In 1928, a government official predicted Canada would end its "Indian problem" within two generations. Church-run, government-funded residential schools for native children were supposed to prepare them for life in white society. But the aims of assimilation meant devastation for those who were subjected to physical, sexual and emotional abuse. Decades later, aboriginal people began to share their stories and demand acknowledgement of — and compensation for — their stolen childhoods. [From the CBC]
Canada has been and is much lauded and admired by other nations for varying reasons: our inclusive nature, our attempts at reconciliation between foes, our social progressiveness, our role as peacekeepers. But there remains an enormous stain on our history, one that only recently has seen any attempts at remedy. Of course I speak of the horrific Residential Schools of the early 20th century.
Within these schools abducted Native children were forced to speak English; any use of their birth tongue was harshly and swiftly "corrected" with beatings and deprivation. The children were all forced to adopt "good, white, Christian names," and they were to dress and act as whites did. In other words, they were forced to abandon their culture, turn their backs on their heritage.
Some years ago I watched a movie on the CBC (Where the Spirit Lives) that followed a young Native girl and her little brother at one of these schools. A scene that burned itself into my mind was that of a Mountie (in Stetson and Red Serge) walking away from the camera down a long corridor with the young boy next to him. The protagonist's little brother was being taken away because of "bad behaviour," behaviour that was culturally normal for the natives, but considered deviant by the white authorities. What struck me was that Mounties should be seen holding the hand of and protecting a young child.
Much has been written about the horrific sexual, physical and mental abuse that took place --and were tacitly sanctioned-- in those schools, so I won't repeat what far better scholars than myself have already uncovered and expressed. I do want to touch on a facet that I think many overlook as they rush through the facts that, as horrific as they may be, may be difficult to embrace for what they are.
A poignant letter to the editor in today's newspaper vividly describes what it is that so many of us don't really think about. These children were torn from the arms of loving mothers and fathers. Those of you who are parents, imagine: your child is forcibly taken from you by strangers who claim authority over you, and your child is placed in a cage on a cart, all the while crying, screaming and reaching for you, even as the cart is driven away, never to be seen by you again. This happened to every native family that the authorities knew about. The depth and breadth of this emotional agony is beyond imagining. As a parent, I don't even have the words to begin describing what this would do to me.
This story is still very relevant, because many of those same children abducted in the name of God and the white man's burden remain alive today, alive despite our best efforts to crush them. I, myself, had nothing to do with the residential schools, but that doesn't mean I should just disregard the pain that was and is still felt. If nothing else, the Natives of Canada should know that this particular Canadian thinks what was done to them and their families was reprehensible, foul and unforgiveable, and that I support them on their path to healing. So should every other Canadian. And every other human.
 |
