How we situate ourselves in a given space is vital to identity; how we frame history and ongoing circumstances is the work we, as academics, students, allies and visitors alike, need to consider in shaping the evolving story of Canada.
Amiskwaciwâskahikan (Beaver Hills House/ Edmonton) has always been a hub for First Nations, Metis and Inuit Peoples. It’s been the meeting ground for our peoples for generations; similar to the U of A there is a rich exchange of culture where we foster innovative ideas and pursue meaningful change.
Alberta Provincial Archives, via CBC
Did you know: It’s been 193 years since the opening of the first church-run Indian Residential School in what is now known as Canada?
Did you know: the last federally funded Indian Residential School closed in 1997?
Residential Schools were created with the intention to Rid of the Indian problem and Kill the Indian in the Child; they were federally enforced and led to varying degrees of intergenerational trauma, which still affects families, communities and individuals to this day. Orange Shirt Day is important to me as both my parents attended Indian Residential School and Indian Day School; I am categorized as a second-generation survivor linked to my parents' direct suffering in the Indian Residential School System.
Grade Eight Class
Orange Shirt Day isn’t about performative actions and Indigenous representation; it’s a day of remembrance for those whose lives were taken by the Indian Residential School System. In honouring and remembering the children whose innocence was stripped away, who lost intimate relationships with ceremony, language and family, we also hold the Government of Canada accountable for upholding and enforcing these in institutions on the lives of hundreds of thousands across Turtle Island.
As more research is being pursued and ground-penetrating radar searches are conducted on former sites, we find more and more unmarked graves, bodies of children who were sexually abused and desecrated and lost voices of children whose hopes were to return home – this is the legacy of Canada. I wear orange in honour of Phyllis Webstad’s story, I wear orange in support of my family and community, I wear orange for people who never heard “I love you” or had a birthday, I wear orange for the kids whose lives were taken simply because they weren’t white or Canadian enough and I wear orange to show Canadians we’re still here and we’re not going anywhere.
Intergenerational trauma can be felt throughout Turtle Island, it’s seen within our streets and alleyways, seen in our communities and homes, it's seen within our campuses and classrooms.
Young Jim Cardinal
My dad was my superman, he was my best friend and greatest teacher of all time, he loved and took care of us the best way he knew how. I remember this one time we were going for a ride in his “old chevy pony” heading to town for whatever, at the time I was very young and would hear discussions my older sister and dad would have regarding his time at Blue Quills Indian Residential School. I was merely a child and couldn’t understand what any of it meant but, on our trip, I decided to pursue my question: “Dad, what happened in Residential School?”
I remember seeing his face slowly go blank as both of his hands were on the wheel, it felt like an eternity of waiting which in actuality must’ve been one minute. I persisted once more and he snapped out of his trance-like state and would tell me stories of his youth playing sports with others, telling me how he was the fastest at hockey and soccer. But my favourite story he told me was when the boys were sleeping in their beds and suddenly a ray of orange light filled the room. Quickly the children jumped from their beds and rushed to the windows all trying to look at what was happening outside. What he saw was that the barn across the road had caught fire and you could hear the howling of the animals crying out as they slowly burned. He thought the world was ending because that was the same day President Kennedy was shot dead in Dallas, Texas.
As a young man I now understand why he chose those stories, compared to the stories he told my sister in private. He was protecting me from the real horror, the hurt of stories haunting him from his past inflicted by the staff. He alone ended that cycle of hurt by providing my sister and I with a home safe from those who’ve done wrong.
He himself gave us the childhood he never had, so I wear orange for him.
In loving memory of Jimmy N. Cardinal (Nov 2, 1953- Nov 10, 2018).
YouAlberta
