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ORANGE SHIRT DAY – What it means to me
Orange Shirt Day is a day to for – Tribal People – to get together and acknowledge the damage of residential Schools. And perhaps to begin understand more personally the effects of Residential Schools on them and their family.
Residential were terrible experiences for all children and parents. These places were systemic colonizing institutions claiming to be “schools” of learning. In these “schools” Tribal children were forced to feel less-than their natural tribal self. And they were openly mistreated and bombarded with being ashamed of their color of their skin, their love and relationship with their mommy and daddy and their tribal way of life. In these institutions these children were innocent and defenseless. Our children were subjected to dehumanizing treatment.
So, Orange Shirt Day – It’s a day where we should begin to collectively acknowledge or hopefully BEGIN to understand the effects on our own lives. Sine we are all related – these effects go through our whole society; Can you see we see – feel these effects within you?
As individuals and as a society – we need to be willing to face the destructive inter-generational damage done. We must want to see the real lasting negative inter-generational effects of RESIDENTIAL schools and how we deal with it OR don’t deal with it. By the way I say Tribal People because I don’t use the name that mistakenly referred to us as “Indians”. So, Through reading, studying and sharing personal understanding we can become clearer about the effects and then we can be more prepared to deal apply the solution.
With this day as acknowledgement that it not a “celebration”. Orange Shirt Day must be a day marking all us to work towards becoming a healthier society – clear and accurate – sensible and acceptable in understanding what happened to us. And what is keeping too many of us stuck in dysfunctional living.
We can think about the beauty of our original way… and compare it to the degrading negative images and news stories of our tribal people throughout history – then we must acknowledge and nd understand and accept our individual responsibilities.
Each must include ones self. It is about me – all of us included. AND we can with honesty, dignity and integrity – deal with our own experiences that cause us disturbance still today
Each of us was and are affected. As a people – a race of people in this society.
Orange Shirt Day came about when a little Tribal child went to a residential school in 1973 – just 51 years ago. This little girl was dresses in an orange T-Shirt. She went “white school”. When the teacher saw her in orange T-Shirt- she was told to take it off. Not only was she told that she had to dress like everyone else. She was attacked and shamed about how she looked – how she was dressed. I say she attacked because she was a little vulnerable child – was alone and innocent – and attending “school”. Away from her family. Without anyone who could support her or defend her. Without anyone to speak for her. This was not just about her wearing an Orange Shirt… it was about breaking her inner confidence and belief in her family and her home to protect her.
I empathize with her. I remember the many scary, shaming times I had throughout my life. The effects of being bullied and shamed in my childhood by adults in charge.
I told explicitly how this came as a direct result my ethnicity – race. Shamed of my brown skin. This shaming hatred was clearly stated by “some” white people and they abused me because of this.
I share here a one of my disturbing experience that I had as little brown skinned child. When I was just 6 years old and in Grade 1 at Winnipeg’s NorthEnd school called Aberdeen Elementary School. This one of many traumatizing experiences happened to me. It was 1958 – It was early fall time (September) because there was this one little blond girl who was wearing a long white scarf around her neck… I remember it vividly because the baby goat began eating it as it dangled through coral fence. As the goat began eating it was tightening around this little white girls neck. Strangling her. I actually felt OK about it.
A few weeks prior I was selected from a pile of Winnipeg’s inner city childre going to be given art lessons. I was sent a letter to meet at the Winnipeg Art Gallery in downtown Winnipeg. Before leaving for Aunt Sally’s Farm at the Winnipeg City park all the selected ones gathered in the foyer of this great-huge institution. I was scared. And yet, I wanted to doing art – I loved it.
That Saturday morning I woke by myself… my parents and their friends drank all night. Me a little boy, woke up to bodies and beer bottles strewn all over every room. On the floor – all over the only house I had to live in. I picked my cleanest raggedy patched-up faded blue jeans and shirt. Washed my face and combed my hair. I had saved bus fare to get to Winnipeg Art Gallery behind the Hudson Bay store on Portage Avenue and Vaughn Street.
MORE TO COME – it’s Thursday October 04, 2024 1:30 AM
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