Castille Troy is executive director of the Minwaashin Lodge Aboriginal Women’s Support Centre and chairs the city’s Community Assisting Aboriginal Sex Trade Workers committee. (Errol McGihon/Sun Media)

OTTAWA - Police and support workers are on alert as they receive an increasing number of reports of Aboriginal girls being lured into prostitution.

Ottawa police executives have been closely watching the information coming from youth experts on the force.

“Absolutely, we’re seeing a number of young Aboriginal and Inuit females being recruited into the sex trade,” Louise Logue says. “It’s certainly a trend that’s getting our attention.”

Logue, the youth intervention co-ordinator for the Ottawa Police Service, isn’t sounding the alarm just yet. There aren’t hard numbers to support the theory, but the anecdotal evidence coming from the street is enough to prompt police and their partner agencies to discuss preventative measures.

Castille Troy, executive director of Minwaashin Lodge, fears the girls are being trafficked to other large Canadian cities and possibly out of the country. Being lured into prostitution isn’t specific to Aboriginal girls, but Troy points out a variety of factors, including urban culture shock, addictions and other mental health issues, that pull them into the dangerous lifestyle.

“There are predators out there just waiting for girls,” Troy says. “It’s an extremely dangerous situation for girls to find themselves in.”

The issue of Aboriginal women disappearing has been a cross-country concern for years. The Native Women’s Association of Canada has counted more than 510 cases of missing or murdered Aboriginal females over the past three decades.

That two Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg First Nation girls, Maisy Odjick and Shannon Alexander, have been missing from their Maniwaki homes for more than a year isn’t lost on advocates in the local Aboriginal community. Nor is the unsolved murder of Kelly Morrisseau, who was seven months pregnant when she was found stabbed in Gatineau Park in December 2006.

“There hasn’t been any satisfactory information that has come forward from the police on how these investigations are going and if progress is being made. We’re left wondering,” Troy says.

Police and Aboriginal service providers in Ottawa have been meeting to identify solutions to girls falling into the sex trade. With the city having the highest population of Inuit outside the far north, experts are exploring how they can better reach out to new families, and especially to children who fly into town for education or counselling without a close support network.

Troy, who also chairs the city’s Community Assisting Aboriginal Sex Trade Workers committee (CAAST), says there is also talk of Ottawa hosting a human trafficking conference for police and social workers to look into the problem.

She has already taken steps locally to reach out to vulnerable girls and women by forming the 14-member CAAST group and launching an overnight mobile outreach unit that’s available to sex trade workers during the week.

Part of the challenge has been establishing a buffer between woman and criminals when they arrive in the city.

Social workers have identified a disconnect between some group homes and the numerous Aboriginal services in Ottawa. They have discovered that group home owners aren’t helping girls find the services because they don’t know about the organizations, or they simply opt not to.

Logue says children’s aid officials often place Aboriginal kids in group homes without knowing who’s sleeping in the next bed. Before the agencies can connect with the girls, the children might have already been exposed to criminals looking for easy targets.

“This is all new for them,” Logue explains. “We fear for their safety if they connect with the criminal element before the social services.”

Experts highlight a demand for Aboriginal women on the streets, along with a horrible perception that the women are inevitably involved in the sex trade, as setbacks.

A young Inuit woman recently sat in the back of an Ottawa taxi and the driver started a disturbing conversation about what he likes about Aboriginal ladies.

She’s in her early 20s with a good job helping Aboriginal families new to the city. The conversation was so off-colour that her co-workers at the Vanier-based Ottawa Inuit Children’s Centre filed a complaint with the cab company.

Karen Baker-Anderson, the centre’s executive director, says several of her female staff have been approached in the area by men thinking they’re prostitutes. The centre’s Caucasian women haven’t had the same experiences, Baker-Anderson notes.

“There’s an assumption about a group of people. There’s an assumption because it’s Vanier,” she says.

For the Inuit, moving to Ottawa can be daunting. They’re used to small and less ominous communities — the city is massive to someone who grew up in a hamlet.

However, Ottawa is well-positioned to prevent Aboriginal children from falling through the cracks. The city is home to headquarters for national advocacy groups and there are several Aboriginal-focused organizations, such as health agencies, shelters and family support groups.

Baker-Anderson believes there’s often too much publicity on the challenges Aboriginals face and hardly a mention of the cultural strengths.

“The number one thing about Inuit is the strong sense of family,” Baker-Anderson says, describing a humble culture with an amazing sense of humour.

“We should be proud of Aboriginal people and we should be supporting them.”