My Thoughts on Truth and Reconciliation

I struggled a ton with what I’d write to add to the discussion around Truth and Reconciliation Day. I figured it might be best just to discuss from the heart and I’ll try to keep it short..er. Also I’ll point out that everyday we’re seeing AI generated content, not a single word of this will be generated using AI. I’m sure I’ll miss so much, but I’m happy to tell the story if you want to reach out and know more.

First, I’d like to say to all of the many non-Indigenous people taking part in activities today around Truth and Reconciliation, the non-Indigenous people that have reached out to me to ask questions about it’s meaning, and the many non-Indigenous people who are using this week and this day and everyday to learn more about the truth and history of residential schools and many of the other wrongdoings, I SEE YOU. I THANK YOU. I WELCOME YOU.

what it was like, what happened, and what things are like now

To tell MY story, I’ll use a format that I’ve learned through my alcoholic recovery. Something which, as those who know me personally, I am always happy to share so that my story hopefully can help others. I have been sober since April 4, 2006. In that time, I’ve told my story many times in a format that focuses on three aspects: what it was like, what happened, and what things are like now.? The exception today will be that I’ll explain it in terms of what it means to be Indigenous and what Truth and Reconciliation means to me.

What it was like?

I didn’t grow up on a reserve. I grew up in the city. My mother is Cree. She grew up in Saddle Lake. My mosom, her father, was a leader in the community. A very strong presence in her life. My Kokum, her mother, endured lots, never spoke much English, and was our, my mother and I, heart.

My mother attended Blue Quills school. I’ll let you look it up because my mother didn’t talk much about it, but on occasion I’d get a few stories like how she’d be beaten if she spoke Cree at school, which is consistent with every other story I’ve ever heard. Knowing my mother as I did, I can tell you that she was no pushover, she was the type that would fight back. I’m guessing many of the stories I didn’t hear were often battles of wills. So much she wouldn’t talk about.

My mother left the reserve behind to marry a non-Indigenous man when she was 18. She lost her status because of it. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the first man she married was abusive because that’s what she knew. Again, I could only piece together stories, but later in life, I could see the scars of that relationship and others. She gathered enough courage to leave him. That’s when she met my father. My father was kind and gentle in many aspects, much of what she would tell me later in life she admired about him. But he wasn’t faithful. So, she was young, a child survivor of residential school, and already had two unfortunate choices in marriage.

What happened?

When I was 4, she left us. I was devastated. She didn’t just leave me with my dad, she moved to another city. I had no idea what was going on. I remember the day my dad told me like it was yesterday. My mother didn’t do it because she didn’t love me. In fact, she did it BECAUSE she loved me. However, to this day, the trauma of that moment will haunt me for a long time.

It doesn’t take a PHD in psychology to understand that a woman that was beat as a child by the people who taught her, abused by the first man she met, experienced hatred and racism in a groundbreaking career (I left out that while with my Dad she graduated and served as one of the first Indigenous woman in the Saskatoon Police department 1978), told she was no longer an “Indian” because of who she married, and deceived by another man she loved, would switch to alcohol to numb her pain. That’s when she “left” me. This is part of the “Truth” part that I’ve come to realize.

What things are like now?

This is the part that I’ve come to deal with. My mother passed away almost 15 years ago with over 25 years of sobriety. While I lived primarily with my dad, I can thank my mother for the many Indigenous teachings she left me with. I would spend at least a month every summer in Saddle Lake and several times during the winter. I would spend my school vacations with her. But to be honest, deep down I never forgave her completely for not being there full time for me. Though I will say I was better off than many who’s parents had experienced the same.

There are many who couldn’t overcome what she did. Plus, she still experienced these challenges ALL through her life. She was an accomplished strong woman. She kept a clean house, she didn’t drink, she paid her bills, and yet later in life when she found herself looking to rent a home, she was turned away from the non-Indigenous neighbourhoods and could only find a rental unit in an Indigenous area.

My mother is a part of the Truth in Truth and Reconciliation. I am the next generation behind her. I am one of the lucky ones and I say it tongue-in-cheek because nothing would have been better for 4-year-old me than to have a loving mother beside me to raise me in my own house, but I’m lucky because so many of our community members aren’t so fortunate. Their parents didn’t make it out the same way. I can tell you it’s not because they didn’t have the will to do it. They never stood a chance.

So today I’m here, thankful for my community, proud to be Cree, but hurt for my mother and hurt because of the pain my mother endured, hurt for my community and what it’s endured. Added to that I struggle everyday with what it means to be Indigenous. I learn and read everyday to understand my community. I give back when I can. I measure wealth as knowledge and family. I take reconciliation seriously. It has so many meanings, but to me it means acknowledgment and healing.

Today I think about my mother. I want you to think about her. Remember her. Think about how you can help the survivors, their children, their communities. Think about small sacrifices you can make to help heal those who can’t escape the pain. Just take a moment to reflect on it. We are not far removed from the last school shutting down. Survivors are just today finding the courage to face what happened to them and some never will. Some survivor’s kids and grandchildren may never understand why their grandparents, or mother, or father are the way they are.

Start first with understanding the truth part and then reflect on how you can help reconciliation. You can’t change what’s been done, but you can help move forward.

I’ll finish by saying thank you again to all those people that are taking part in activities today, asking questions, and doing their part. It means something to me.

Hiy hiy