Things That Make Me Cry
I've been watching 8th Fire, a series on CBC about our relationship (or lack thereof) with Canada's First Nation peoples. It has been enlightening, informative and I've learned much.
A couple of weeks ago the episode concentrated on the residential schools. They showed old black and white photos of native children in classrooms. Row upon row of sad, lonely, scared little faces. I cried.
They showed an archeologist at St Mary's, the last residential school to close, talking about how they've found unmarked graves full of little bones. The children would sneak out at night in a desperate attempt to go home. Many got lost in the woods, and perished in the brutal Canadian winter. They were buried in unmarked graves. I cried.
Beatings, sexual abuse, and other molestations perpetuated on generation after generation of native children in a misguided attempt to "assimilate" them into European culture. Nuns and priests, pastors and teachers, not sparing the rod so as to not spoil the child. Its enough to make me cry.
So, how do we reconcile it? Does Canada's own version of a truth and reconciliation commission or Harper's apologize really cut it or is it too little, too late? Will financial compensation somehow assuage the grief or will it only contribute to the ongoing dependency that keeps aboriginal people down and ensnared? Or perhaps you're one of those people who thinks the adult survivors should just get over it? Now that would really make me cry.
The legacy of the residential school system is real, whether we want to own it or not. It's Canada's "elephant in the room". The trouble with an elephant in the room is that it craps...and the crap just keeps piling up until you do something about the elephant. But what? Maybe the Sto:lo have an answer....
Ironically, the day after I watched the episode, I received a claim...at St. Mary's. The Sto:lo nation now own the residential school that wounded the hearts of many of their children. They operate a healing centre, a dojo, two daycares and a native art centre there. What was once a place of trauma and loss is now a place of healing and transformation. That's one of those victorious, joyful things that makes me cry.
A couple of weeks ago the episode concentrated on the residential schools. They showed old black and white photos of native children in classrooms. Row upon row of sad, lonely, scared little faces. I cried.
They showed an archeologist at St Mary's, the last residential school to close, talking about how they've found unmarked graves full of little bones. The children would sneak out at night in a desperate attempt to go home. Many got lost in the woods, and perished in the brutal Canadian winter. They were buried in unmarked graves. I cried.
Beatings, sexual abuse, and other molestations perpetuated on generation after generation of native children in a misguided attempt to "assimilate" them into European culture. Nuns and priests, pastors and teachers, not sparing the rod so as to not spoil the child. Its enough to make me cry.
So, how do we reconcile it? Does Canada's own version of a truth and reconciliation commission or Harper's apologize really cut it or is it too little, too late? Will financial compensation somehow assuage the grief or will it only contribute to the ongoing dependency that keeps aboriginal people down and ensnared? Or perhaps you're one of those people who thinks the adult survivors should just get over it? Now that would really make me cry.
The legacy of the residential school system is real, whether we want to own it or not. It's Canada's "elephant in the room". The trouble with an elephant in the room is that it craps...and the crap just keeps piling up until you do something about the elephant. But what? Maybe the Sto:lo have an answer....
Ironically, the day after I watched the episode, I received a claim...at St. Mary's. The Sto:lo nation now own the residential school that wounded the hearts of many of their children. They operate a healing centre, a dojo, two daycares and a native art centre there. What was once a place of trauma and loss is now a place of healing and transformation. That's one of those victorious, joyful things that makes me cry.
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