We need to talk.
We need to
talk because I’m pissed off, sick, and sad.
About a week
ago, I first heard about Canada’s unearthed tragedy. I’ve been processing it, grieving it, and
researching it ever since.
The remains
of 215 children were discovered in a mass, unmarked grave on the grounds of a
former residential school in BC.
I’m sure you’ve
read or heard about this news, but can we just let the horror of it sink in for
a minute?
The remains –
The remains
of CHILDREN –
The remains
of children in a MASS, UNMARKED grave…
These are words
and these are realities that should never be strung together. These are words and realities that make me
feel sick and deeply deeply sad.
I hope you
feel the same way.
I hope you
are upset, sickened, and disturbed.
The remains
of these children were found buried on the grounds of a residential school and
the more I learn about these schools, the more I realize they are a macabre
part of Canada’s dirty, dark, sinister past.
Residential
schools were established to forcibly convert Indigenous youth to Catholicism or
Protestantism as well as assimilate them into what the European settlers were
deciding was Canadian language, culture, and customs. The ultimate goal was to “kill the Indian” in
every child. The schools were federally
funded and church directed. They operated
from 1831 - 1996.
I was attending school during those last years. I graduated from High School in 1996, but the teaching techniques at my school were nothing like those used at the residential schools.
Children attending the residential schools were forcibly removed from their families and everything that was familiar. They endured beatings, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, and rape. According to the Department of Indian Affairs (1907 report), 90-100% of children suffered physical, emotional, or sexual abuse and there was a 40-60% mortality rate.
Now, my school
had the strap hanging in the principal’s office where it hung ready to smack
any errant student. I even remember
being slapped full across the face by a teacher in front of my entire class,
but our school NEVER ever had a mortality rate.
And the more
I learn about these residential schools, the more I realize how much I DON’T
KNOW. I did NOT learn about the
residential schools and their attempts at Indigenous cultural genocide. I was too busy going to my private, Christian
school where I was allowed to maintain any custom carried over from my dutch
motherland. No one took me away from my parents, beat me,
sexually assaulted me, despised me or tried to “kill the Dutch” in me.
I asked my husband if he remembers learning about the
residential schools. He did not. His first exposure was through the 2016 album
released by The Tragically Hip called “The Secret Path”, a 10-song album dedicated
to the story of Chanie Wenjack, a 12 year old Anishinaabe boy who had run away
from a residential school in 1969 in Kenora, Ontario. Chanie died attempting to walk the 600km home.
I asked several friends if they learned about the residential
schools. One remembered two short paragraphs
in a thick history tome. That’s it.
My son, however, knew about the schools. “We learned about them in our history class
last year,” he told me. I threw up my
hands and rejoiced. Good!
WE NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS.
In the words of Martin Luther King Jr., “Nothing in the world
is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”
Let’s not be part of the danger or part of the problem.
Let’s not be ignorant any longer.
In light of this, I will be dedicating several days to researching,
educating, and calling myself (and you, if you want to join me) to action.
My friends, let’s keep talking.
#womenencouragers #nomoreignorance #residentialschools #grievingourpast
#letstalk
No comments:
Post a Comment