Born and raised in distant, isolated Cambridge Bay (Iqaluktuuttiaq), Tagaq faced from an early age the socio-political and economic depredations imposed upon indigenous peoples. “We’ve been forced into an economic society by the government, who placed us in communities so that Canada could claim the Northwest Passage for its mineral, water, and land rights,” she said in December during an onstage conversation at National Sawdust, after participating in a live-scored screening of We Breathe Again, a documentary detailing cycles of trauma and suicide among Alaska Natives.

“To be unable to reap the benefit of our own renewable natural resources,” Tagaq continued, “means that we’re impoverished.” The impact of that situation, compounded by a growing number of servicemen returning from active military duty suffering from PTSD, has led to an epidemic of suicide, and to women faced with mortal peril. “My daughters and I are four times more likely to die by murder than any other racial demographic in Canada,” she stated in December. “And it’s our lives that we’re paying with. It’s our mothers, our fathers, people we care about.”

Developing her vocal style, then, was less an urge to innovate than a desperate need to communicate in a manner anyone might comprehend. “I found that the more I throat-sang, the more healing it was,” Tagaq said, “and people were leaving the audience knowing what it felt like to be an indigenous woman—knowing the feeling of it.” Using song as the vehicle for her message, she explained, “I’m able to be an advocate for the safety of indigenous women in particular, and women in general.”

Her goal, she said, was to equip listeners, especially young ones, with tools for coping. “I just find it incredibly important to be able to express the joy and wonder of being alive,” she said, “and also how to deal with this sensitivity of wanting to commit suicide sometimes. It’s a very sensitive thing—but very tangible, and precious.”