Raez Argulla/Supplied
Dr. Barry Lavallee’s mantra was always: Be kind to everyone. As a physician who challenged the status quo, he led with kindness even as he was trying to change systems that saw Indigenous people as less than.
He died suddenly on Jan. 20 in Winnipeg from heart arrhythmia. He was 64.
A member of the Métis community of St. Laurent, Man., and a descendant of Duck Bay and Lake Manitoba First Nations, Dr. Lavallee grew up in poverty but this did not deter him from following his early aspiration to become a doctor.
He might not have made it through medical school if it hadn’t been for his wife of 44 years, Debra Lynn Lavallee, whom he often thanked publicly for her sacrifices. She devoted herself to raising the children and making the household function so he could focus on fighting for Indigenous rights in medicine.
That fight also included overcoming racism during his schooling. Dr. Lavallee graduated from University of Manitoba’s Faculty of Medicine in 1988 and from University of Western Ontario with a master’s degree of clinical science in 2004.
“He was often told, ‘You’re not gonna make it. You might as well drop out.’ They didn’t use the term ‘Indigenous’ at the time, but [they’d say] Indigenous people don’t become doctors,” his daughter Ashley Johnson said.
“A lot of his fellow peers had fathers and grandfathers who were in medicine, so it was intergenerational for them. Whereas for my dad, he didn’t come from that. So on top of the struggles a lot of med students faced, my dad faced a lot of racism.”
That drove him to stand his ground, not only for himself, but for the Indigenous community and physicians who would follow.
Dr. Marcia Anderson, who is Anishinaabe and Cree, recalls a diabetes conference she attended with Dr. Lavallee. An older white man at their table condescendingly asked how she could have the expertise to lead the Indigenous Physicians Association of Canada. Dr. Anderson was the organization’s president and Dr. Lavallee was vice-president at the time.
“As I prepared to list my qualifications with a self-deprecating joke, Dr. Lavallee cut in and told the man he would never question the expertise of the head of a diabetes association, so why would he think it was okay to question mine? I sunk in my seat much more comfortably with Barry there to defend me and make sure everyone knew I had earned my place there,” said Dr. Anderson, the vice-dean of Indigenous health, social justice and anti-racism at the Rady Faculty of Health Sciences, University of Manitoba.
“He made sure that when people looked down on me because I was young and junior that they respected my expertise and the role I played on behalf of Indigenous physicians,” she added.
Dr. Melinda Fowler-Woods, who is Métis and Mi’kmaq, saw Dr. Lavallee as a father figure.
“He showed up in the ways that mattered most, steady, guiding and protective. He saw strength in me before I knew how to name it, and he took the time to help me shape it. Through him, I learned how to hone my warrior skills: how to listen deeply, how to speak with intention, and how to stand firm in places and systems that were never built for my voice,” Dr. Fowler-Woods said in a written statement.
“He taught me to be unapologetic. Not hardened, not closed but instead grounded and this cultivated me to truly be who I am. He taught me that staying in the fight for change is an act of responsibility, and that my voice carries weight,” she said.
While Dr. Lavallee was generous and kind to fellow Indigenous health professionals and emerging leaders, he also challenged systems and the people who held up those systems.
“He was a different person in a policy conversation or a debate. But I think all of his challenges toward systems or structures of indifference, his role as an agitator or disrupter, is that he didn’t do that to embarrass individuals or institutions. He did what he needed to do to effect change and momentum and move us along,” said Melanie McKinnon who is Cree and the head of the Indigenous Institute of Health & Healing (Ongomiizwin) at the University of Manitoba’s Rady Faculty of Health Sciences.
“He taught many of us that we could be angry, we could talk about racism and colonization, we could show up fully ourselves and be excellent physicians and educators, that we didn’t need to fit into someone else’s mould,” Dr. Anderson said.
A trained family physician whose focus was on Indigenous and northern health, Dr. Lavallee also worked as an advocate for the same people. He held many roles where he challenged the status quo. He also quit jobs because he felt change was not happening.
For example, Dr. Lavallee resigned from his job as the director of education at the University of Manitoba’s Ongomiizwin Indigenous Institute of Health and Healing in February, 2019. At the time he told The Manitoban, the university’s newspaper: “The University of Manitoba struggles to address Indigenous-specific racism at its institute.”
“My dad wasn’t afraid to challenge people, to test systems. He didn’t fear being disliked for what he knew was right in his heart,” Ms. Johnson said.
“He’s quit publicly many times,” she added.
Dr. Lavallee lent his expertise to several health organizations who did want to move forward the treatment of Indigenous peoples, allowing them dignity and respect in their health care journeys. Following his death, the Indigenous Diabetes Health Circle, Cancer Care Manitoba, Chronic Disease Innovation Centre all issued condolence statements. He was even honoured by the Winnipeg Jets on the jumbotron at the Canada Life Centre prior to a recent home game.
His last role was as CEO for Keewatinohk Inniniw Minoayawin Inc. (KIM), an organization dedicated to making the health system respond better to the needs of First Nations in northern Manitoba.
“His powerful voice commanded attention,” KIM said in a statement on his death. “He spoke up for those who could not and left an impact that will be remembered. He was a fearless advocate for those who faced injustice and harm, and he fought tirelessly for First Nations People.”
Perhaps the people Dr. Lavallee was fighting for the most, though, belonged to his other legacy – his family. He was only 15 when he first met Debra Bowman, whom he would later marry. The couple had three children: Nicole Lavallee, Ms. Johnson and Amanda Lavallee. His four grandchildren were the lights of his life.
“They were everything to him: three grandsons and one granddaughter. And I just can’t share enough how important they were to him,” Ms. Johnson said.
Barry Allan Denis Lavallee was born in Winnipeg on July 30, 1961, to Ella Campbell and Rene Lavallee. His parents were survivors of a racially segregated day school for Indigenous children. His father was a stucco worker while his mom was a cleaner at a hospital. Barry attended public school and was raised in Winnipeg.
He had nine siblings, four of whom died as children because of issues surrounding poverty, Ms. Johnson said. His parents often hid him and his siblings from Child and Family Services (CFS) so the children would not be apprehended, which often happened with Indigenous children.
When Dr. Lavallee became a parent, caring for his children and making sure they lived a good life in a happy home was important to him.
His daughter recalled how he always played music while she was growing up. “I remember waking up early on a Saturday morning, my dad would play the Doors or the Beatles or Pink Floyd, perhaps. And fiddle music. Fiddles would come on and you could see the spark in his face,” Ms. Johnson said, adding her dad played the spoons but that was as far as his musical prowess went.
It’s clear that Dr. Lavallee was the spark in the family. Ms. Johnson recalls another time when her parents were at a powwow and a sweethearts dance came on, intended for couples to dance together. No one was dancing.
“But my dad, of course, coerced my mom into going out there. So it was just the two of them. It was really sweet, though, to see,” Ms. Johnson said.
While Dr. Lavallee was a strong advocate for Indigenous health, he also struggled with diabetes himself. He and his wife were inseparable. She drove Dr. Lavallee to the many meetings, conferences and gatherings that he attended. He worked for a better health system for Indigenous people right to the end.
While Dr. Lavallee leaves a huge hole in Indigenous health care, he has also built a community who will carry on his work.
“We’ll just continue doing what he never stopped doing: naming the harm, defending our people,” Ms. McKinnon said, “and doing our best to build a health care system that’s worthy of Indigenous lives.”
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Editor’s note: A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that Dr. Barry Lavallee lost part of his right leg to diabetes. The incorrect statement has been removed.