East Coast Prison Justice Society celebrates the life and mourns the death of Tona Mills.
Tona with an award she received in 2025: the King Charles III Coronation Medal, conferred for significant contributions to Canada or a particular community.
|
|
Tona Mills had a striking tattoo on her forearm: large Chinese letters tracing the word “survivor” over a dense web of scars from resistant self-cutting during years of prolonged isolation in Canada’s federal prisons. The other day Tona shared in typical deadpan style that a palliative care staffperson who can read Chinese had finally offered the true translation of these impressive markings: “Egg Roll!” Tona whispered, wide eyed. The faintest grin.
Tona passed away on Thursday February 19, surrounded by family, after a long struggle with cancer. She was 53. Born to a Coast Salish teen and adopted out, she was deeply loved by her mom and dad (Helen and Rick), sister Gina (Kevin), and niece and nephew (Carly and Cole).
So much about Tona was special: her uncommon intelligence, her extraordinary memory, her unique mix of sensitivity and fearlessness. She had a special talent, too, for making and keeping friendsand holding them close over many years and through many challenges.
She had an array of beloved friends in and beyond Halifax, Nova Scotia, some of whom she’d met at the lowest points in her and their lives. Her phone was constantly ringing and she was a faithful correspondent: a gifted writer of letters, emails and poetry. Her wry, offbeat way of seeing the harshness and wonder of this world was one reason people were so drawn to her.
That Tona saw the beauty and possibility in us all makes it even harder that her own beauty and possibility were so routinely and actively attacked. Tona was serially sexually assaulted as a teen and young adult by men in positions of trust. She despised lies, cruelty, and injustice, and in her youth often lashed out physically when she felt threatened or betrayed.
She knew suffering and she was a genius at spirited resistance.
Tona spent extended periods incarcerated from her teens on. She was harshly abused at Nova Scotia’s notorious Shelburne Youth Centre, the old Halifax Correctional Centre and its replacement, Burnside Jail, and BC’s Burnaby Correctional Centre. She further spent ten long years in federal prison, most of that time in conditions formally classed as solitary confinement with extraordinary limits on liberty. A “dog cage” was constructed for her at P4W following the Arbour Commission recommendations to remedy the lawlessness exemplified by CSC’s treatment of Tona. The cage was built so that Tona had yard time.
Unsurprisingly, but no less tragically, Tona struggled with mental health disabilities generated and worsened by conditions of confinement -- a form of suffering disproportionately shared among incarcerated people. Tona’s Indigenous heritage, too, placed her among a majority of federally sentenced women, 50% of whom are Indigenous. Shame on Canada for continuing to punish,warehouse, and otherwise corrode the health and lives of individuals and communities already held down by generations-deep colonialist, racist and ableist oppression.
Through the stalwart friendship and advocacy of Senator Kim Pate (then Executive Director of the Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies), Tona was eventually transferred from prison to psychiatric hospital in the early 2000s. The road from there was not simple, however; she would spend well over a decade in forensic psychiatric detention. Sometimes this meant further harsh conditions including more solitary confinement (“therapeutic quiet”). Yet in hospital and especially in community supported living, Tona encountered an array of extraordinary individuals -- staff and fellow service users -- who helped her find and walk sustainable pathways to mental health and social reentry. Her family, too, remained a constant presence and source of strength.
For the past two years Tona lived in a beautiful supported apartment in Halifax, operated by the Metro Community Housing Association. This was a light-filled, peaceful environment staffed bygood-humoured, responsive individuals, now counted among Tona’s closest friends. If these supports had been available when Tona was a youth and young adult, the litany of violence, abuse, and chronic indifference that plagued her too-short life might have been avoided.
Tona has left this world but not before passing judgment on those who colluded in her torture when she most needed care and support. Her hope that others may be spared the profound suffering she experienced over the course of her life is expressed in a bill Senator Pate has placed before the Senate, “Tona’s Law”. This law would require judicial oversight of solitary confinement, and more fundamentally, transfer of persons with serious mental health problems from prison to hospital or other community-based support options. The bill also requires government to seek out and support Indigenous-led and other community-based alternatives to incarceration. In short, its purpose is to end the cycle of incarceration that continues to maim and kill our brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, our best and brightest friends and leaders like social justice pathbreaker and institutional memory-keeper Tona Mills.
Thanks to a grant from Arts Nova Scotia, East Coast Prison Justice has been working with Tona and a gifted artist-musician-writer to share Tona’s story in a form that will be heard and remembered. We will continue that project according to Tona’s instructions and look forward to sharing it.
Please take a moment of silence to remember Tona Mills: free spirit, justice warrior, friend to the friendless. Those who knew her know how lucky they are. Those who did not will have a chance to meet her through story and song in coming months.
-Sheila Wildeman, Co-Chair, East Coast Prison Justice Society
Tona passed away on Thursday February 19, surrounded by family, after a long struggle with cancer. She was 53. Born to a Coast Salish teen and adopted out, she was deeply loved by her mom and dad (Helen and Rick), sister Gina (Kevin), and niece and nephew (Carly and Cole).
So much about Tona was special: her uncommon intelligence, her extraordinary memory, her unique mix of sensitivity and fearlessness. She had a special talent, too, for making and keeping friendsand holding them close over many years and through many challenges.
She had an array of beloved friends in and beyond Halifax, Nova Scotia, some of whom she’d met at the lowest points in her and their lives. Her phone was constantly ringing and she was a faithful correspondent: a gifted writer of letters, emails and poetry. Her wry, offbeat way of seeing the harshness and wonder of this world was one reason people were so drawn to her.
That Tona saw the beauty and possibility in us all makes it even harder that her own beauty and possibility were so routinely and actively attacked. Tona was serially sexually assaulted as a teen and young adult by men in positions of trust. She despised lies, cruelty, and injustice, and in her youth often lashed out physically when she felt threatened or betrayed.
She knew suffering and she was a genius at spirited resistance.
Tona spent extended periods incarcerated from her teens on. She was harshly abused at Nova Scotia’s notorious Shelburne Youth Centre, the old Halifax Correctional Centre and its replacement, Burnside Jail, and BC’s Burnaby Correctional Centre. She further spent ten long years in federal prison, most of that time in conditions formally classed as solitary confinement with extraordinary limits on liberty. A “dog cage” was constructed for her at P4W following the Arbour Commission recommendations to remedy the lawlessness exemplified by CSC’s treatment of Tona. The cage was built so that Tona had yard time.
Unsurprisingly, but no less tragically, Tona struggled with mental health disabilities generated and worsened by conditions of confinement -- a form of suffering disproportionately shared among incarcerated people. Tona’s Indigenous heritage, too, placed her among a majority of federally sentenced women, 50% of whom are Indigenous. Shame on Canada for continuing to punish,warehouse, and otherwise corrode the health and lives of individuals and communities already held down by generations-deep colonialist, racist and ableist oppression.
Through the stalwart friendship and advocacy of Senator Kim Pate (then Executive Director of the Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies), Tona was eventually transferred from prison to psychiatric hospital in the early 2000s. The road from there was not simple, however; she would spend well over a decade in forensic psychiatric detention. Sometimes this meant further harsh conditions including more solitary confinement (“therapeutic quiet”). Yet in hospital and especially in community supported living, Tona encountered an array of extraordinary individuals -- staff and fellow service users -- who helped her find and walk sustainable pathways to mental health and social reentry. Her family, too, remained a constant presence and source of strength.
For the past two years Tona lived in a beautiful supported apartment in Halifax, operated by the Metro Community Housing Association. This was a light-filled, peaceful environment staffed bygood-humoured, responsive individuals, now counted among Tona’s closest friends. If these supports had been available when Tona was a youth and young adult, the litany of violence, abuse, and chronic indifference that plagued her too-short life might have been avoided.
Tona has left this world but not before passing judgment on those who colluded in her torture when she most needed care and support. Her hope that others may be spared the profound suffering she experienced over the course of her life is expressed in a bill Senator Pate has placed before the Senate, “Tona’s Law”. This law would require judicial oversight of solitary confinement, and more fundamentally, transfer of persons with serious mental health problems from prison to hospital or other community-based support options. The bill also requires government to seek out and support Indigenous-led and other community-based alternatives to incarceration. In short, its purpose is to end the cycle of incarceration that continues to maim and kill our brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, our best and brightest friends and leaders like social justice pathbreaker and institutional memory-keeper Tona Mills.
Thanks to a grant from Arts Nova Scotia, East Coast Prison Justice has been working with Tona and a gifted artist-musician-writer to share Tona’s story in a form that will be heard and remembered. We will continue that project according to Tona’s instructions and look forward to sharing it.
Please take a moment of silence to remember Tona Mills: free spirit, justice warrior, friend to the friendless. Those who knew her know how lucky they are. Those who did not will have a chance to meet her through story and song in coming months.
-Sheila Wildeman, Co-Chair, East Coast Prison Justice Society
Read more about Tona's Law here
In Tona's memory, consider writing your MP, Public Safety Minister Gary Anadasangaree and your regional representative(s) in the Senate to call for immediate passage and implementation of Tona's Law.
|
|
Endlessly humbled and grateful to have had the privilege, honour, and responsibility of being loved, challenged, inspired and endlessly educated and entertained by this most amazing, kind, compassionate, brilliant, talented, and always considerate and generous woman. Our journey of 35 years was sometimes indescribable, from cruel and heartbreaking to uproariously hilarious, you remained a force until your last heartbeat and breath. You earned this rest and we wish you the peace and comfort that too often were elusive in this lifetime. We love and miss you; we will honour your memory by continuing your tireless work to end pain, suffering and injustice 💔❤️ starting with Tona's Law! |
I'm so sad to hear about Tona's passing. I'll remember Tona for her humour, resilience, courage, and willingness to share about her experiences. She taught me the value of taking small steps toward positive change and recognizing how much those steps truly matter. To maintain such spirit in the face of such adversity is truly remarkable. Rest in power, Tona. I had the privilege of knowing Tona for the last two years of her life. She was one of the best people I’ve ever known. Despite everything she went through, she was filled with kindness, compassion, and caring for everyone. I miss our evenings chatting and playing Skip-bo (among other things I’ll always remember her as the Skip-bo Queen!). She had a brilliant sense of humour (as illustrated by Sheila in her anecdote about her tattoo), an amazing laugh, and the most beautiful expressive eyes. She always thought about everyone else before herself; one of her biggest concerns about dying was leaving people behind. I am a better person for having known her and I will miss her every day. |
