The smell of sage fills a packed high school auditorium in Prince George as 15-year-old Mya Woodbridge adjusts her microphone stand. Her fingers, adorned with handmade beaded rings, move deftly across the neck of her guitar as she launches into “Ancestors’ Path,” an original song that blends contemporary folk with traditional Dakelh rhythms.
“I started writing this when I was twelve,” she tells the audience of mostly Indigenous youth. “It was after my kookum took me berry picking and told me stories about how our people have always used music to carry our histories.”
The crowd erupts in cheers as Woodbridge’s clear voice rises above her intricate guitar work. This is the seventh stop on her “Roots Rising” tour, which is bringing her music to twenty First Nations communities across British Columbia this spring.
Woodbridge, a member of the Lheidli T’enneh First Nation, began playing guitar at age eight when her uncle gifted her a small acoustic instrument. By twelve, she was posting cover songs on YouTube. Last year, her original composition “Cedar Woman” caught the attention of Indigenous-owned record label Turtle Island Sounds, leading to a recording contract and this unprecedented tour.
“We’ve never seen someone so young connect traditional and contemporary sounds with such maturity,” says label founder Marie Clements. “Her music bridges generations in a way that feels authentic and necessary right now.”
What makes Woodbridge’s tour unique is its focus on Indigenous youth engagement. At each stop, she conducts free workshops where she teaches basic guitar skills and songwriting techniques to local teens. These sessions often include discussions about cultural identity and how traditional knowledge can inform contemporary artistic expression.
“Music saved me during some really hard times,” Woodbridge explains as we sit outside her tour van. “When I was dealing with bullying at school and feeling disconnected from my culture, writing songs helped me find my voice. I want other kids to have that same outlet.”
According to the First Peoples’ Cultural Council, Indigenous language and cultural programming for youth has shown significant benefits for mental health outcomes. Their 2022 report indicates participants in such programs report a 40% increase in cultural pride and a 35% decrease in feelings of isolation.
Dr. Sarah Wilson, an Indigenous health researcher at the University of British Columbia, says initiatives like Woodbridge’s tour represent an important approach to youth wellbeing.
“We’re seeing a renaissance of Indigenous arts that’s being led by young people themselves,” Wilson notes. “These peer-to-peer connections are particularly powerful because they validate Indigenous identities in ways that external programming often can’t achieve.”
For Woodbridge, who balances her music career with online schooling, the tour represents more than just artistic expression—it’s about healing historical wounds through cultural connection.
In Williams Lake, I watch as she sits cross-legged on the floor with a circle of teens, showing them how to translate their personal stories into lyrics. One shy 13-year-old boy shares a verse about his grandfather teaching him to fish. By the end of the two-hour workshop, the group has collaboratively written a song that honors their shared experiences while acknowledging their diverse tribal backgrounds.
“My dad always told me our songs are medicine,” Woodbridge tells the circle. “When we sing together, we’re healing not just ourselves but our ancestors too.”
The tour hasn’t been without challenges. In early April, the van broke down on a remote stretch of Highway 16, leaving the small crew stranded for hours. Then there was the weekend when Woodbridge battled a severe cold but insisted on performing anyway.
“I couldn’t cancel,” she says, sipping tea with honey to soothe her throat. “Some of these kids traveled two hours to see the show. That responsibility matters more than feeling comfortable.”
The BC Arts Council has recently expanded its support for Indigenous youth arts initiatives, providing $2.5 million in funding for programs that center cultural reclamation through artistic expression. Woodbridge’s tour received partial funding through this initiative, though most of the support comes from Indigenous-owned businesses and community donations.
“What’s beautiful about Mya’s approach is that she’s creating sustainability,” says Jordan Greene of the BC Arts Council. “She’s not just performing—she’s building capacity in communities by teaching skills that will remain long after the tour ends.”
At a recent stop in Kamloops, three generations of women from one family attended Woodbridge’s performance. Elder Louise Sampson, 78, wiped tears as she watched her granddaughter join Woodbridge on stage.
“In my lifetime, we weren’t allowed to practice our ceremonies or sing our songs,” Sampson told me. “Seeing these young ones so proud of who they are—it heals something deep inside me.”
As the tour enters its final weeks, Woodbridge is already planning her next project: a full-length album featuring collaborations with Indigenous youth she’s met on the road. She’s also been invited to perform at the National Indigenous Music Awards in Australia next year.
“I never expected any of this when I posted my first video,” she says, watching the sunset from a lookout point near Merritt. “I was just a kid who loved singing. Now I understand it’s about something much bigger than me.”
The “Roots Rising” tour will conclude with a community celebration concert in Woodbridge’s home territory of Lheidli T’enneh on May 30th, featuring performances by tour workshop participants from across the province.
As we part ways, Woodbridge shares one last thought: “My kookum always says that our songs never really die; they just wait for the right person to sing them again. I think maybe that’s what all of us young Indigenous artists are doing—we’re helping our ancestors’ songs find their way back into the world.”
