First Nations In Canada - A Time Of Reckoning For This Country
We can no longer turn a blind eye to the sins of our past and present.
The former Kamloops Indian Residential School is seen on Tk’emlups te Secwépemc First Nation in Kamloops, B.C., on May 27, 2021. The remains of 215 children have been found buried on the site, the First Nation said.(Andrew Snucins/The Canadian Press)
By Jamie Mah @grahammah
On Thursday, May 27th it was reported by the CBC that the bodies of 215 young children were found buried under a former residential school in Kamloops, BC. Some were as young as the age of three.
This news is tragic, heartbreaking and shameful.
As a Canadian, one with a small amount of Cree blood running through my veins, what this country did to the parents and families of these First Nations children is absolutely appalling. Separating them in an effort to cleanse the “Indian” within them is a horrendous black mark on our history as a country. The very notion that we’d even think to do something so heinous in order to brainwash them into becoming more anglo Canadian is beyond me. In what world did anyone think that this was a good idea? It wasn’t, and the stain of this on those who endured this type of racism will live on for generations. Nothing good came from this in any way.
But, sadly, it’s news stories like this which focus our attention as they force us to reckon and learn the depths of our own wickedness. I say sadly because it shouldn’t take a story of this magnitude to do this.
Canada is a multicultural country whose ethos is that of a peaceful nation. Very few places in the world are like ours and seldom live in harmony as we currently do. Yet, in spite of our success in treating the majority of people around us as we would want to be treated, we have this dirty little secret of shame with how we have and still handle those who came before us.
Residential schools, missing and murdered Indigenous women, high suicide rates, extreme poverty, malnutrition, boil water advisories are just some of the ills that First Nations peoples endure here in Canada. It’s unacceptable in every way. We’re a G7 country for goodness sakes. Boil water advisories? In this day and age? Come on.
The coronavirus pandemic has shown how far our governments will go for their citizens with regards to aid, but yet we still live in a country where we do very little for this subset of people.
What is it about First Nations that we are so afraid of?
This idea reminds me of when I was younger. I was driving in my step father’s car with my older brother. It was a hot day, not unlike most in sunny Saskatoon. We were cruising along when all of a sudden a police siren and light hit up behind us urging us to pull over. Confused as to why this was happening as we hadn’t been speeding or driving recklessly, my step father slowed and stopped at the nearest corner. The police car approached and parked behind us. A young officer got out of his car, walked up and knocked on our window. The tensions within were high. I could tell my brother was irritated and annoyed. Dick, my step father, rolled down the window and waited for the police officer to speak. I sat back and listened attentively. This was the first time I’d ever encountered a police officer. I was nervous.
The police officer then proceeded to ask for Dick’s drivers license and registration. He politely acquiesced and delivered without saying a word. My brother, however, couldn’t control himself. He leaned in and asked what were being stopped for? The officer ignored him. Annoyed, my brother asked once again. Still no response. This went on two more times until the officer leaned in and told my brother to be quiet and that he was performing a routine stop. This didn’t sit well with my brother and his emotions escalated. Throughout the exchange, Dick sat quietly until he put his hand on my brothers arm and told him to stop, that it was okay. It was tense and I was on pins and needles. The police officer eventually gave Dick back his belongings and let us be. The moment is vivid in my minds eye all these years later.
For context, Dick is Chinese. He’s five feet one inches tall. He has long black hair down to the middle of his back. It was the height of summer. He was quite tan. From a distance, he looked immensely First Nations. This stop had nothing to do with randomness. It was racial profiling. Our car was an old clunker and the area we were in, Riversdale, is heavily populated with First Nations. The officer knew what he was doing. So did we. Dick more so than any of us. This wasn’t the first time. He’d relay to us later as we drove home that stops such as this one happened weekly. Sometimes more than once. He was used to it. Had learned long ago to keep quiet. Say very little.
Again, what are we so afraid of?
Moving young children away from their families so that we could indoctrinate them was based purely on fear. First Nations were different than our European settlers. This presented a dilemma. Learn and accept the beauty of their culture or assimilate. We chose the latter and this decision has reverberated throughout our existence. The choices we’ve made have affected so many in ways I or you could never possibly understand or comprehend. I’m a white male. I’ll never know the depths of their pain or suffering at the hands of my ancestors and present day actors. How their actions and decisions have ripped at the fabric of what this country is. We will never be whole as a country until we grapple and deal with our racial biases towards First Nations peoples.
I repeat, we will never be whole as a country until we grapple and deal with our racial biases towards First Nations peoples.
There’s an irony which hit home when I read of this CBC report on Thursday. At the time I was in the middle of reading author Rutger Bregman’s most recent book, Humankind. It’s a hopeful distillation of his to show that humans are inherently good. That when faced to be good or bad, we more often than not are decent. One of the first stories he details is that of the the real Lord of the Flies. It’s a factual retelling of six young men who’d been stranded on a deserted island off the coast of New Zealand in 1971. The account is remarkable in that the boys do the opposite of William Golding’s 1954 best seller Lord of the Flies. It isn’t startling to learn of this opposing narrative of people doing a counter to what we’d normally expect. We see this type of behaviour all the time in our day-to-day lives. If an accident occurs, we jump to aid those affected, we don’t stand idle and watch as they struggle in pain and misery. We have love deep within us all and our hearts are often in the right place, except when it comes to the fear of the unknown.
Like many of us who woke up on Thursday to the horror of this residential school revelation, this atrocity wasn’t an isolated incident. The pain and suffering First Nations endure continues on to this day. It’s in us to care and demand justice and accountability. It’s in us to learn about our history and to strive to not be fearful of all First Nations. It’s in us to care about their plight and lives. It’s in us to love with empathy and compassion and want a better life for all Canadians. It’s in us to learn from our past sins and to be better for all of us. It’s in us to accept and love our First Nations brothers and sisters, because for far too long we’ve been doing the opposite, and that is a tragedy we’ll never recover from.
May those 215 souls RIP. My heart goes out to their families and all those affected by the residential school system.