliation cannot happen on their own.
To him, an ally is "someone who listens, who respects us, who recognizes past harms and knows that there's still work to do. Someone who does not take our place, but who stands beside us and supports us." True allies, he stresses, want to learn and never try to become Indigenous instead of walking alongside Indigenous Peoples.
His wish for the future is simple but ambitious: he wants his community to keep its cultural practices alive, future generations to grow up proud to be Abenaki, and all Canadians to take part in this journey. As he says so eloquently, reconciliation can only succeed by "walking together, by finding ways to listen to each other and respect each other."
Photo gallery
Xavier Watso taught high school drama for more than 15 years before making a name for himself as a content creator on social media. In his spare time, he is also a host, speaker, actor, and columnist.
The Musée des Abénakis showcases historical and contemporary accounts of Abenaki culture. Inaugurated in 1965, it was the first Indigenous museum to open in Quebec. It is housed in Odanak’s former Catholic school, on the banks of the Saint-François River.
The weaving of Abenaki baskets, created using black ash and sweetgrass, is a piece of ancestral know-how passed down through the generations in the Abenaki community. Both utilitarian and artistic, these baskets reflect the Abenaki people’s profound relationship with nature and the preservation of their traditions.
Aln8ba8dwaw8gan (the w8banaki or Abenaki language) belongs to the Algonquian language family, which includes Cree, Innu, and Anishnabemowin (Algonquin). Xavier recalls that it was considered nearly extinct in the early 2000s, a direct consequence of colonial policies that tore entire generations away from their culture and language. Today, community initiatives (language classes, teaching resources, trilingual signage) are helping to bring it back to life.
Abenaki longhouses, built from wooden poles covered with bark, could house several related families. Archeological digs conducted in Odanak have made it possible to reconstruct their architecture and better understand their central role in community life, revealing know-how that was fully adapted to the climate, resources, and traditions.
Since 2010, stop signs in Odanak have been translated into Abenaki and, since 2023, so have street name signs. This initiative is part of the community’s efforts to revitalize the language.
The Abenaki drum, central to powwows and ceremonies, is much more than just a musical instrument: it is a living link to the Ancestors and a symbol of pride and resilience. For Xavier, each beat is an act of cultural affirmation and transmission, a way to reclaim the rightful place of his people.