C/O Dulcey Lima
Being aware of Canada’s historical atrocities helps one understand why Indigenous people can’t just “get over it”
By: Kimia Tahaei, Contributor
cw: suicide, abuse, violence, drug use
Time after time, we hear non-Indigenous individuals criticize the Indigenous community with demands to get over it and move on. Although it is seemingly perspicuous why the community cannot simply move past the decades of cultural erasure, mass genocide and racial discrimination, I will provide an even deeper insight in this article in hopes of educating the few.
Imagine being discriminated against on your land and then being forced to absorb the colonizer's culture. Not only was the land of Indigenous peoples strategically stripped away from them, but so was their culture, language and children. Since land confiscation was seemingly not enough, they are racially profiled and systemically discriminated against up to the present time. Taking into further consideration barbaric acts such as forcefully seizing children into the residential school system and coercing adults into working for plantations, it is naive to assume that long-term trauma doesn't form as a result.
Fred Kelly, a citizen of the Ojibways of Onigaming of the Anishinaabe Nation and an IRS survivor, described his experience as “agonizing”. In his writings in The Confessions of a Born Again Pagan, Kelly describes how the residential school system would brainwash young Indigenous children into shame and guilt because of their language, traditions and cultural practices. Kelly was taken away from his parents at a young and vulnerable age, had his hair cut as a symbol of cultural confiscation and faced physical abuse in numerous encounters. I wonder if colonizers ever saw the irony of committing these merciless acts against defenceless children and yet convincing them that they were the savage ones and in need of civilization.
Taking a deeper psychological dive, after centuries of exploitation and experiencing European standards of right and wrong, it’s unsurprising that some Indigenous individuals questioned whether the Europeans were truly superior and how this societal hierarchy has remained constant through time. It is wholly unacceptable how the colonizers set themselves as a standard of success and have judged everything by that standard to this day.
Not only does this haunt Indigenous individuals who directly experienced this trauma in their lifetime, but it can also be passed on to subsequent generations. The transmission of this type of trauma caused by oppressive historical events is defined as intergenerational trauma. Although the mechanisms of transmission of intergenerational trauma are still unclear to scientists, the data is definite. According to the Aboriginal Peoples Survey, children and grandchildren of those who attended the residential schools were more likely to report signs of psychological distress, attempt suicide, experience learning difficulties and participate in drug use. Furthermore, with many Indigenous people living in rural and isolated areas, individuals have minimum access to mental health resources. Therefore, since the Indigenous community cannot approach their grief easily, historical traumatization and cultural dislocation, it becomes increasingly difficult to simply get over it.
I strongly believe that through historical education, the stigmatization of the Indigenous community can be altered if non-Indigenous individuals truly understand the depths of trauma that they have faced in all stages of life.
How McMaster observed the first official National Day for Truth and Reconciliation
C/O Marcus Urbenz, Unsplash
On Sept. 30, the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation was observed across the country. Meant to acknowledge the tragic legacy of the residential school system and honour those who were and are impacted by it, the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation became a federal statutory holiday in June 2021 and was celebrated for the first time in September. Although it is a federal statutory holiday, it is not recognized as a statutory holiday by numerous provinces, including Ontario.
At McMaster University, this day was observed through a series of events on campus. Katelyn Knott, coordinator of Indigenous-focused events at McMaster, explained the significance of these events.
“As part of the Orange shirt campaign, we did a commemoration event at the beginning of the day, which included a sacred fire, some drummers and dancers. The drum group was called Spirit Vision and they’re a local Hamilton group. We put this on to commemorate the uncovering of Indigenous children at residential schools as well as acknowledging [Phyllis Webstad],” said Knott.
A survivor of the residential school system, Phyllis Webstad founded Orange Shirt Day in 2013, as a way to acknowledge the history and legacy of residential schools in Canada. As of this year, Orange Shirt Day became officially recognized as the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation.
“[This was] significant because music and dance is a great way for Indigenous people to come together to celebrate, to honour or to heal each other. And so we did that and we invited the McMaster community to join in with us for some teachings and some honoring,” explained Knott.
Knott also discussed how on National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, many Indigenous faculty and staff members at McMaster called on the community to take steps towards reconciliation.
Despite the on-campus events that acknowledged the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, classes and tests continued to operate at McMaster. While instructors had the option to cancel their classes or to use their classes for relevant discussion, they also had the ability to continue classes and assessments as usual.
One on-campus event, A Conversation about Indigenous Inclusion, was originally scheduled to take place on Sept. 28 but was cancelled on Sept. 27. This event, organized by McMaster's Equity and Inclusion Office and Indigenous Link, was advertised as a discussion about how to best include Indigenous peoples in the workplace.
On Sept. 24, the Cooperative of Indigenous Students Studies and Alumni at McMaster published an Instagram post calling for the cancellation of this event. In their post, CISSA highlighted the lack of on-campus Indigenous voices included in the planning of this event, the questions about identity raised by the description of the speaker as having Métis ancestors and the focus on Indigenous inclusion rather than self-determination.
“[F]rom Indigenous perspectives, the idea of ‘identity and inclusion is highly problematic. Grounded in a [World Health Organization] Commission, Indigenous peoples have largely rejected a social inclusion framework — our goal is to self-determine,” CISSA stated.
When the Silhouette reached out to the Equity and Inclusion Office to discuss the cancellation of this event, they declined to interview.
When discussing McMaster’s approach to reconciliation and support for Indigenous peoples, Knott expressed appreciation for the services available on campus.
“They have so many different programs, so many different initiatives and supports. In my time as an undergraduate and graduate at McMaster University, they were foundational to my success. If folks are looking for support or just a sense of belonging, [I really encourage] that they reach out to Indigenous Student Services and Indigenous studies program,” said Knott.
Adrienne Xavier, director of the Indigenous studies program, noted that McMaster’s Indigenous studies program has been in place for a long time and as a result, McMaster is somewhat ahead of other universities in their reconciliation efforts.
“There were a lot of movements that have been made, but those were things that McMaster chose to do before the TRC. They didn’t need to be asked by the government; they were asked by Indigenous communities,” said Xavier.
However, Knott also highlighted that there is much more progress to be made.
“[Regarding] the dialogue that we're having as Indigenous people with the institution, I think that there are definite positive parts and positive people. But we can always do better,” said Knott.
In discussing how McMaster can continue to take steps towards reconciliation, Knott emphasized the need for more Indigenous staff and faculty members.
“Indigenous staff and faculty do really incredible work and are overburdened by the demands that are put on Indigenous people,” explained Knott.
Xavier emphasized that reconciliation is a long process, but that the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation has opened a wider conversation about Indigenous affairs. For many individuals, Xavier explained, the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation is their first introduction to this conversation.
“We aren't a problem. At the end of the day, Indigenous people have history in this country, but we aren't an issue. We aren't a problem to be solved. We are people to be celebrated. We are people to be acknowledged. We are histories that have to be understood,” said Xavier.
By: Drew Simpson
Without any lights on in L. R. Wilson’s Black Box theatre, it can be a dark void and clean slate waiting to be molded. Three school chairs sat staggered, two up front and one centered and backwards. On the attached desk were three dark-red bricks formed into a cross.
The chairs sat in front of three projector screens, one facing forward and the other two diagonally placed to enclose the space. A quote by John A. Macdonald calling for industrial boarding schools sat on the main screen. Projected images of the Mohawk Institute Indian Residential School portrayed different rooms onto the screens.
The Mush Hole performance is a reckoning to express the depths of tormented realities faced within the Mohawk Institute without traumatizing members of the audience with lived experience. The project aims to respond to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s Call to Action.
Of the five characters, each represents a survivor’s story. They each have names, or as the Mohawk Institute identified children with, a number. Number 48 and 29 were Ernest and Mabel who met at the residential school and became father and mother respectively to number 34 and 17, Walter and Grace. The fifth character is number 11, the girl without a name or family, as she was a runaway from the Institute.
After some brief introductions by the director of Indigenous studies at McMaster and by Santee Smith, the artist producer of the Mush Hole Project, the lights that allowed the audience to find their seats dimmed into the darkness. And we, the audience, became part of the void as we watched their stories.
The show started with choking. Everyone was constantly choking because they were constantly silenced by the Institution. Another constant was starvation, as one scene clearly projected the mush they ate. At first it resembled oatmeal, but that breakfast dish does not call for maggots. The maggot-infested mush was all the children ate in the Institution, inspiring the name given to the institution by survivors as well as the title of the performance.
While the characters were often all within the same room together, they moved in lonesome. Often the characters mimicked trying to hug each other but never being able to actually touch the other person as if a force field blocked them.
There was an incessant longing to comfort one another which sadly was retaliated with violence. This violence was conveyed upon themselves in the form of slapping their own hands away, scrubbing at themselves or even upon each other as the children fought.
Smith explained that in such a prison-like atmosphere, survival and self-preservation become priorities over human connection. Agonizingly, all I could do was sit and watch siblings Water and Grace constantly reject each other’s tried comfort or condolences. Even when Walter needed it the most trapped inside a boiler room.
The introduction to Walter’s solo was a visual backdrop and sounds of steam and other sounds to set the tone of the boiler room. As every character had a solo in a specific room, this solo was gutting. He danced as if trying to escape and to stop whoever was stripping him. The solo was suggestive, but it was the fear, guilt and trauma in his eyes and his hands as they reached out during his dance that communicated he was being abused.
Every person suffered in the Institute. The girl labelled number 11, was lucky enough to run away, but it was suggested she did not fully escape. At the end of her solo, the screen showed her laid in the snow, her hair covering her face.
In another scene Mabel and Ernest sat at their kitchen table, playing popular 1950s music as Ernest drank and Mabel carefully pushed the chairs under the table, tapping at imaginary heads and smiling. Sometimes she motioned to spoon-feed the imaginaries in their seats. Ernest pulled and shoved the chairs away, urging Mabel to drink.
In the inescapable prison, Grace used her taught Christianity to cope. In one scene she loudly sang a gospel as number 11 and Walter rumbled and choked in their seats.
The show communicated multi-faceted torment, discussed the ideas of identity, self-hatred, inter-generational trauma, abuse and overall the effect of such a prison-like system that was the Mush Hole. Above all, it was conjoined stories of resilience for surviving every room and every lock and key.
[spacer height="20px"][thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]