Honoring the 215 children

I wrote this post a few weeks ago, before the passing of our sweet Belle, and just hadn't published it on my blog yet. Belle was so present and so loving every time that I had been sad or crying over the past 15+ months... she would just come and sit on my shoulder, sometimes nuzzle into my neck, and often drink up the tears that were running down my face. It was the sweetest act of love from a bird.

She was there, sitting on my shoulder, while I was crying over the discovery of the mass grave. She had been so quiet and so still that I hadn't even realized that she was there until afterwards. I only realized after she was gone how much loving Belle had affected other areas of my life and taught me so much about loving others. I think that Belle would still want me to honor the memory of those children by publishing this post. 💞

*****

The discovery in May of a mass, unmarked and forgotten grave at the former site of the Kamloops Residential School in BC that contained the remains of 215 Indigenous children shook the nation, and so it should have. 215 innocent children who were taken forcefully from their parents and who never returned home. 215 sets of parents who never knew what had happened to their children.

Since I heard the horrific news, I have been really struggling to process it. The residential school system was not a means to educate the Indigenous, it was a government- and church-sanctioned effort to essentially "beat the Indian out of the child". It was cultural genocide. We cannot even say that it is part of Canada's history because, here we are, 25 years after the closing of the last residential school in Saskatchewan, still dealing with the traumatic effect of those "schools".

As I have been reading articles on the discovery of the mass grave and on the residential school system, the reality that the last residential school closed in my generation finally hit me. I graduated from high school in 1994. The last residential school closed in 1996. That means that the oldest of those who had been in that particular school would now be about my age and that the youngest would now be in their late 20's or early 30's, probably about the age of my youngest brother who was born in 1991. I don't even know how to process that realization... the residential schools were and are a dark, troubling and disturbing part of my generation, not just those of my parents or grandparents or great grandparents.

A couple of years ago, through work, I took a series of online training courses on Indigenous Awareness and Indigenous Cultural Safety. Through those courses, I finally learned about the history of the Indigenous people in Canada, including the residential school system, and their current lived realities... important parts of the Canadian story that I had never been taught by our education system. The courses also opened my eyes to the stereotypes, biases and prejudices that I had applied to Indigenous people my entire life out of a complete lack of knowledge and understanding. If I'm honest, it was shocking and disturbing to complete those courses, but I needed to be shocked and disturbed so that the blinders could be taken off of my eyes and so that I could finally see clearly.

As a non-Indigenous person whose ancestors are from Europe, i.e., the ones who took the land from the Indigenous and tried to assimilate them, what do I do now? I have been considering a lot how I can now honor and remember the 215 children whose lives were stolen from them, as well as all those who survived the residential schools but are still dealing with the traumatic impact of their experiences, and be an active participant in the reconciliation that we have been called to walk through together as a nation.

In the fall of 2020, through the College in Ontario that I am attending online through Distance Education, I had the opportunity to participate virtually in Orange Shirt Day as well as a beading workshop. Over the past five months, I have had the opportunity to participate in a number of virtual group discussions with Indigenous authors and other people from the College, both staff and students. Through one of my courses, I was able to get to know and participate in a group project with a classmate who is First Nations. Some of the people I've met have become my friends and we've kept in touch. One of these individuals told me afterwards that she had cried and held her two children so tightly after she had heard the news about the discovery of the grave.

Reading about the discovery of the mass grave shook me to the very core of my being. I have probably felt a very minuscule amount of the pain that was felt by the Indigenous community and yet it has been overwhelming. I responded in ways that I could think of at the time, and yet it seemed so inadequate. I changed my profile photo to include the Every Child Matters logo. I wore an orange shirt on May 31 (and most of the week, actually). I started reading the copy of the book "In My Own Moccasins: A Memoir of Resilience" by Helen Knott that I received a few months ago.

On June 3, the College held a virtual sharing circle for staff and students to collectively grieve and to process their emotions. I participated in the sharing circle and, because it was a safe place to be real, felt compelled to share my thoughts with the group. I surprised myself with the tears that I cried and the emotions, thoughts and feelings that I finally let out. I am now slowly learning how to process what I am feeling and to begin to express the depths of it.

One of the articles that I read recently talked about learning whose land you live on, so I looked it up. We live in Montreal (Tiohti:áke) on the traditional territory of the Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) people. Montreal was also a diplomatic meeting place with other Iroquoians and Algonquians including Algonquin-Anishinaabe, Atikamekw, and Huron-Wendat. (Segal Centre for Performing Arts) But simply knowing on whose land I live is not enough... I know that I need to actually do something about it.

On the website of the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, I found this list of actions that non-Indigenous people can take to participate in reconciliation, either as individuals or as organizations. The list is under "Reflection and resources", following the listing of the Indigenous films. Other than doing what I have already done and writing this blog post, I have found two concrete and constructive actions that I can take in the near future as an individual. 

First, the Canadian Museum for Human Rights' website references the website of Circles for Reconciliation, which is an organization that has a mission to "establish trusting, meaningful relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples as part of the 94 Calls to Action from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission". The organization aims to fulfill its mission by facilitating discussion circles, which are small gatherings of an equal number of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, that are free of charge and open to anyone who is interested in participating. I've signed up to participate in the next virtual or in-person discussion circle that is available.

Second, on the land acknowledgement page of the Segal Centre's website, I saw a link for Native Montreal, which is an organization with the mission "to contribute to the holistic health, cultural strength and success of Indigenous families, individuals, and community living in the greater Montreal area". There are opportunities for non-Indigenous people to volunteer with the organization, so I signed up for the next information session. I don't know how or when it will take place because of the pandemic, but hopefully it will be soon.

I am studying to work in Human Resources (HR) and, even before the shocking discovery of the mass grave, I had become deeply interested in the human rights aspects of HR, including equity, diversity and inclusion, and in increasing the representation of minority groups, including Indigenous people, in the workplace. I don't know what that will look like in the years to come, but I do know that it is time for me to actively participate in reconciliation.

Our sweet Belle -- March 21, 2019 to June 9, 2021

Our sweet little Belle passed away yesterday, very suddenly and unexpectedly. 💔 Hal and I are completely devastated and totally heartbroken. 😭

From the very first photo that I saw of her on our friend's Facebook page, I knew that she had personality and character and spunk that well exceeded her small size, and she lived that out right until the very last day of her life.

She was deeply loved and cherished by us every single day, and she loved us deeply in return. She had the sweetest ways of saying "I love you" to both of us.

The silence in our home is deafening and overwhelming without her constant chatter and activity.

Rest in peace, our sweet little Belle, our "squeaky monkey" and our "baby birdie". We both love and miss you so very much. We can't believe that we will never again hear you say a hundred times a day "what are you doing", "monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey, monkeeeyyy", and all of the hilarious combinations of words that you came up with.

These are a few of our favorite photos of her. The first one at about one month old, the second at about one year old, and the third from just a month ago.

April 19, 2019

March 5, 2020

May 7, 20217

Oh my goodness, she was so precious that it breaks our hearts that she is gone... 💔

Do you know the signal?

Hal came home from work one day a few weeks ago and recounted to me a sobering incident that had taken place at work that day. About five minutes before the store closed, a woman and her husband went in to renew her prescription. As the woman was standing at the counter talking to the pharmacist, and while her husband stood just a few feet behind her, she did four times the domestic violence hand signal for help. The pharmacist didn't immediately understand the hand signal but knew that he needed to figure it out before dispensing the prescription, so he told the woman that he would need a few minutes to review her file.

At the time, Hal was in the pharmacy completing one of his end-of-the-day tasks and was standing in a place that gave him a clear view of the woman and the hand signal. He had seen information about the hand signal on Instagram, so he was pretty sure that he knew what the woman was saying. Once the pharmacist had sat down at another computer, away from the view of the woman and her husband and with a perplexed look on his face, Hal walked over to him and quietly asked him if he knew what the hand signal meant. The pharmacist said that he didn't know, so Hal told him what he thought that it meant. They quickly googled it and realized that it did in fact mean that the woman was asking for help as a victim of domestic violence. The pharmacist called the assistant manager of the store, explained the situation, and was instructed to call 9-1-1 immediately.

Five minutes after the pharmacist called 9-1-1, three police cars arrived at the store from different directions, without lights or sirens, and six police officers were let into the store through the exit door (the store had closed for the evening, so the front doors were already locked). It doesn't feel appropriate to share the details of what happened next, so I will just say that the police officers made sure that the woman received medical attention and safe shelter.

The Montreal police clearly do not take the issue of domestic violence lightly, which is reassuring to know given the effect that the pandemic has had in that respect. The context that the pandemic lockdowns have created is deadly for victims of domestic violence, essentially trapping them and their children in their homes with their abusers.

As the pharmacist and the assistant manager were completing incident reports for both the police and the store, the pharmacist had to sit down and take a few breaths as he tried to process what had just happened. Since he hadn't immediately known what the hand signal meant, he also resolved to discuss the incident with the store owners and to make sure that, going forward, all the pharmacists and pharmacy technicians know what it means and how to respond. At the same time, the assistant manager called a meeting of the rest of the staff who were working at the time, explained what had happened and why the police were called, and made sure that everyone knows what the hand signal means and what they should do if they ever see someone do it.

When Hal came home and told me what had happened, I had to admit that I didn't know what the hand signal meant either and had no idea what one should do in that situation. We googled it and found this website that explains what to do if you see the hand signal: https://canadianwomen.org/signal-for-help/.

Would you recognize the hand signal? Do you know how to help someone who is a victim of domestic violence and is asking for help? If not, take the time to check out that website. I am so thankful that the pharmacist didn't dismiss the hand signal simply because he didn't understand it and that he found a way to stall and keep the woman and her husband in the store long enough for the police to arrive. I shudder to think of what could have happened if the woman had simply left the store to go back home with her husband.