Hector Hill-Gy’ax, long-time Downtown Eastside resident, graduated at 68 with a UBC master’s degree in Education.
October 7, 2022Story by Geoff D’Auria, UBC Learning Exchange. Photos by Paul Joseph.
It’s midday and Hector Hill-Gy’ax is sitting in Starbucks working on his Macbook Pro, his hair pulled back into a ponytail.
While he was working towards his master’s degree, the long-time Downtown Eastside resident often worked on his studies at the UBC Learning Exchange. Today, however, he is in Starbucks, on the edge of Chinatown and in the shadow of Rogers Arena. He’s wearing a blue sweater with a Vancouver Canucks logo on the front.
“I like the new coach,” he says as he peers over his reading glasses. He notes how the coach brought a light and supportive atmosphere to a struggling team, adding how he likes to approach his counselling in a similar way.
On his computer is a digital version of a medicine wheel. Medicine wheels are frameworks some Indigenous cultures use to show connections between physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual lives, as well as connections with the natural world.
On this version, Hector is integrating the four Christian gospels of Luke, Mark, Matthew and John into the wheel for a session he’s leading at a local Downtown Eastside church.
Hector said his energy is getting better, though it’s taking a while to return fully. He caught COVID-19 just before finishing his master’s last year and spent six weeks in hospital. For a while, he said he couldn’t do much more than go for a short walk during the day, let alone his schoolwork.
“COVID-19 was another step, another river to cross. It’s another thing I needed to learn about and share with other people,” he said.
Sharing stories is important to Hector, and he has many to tell. A natural storyteller, he often includes an irreverent joke, a self-deprecating anecdote, and an easy laugh that verges on a giggle.
“When I share my story, it releases the love in my heart,” Hector said.
“When I share my story, it releases the love in my heart,” Hector said. “It encourages others to do the same. It allows me to cry. All the men and boys I meet think they are not allowed to cry. If I don’t share, it is stuck with me.”
Hector was born in 1953 in Gitsegukla, a Gitxsan community of about 500 at the confluence of the Kitseguecla and Skeena Rivers, not far from Smithers in northwestern British Columbia.
“I will tell you my name. My name is Hector Hill-Gy ‘ax. I am Gitxsan/Ts’imshian from the House of Wii Seeks. My mother’s name is Fanny Hill, maiden name, Brown, born in Gitsegukla and she is Gitsxan. My dad’s name, Matthew Hill, from Kitkatla. He is Ts’imshian. I speak my mother’s language, which is Gitsenimuxw, the Gitxsan language. I want to learn my dad’s, which is Ts’imshian.
“I grew up in Gitsegukla, left at age 16, and I didn’t want a hereditary chief name for a long time because… I was hurting too much to carry a name and I was afraid I would mess it up and I didn’t want to mess it up. So, after I was sober for years my sister and brother gave me a hereditary chief name, which is Gy’ax (pronouced “Gee-ag”) and it means ‘earthquake’ or ‘earth tremor,’ and it is said that I ‘move the earth you walk on.’”
Growing up, Hector’s parents taught him many of the basics of life: how to speak Gitsenimuxw, how to hunt, fish, trap, sew, and build. At community feasts, they taught him to listen to the stories of the elders and behave respectfully.
Hector said that during those years he was also sexually abused by several community and religious leaders, including some from the Indian Day School he attended. He said that at those schools he was also taught that his language was the devil’s language.
Hector speaks openly about the experiences, the emotional pain and years of nightmares and sleep issues that ensued, how the pain led him to self-medicate with alcohol, and eventually move to Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside.
He also speaks openly about how volunteering at the Street Church helped him find his way again, even though he struggled at first to trust religious people.
He said he spent two years volunteering—cleaning dishes, preparing food, giving out clothing—doing anything that needed doing and making sure his newfound sobriety was solid before joining the church’s bible college.
Hector said some people still made fun of his lack of English. To them, Hector would say “I just want to be better than I was yesterday.”
To be better than he was yesterday. This is a line Hector returns to a number of times, like a guidepost for each step on his journey: through bible college and into the Carnegie Centre where he learned rudimentary English, through the adult education classes and into Vancouver Native Education College where he earned his Grade 12 equivalence.
Some days, some years even, he said wasn’t better than before, but many days and many years he was and he kept going.
How long did it take?
“Too long!” he said, with a laugh.
Eventually he completed the Chemical Addiction Worker Advanced Diploma (CHAD) through the Nicola Valley Institute of Technology (NVIT), and then the Counselling Skills Certificate at the Vancouver Community College. After which he worked as a counsellor for the Native Court Workers Counselling Association. With the CHAD cohort, he worked his way through a diploma, a post-diploma, and then a bachelor’s degree offered in partnership with the University of the Fraser Valley. When the CHAD program partnered with the UBC Faculty of Education to offer a master’s degree, Hector was excited to join but ran into some problems registering.
This is where the UBC Learning Exchange played a small part in Hector’s story.
Even though the Learning Exchange was just around the corner from Hector’s apartment, he said he didn’t know much about it. Worse, informed by innumerable encounters with racist systems and attitudes, he was wary.
“I was kind of scared anytime I went by anything to do with UBC,” Hector said. “I kept looking in and my heart says ‘Go on in,’ but I was scared.”
When he did walk through the door, the Learning Exchange team worked together with Hector to puzzle through some technology and registration issues, and then to support him with the online software UBC requires students to use.
“We learned so much from Hector,” said Matt Hume, Student Learning Coordinator at the Learning Exchange. “There are so many barriers for people who have been out of education for a while, let alone someone who doesn’t feel welcome, for a variety of reasons, by a colonial system.
“It was already really challenging, then everything went online, then he got COVID-19. He worked through it all. He recognized those obstacles for what they were, had the perseverance to work his way past them, and, in doing so, taught us about the barriers that many of us, frankly, were blind to. This was all Hector.”
In November last year, Hector graduated with his Masters of Education in Educational Administration & Leadership from UBC.
“Walking across the stage at UBC was one of the most profound moments of my life,” he said. “I had to confront all the voices that told me I wasn’t good enough, that I shouldn’t be here, that I don’t belong. All the voices from so long ago.”
“We’re all so excited for him,” said Matt, who watched the ceremony with other staff on the giant screen in the Learning Exchange’s drop-in area.
Hector, in turn, is also a big supporter of the UBC Learning Exchange, and education in general.
“They really encouraged me. Every time I came in, they asked me how they can help. Now, when people ask me, I tell them to go to the Learning Exchange.”
Hector said he was contemplating going on to a PhD but is hesitant because his energy remains low. He said eventually he wants to go back to Gitsegukla to teach and counsel in the Gitsxan language, to help others work through their childhood trauma.
“There are a lot of hurting people that are scared of the Western education. But once they learn the ABCs of the Western society and use the ABCs of the Gitsxan ways of knowing, learn to accept who they are and share their stories, then they’ll have a path to deal with their childhood trauma.”