Image: The Mohawk Institute, a residential school located near Six Nations of the Grand River in Ontario
The Pain No One Sees
When I heard the news about the discovery of 215 children buried near the Kamloops Indigenous Residential School, I was horrified, sickened and in disbelief.
As my incredibly supportive friends and co-workers reached out to ask me how I was doing, I struggled with what I should say.
I am hurting.
My heart is absolutely shattered knowing the trauma this has caused the family, friends and communities affected by residentials schools, and the little lives that were lost.
Part of me is confused. How could a country mandate genocide and how could a church and individuals inflict such devastating pain on anyone because of their heritage. Let alone children.
And part of me is angry. I am angry that so many children and families had to endure such horrific experiences and that the state was supportive. Angry that they were taken from their families and robbed of their culture, robbed of their relationships and robbed of a normal life. Angry that the legacy of residential schools continues to impact us to this day.
I’ve never been one to openly share my emotions and pain. It’s not the way I was raised. It’s not the way many Indigenous Peoples were raised due to the lasting impacts of residential schools.
The children from Indigenous communities who attended these schools where faced with constant pain: physical, sexual and mental abuse, starvation, neglect.
To cope, they had to be numb. They had to be strong. They had to be resilient.
Any falter would be a sign of weakness that could be preyed upon. Any hesitation could be the difference between survival and death.
This coping mechanism continues through intergenerational trauma.
Because of this, when my peers would check-in, I would share my thanks and appreciation with a “I’m doing okay”.
I wasn’t ready to share what I was feeling. I needed time to process on my own. And I am NOT okay.
Although I was unable to visit the discovery site in B.C., my family and I visited The Mohawk Institute, a residential school located near our home of Six Nations of the Grand River in Ontario, to pay our respects.
We were met with a tribute of children’s shoes placed at the entrance of the school. As I looked across the little shoes lined up along the steps, I found myself thinking, “They’re so tiny, my 1-year-old nephew could fit some of these.”
My stomach dropped and my heart became heavy all over again.
What if my nephew had been stolen from my family? Or my sister? Or my cousins? What if I was separated from my family, not knowing if I’d ever see them again?
I continued to walk across the property and began to wonder how many undocumented graves are beneath my feet.
My great-great-grandmother was a residential school survivor. What if she had been one of the 215 children? Then my great-grandmother, my grandpa, my mother, my aunt, my sister, my cousins, my nephew and I would not be here today. In one instant, five generations could have been eliminated.
I am incredibly fortunate to be born in a time after residential schools were closed and I am even more fortunate to have ancestors who were so incredibly brave and strong. My own ancestors who faced genocide and survived.
So, to the former students of residential schools, I say this:
Nothing can make up for the loss of lives, childhoods and the lasting impacts you and your families are still experiencing today.
I will stand strong for you. I will keep the traditions you were punished for, alive. I will continue to educate others about the painful truths of our history. And, I will honour your legacy.
I will fight for you, and future generations. Fight for justice against the pain you endured and fight against the racism and inequality we still face today.
And I will stand proudly.
Despite everything done in attempt to silence us, to strip us of our language and culture, we are still here today and we can be proud of that.
Through this article, our insider Dominique Bomberry wanted to provide her perspective. There is a hidden truth that needs to be seen. Needs to be addressed. Needs to be spoken about. The devastating events have already resulted in tragedy for many and it is time that they see justice and together fight against inequality in a country that should embrace diversity in culture.
Content provided by Dominique Bomberry
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